The Medieval French Ovide Moralisé: An English Translation [3 Volume Set] (Gallica) 9781843846536, 9781805430858, 1843846535

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Gallica Volume 51

THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ

Gallica

ISSN 1749-091X Founding Editor: Sarah Kay Series Editor: Peggy McCracken Gallica aims to provide a forum for the best current work in medieval and early modern French studies. Literary studies are particularly welcome and preference is given to works written in English, although publication in French is not excluded. Proposals or queries should be sent in the first instance to the editors, or to the publisher, at the addresses given below; all submissions receive prompt and informed consideration. Professor Peggy McCracken ([email protected]) Caroline Palmer ([email protected]) Previously published volumes in this series are listed at the end of volume III.

THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION

Translated and edited by K. SARAH-JANE MURRAY AND MATTHIEU BOYD with contributions from William W. Kibler, Glyn S. Burgess, Cristian Bratu, Raymond Cormier, Anne-Hélène Miller, Edward G. Ouellette, Valerie Michelle Wilhite, and Monica L. Wright

D. S. BREWER

Editorial matter © K. Sarah-Jane Murray and Matthieu Boyd 2023 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner First published 2023 D. S. Brewer, Cambridge ISBN 978–1-84384–653–6 (Hardback) ISBN 978-1-80543-085-8 (ePDF) D. S. Brewer is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620–2731, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate Cover image: Royal Danish Library, Thott 399 folio: Les Metamorphoses d’Ovide, traduites [en vers francais] et moralisées (c. 1400–1499), page 53

In memory of Karl D. Uitti and Simon Gaunt

Contents

Preface and Acknowledgements List of Abbreviations

ix xiii

Introduction 1 What Is the Ovide Moralisé? 1

Who Was the Audience?

Text and Image in the Manuscripts

6 8

Who Wrote the OM?

12

A Cauldron of Story and Interpretation

13

Ovid and the Early Mythographic Tradition

14

The Early Christian Era

19

The Mythographic Tradition of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries 25 The Rise of Aristotle in the Medieval University

37

The Vernacular Mythographic Tradition and Its Courtly and Theological Contexts

47

Preaching and the OM

53

The OM’s Legacy

58

How Does the OM Moralize?

61

Phaethon: Book 2, vv. 1–630, moralized in vv. 631–1012

62

Orpheus: Book 10, vv. 1–195, moralized in vv. 196–577

63

viii Contents

Notes on the Translation

67

Introductory Lexicon

71

Bibliography Manuscripts of the OM Editions of the OM General Bibliography

81 81 82 83

Detailed Contents

113

Book 1

125

Book 2

191

Book 3

263

Book 4

307

Book 5

407

Book 6

463

Book 7

519

Book 8

567

Book 9

627

Book 10

677

Book 11

739

Book 12

797

Book 13

867

Book 14

927

Book 15

1019

Index

1119

Preface and Acknowledgements The project of translating the Ovide Moralisé has spanned a decade, and, if taking into account the preliminary manuscript research, a decade and a half. It would never have started without the friendship and mentorship of the late Robert Fables, Arthur Marks ’19 Professor of Comparative Literature at Princeton University, and acclaimed translator of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. During their last in-person meeting, he challenged Sarah-Jane Murray to “watch out for a text that wouldn’t let go,” and to translate it so that others might enjoy, and learn from, it. Murray’s initial research on the Ovide Moralisé (OM) began in 2006, when Maud Simon, Laurence Harf-Lancner, and Michelle Szkilnik invited her to speak during an annual lecture series at the Centre d’Etudes du Moyen Age (CEMA) at the Sorbonne Nouvelle (Université de Paris III) in May 2007. The CEMA’s subsequent invitation of an affiliate research membership was a great source of encouragement and central to the decision to undertake what would become the translation project. From 2007–2011, Murray traveled to consult all the surviving manuscripts of the OM, with support from the American Philosophical Society Franklin research award, a National Endowment of the Humanities (NEH) summer stipend in the humanities, a research sabbatical from Baylor University, and a Big Twelve fellowship with the University of Texas at Austin. We both wish to thank the many special collections libraries who supported this research, into the OM manuscript tradition and contemporary manuscripts of Ovid, Ovidian commentaries, and theological works (like the writings of Bonaventure and Aquinas): The French National Library (BNF), the Rouen Municipal Library, the Vatican Libraries, the British Library, the Geneva Library, The Royal Library of Belgium, the Bern Municipal Library (Burgerbibliothek), the Municipal Library of Cambrai, the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York, the Harry Ransom Center and the Libraries of the University of Texas at Austin, and the Royal Danish Library, who also granted permissions for the image on the cover of these volumes. The translation itself was supported by a Critical Editions & Translations grant from the NEH, awarded to Murray between 2011 and 2016. We are grateful to our

x

Preface and Acknowledgements

program director at the NEH, Ann Meyer (now at Georgetown University), who championed and supported the project throughout its duration. From 2011 to 2013, expert scholars drafted translations of tales selected by Murray as representative of the fifteen books of the OM; their names and affiliations are given below. Matthieu Boyd, William W. Kibler, Glyn S. Burgess, and Cristian Bratu provided feedback on these early drafts, with Professors Kibler and Burgess making major contributions to what would later emerge as guiding translation principles for the whole work. Between 2013 and 2015, Professors Kibler and Bratu also contributed drafts of complete books of the OM. The translation was initially drafted by the contributors as follows: Book 1 Book 2 Book 3 Book 4

Book 5 Book 6 Book 7 Book 8

Book 9 Book 10 Book 11 Book 12 Book 13 Book 14 Book 15

Sarah-Jane Murray, with Cristian Bratu (Lycaon) and Glyn S. Burgess (Daphne & Apollo) Matthieu Boyd, with Edward G. Ouellette (The Raven) William W. Kibler, with Boyd (Tiresias) and Valerie Michelle Wilhite (Narcissus and Echo) Murray, with Burgess (Piramus and Tisbé), Monica L. Wright (Hermaphroditus), Ouellette & Burgess (Daughters of Minyas), and Raymond Cormier (Ino and Melicerta) Bratu, with Murray & Boyd Kibler, with Wright (Arachne) and Burgess (Philomena) Murray, with Cormier and Boyd (Medea) Murray and Boyd, with Anne-Hélène Miller (Scylla & Theseus, Ariadne, Phaedra, Icarus & Daedalus, Perdrix, Erysichthon), and Bratu (Philemon & Baucis) Boyd Boyd, with Kibler (Pygmalion) Murray Murray and Boyd Boyd Bratu, with Murray and Boyd Kibler

In 2015, Boyd joined Murray as General Editor and Translator. From then until 2023, after several rounds of editing the contributions, Murray and Boyd worked through the whole translation line by line. It was during this phase that the digitized manuscripts and new editions were extensively consulted. The contributors are thus not responsible for the final copy of the translations they initially drafted: any errors remaining are our own.



Preface and Acknowledgements

xi

We thank Phillip Donnelly, Chair of the Great Texts Program, Michael Grossman, Caleb Simone, and Ashley Simone for their professional support over the years. We also benefited from the diligent work of five undergraduate research assistants at various stages: Preston Yancey, Caroline Barta, Rachel Cantrell, Courtney Smith, and Harper Leigh. Courtney Smith continued to support the project as a research assistant after graduation and through publication. During this time, she helped prepare the manuscript and proofread all three volumes at multiple stages of the production process. Thanks are due to our tireless copyeditor, Judith Oppenheimer, as well as the entire team at Boydell & Brewer, and especially to our production editor, Demi Wormgoor, the editors of the Gallica Series – Peggy McCracken, the late Simon Gaunt, and Miranda Griffin – as well as our editor at the Press, Caroline Palmer. They injected our work with a renewed sense of purpose, and their encouragement over these last few years has been invaluable: Thank you for everything you do for our field. We wish Simon Gaunt were with us to see the volumes in print. We dedicate this translation to his memory, and to the memory of the late Karl D. Uitti, who mentored us both at Princeton, where we met and became friends over twenty years ago. Translators K. Sarah-Jane Murray is Associate Professor of Great Texts and Creative Writing in the Honors College at Baylor University. Matthieu Boyd is Professor of Literature and Chair of the School of the Humanities at Fairleigh Dickinson University. William W. Kibler is The Superior Oil - Linward Shivers Professor of Medieval Studies (emeritus) at the University of Texas at Austin. Glyn S. Burgess is Emeritus Professor of French at the University of Liverpool. Cristian Bratu is Professor of French in the Department of Modern Languages and Cultures at Baylor University. Raymond Cormier is First Gent (emeritus) of Longwood University. Anne-Hélène Miller is Associate Professor of French in the Department of Modern Foreign Languages and Literatures at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville. Edward G. Ouellette is Associate Professor of Culture and Language at Air Command. Valerie Michelle Wilhite is Instructor of French at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga. Monica L. Wright is Granger and Debaillon Professor of French and Medieval Studies at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette.

Abbreviations B, Lyon

Lyon, Bibliothèque municipale MS 742.

de Boer

“Ovide moralisé”: poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus, ed. Cornelis de Boer et al. 5 volumes. Amsterdam: 1915, 1920, 1931, 1936, 1938. (Other items by de Boer are cited per the Bibliography.)

Brev.

Bonaventure, Breviloquium. Trans. Dominic V. Monti, OFM (2005). The de Vinck (1963) translation is also good, and available online at http://agnuz.info/app/ webroot/library/7/13/.

C

used by de Boer (see his edition, Volume 1, 49–51) to refer to the readings in four manuscripts: Paris, BNF 871 and 872; London, British Museum add. 10324; Rouen 1045–46 (O. 11 bis).

Copenhagen

Copenhagen Kongelige Bibliothek MS Thott 399, digitized at http://www5.kb.dk/manus/vmanus/2011/dec/ ha/object116197/en/.

DMF

Dictionnaire du Moyen Français, online at http://zeus. atilf.fr/dmf/.

FEW

Französisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch (1922– 2002), online at https://lecteur-few.atilf.fr/index.php/.

Godefroy

Frédéric Godefroy, Dictionnaire de l’ancienne langue française et de tous ses dialectes du IXe au XVe siècle, 8 volumes and supplement (Paris: 1880–1895), online at https://micmap.org/dicfro/introduction/dictionnairegodefroy.

HindleyLangley-Levy

Alan Hindley, Frederick W. Langley, and Brian J. Levy, Old French–English Dictionary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

xiv Abbreviations

Kline

Ovid’s Metamorphoses, trans. Anthony S. Kline (2000). Online at https://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Ovhome.htm. Or, where specified, Ovid’s Heroides, trans. Anthony S. Kline (2001). Online at https://www.poetryintranslation. com/PITBR/Latin/Heroideshome.php.

Met.

Ovid, Metamorphoses. Latin text at https://ovid.lib. virginia.edu/metamorphoseonUVA.html.

new edition, the Ovide moralisé, Livre I, ed. Craig Baker, Marianne Besseyre, Mattia Cavagna, Stefania Cerrito, Olivier Collet, Massimiliano Gaggero, Yan Greub, Jean-Baptiste Guillaumin, Marylène Possamaï-Pérez, Véronique Rouchon Mouilleron, Irène Salvo, Thomas Städtler, and Richard Trachsler. 2 volumes. Paris: SATF, 2018. OF

Old French

OM, the

Ovide moralisé

Rouen

Rouen, Bibliothèque Municipale MS O.4, digitized at https://www.rotomagus.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10102188w. De Boer’s base manuscript, referred to there as A.

Sent.

Bonaventure, Commentary on the Sentences. Trans. R.E. Houser and Timothy B. Noone (2014).

ST

Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae. Online translation by Fathers of the English Dominican Province (1920) at https://www.newadvent.org/summa/. Latin at https:// www.corpusthomisticum.org/iopera.html.

Šumski

“Das Buch X des Ovide Moralisé: Edition und philologischer Kommentar nach der Handschrift Rouen O.4,” ed. Lisa Šumski (Ph.D. dissertation, Universität des Saarlandes, 2016), to be published as Ovide Moralisé: Commented Edition of Book X on the Basis of the Rouen Manuscript, Bibl. Mun., O.4. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2025.

TLFi

Trésor de la Langue Française informatisé, online at http://atilf.atilf.fr/.

Introduction

What Is the Ovide Moralisé? Visitors to the Villa Borghese in Rome are charmed every year by Bernini’s statue of Apollo and Daphne. For good cause: the statue is beautiful. The characters spring to life, almost escaping from the marble – the god pursuing the nymph; the nymph beginning her transformation into a laurel tree. Few modern visitors glance at the Latin inscription on the base, but for those who do, their experience of the statue is transformed, for the transcription places the myth within a moral framework: “Those who love to pursue fleeting forms of pleasure, in the end find only leaves and bitter berries in their hands.” This was a feature of the Western tradition of reading Ovid for over a thousand years, and nowhere do we see it more clearly than in the Ovide moralisé. The Ovide moralisé (Moralized Ovid, or OM for short) is a fourteenthcentury French retelling of the Metamorphoses, a collection of Greco-Roman myths by the Latin poet Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso, 43bc–17ad). Ovid’s poem was about “forms changed into new bodies” (1.1–2). Some of these are famous even now: Echo, the nymph who became a mere voice after pining away for Narcissus, a beautiful young man who fell in love with his own reflection and dwindled into a flower; Arachne, the proud weaver who became a spider; Pygmalion, whose statue of a woman came to life. The OM metamorphosized the Metamorphoses, turning about 12,000 lines of Latin – all fifteen books of Ovid’s poem – into some 72,000 lines of French. Unlike Ovid’s poem, the OM is an explicitly Christian work, and Ovid’s stories are understood to be communicating Christian truth. The way the OM goes about demonstrating this makes it a fascinating case study in medieval thinking. It opens a unique window onto the culture, religion, politics, and intellectual climate of France, and, by extension, Western Europe, c.1320. The broad issue that it exemplifies, in terms of the history of ideas, is how premodern Europe dealt with the legacy of ancient Greece and Rome. Christianity, as a monotheistic religion founded on the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, might have been inclined to jettison or condemn everything that

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THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ

came before it. This issue was debated from the formative period of the early church. For example: “What does Athens [meaning Greek philosophy] have to do with Jerusalem?” said Tertullian (c.160–c.225), who has been called the father of Latin Christianity. “What does Ingeld [a celebrated Germanic hero like Beowulf] have to do with Christ?” said Alcuin of York (c.735–804), Charlemagne’s schoolmaster. St. Augustine (354–430), in his famous Confessions, wrote that as a schoolboy he cried over Queen Dido, from Virgil’s Aeneid, when he should have been crying over his own soul. Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) put the ancient Greek and Roman poets in Limbo, the first circle of hell: a place of “grief without suffering” where they are forever separated from God’s love.

But Dante also made the poet Virgil his guide through hell and purgatory, and his Divine Comedy is packed with allusions to Virgil and others. That so many manuscripts have come down to us of primary sources like Plato’s Timaeus (in Calcidius’s Latin translation), Virgil’s Aeneid, Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy, and Augustine’s City of God, but also commentaries like Servius’s interpretation of Virgil, or compendia of learning like Isidore of Seville’s Etymologies and Martianus Capella’s Marriage of Mercury and Philology, underscores the importance that medieval scholars placed on preserving learned culture and transmitting it to future generations, a process known as translatio studii (the transmission of scholarship, sometimes coupled with translatio imperii, the transfer of political power, from one important culture to the next). Most of the great works by Greek and Roman authors that survive today have reached us only because dedicated medieval scribes copied them. Ovid himself is a good example of this: no copies of the Metamorphoses survive from 1–8 ad, when the poem was composed. Instead what we have are medieval copies, beginning in the ninth century. The first record of the title – Metamorphoses – occurs in a medieval manuscript, and it is unclear whether it was given to the collection of myths by Ovid himself, or by a medieval copyist. The “problem” of Greco-Roman paganism was addressed by Christian authors with some striking analogies. Augustine said that it was not merely acceptable but desirable for Christians to seize all the truth they could find in the works of pagan philosophers, in the same way as the Israelites who fled Egypt with Moses took gold and silver from the Egyptians to put it to better

INTRODUCTION 3

use.1 In the twelfth century, Bernard of Chartres urged his students to study the writings of the great giants of antiquity so that they could perch on their shoulders and see farther than the giants ever could, even if they themselves were dwarfs by comparison.2 This paradigm of “dwarfs on the shoulders of giants” shows very clearly how a medieval Christian could look up to Ovid and still find him limited; could be convinced of knowing better than Ovid and still practice humility. The OM starts by referencing Romans 15:4, then makes explicit its moralizing framework: “If Scripture does not lie to me, whatever is written in books is all for our instruction, whether the writings exemplify good or evil. For anyone who really wants to pay heed to it, evil is exemplified so that they may guard against it; the good so that they may do it” (Book 1, vv. 1–7). Medieval authors used classical sources not merely to display their erudition or add an artistic flourish, but because they believed that any truth in the works of ancient poets was the Christian God’s truth. They did not acknowledge God as their source of inspiration simply to satisfy convention. Like the artists who executed the sculptures of Chartres Cathedral and depicted God sculpting Adam out of the earth, they understood their creative calling as a response to God’s call and believed in the Incarnation as the central act of revelation. They saw themselves, as J.R.R. Tolkien would put it in Mythopoeia, as “subcreators.”3 Like the twelfth-century poet Marie de France in her famous Prologue to the Lais,4 the OM’s Prologue evokes the idea behind the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30 and Luke 19:11–27): “Anyone to whom God gives the good fortune and grace to master understanding and knowledge must not consider their mouth too precious for speaking well and interpreting, for no one ought to hide their understanding: understanding that is shut away is worth no more than riches buried in the ground” (Book 1, vv. 5–14). If one can grapple intellectually with Ovid for the greater glory of God and the propagation of his teachings, one must. The OM goes further than Augustine’s model, according to which one is presumably supposed to take the gold and silver and leave the rest, or Bernard’s, 1 See On Christian Doctrine 2.40.60–61, trans. Green (1995, 125–127; 1997, 64– 66), responding to Exodus 12:35–36. Although Augustine can be seen as solidifying this metaphor in Western culture, it does not originate with him: the concept of plundering the Egyptians is formulated by Irenaeus of Lyons, and picked up by both Origen of Alexandria and St. Gregory Nazianzen. See Yeo (2010). 2 As recounted by John of Salisbury, Metalogicon 3.4. This paradigm might be compared and contrasted with Milton’s invocation of the “Heav’nly Muse” to inspire his “adventurous Song / That with no middle flight intends to soar / Above th’ Aonian Mount” (Paradise Lost 1.6 and 13–15), which has Christianity transcending paganism, but ostensibly without relying on it for support: see Kilgour (2012), 6–8, for discussion. 3 See Tolkien (2001) in our bibliography, but originally published in 1931. 4 vv. 1–4, 23–27.

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THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ

according to which the giants would not be tall enough to see what the dwarfs on their shoulders can. For the OM it is as if the giants were always tall enough, but had their eyes closed. The OM has faith that everything that has ever existed is part of God’s plan and expresses God’s truth, even unknowingly. It inhabits a worldview in which the structure of the cosmos, the cycle of the seasons, animals, plants, and minerals, and the workings of the human body are rich with divine significance.5 The bestiary tradition, which assigns a Christian interpretation to animals,6 was an obvious resource for making sense of the animal transformations in the Metamorphoses. The human body, correlated with the cosmos and the seasons, is a special focus of Book 15, where the OM translates extensively from Hugh of Fouilloy’s On the Medicine of the Soul (De medicina animae). For the OM, the Metamorphoses in its entirety was always already expressing God’s truth and while the stories “all seem mendacious, […] there is nothing in them that is not true” (Book 1, vv. 37–46). At no point does the OM ever say that something from Ovid defies Christian interpretation and we should not pay attention to it. If all the ways the Metamorphoses expresses God’s truth are not immediately obvious, that is to be expected. Marie de France famously said that the Ancients wrote obscurely, so that the people of her own time could “gloss the letter” of their writings and expand on what they meant.7 When a story moves from one geographical place and time to another, it is likely to present new challenges to its readership, a hermeneutic gap that the twentieth-century philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer explores in detail.8 Things that would have been obvious to an educated reader in Plato’s Greece or Virgil’s Rome would in turn be lost on twelfth-century students at Chartres or thirteenth-century students at the University of Paris. (Anyone who has experienced a recent performance of a Shakespeare play knows Eventually, we can add to the list the grammar of human language: see Longo (2017) on Jean Gerson’s Donatus moralizatus (Moralized Grammar) of 1411, which does for the writings of the Latin grammarian Donatus what the OM does for Ovid. (While the Modistae “Modists” or “speculative grammarians” of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, like Thomas of Erfurt, engaged in philosophical interpretations of grammar, Gerson seems to have had no precedent in systematically associating the parts of speech with Christian doctrine.) 6 Morrison and Grollemond (2019) is one of many works on bestiaries. The online Aberdeen Bestiary Project (see https://www.abdn.ac.uk/bestiary/what.php) is also an excellent resource. 7 Again, Marie’s Prologue, vv. 9–22. “Glossing” in this context means instructive commentary – nothing to do with a shiny coating, although the concepts are etymologically related. 8 See his seminal work, Truth and Method (1960). The concept of the hermeneutic gap is etymologically derived from the name of the Greek god Hermes, who had to carry messages from Olympus to humanity, thus bridging the ontological gap between the divine and humans. 5

INTRODUCTION 5

what the hermeneutic gap is like. While the mainstream audience is likely befuddled by whatever nonsensical lines the actor just pronounced, some scholar in the corner can’t contain their laughter, recognizing the subtle but, for Shakespeare’s time, bawdy jokes that are lost to the modern ear.) Because of this hermeneutic gap, the passing on of knowledge – the very process of translatio studii – necessarily involves some degree of interpretation. Latin notes inserted by medieval scribes into the margins and interlinear spaces of manuscripts to shed light on obscure passages bear witness to this process. Sometimes the notes became so extensive that they, in turn, were recopied and compiled into separate manuscripts, becoming treatises in their own right. This was the case with Bernard of Chartres’s Glosses on the Timaeus. Scholars also wrote large-scale commentaries that were free-standing from the outset, like Servius’s Commentary on the Aeneid. Excerpts from these then found their way back into the margins of manuscripts of Virgil, Plato, and other classical works, where they took on a similar role for medieval readers as footnotes in our printed or electronic books today. An ongoing tradition of commenting on Ovid flourished throughout the Middle Ages, and many aspects of that mythographic and commentary tradition are incorporated into the OM. Marie de France presents her wish to translate a good story from Latin into French as analogous to this kind of expository glossing. The OM, as a translation with commentary, glosses Ovid in both modes: first creative, then expository. A cynical view of this activity would be that the OM is appropriating Ovid’s myths and making them submit to a foregone conclusion, descending on the text like Jupiter upon some unsuspecting nymph: a possibly fruitful coupling, but a nonconsensual one. (Ovid’s myths, it should be noted, are rife with this kind of sexual violence.) A sympathetic view, taking the Christian text on its own terms – which one ought to be prepared to do to get the most out of reading it – perceives the interaction as a welcoming, compassionate, and nuanced embrace of its classical source. *** Especially for non-medievalist readers, this might be the moment to flag the OM’s practical attitude to sources, including the commentary tradition just discussed. That attitude is characteristic of medieval literature, and not at all characteristic of modern scholarship. By modern standards, the OM plagiarizes. Extensively. It uses a wide array of sources, very few of which it explicitly cites. In translating the Metamorphoses, it also uses the Heroides (never credited as such), Statius (sometimes credited), the Ilias latina, Baebius Italicus’s synopsis of Homer’s Iliad (credited as “Homer”), and more; and in the moralizations it incorporates all kinds of sources, perhaps not all of which have yet been identified. Annoyingly, it sometimes moralizes details from Ovid that are not included in its own translation: we have furnished notes about this when it

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THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ

happens. Biblical language is sometimes flagged with “as Holy Scripture says” or similar (never book, chapter, and verse), but not always; other sources are flagged in the vaguest terms or not at all, even when they are used at length, like Hugh of Fouilloy in Book 15. The effect is usually a seamless text, but there are a few interesting moments. In Book 2, vv. 1706–1819, the OM launches into a diatribe against abortion, warning men that any woman who would do such a thing is equally liable to poison her partner or smother him to death in his sleep. Since the character in the Metamorphoses, Callisto, actually carries her baby to term, it seems like the author here is handing out life advice on a topic of personal importance, but actually this is translating a source. Modern scholars have identified many of the OM’s sources, and the new edition published by the Société des Anciens Textes Français (which so far covers only Book 1) is documenting them more thoroughly than ever. What is important to note here is why the OM deals with sources the way it does. The attitude would seem to be that if the truth being revealed in the moralizations is all God’s truth, it would be petty, perhaps even indecent, to attribute any of it to specific humans. To be fair, when the author urges readers to correct anything in his work that does not conform to the teachings of Holy Church (Book 1, vv. 59–70), “because I feel I have only feeble skill and feeble understanding,” he implicitly takes responsibility for his incorporated sources, too. Hoping that God will reward him by letting the OM endure for all time (see Book 15, vv. 7429–7548), he asks that “my name be written in the book where God has his friends inscribed,” but he does not ask that his readers know his name, or tell us what it is. This is consistent with the overall approach to sources.9 We will return in more detail to the sources preceding the OM and how it moralizes. First, let us consider broader questions of audience and authorship. Who Was the Audience? Translation into French suggests a secular audience more than a religious one. This would contrast with the commentaries already mentioned (and discussed in much more detail below), and a similar work in Latin, the Ovidius Moralizatus by the Benedictine preacher Pierre Bersuire (c.1290– 1362), written some twenty years after the OM and included as Book 15 of the Reductorium Morale. Given its register, the OM’s primary purpose was probably not to grab the average person in the fourteenth-century street. A simple analogy helps us 9 One could always argue that the name could have been eliminated in the process of transmitting the text – which would also be consistent with the OM’s overall approach to sources, except as payback. But since the OM is in verse, there would have been ways to embed a name in ways that would impair the text by getting rid of it, if it was that important to the author.

INTRODUCTION 7

understand this. Shakespeare has some Ovidian banter: in Much Ado about Nothing, a gentleman in a mask approaches the heiress Hero and comments “My visor [= mask] is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove” (II.i.100), i.e., “You can’t tell, but I’m basically a Greek god.” “Why, then, your visor should be thatched,” she says, signaling that she gets the allusion to Philemon, who lived in a humble cottage thatched with reeds.10 Did people have conversations like this in fourteenth-century France? If they did, they probably belonged to the same aristocratic milieu as Hero and Don Pedro; that is, they probably weren’t the bumbling tradesmen putting on the play of Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.11 Individual episodes, like Narcissus and Piramus et Tisbé, had been translated into French well before the OM; the great twelfth-century poet Chrétien de Troyes, known for his Arthurian romances, listed among his works “the shoulder bite” (i.e., the story of Pelops, from Book 6) and “the metamorphoses of the hoopoe, the swallow, and the nightingale” (i.e., the story of Philomena). Chrétien and the anonymous twelfth-century authors of Ovidian lais were writing for a courtly audience, and it seems the OM was intended for this milieu as well. Also, the OM prides itself on being comprehensive, and seems meant to be experienced as a whole: the text may be episodic, but the primary intention was probably to invite sustained reading and reflection by a select group. There are twenty-three known manuscripts of the OM, which is a lot for a medieval text, especially one of this length.12 By and large they are luxury products, not preachers’ handbooks. Fifteen are illustrated, with as few as one and as many as several hundred illuminations each. Most of these copies were commissioned and owned by noble patrons, whose coats of arms are often included. The base manuscript for scholarly editions, Rouen, Bibliothèque municipale MS O.4, which is tentatively dated 1315–1320 (with a table of contents from c.1325), not only bears a coat of arms, but was apparently listed among the belongings of Louis X’s widow, Queen Clémence of Hungary, in 1328. This tells us that the OM was well received in court circles. Its popularity endured into the fifteenth century, as we See the story of “Philemon and Baucis” (Book 8, vv. 2889–3184). Chaucer’s Manciple, whose contribution to the Canterbury Tales is a version of the story we’re calling “The Raven,” exemplifies Chaucer’s tendency to bring clerkly or courtly narratives to an emerging middle class. (See Fumo 2004 on the Manciple’s Tale.) The OM is an important piece of background to Chaucer. 12 Medieval manuscripts were expensive on a scale that is hard for us to conceive of. If they were priced comparably today, buying a book would be in the ballpark of buying a car (which obviously covers a very wide range, from run-down to brand-new, high-end luxury). Books were written by hand on specially prepared animal skins (vellum, the most prestigious, came from a fetal calf), using handcrafted inks and pigments. The OM is so long that even an unadorned copy, written in haste, would have been a major undertaking. 10 11

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can see from the single illumination in the manuscript now at the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York City (MS Morgan 443, c.1400–1410). On the opening folio, the scribe presents his OM manuscript to King Charles V of France, with the Duc de Berry and Jean sans Peur looking on. Text and Image in the Manuscripts Opening the medieval books gives us another useful framework for understanding the process of translation, rewriting, and commentary at work in the OM.13 Here are three examples. The original beginning of the Rouen manuscript on fol. 16r has illuminations at the top and bottom, with leafy tendrils reaching up and down.14 At the top is a rectangular panel with two rows of four images inset in circles. All eight have the upper bodies of humans and the lower bodies of animals, and most are gesturing in astonishment. While some might be in a stable albeit hybrid form – the centaur wielding a bow, top right center, and the fish-man, top far right, if he is Glaucus from Book 14 – the overall impression is of metamorphoses in progress. Between the two rows are five more images: a little winged serpent or dragon on either end, and, in between, a bat (with a face that doesn’t seem particularly human), a bird, and a woman with the lower body of a tree. The center of the panel is a gray, downward-facing bird with outspread wings. Without leafing through the rest of the manuscript to look for matching images, many of the figures here might already be recognizable to anyone who knows the Metamorphoses. Top row, far left is probably Io (Book 1) turning into a cow. Center left is probably Antigone (Book 6) turning into a stork. The bat is one of the daughters of Minyas (Book 4). Bottom row, center right is Arachne (Book 6) turning into a spider. Far right might be Philomena (Book 6). Others are more ambiguous: the woman turning into a tree could be Daphne (Book 1) or Myrrha (Book 10), for example. What the Rouen manuscript does is present us, and a fortiori the reader who might not already know any of the stories, with the enigma of the Metamorphoses: vivid, active, and unmediated. Then the Prologue begins, with an illuminated S built into the lower frame of the panel of images, telling us that, if Scripture doesn’t lie to us, everything written in books is there to teach us something. It is probably not an accident that the panel centers the downward-facing bird. Although the bird is dark (is it supposed to be the Raven of Book 2?), its posture 13 For discussions of art in the OM manuscripts, see for example Lord (1975), the collection of essays edited by Possamaï and Besseyre (2015), and Clier-Colombani (2017). 14 See the image at https://www.rotomagus.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10102188w/f32.item. Most of the illuminations in Rouen are attributed to the anonymous “Maître de Fauvel” (new edition, Volume 1, 100–103).

INTRODUCTION 9

matches the standard depiction of the Holy Spirit descending. The point may be that by “clearing up” the “darkness” of this matter, readers will be able to discern, amid these disorienting transformations, the communications of the Holy Spirit.15 After the Prologue, fol. 16v presents the matter differently: a miniature juxtaposes the Christian God with a cruciform halo, laying out the world with a set of compasses, and Ovid surrounded by books, writing with his stylus and knife. (Unlike God, the human author is capable of errors that might need scraping off.) Fol. 17r has separate images of God establishing the elemental layers of fire, air, water, and earth, and Ovid lecturing to a crowd with an egg in his hand, the egg being his representation of the elemental layers.16 The images then straightforwardly parallel the text: neither has any difficulty taking Ovid’s creator god and the Christian God as one and the same. At the bottom of fol. 16r, two more transformations-in-progress frame the coat of arms of Aymar de Poitiers-Valentinois, a provincial governor. This, again, speaks to the aristocratic readership of the OM. Lyon, Bibliothèque municipale MS 742 (c.1385–1390?), fol. 4r,17 opens with a flowing panorama. On the left, God, with the cruciform halo, begins to shape a colorless, cloudy-looking lump of matter.18 The way the image fades in from nothing mirrors the creation ex nihilo. Moving right, we see some animals surrounded by trees and grass, and a body of water teeming with fish. It looks like the water is separating where the animals are from the rest of the land, perhaps the Garden of Eden? Next comes a bearded man in a cap (no halo), holding the hand of a naked human body that lies on the grass, and brandishing a torch. This, as the OM will explain soon enough (Book 1, vv. 304–340), is Prometheus, who “undoubtedly used earth and water to create a manikin in the image of the gods,” and “in order to give the image the breath of life, […] stole from the chariot of the sun a bright, burning torch, with which he made the image animate.” In the blue-streaked sky above there are three pinwheel suns or stars. On the far right, we see four houses (perhaps a significant number: in medieval numerology, four is the number of man) and some more trees. Medieval numerology might support or complement this reading of the image. 8 (the number of circles) is the number of regeneration, resurrection, baptism, or the Last Judgment; 5 (the number of figures in between the circles) is the number of the flesh, or the five senses, or the 2 little dragons are the number of division. The image suggests a mediation between the flesh and the sacred, and perhaps the metamorphosis of these metamorphoses into something holy. 16 On Ovid’s cosmic egg, see Dronke (1974), ch. 2. 17 See the first images at https://portail.biblissima.fr/fr/ark:/43093/mdata5b0c43ce 79f42d790ccc6486227c4815d1f77565. 18 We have here, we believe, a rare visual representation of God shaping the “stuff” from which the world is made, as it transitions from nothing into something: primordial matter. See Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles 2.16, “That God brought things into being from nothing” (trans. Anderson 1956, 49–53; paraphrased by Rickaby 1905, 85–86). 15

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The creator God has his back to the rest of the image, while Prometheus seems to have his back to God. Everything in the image visually flows or emanates from God, almost as if trailing from his robes. This fits with the OM’s general outlook. In this life, humans cannot look on God directly. In Exodus 33:18–23, God lets Moses see his back: “thou canst not see my face: for man shall not see me and live.” As Paul puts it in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “We see now through a glass in a dark manner”; only in heaven will we be able to see “face to face.” To know God as fully as possible in this life, we are left to draw conclusions from the things he has allowed us to observe directly. The image features two of these: animals, to be understood via the bestiary tradition but now also as results of Ovid’s metamorphoses, and stories such as the myth of Prometheus. Prometheus, with his back to God, seems to be creating on his own initiative, not even in the image of God himself, but in his own image. If the water is cutting him off from the animals and from the stewardship of Eden, then this symbolizes how the creation story looks from the fallen condition “outside the garden.” And yet, besides his being in the world that emanates from God, Prometheus wields his torch under the three pinwheel suns. “Under the sun” is how Ecclesiastes repeatedly qualifies earthly existence, full of vanity and often fruitless labor. That there are three of them, identical, represents not only the ordering of the heavens but also the illumination of the Trinity itself. “Pagan myths by the light of the Trinity” nicely encapsulates the OM’s project. Finally, the image on the cover of this translation19 is the frontispiece to Book 1 of the OM in Copenhagen, Kongelige Bibliothek MS Thott 399 (c.1480), p. 5320 (it is preceded by the French translation of De formis figurisque deorum by Pierre Bersuire). The bottom left quadrant represents a scriptorium: a book lies open on the table, turned towards the viewer, and we can even make out writing on the page. Ovid sits beside the book. He does not hold it in his hands, nor is he actively reading it. Instead, he holds an egg in his right hand and stares off over his shoulder. In following his gaze, we realize that it can only be metaphorical, because there is no window in the room: the building in which Ovid sits is surrounded by rocks so that it is reminiscent of Plato’s cave in the Republic and of Limbo in the Divine Comedy, where the pilgrim encounters Ovid in the company of Aristotle, “the master of those who know” (Inferno 4.131). The cave is a place of darkness and limitation. The implication is Neoplatonic: with his system – the egg – Ovid can see only so far. The egg is a mere reflection of the orb held in the left hand of the Christian God, who appears in heaven, at It can also be viewed at http://www5.kb.dk/manus/vmanus/2011/dec/ha/object116 197/en/#kbOSD-0=page:53. For background and a discussion of the illuminations, see Murray (2014) and Clier-Colombani (2017). Cf. the OM Book 1, vv. 199–228. 20 The digitization of the MS references pages, rather than folios. So we have followed suit, to facilitate viewing. 19

INTRODUCTION 11

the top of the page. In contrast to Ovid’s opaque egg, the orb in God’s hand is distinctly transparent, reminding us that the veil is thick in Ovid’s world. For the medieval Christian, it is thick in our world, too, and the veil will be lifted only when the soul ascends to heaven (1 Corinthians 13:12). The rest of the scene, below the arc separating the heavens from the earthly sky, depicts an exciting array of bug-eyed demons being chased by an archangel Saint Michael, brandishing a sword. If we look more closely, some demons have a bizarre white tail that resembles in shape and texture Saint Michael’s robe. What we are witnessing, in this illumination, is the first metamorphosis to occur in the OM (and which is not part of Ovid’s poem): the apocryphal fall of the angels, frequently included at the beginning of moralized Bibles. As Saint Michael chases the proud angels who sought to equal and rival the Christian God, they transform into demons and fall into the flames of a newly formed hell. Visually, this fall of the angels provokes an effect reminiscent of illustrations of Psalm 1, the Beatus Vir, which opposes the ways of the wicked to those of the righteous. Like the psalm, the Copenhagen illumination offers the spectator and reader a choice: to follow the prideful angels, or to turn their eyes upward toward the heavens, remembering, as Ovid put it, that man was created to walk upright and to look at the stars (Met. 2.84–86). In the Copenhagen frontispiece, the stars have become, as they are for Dante, the Christian heavens. The illuminator also anticipates what the text puts in words at the end of Book 2: God will come to judge the quick and the dead, give paradise to the good, and to the wicked, like the devil, he will give eternal pain and suffering (Book 2, vv. 5135–5138). The purpose of the OM is to guide its readers and its anonymous author along the straight and narrow path toward paradise. There, the names of the righteous will be written in God’s book alongside other elect (Book 15, vv. 7547–7548). In the meantime, in this life, we are bound to an endless cycle of interpretation, as we attempt to make sense of the world and see beyond the veil of the world, of the stories that surround us, and of the books that we inherit from the past. In many of the illuminated manuscripts, including the three we just discussed, the dialogue between text and image continues throughout, and reveals new meaning. Our translation, which is keyed only to the images in Rouen, doesn’t fully capture this aspect, but the digitizations make it easier than ever to pursue this avenue of scholarship.21

An important manuscript rich in imagery is Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal MS 5069: see https://portail.biblissima.fr/ark:/43093/mdata276962507cb8bf4f9a01320928955 f92f3577ceb. It does not include the beginning of the text, however. 21

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Who Wrote the OM? The text is anonymous and speaks in the first-person singular, so the presumption is that there was a single author.22 Two (failed) attempts were previously made to identify them. In 1850, Prosper Tarbé popularized an idea already circulating during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that the OM was the work of Philippe de Vitry, bishop of Meaux. As evidence, Tarbé (1850, xxiii) cited a note in fifteenth-century hand found in Paris BNF MS fr. 24306 (D3), naming Philippe de Vitry as having “edited” or compiled the OM at the request of Jeanne, queen of Burgundy. But Gaston Paris refuted Tarbé’s claim as early as 1885, noting that Bersuire’s Reductorium Morale doesn’t name Vitry as author of the OM, but instead states that he loaned Bersuire a copy of the text, probably sometime around 1350.23 Paris focused instead on the naming of a “Chrestien Legouais” in Book 6, v. 2950. But this “Chrestien” (sometimes identified as Chrétien de Troyes) is the source for the translation of Philomena, not the author of the entire work. The inscription that accompanies a table of rubrics of the OM in London BL MS Cotton Jul. F. VII (e3), fol. 13v further specifies that the “Chrestien Legouais” in question was of the “order of Brothers Minor,” i.e., a Franciscan friar. Although the evidence is not conclusive, the idea that the author of the broader OM might have been a Franciscan is compatible with many aspects of the text.24 He could also have belonged to another religious order, like the Dominicans or Cistercians. His text shows that he was well-versed in biblical exegesis, classical and medieval literature, and the extensive body of commentaries on Ovid’s works that had been composed by that time. He integrates learning from the rediscovery of Aristotle, and exhibits expert knowledge of the theological controversies of his day, especially the questions taken up at the University of Paris, where St. Bonaventure (Giovanni di Fidanza, 1221–1274), a Franciscan, and St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), a Dominican, had been exploring, among other topics, the nature of the relationship between Faith and Reason, and of the soul and body. In his youth, he might even have attended their lectures. Likewise, the connection to court culture makes it tempting to suppose, although again without conclusive evidence, that he could have been a court confessor. This has never been seriously questioned. Of course, the narrative voice is not the same as the author. Given its length, it seems entirely possible the OM was a collaborative project, like our translation. But further analysis and scholarship are required to entertain such a hypothesis. We do see certain indications of that possibility, especially in the more or less set-phrase introductions to moralizations that can vary from book to book, or the ways in which the moralizations themselves shift in tone and scope. But it is also possible that a single author, undertaking such a lengthy project, might vary his approach. 23 On Philippe de Vitry’s books, see Wathey (1997). 24 For example, this is the view of Possamaï-Pérez (2006a) in her massive study. 22



INTRODUCTION 13

What can be said for certain is that the OM was composed by an educated Christian author for an intentionally Christian, courtly, and educated audience. And for its author, the undertaking was a deeply personal one, as the Prologue to Book 1 and end of Book 15 attest. Much like his Italian contemporary, Dante Alighieri, the OM poet viewed his labor as a form of divine contemplation that would guide him, and subsequent readers, on the journey to salvation. Thus it would not be too strong to describe the OM as France’s own Divine Comedy. The voyage through the ever-shifting world of Ovid’s tales engages the willing reader in a literary and intellectual pilgrimage towards the Christian God and the beatific vision in which all redeemed Christians will participate in the afterlife (Book 15, vv. 7540–48), freed from the desires and misguided affections to which many of Ovid’s protagonists succumb. The narrator, throughout this journey, occupies several roles: poet and philosopher, storyteller and theologian, pilgrim and priest. A Cauldron of Story and Interpretation The OM, comprising both tales and commentary, is not the result of a single “source” translated into French. It is the climax of a mythographic tradition that developed over centuries. “Many have tried, no doubt, to undertake what I intend,” (Book 1, vv. 20–21) the Prologue tells us: what follows is a slightly detailed review of such attempts, although whole books could be written on the subject.25 While the OM can be read without this background, it can’t be fully understood without it. The OM means to be the definitive summa of the mythographic tradition of the Metamorphoses, and more besides. This cumulative aspect is key to how it operates. Various metaphors would be available to convey this: a glacier forming from the layered snow of many winters; a heavily laden fruit tree with an extensive root system; or a melting pot, like J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Cauldron of Story,”26 in which various ingredients simmer and blend as new ones are tossed in, congealing into something both familiar and unprecedented. Some milestone texts in our survey include: • Hyginus, Fables (before late second century) • St. Augustine, Confessions (c.400) and On Christian Doctrine (397–426)

25 On the reception of Ovid in general, see Boyd (2002); Keith and Rupp (2007); Knox (2009); Boyd and Fox (2010); Miller and Newlands (2014); and, as a bibliographical guide, Fumo (2017). 26 In his essay On Fairy Stories (1938), Tolkien writes about “the Cauldron of Story, [which] has always been boiling, and to it have continually been added new bits, dainty and undainty” (52).

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• Martianus Capella, The marriage of Mercury and Philology (De nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae) c.420–490 • Fulgentius, Mythologies (sixth century) • Isidore of Seville, Etymologies (early seventh century–636) • First Vatican Mythographer (late ninth–late eleventh century) • Second Vatican Mythographer (later than the First) • Bavarian commentary Clm 4610 (c.1100) • Third Vatican Mythographer (late twelfth–early thirteenth century) • Bernardus Silvestris, commentaries on Virgil and Martianus Capella (c.1150) • Arnulf of Orléans, Allegoriae (c.1175) • John of Garland, Integumenta Ovidii (c.1234) • The Vulgate Commentary on Ovid’s Metamorphoses (c.1250) • St. Bonaventure, Breviloquium (c.1257) and more • St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica (c.1265–1274) and more • Pierre Bersuire, Ovidius Moralizatus (first version from 1340) • The Ovide moralisé en prose (1466–1467) Ovid and the Early Mythographic Tradition There are no manuscripts of the Metamorphoses from either Late Antiquity or the early to middle Carolingian period. The earliest fragments date to the ninth century27 and the first complete version of the poem dates to the eleventh.28 The earliest surviving fragment, in Bern Burgerbibliothek MS 363, was never meant to be a complete copy of the Metamorphoses: excerpts were copied alongside Augustine, Bede, Horace, Servius, and others.29 In essence, Ovid is here part Tarrant (2004), xxv–xxvi, discusses the ninth-century fragments in detail. Tarrant (2004) suggests this gap in the manuscript tradition ought not to be equated with a lack of interest in Ovid. On the contrary, he proposes it is likely due to high usage and circulation: older copies, subjected to wear and tear, had to be replaced with newer and more durable ones. Coulson (2015, xii) notes that the only fragment of Ovid’s to survive from earlier is the fifth-century copy of twenty-five lines of the Epistulae ex Ponto, probably from Italy. 29 A phototype reproduction was made in 1897, with an introduction by Herman Hagen. It has since been digitized and is accessible here (Ovid begins on fol. 187, here p. 373): https://babel. hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.l0063884308&view=1up&seq=463&skin=2021. The other three oldest manuscript fragments are Leipzig, Universitätsbibliothek MS Rep. I 74 (Digital facsimile: https://www.ub.uni-leipzig.de/forschungsbibliothek/digitalesammlungen/mittelalterlichehandschriften/handschriften-der-rep-signaturenreiheleihgabe-leipziger-stadtbibliothekw); Paris, BNF MS lat. 12246 (France, tenth century. This fragment is bound upside down into a manuscript with St. Gregory’s Moralia in Iob. Digital facsimile: http://gallica.bnf.fr/ ark:/12148/btv1b10721618t.r=12246); Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana MS Vat.Urb.lat. 342 27 28



INTRODUCTION 15

of a “reader” of selections of ancient and early Christian authors – and it was precisely in this kind of intertextual ecosystem that the Metamorphoses would continue to be read throughout the Middle Ages, including in the fourteenth century, when the OM was composed. If other authors are not juxtaposed in the manuscripts, as they typically won’t be by the time we get to integral copies of the text, the literary, philosophical, and theological traditions are nonetheless juxtaposed to Ovid in the minds of readers, who, as we will see below, came to be thought of as a “philosopher” (philosophus). From the ninth to the twelfth centuries, the number of surviving copies of the Metamorphoses increases steadily:30 2 from the ninth, 3 from the tenth, 12 from the eleventh, 39 from the twelfth. Most are heavily glossed; this was still true for when the OM was composed, as a fourteenth-century French manuscript preserved at the University of Texas at Austin’s Harry Ransom Center, HRC 34, attests.31 Over the years, such glosses were often assembled into free-standing commentaries that, in turn, made their way in entirety, or by excerpts, back into other manuscripts … and so on. Early readers of Ovid also benefited from a critical apparatus, the so-called “Lactantian materials,” though we now know the attribution to Lactantius (c.250–c.325) was false: while these materials might be as early as the second century, they probably date from the fifth or sixth. These Narrationes, along with the tituli ascribing individual titles to each episode of Ovid’s poem, preserve a set of prose paraphrases and comments.32 Similar rubrications and comments would find their way into copies of the OM.33 When considering marginal and interlinear glosses, or even standalone “in catena” commentaries in which the commentary follows on excerpted words or phrases from Ovid, it is important to recognize that tales assembled in the Metamorphoses had for some time been wrapped within a rich and ongoing (France or Germany, mid-tenth century). Murray was able to study on site the Bern, Paris, and Vatican manuscripts of the Metamorphoses and many more thanks to funding from Princeton University, 2000–2003. From 2003 to 2010, support from the American Philosophical Society, Baylor University’s University Research Committee, and the National Endowment for the Humanities and the University of Texas at Austin’s Harry Ransom Center allowed Murray to consult additional Ovidian materials and all surviving manuscripts of the Ovide moralisé. 30 The manuscript data in Olsen (1985) is presented in a table by Tilliette (1994), 70. 31 The Harry Ransom Center provides a digital facsimile of the manuscript accessible here: https://norman.hrc.utexas.edu/mnemGal/34/HRC_34.pdf. Murray studied the manuscript on-site. 32 During the Renaissance, notes Coulson (2015), these narrationes sometimes circulated separately and were thought of as a mythological treatise (see p. xxvii, n4). Coulson references the reader to his Incipitarium Ovidianum (2000), 37–40, esp. n52; and Cameron (2004), 4–32. Cameron suggests redating the narrationes to the second century. For the most complete discussion of the manuscript evidence, see Tarrant (1995). 33 Hexter (1987) discusses the integration of Lactantian materials into manuscripts of the Metamorphoses and provides a sample of useful illustrations.

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mythographic tradition. Jane Chance has studied in great detail the process of transmitting and explicating classical mythology from classical antiquity, through the school of Chartres, medieval universities, and down to Italian (and French) humanists like Dante and Christine de Pisan.34 We in no way intend as exhaustive an overview here. Rather, our goal is to highlight key points and developments of intellectual history in the reception of classical myths and of the Metamorphoses in particular. All of the classical and medieval authors and commentaries mentioned in this introduction were read and consulted in the making of our translation,35 and much more work remains to be done on how the OM relates to all of its sources, explicit and implicit.36 By understanding the intellectual and historical context that leads up to the OM, readers of our translation will be better equipped to understand the fourteenth-century work as an act of innovative continuity, rather than pure disruption. Mythography is distinct from myth in that “myth” identifies the story, and the “mythographic tradition” encompasses the body of explanations and interpretations that emerge from the reading of such tales. By the time Ovid composed the Metamorphoses, the mythographic tradition had flourished for centuries. And throughout history, the emergence of mythographic commentary is often intimately tied to questions of reception … and scandal. Consider the reception of Homer and Hesiod. When Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and Hesiod’s Theogony were analyzed by critics in ancient Greece, they came under attack for portraying classical gods engaged in immoral behavior. Heraclitus (540–470 bc) didn’t mince words: he said that Homer deserved “to be given a beating!”37 By way of rehabilitating Homer, the pre-Socratic philosophers proposed physical, or cosmographic, ways to find meaning in the great epics of old: explanations signaling truths concealed in the poetry. For example, Theagenes of Rhegium (c.525 bc) interprets squabbles between gods to signify tensions between the physical elements: hot vs. cold, light vs. heavy, and so on. He deduces a moral level of interpretation as well: battles between Athena and Ares might be read as the moral opposition of Wisdom and Foolishness, and Aphrodite’s opposition to Hermes as the moral

Chance (1994, 2000, 2014). Chance’s long and complex work, carried out over decades, has not received its fair due from scholars, who have noted for example how esoteric and challenging it is to read. That said, its usefulness as a reference tool cannot be overstated. Expanding on the work of Fritz Saxl and Erwin Panofsky, Jean Seznec (1953) also presented a broad view of the transmission of classical representation in Western art. 35 Murray benefited, for example, from a National Endowment for the Humanities summer seminar focused on reading and discussing the complete works of Aristotle under the direction of Mark Wheeler at San Diego State University. 36 A large research project on this very topic is ongoing, under the direction of Richard Trachsler. 37 According to the Life of Heraclitus by Diogenes Laërtius, trans. Hicks (1925), 9.1. 34



INTRODUCTION 17

tension between Desire and Reason (or Logos). Almost two thousand years later, similar hermeneutics of interpretation remain in play in the OM. By the fifth century bc, the Ionian commentators claimed that Homer’s story sought to instruct readers in Virtue and Justice, and by the fourth century bc, “the Stoics assumed that Homer wrote with an understanding of Stoic physical and moral dogma.”38 Another more literal, or historical, school of interpretation also emerged around this time, following the writings of Euhemerus (fl.316 bc), who in his Sacred History popularized an approach already piloted by the Stoic Persaeus. Rather than seeing the gods as allegorical beings, Euhemerus interpreted them as historical figures. Thus, sacred spaces attributed to any given god or goddess were seen by Euhemerus as the burial places of actual, larger-than-life historical persons, who became the stuff of legends.39 Cicero built on this tradition in his On the Nature of the Gods (De natura deorum; cited by Augustine in the City of God), as did the pseudo-Heraclitus in the late firstcentury Allegories of Homer (Allegoriae Homericae). The OM’s “historical” level of interpretation continues this ancient approach to reading Ovid. Ovid didn’t originate many of the myths recorded in the Metamorphoses, although he is credited with bringing them together in this specific format for the first time. And in turn, these influence the classical poets who come after him.40 G. Karl Galinsky’s study of the Hercules myth helps us understand how the myths adapted and recorded by Ovid already subsisted within their own mythographic ecosystems.41 Galinsky argues that Ovid inherited two distinct interpretations and contexts for reading Hercules: “a model of ethical prudence and philosophical virtuosity, and a type of prodigious appetite and sensuality.”42 Thus, already well before Ovid composed the Metamorphoses, references to Hercules tended to emphasize “either the superhuman nature of his toils, or his susceptibility to the temptations of the flesh.”43 This and many other examples bear witness to how the mythographic ecosystem was capable of containing and upholding two seemingly irreconcilable, yet concurrent, moral interpretations – a practice with which the OM would still be comfortable centuries later. While Ovid’s Metamorphoses never spells out these kinds of concurrent and conflicting readings, it is plausible, and at least conceivable, that both interpretations of, say, Hercules would have coexisted in the minds of Ovid’s original readership. In any case, the plurality of possible interpretations of a given myth, even readings Chance (1994), 25. The Sacred History was translated into Latin by Ennius. See the edition and translation by Goldberg and Manuwald (2018), 414ff. 40 For a detailed discussion of the influence of Ovid on late-antique poets, see Tissol and Wheeler (2002). However, no set of late-antique scholia on Ovid have survived. 41 Galinsky (1972). 42 Shulman (1983), 89. 43 Shulman (1983), 90. 38 39

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that might on the surface seem to contradict one another, did not originate in the mythographic tradition with the OM. Other mythographers, like Hyginus and Fulgentius, provide a broader intellectual context for mythography and the reception of Ovid. In the first century, Hyginus’s Fables explicate the genealogies of the Roman gods and their offspring, including demigods such as Perseus and Hercules (who figure prominently in the OM). Fulgentius, writing in North Africa in the sixth century, is far more explicit about his goal: in the prologue to his Mythologies, he states his intent to strip all the ancient myths of their fictional and meaningless details so as to reveal the hidden truths contained within.44 To these works, we must add the so-called “Vatican Mythographers,” the anonymous authors of three Latin mythographic works bound together in Vatican MS Reg. lat. 1401.45 Although they function (and indeed circulated) as separate works, since the first critical edition, scholars have tended to view them as a single entity. The First Vatican Mythographer’s work is preserved only in the Vatican manuscript, and recounts 234 of Ovid’s myths; entries vary from a single sentence to around forty. This was once believed to be an Irish commentator of the eighth or ninth century, but since he appears to draw on the writings of Remigius of Auxerre (843–908), he more likely dates from the late ninth to the eleventh century.46 Throughout his work, we find references to Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Statius, Hyginus, Fulgentius, and the pseudo-Lactantian Narrationes.47 The Second Vatican Mythographer’s commentary is longer, and survives in eleven manuscripts, divided into 275 chapters.48 The interpretations are typically set off from the myths by the set phrase veritas autem est (“but the truth is”). The Second Mythographer builds on the First and incorporates wider source materials. Scholars agree that his text is later than the First.49 This brings us to the Third Vatican Mythographer, dubbed by R.M. Krill and many others as the most interesting50 – both in terms of style, and also and especially for its extensive allegorical interpretations. Manuscript The Mythologies is a series of legends told in three books. Each book is introduced by its own prologue and there are a total of fifty chapters. Each chapter explains a classical myth and interprets that myth using allegory, exploring etymologies, and oftentimes explicating the story in terms of morality. Fulgentius also wrote an exposition of Virgil’s Aeneid according to moral philosophy. For the English translation, see Whitbread (1971). 45 Chance (1994) devotes a chapter to each of the Vatican Mythographers. They have been translated by Pepin (2008). Our comments on the Vatican Mythographers are indebted to Pepin’s useful critical introduction. 46 Zorzetti and Berlioz (1995) suggests 875–1075. 47 Cameron (2004), 21. 48 According to the edition by Kulcsár (1987). 49 See Dain (2001), 8–9. 50 Krill (1979), 176. 44



INTRODUCTION 19

evidence confirms its popularity: over forty copies survive, from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries. Sources, often cited directly in the text, range from the Pseudo-Lactantian Narrationes to Fulgentius’s Mythologies, Isidore’s Etymologies, Servius’s Commentary on the Aeneid, Macrobius’s Saturnalia and Commentary on the Dream of Scipio, Martianus Capella’s Marriage of Mercury and Philology, and Remigius of Auxerre’s commentary on Martianus. The Third Mythographer also supplements his explanations with quotations from Virgil, Horace, Lucan, Ovid, Statius, and Lucretius, and he is explicitly Christian. Like the OM author, he decries transitory, worldly goods, as evidenced by this comment on the peacock: “Just as the peacock adorns its front parts but shamefully bares its backside, so indeed do riches and worldly glory adorn for the moment, but later leave bare those whom they have adorned!”51 There is much scholarly debate about who the author might have been, with candidates ranging from Alberic of London to Alexander Neckam. He remains anonymous for now. The one thing everyone agrees on is the date: the text was likely composed between the late twelfth and first half of the thirteenth century. The preface states the purpose of the commentary: “Now let us refute in turn some unexplained errors of antiquity, and if we cannot pour light on them, at least let us drive away in some measure the mists of ignorance with the scourge of mightier authorities.”52 The three Vatican Mythographers served as reference handbooks to reading and interpreting classical mythology, ancient rites and customs, and etymologies; they also integrated moral readings and allegories. How, then, do we get from Stoic- and Euhemerus-inspired moral and historical readings in the First Vatican Mythographer to the overtly Christian allegorical readings of the Third, and later, the OM? This question, taken up at length by Paule Demats,53 is at the heart of a deep transformation, or metamorphosis, of the mythographic tradition itself. The Early Christian Era The advent of Christianity brought with it new challenges to the survival of classical mythology and the mythographic tradition. Why read ancient poems about pagan gods, that on the surface have nothing to do with Jesus Christ, when one could tend instead to the study of Scripture? Many early Christian commentators did just that: they applied techniques of commentary and

51 Cited by Pepin (2008), 8. As Pepin notes, the Third Mythographer is quick to “assure his readers that ‘I am not setting forth Catholic truth in these matters, but the opinions and fictions of the pagans’” when dealing with more contentious mythical materials. Cf. the OM Book 1, vv. 4105–4150. 52 Pepin (2008), 210. 53 Demats (1973), 107–177.

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interpretation to the Bible. In so doing, they followed and built on practices of interpreting the Hebrew Old Testament.54 Chance argues that the Jewish exegete Philo Judaeus (c.15bc–50ad) applied Stoic methods of interpretation to some of the more licentious tales of the Old Testament.55 In turn, his disciple Clement of Alexandria held that the more mysterious stories of the Bible, full of symbols and allegories, pointed towards spiritual truth. Origen, Clement’s student and successor as head of the school at Alexandria, systematized these hermeneutical principles and outlined three levels of meaning in biblical texts: the literal, the moral, and the spiritual. Of these, Origen considered the spiritual (i.e., allegorical) level to be the highest.56 Even Tertullian, who cared little for the Classics and preferred to concern himself with the contemplation of sacred Christian Scripture, operated within literal and figurative levels of meaning as he approached biblical texts. And St. Jerome shared the Stoics’ fascination for etymology as reflecting moral meaning. Of the early Church Fathers, it is Augustine who arguably exerts the most widespread and long-reaching influence in the history of reading and interpreting Scripture and classical thought. Augustine accepted the obscurity of the Bible and need for exegesis as a gift from God: “It is a wonderful and beneficial thing,” he writes in On Christian Doctrine, “that the Holy Spirit organized the Holy Scripture so as to satisfy hunger by means of its plainer passages and remove boredom by means of its obscurer ones.”57 Thus, “one should proceed to explore and analyze the obscure passages, by taking examples from the more obvious parts to illuminate obscure expressions and by using evidence of indisputable passages to remove the uncertainty of ambiguous ones.”58 The ultimate end of this process was not knowledge per se, or a mere sense of satisfaction for a job well done. For Augustine, reading and exegesis led to better loving God and one’s neighbor. Thus, explicating the Scriptures and coming to a better understanding of them translated into living more holily in accordance with God’s plan, or design, for humankind.59 Augustine further argued that God might intend truths in Scripture that the human author did not, so one might arrive at a reading of a biblical text 54 While most Jewish commentaries of this type (midrash) were compiled in written form c.200–1000 ad, many midrashim circulated orally before then. 55 Chance (1994), 30. 56 Chance (1994), 31. 57 On Christian Doctrine 2.6.8, trans. Green (1995), 61–63; (1997), 33. 58 On Christian Doctrine 2.9.14, trans. Green (1995), 71; (1997), 37. 59 “The fulfillment and end of the law and all the divine scriptures is to love the thing which must be enjoyed and the thing which together with us can enjoy that thing. […] Anyone who thinks that he has understood the Divine Scriptures or any part of them, but cannot by his understanding build up this double love of God and neighbor, has not yet succeeded in understanding them” (On Christian Doctrine 1.35.39–1.36.40, trans. Green 1995, 49; 1997, 27).



INTRODUCTION 21

that the original human author never intended – which was fine,60 as long as such a reading didn’t conflict with other biblical teachings. He explains in the Confessions that Scripture benefits from the interpretations of many as it contains a “diversity of truths,”61 so that even an entire lifetime is not enough to uncover them all. Augustine laid out four ways of approaching Scripture, which he said he had inherited from other commentators: the way of history, the way of allegory, the way of analogy, and the way of etiology. “History,” he explains, “is when things done by God or man are recounted; allegory when they are understood as being said figuratively; analogy, when the harmony of the old and new covenants is being demonstrated;62 aetiology, when the causes of the things that have been said and done are presented.”63 He further adds: “anything in the divine discourse that cannot be related either to good morals or to the true faith should be taken as figurative,” since God’s Word cannot contain errors.64 Since God and his truth are infinite, there is no earthly end to the process of exegesis.65 Confessions 12.18.27, trans. Chadwick (1991): “What difficulty is it for me, I say, if I understand the text in a way different from someone else, who understands the scriptural author in another sense? In Bible study all of us are trying to find and grasp the meaning of the author we are reading … As long as each interpreter is endeavoring to find in the holy scriptures the meaning of the author who wrote it, what evil is it if an exegesis he gives is one shown to be true by You, light of all sincere souls, even if the author whom he is reading did not have that idea and, though he had grasped a truth, had not discerned that seen by the interpreter?” 61 12.30.41, trans. Chadwick (1991): “So when one person has said, ‘Moses thought what I say,’ and another ‘No, what I say,’ I think it more religious in spirit to say ‘Why not rather say both, if both are true?’ And if anyone sees a third or fourth and a further truth in these words, why not believe that Moses discerned all these things? For through him, the one God has tempered the sacred books to the interpretations of many who could come to see a diversity of truths.” The OM commentary is of course deeply steeped in this Augustinian principle of “diversity of truths.” 62 A flourishing tradition of reading the Old Testament in light of the New, attested also throughout Christian iconography (e.g., the stained glass windows of the Romanesque, and later Gothic periods), culminates centuries later in the creation of a corpus of elaborate, illustrated “Moralized Bibles” in thirteenth-century France. 63 Unfinished Literal Commentary on Genesis 2.5, trans. Hill (2002). 64 On Christian Doctrine 3.10.4, trans. Green (1995); (1997), 75. Augustine’s statement itself echoes the biblical scripture that “by faith we understand that this universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible” (Hebrews 11:3). The idea that Faith and Reason not only can, but do, go hand-in-hand will of course be taken back up by St. Anselm of Canterbury in his eleventh-century Proslogion, originally titled Fides Quaerens Intellectum, or Faith Seeking Understanding: “I do not seek to understand in order that I may believe, but rather, I believe so that I may understand” (trans. Charlesworth 1979, ch. 1). Anselm also cites Isaiah 7:9: “Unless you believe, you shall not understand.” 65 See Confessions 12.14.17, trans. Chadwick (1991): “What wonderful profundity there is in your utterances! The surface meaning lies open before us and charms beginners. 60

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When it came to the debate about whether or not to read the Classics, Augustine understood the tendencies of the Christian Ciceronians – men like Lactantius, Eusebius Pamphili, and Jerome – who treasured the classical heritage so much that they were loath to subject it to a really radical criticism. He also knew the Christian secessionists – Tatian, Tertullian, Arnobius – with their testy denunciations of pagan philosophy: “Away with all attempts at a mottled Christianity, that mixture of Stoic, Platonic, and dialectic rubbish!” Augustine refused both these extremes and sought to harmonize his learning and his delight in learning with his faith in God as Creator and his delight in exploring His creation.66

Unlike Tertullian, who aspired to set aside anything but the enjoyment of the Gospel,67 Augustine aspired to a new kind of learning that had belief as its bedrock, as evidenced by his now famous saying, “Believe, so that you might understand” (crede, ut intelligas).68 For Augustine, when a Christian chooses to believe that human beings were purposefully created by a Greater Power, i.e., God, then the way they look at the world and themselves changes. Their existence, and the history of (even pre-Christian) humanity is inscribed within the Christian story. In his Confessions, Augustine says that he wandered for many years in the desert of indecision, and that in the end it was the writings of Cicero that led him to Christ. This was perhaps shocking, scandalous even, to some of his contemporaries. Augustine admits that his original intentions for picking up Cicero were dubious: he was driven by a desire to be “eminent” in Rhetoric so that he might “delight in human vanity.”69 In other words, he wanted to read Cicero so that he could become a great orator, impress people, and be famous. But when Augustine read Cicero’s Hortensius, now lost, everything changed: it wasn’t Cicero’s style that captivated him (although it was beautiful), but the substance of the text. Yet the depth is amazing, my God, the depth is amazing.” And also Letter 137, 1.3: “For such is the depth of the Christian Scriptures that, even if I were attempting to study them and nothing else, from boyhood to decrepit old age, with the utmost leisure, the most unwearied zeal, and with talents greater than I possess, I would still be making daily progress in discovering their treasures.” 66 Outler (1959), 215. 67 See Tertullian, De Praes. Her. 7: “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem? What concord can there be between the Academy and the Church? […] We want no curious disputations once we possess Jesus Christ, no inquiry once we have begun to enjoy the Gospel” (trans. Outler 1959, 220n12). 68 Tractates on the Gospel of John 29.6, trans. Rettig (1993), 19. Commenting on John 7:17, Augustine writes: “For understanding is the recompense of faith. Therefore, seek not to understand so that you may believe, but believe so that you may understand.” 69 Confessions 3.4.7, trans. Chadwick (1991).



INTRODUCTION 23

Cicero implanted deep within Augustine a longing for the immortality of wisdom, which in turn led him to study the Bible. Looking back on that preconversion experience, Augustine saw God already at work through Cicero’s text. “It was this book which quite definitely changed my whole attitude and turned my prayers toward thee, O Lord, and gave me new hope and desires,” he exclaims. “Suddenly every vain hope became worthless to me and with an incredible warmth of heart, I yearned for an immortality of wisdom and began now to arise that I might return to thee. […] How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly from earthly things to thee!”70 Such a deeply personal experience helps us understand why Augustine, rather than turning away from and shunning classical authors, came to embrace them as part of God’s plan for pointing the broken and fallen world towards himself. If Cicero could point Augustine in the right direction, so could other classical writers – not because they were closet Christians, but because all truth in the world, since the beginning of time, emanates from God. And if all-powerful God sometimes intends truths in Scripture that its human authors did not, doesn’t it stand to reason that he might also intend truths in the creative works of those who lived in his world before Christ? Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine encouraged an aggressive approach to the Classics. It claims, as we said earlier, that the moderns must be like the Israelites of Exodus 12:35–36, who plundered the gold of the Egyptians and later melted it down to create the holy objects of the tabernacle – the gold cups, gold bread plates, gold candlesticks, and even the ark of the covenant. Thus, Christians are to plunder the writings of classical authors, melt them down, refine them, and use them for the glory of God, by bringing to light and retrieving the treasures – the truth – concealed within. The image is undoubtedly a violent one, but this is a battle for human souls. Reading, and the interpretation that ensues, can be a matter of life and death. For Augustine, one must read all texts, ancient and Christian, for a single purpose: to become wise, and grow closer to God. In this same vein, Statius tells Virgil in Dante’s Divine Comedy that he became a Christian by reading the Aeneid.71 This must have come as a shock to Virgil’s character in the poem, a long-time resident of Limbo, in Hell.72 And Dante’s handling of the encounter in turn clarifies one crucial aspect of Augustinian reading for us: without Grace, without Revelation, reading the Classics can take us only so far. Thus, Virgil’s journey in the Divine Comedy ends abruptly. By the time Dante turns around to check on him nine cantos later, Virgil has disappeared.73 70 71 72 73

Confessions 3.4.7–8, trans. Chadwick (1991). See Purgatory 21. Inferno 4. Purgatory 30.

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In keeping with Augustine’s teachings, many early Christian readers engaged the Classics with renewed enthusiasm. Their goal? To uncover God’s truth(s) concealed in the fables of old. No doubt some scholars “pinned” Christianized readings on the Classics in order to avoid scrutiny and not be found heretical, or to avoid having their books seized and destroyed – a very real concern throughout the period. But Augustine’s vision for Christians reading the Classics was a more noble one. This kind of intellectual framework helps us understand that the author of the OM likely didn’t conceive of his commentary as imposing Christian meaning on Ovid’s text: within an Augustinian frame of reference (and the Prologue to the OM is decidedly Augustinian in scope), allegorical readings inspired by Ovid’s tales could be seen as valid even when the classical author never intended them and was completely unconscious of them. This was the historical, cultural, and spiritual context for reading Ovid in the early Christian era. Robin W. Böckerman provides a detailed survey of references to Ovid from Carolingian times to the twelfth century and notes that Bishop Theodulf of Orléans, who founded the cathedral library at Orléans in 798, had a particular taste for Ovid, as did his friends – evidence of the ancient poet’s popularity prior to our earliest surviving manuscripts. Theodulf’s friend, Bishop Modoin of Autun, even added Ovid’s “Naso” to his own surname and wrote Latin verse inspired by his namesake. Theodulf’s writings underscore the value perceived in the Classics at Orléans, a veritable trove of treasures in which truth might be unearthed: “At one time I read Pompeius, at another you, Donatus, / At one time Virgil, at another you, talkative Naso. / Although there are many frivolous things in these authors’ sayings, / There is a great truth hidden under a false covering” (our emphasis).74 Alcuin, head of Charlemagne’s palace school, also mentions Ovid favorably in his letters, Paul the Deacon names him in a poem, and other contemporary sources make similar allusions, like the letter from the monk Otfridus to archbishop Moguntinus, and Ermenrich of Ellwangen’s letter to Grimaldus, abbot of St. Gall.75 Thus, as early as the Carolingian period, “we have clear documentary evidence for both the classroom reading and literary assimilation of Ovid’s poetry.”76 Not everyone was as excited about Ovid as Bishop Theodulf, nor did they embrace Augustine’s enthusiasm for the Classics. In the eleventh century, for example, Guibert of Nogent (1055–1124) equated his youthful interest in Ovid with his own spiritual “inconstancy,” while others like Herbert of 74 See Böckerman (2020), 15ff. The Latin text, cited and translated by Böckerman, is from the Monumenta Germaniae Historica (MGH) Poetae Latini aevi Carolini, vol. 1, p. 543, l. 17–20: “Et modo Pompeium, modo te, Donate, legebam,/ Et modo Virgilium, te modo, Naso loquax./ In quorum dictis quamquam sint frivola multa,/ Plurima sub falso tegmine vera latent.” 75 Böckerman (2020), 15–17. Böckerman goes on to note that few references survive in sources from the tenth century, with a notable increase by the eleventh. 76 Coulson (2015), xii.



INTRODUCTION 25

Losinga (1054–1119) found Ovid’s tales “tedious” at best.77 Conrad of Hirsau (1070–1150) maintained that one should avoid the Metamorphoses at all costs because they contain transformations contrary to Christian belief.78 But the metaphorical floodgates had been opened; the stage had been set for the widespread, explosive interest in Ovid that came to the forefront from the second half of the twelfth century and endured to at least the middle of the thirteenth: the aetas Ovidiana, or “Age of Ovid.”79 The Mythographic Tradition of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries By the late eleventh and twelfth centuries, a number of schoolmasters-turnedpoets followed in the footsteps of Modoin and his peers and composed Latin verse inspired by Ovid. Among them were the so-called “Loire Valley Poets,” a politically well-connected group that included the bishops Marbod of Rennes (c.1035–1123), Baudri of Bourgueil (c.1046–1130), and Hildebert of Lavardin (1056–1133/34).80 Their work is now read mostly in the context of Ovid’s legacy as the archetypal poet of love, the author of the Amores, Art of Love (Ars Amatoria), and Remedies of Love (Remedia Amoris) – a legacy in which the OM has limited interest. (The moralization of Callisto in Book 2 translates from the comic thirteenth-century Latin poem On the Old Woman (De Vetula), which claims to have been recovered from Ovid’s grave and imagines his conversion from a frustrated lover into a philosophical Christian.) Still, this corpus of Ovidian poetry might also be considered part of the mythographic ecosystem of the eleventh and twelfth centuries.81 Ovid’s amatory works, condemned by some,82 were popular teaching texts for others, including the masters at Orléans discussed below;83 and they would come to be presented Böckerman (2020), 23. Huygens (1955), 51. 79 The term is coined by Traube (1911), 113. See also Hexter (1986), 2, and Clark, Coulson, and McKinley (2011). 80 See Bond (1986) and Moser (2004), ch. 1. 81 See Tilliette (1994), and, for the medieval poetry actually ascribed to Ovid, see Hexter, Pfuntner, and Haynes (2020). 82 For example, William of St. Thierry prefaces his twelfth-century On the Nature and Dignity of Love (De natura et dignitate amoris), with a warning against Ovid, who “certainly did not struggle to teach the fervor of fleshly love (amor carnalis) which, in both the students and the teacher, burned by its own natural fire without any rational control. He earnestly applied himself to change its natural power into a kind of insane licentious insanity by superfluous incitements to lust” (trans. Davis 1981, 49). William’s description of the lustful foreshadows the moralizations of the OM: “The entire ordering of nature was destroyed in these depraved and wicked men by the rampaging vice of fleshly concupiscence. [...] They have made the place of their soul, which belongs to God the Creator, and which is communicable to no creature, into the seat of Satan” (50–51). 83 See Hexter (2006). Wales is one example of a place where Ovid’s reception was almost exclusively as a love poet and hardly at all as the author of the Metamorphoses: see Russell (2017), 221. 77 78

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as having an ethical purpose (perhaps in spite of Ovid’s original intentions where the Art of Love was concerned) of condemning dissolute loves and encouraging virtuous ones.84 But how these other works were moralized is really outside our scope in this introduction. In addition to complete manuscripts of discrete works, and multi-volume manuscripts assembling the bulk of the Ovidian corpus, a growing number of florilegia were composed for use by teachers and students.85 We also know Ovid was not only read but imitated by students in schools during the socalled twelfth-century Renaissance.86 Imitation was considered an important step towards mastery of language, syntax, and style, just as Renaissance painters would later study and imitate the masters that came before them prior to introducing new, original techniques. Homework for an advanced student might have consisted in composing a poem based on a tale from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. And from the earliest stages, this Latin poetry inspired by Ovid also integrated elements of interpretation. Amid this intellectual climate and enthusiasm for Ovid, the earliest freestanding systematic commentary was composed in Bavaria (c.1100), another region with flourishing centers of classical study, like the monasteries of Tegernsee and Benediktbeuern. Known as MS Clm 4610,87 this commentary seems to draw extensively on lost scholia by an important late eleventh-century German teacher, Manegold of Lautenbach.88 In the accessus,89 Clm 4610 says that “the intention of Ovid and of all writers of stories, as well as that of Terence, is mainly to delight and by delighting to teach morals, since almost all authors strive towards ethics. Ovid brings us this usefulness, since, although the stories were treated in other Reynolds (1971), 4–5, citing Ghisalberti (1946), 13, 44–46, 57. See Ullman (1932), Rouse (1979), Burton (1983), and Rackley (1973, 1986, 1992). 86 See Alton and Wormell (1960) and Hexter (1986, 2006). On the twelfth-century Renaissance, see Haskins (1971) and now Novikoff (2017). 87 “Clm” is an abbreviation for Codices latini monacenses, Latin manuscripts held by the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek in Munich. Other examples of Bavarian commentaries on Ovid include Clm 14482 and Clm 14809. 88 The commentary was originally one of several hundred manuscripts belonging to the Benedictine monastery Benediktbeuern. It was likely copied in southern Germany in the late eleventh to early twelfth century. The full text has been edited and translated by Böckerman (2020) with a detailed scholarly introduction. Clm 4610 was first mentioned by Haupt (1873). Meiser (1885) drew significant attention to it by signaling passages of Christian, allegorical nature. More recent scholarship has attended to its Neoplatonic qualities: see Demats (1973), Herren (2004), and Dronke (2008, 2009, 2016). 89 See the introduction to Accessus ad auctores by Wheeler (2015), 2. According to Wheeler, the “modern type” of accessus typically focuses on the topics of intention, utility, and part of philosophy. The “philosophical type” (possibly derived from Boethius) covers intention, utility and order, name of the author, title, and part of philosophy. The accessus in Clm 4610 notes that “the moderns” prescribe three topics for composing an accessus: subject matter (materia, which Clm 4610 never ends up discussing), intention of the author (intentio), and to which part of philosophy the work belongs (cui parti philosophiae). The accessus doesn’t at this point mention utility and title but ends up discussing them anyhow. 84 85



INTRODUCTION 27

books, they were forgotten, until Ovid elucidated and explained them. We also benefit by his example of beautiful composition of words.”90 Of the 460 explanations this commentary provides across all fifteen books of the Metamorphoses,91 Böckerman classifies 135 as “interpretative,” in subcategories of “Euhemeristic” (12 instances), “natural philosophy” (30), “narrative” (18), and “plot” (75).92 Many of these, especially but not exclusively the euhemeristic and natural philosophy ones, would correspond to the OM’s historical level of interpretation. Böckerman identifies only one “theological” interpretation and two allegorical ones, on Metamorphoses 1.21, 1.184, and 9.647 respectively (the italics are the words of the original being commented on): This strife God, and the better nature, that is the will of God, the Son of God, settled. And thus with respect to the effect, that is according to those who realized that nothing can happen to God so that he would become “better”. It is said about Jesus: “The boy Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and grace with God and men.”93 [Each] of the serpent-footed [was in act] to lay. Giants are said to have had snake-legs, not being able to rise from the ground, and this signifies those who always cling to earthly things.94 And on the ridge where Chimaera. Chimera is a mountain on whose top lions live, and therefore it is said to have both a lion’s head and chest. And in its middle, men, who keep a fire, live with goats. And by its foot snakes dwell in a lake. And this is said metaphorically. The serpent advances by hiding, so also excess first advances by hiding, trying to find what it wants. The lion is strong and wanton. If necessary, it displays strength after a commenced pleasure. The goat is stinking and amoral, as an impious deed stinks in the end.95

Böckerman (2020), 195 (our emphasis). Böckerman (2020), 63. Böckerman, 68, groups them into Background (mythological background explanations), Grammar (grammatical explanations, paraphrase), Lexical (patronymics, lexicon, etymology), and Interpretative (euhemeristic, natural philosophy, narrative, plot). 92 Böckerman (2020), 79. 93 Böckerman (2020), 90, with two commas removed for clarity. Böckerman explains that this “concerns the part of the first book of the Metamorphoses that treats the creation of the world, and reacts to the fact that the god/God is paired with the phrase Melior natura (a better nature) […] The explanation then states that melior (better) in no way means that God can be made better, but that this must refer to Jesus, who increased in wisdom as he grew older.” 94 Böckerman (2020), 90. 95 Böckerman (2020), 91, with one comma added for clarity. 90 91

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So – although there is still a long way to go – Clm 4610 could be said to anticipate, or at least begin to anticipate, what the OM is up to.96 It is not, Böckerman says, “cosmographical or otherwise Neoplatonic” taken as a whole, but is the product of “a period when Neoplatonic ideas gained center stage,” “reflecting an ongoing dialogue in the schoolroom at the time when new ideas were gaining ground and the Metamorphoses was being carefully introduced into the curriculum.”97 For example, the accessus identifies Ovid as one of three types of “philosopher” (philosophus) preoccupied with the creation of the world. The first group “believed that God made the world from nothing”; the second, “that God made the world from atoms and emptiness, two things that always existed”; and the third, “such as Ovid and the like, have said that there were always three, namely God and the four elements mixed together at the same time and the forms of all things, which existed in the mind of God, that is the ideas, which are differentia (essential properties) like rationality, heat, cold and others, through which God himself would determine things to be.” 98 The latter two groups are said to believe that God is “a maker (artifex) not a creator (creator),” so it would still be necessary to reconcile the Neoplatonic artifex attributed to Ovid with the Christian God creating ex nihilo as we see him represented in, for example, Lyon MS 742. The twelfth-century Renaissance was heavily indebted to Plato and, as Winthrop Wetherbee has masterfully shown, to the school of Chartres.99 The only one of Plato’s works directly available to the Latin West was the Timaeus, in a Latin translation and commentary by Calcidius, a fourth-century Iberian monk. But key themes and questions in Plato’s dialogues came indirectly through Boethius, Macrobius, Martianus Capella, and others. Modern students might remember Plato from his Republic (c.375 bc) as the philosopher who kicked storytellers out of his ideal city. But the twelfth century knew him as the author of the Myth of Atlantis (written, we think, immediately after the Republic), which admonished both readers and myth tellers to remember that such tales, while they might seem incredible, are nonetheless true – an idea Macrobius sums up under the designation of “fabulous 96 The commentary preserved in Clm 14482 is also explicitly Christian. For example, when Ovid calls on the gods to assist him at the beginning of the Metamorphoses, on fol. 28r, the commentator notes that Ovid says “gods in the plural” due to common opinions, but also maintains that “he knew there was a single god.” This comment will be echoed by subsequent commentators, including the thirteenth-century anonymous Vulgate Commentary, discussed later, and the OM. 97 Böckerman (2020), 27–28. 98 Böckerman (2020), 195. For Demats (1973), three different aspects of Ovid prevail during the Middle Ages: the ethical (associated with moral interpretations of good and bad behavior), the philosophical (associations with Plato and Boethius), and the theological (associated with the allegorical tradition of interpretation). 99 Wetherbee (1972).



INTRODUCTION 29

narrative” (narratio fabulosa) in his Commentary on Scipio’s Dream.100 Plato foregrounded for the twelfth century the importance of storytelling in the quest for knowledge and truth. The Timaeus also emphasized how important it was to write those stories down: the Egyptian priest who educates Solon about Atlantis tells him that the Greeks are “children” because their culture relies solely on oral tradition, which forces them to start from scratch every time their tradition-bearers are wiped out by natural disasters. No wonder a flourishing tradition of literature in the vernacular ensued!101 Plato fits with the moral level of reading stories, too. For example, one might suggest that in the Republic, the difference between the Myth of Er and those worthless and misleading stories that get their tellers expelled from the city is precisely whether the story, or myth, points to an important moral truth, or leads us astray by encouraging more problematic behaviors. The Myth of Er explores concepts like Justice and encourages us to make wise decisions in life, as we will be judged for them after death. Likewise, the Allegory of the Cave points to a human being’s progress from darkness into light, from notknowing to knowing – a process that can take place only when we are guided by the light of the sun, i.e., the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. For Plato, who believed in the eternal existence of the Ideas, myths received by readers in this transient world of flux could point them on towards eternal, unwavering Truth. Thus, far from condemning storytelling as a whole – because, after all, he uses it himself – he is concerned, in the Republic, with freeing his citizens from the clutches of stories that don’t serve and reflect the Ideas or guide us towards a more noble purpose. (In this, one could argue that Plato has much to teach the modern world about the dangers of powerful, yet misleading, narratives placed in the hands of amoral and unjust men.) As Wetherbee explains, Plato’s cosmology provided the framework for twelfth-century mythography.102 In turn, “changes in reading and education caused a revolution in the way mythography was understood and appropriated by scholars and poets.”103 The work of the aforementioned Third Vatican Mythographer, apparently composed around this time, reflects many considerations of the age. Neoplatonic influences abound, and perhaps nowhere more explicitly than in his discussion of the soul. The passage in question is found in the mythographer’s section about the god of the underworld, Pluto. Explicitly naming Macrobius as his 100 Stahl

(1952), x. studied at length in Murray (2008), ch. 1. 102 See Wetherbee (2012), 335. To understand the role Chartres played as an intellectual and cultural force in the twelfth-century Renaissance, we refer the reader to the seminal studies by Ernst R. Curtius (1953), Etienne Gilson (1955), Winthrop Wetherbee (1972), and Peter Dronke (1974). 103 Chance (2000), 6. 101 A concept

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source, the commentator explains that the soul “forgets” what it once knew – the Platonic Ideas or Forms – when it is joined to a body: The river Lethe, which means “forgetfulness,” as we have said, signifies nothing other than the straying of the soul that forgets the majesty of its former life. According to the philosophers, it possessed this before it was sent into the body, and yet thinks that life is in the body. Souls were created from the beginning of the world and placed amongst the corresponding stars so they might contemplate the rational motion of the firmament. […] Also, dwelling there free from every bodily contagion, as they say, the souls possessed the heavens. They had perfect understanding of all things past, present, and future.104 (Our emphasis)

This explanation echoes the fall of the soul to earth in Plato’s Phaedo as well as the cosmography of the Timaeus, where Plato discusses the creation of souls at length. In Timaeus 31d4–e1, after mixing the world soul in his mixing bowl, the demiurge now creates the lesser divinities and “divide[s] the mixture into a number of souls equal to the number of the stars and assigned each soul to a star.” In turn, these lesser divinities create human beings by implanting immortal souls into mortal bodies (42a3–b2). And the mortals retain some aspect of the divine, either from the creator god himself or from the mixing bowl. As the Third Mythographer notes, “some teach that the soul is a certain part of portion of the divine essence. In fact, they say, all things are created from the four elements and the divine spirit.”105 A little later, “the authority of Plato” is invoked by name, on the issue of whether the soul is begotten or unbegotten: “It seems to be begotten according to first [and second] book of the Timaeus [… b]ut in the Phaedo, it seems to be unbegotten, where he says: ‘and the soul is not born and it is eternal.’”106 Christian doctrine is also involved, for example, in a passage about the “two strengths of the soul, one superior and the other inferior.” The superior “adheres to heavenly and incorruptible things,” whereas the inferior “accords with the pleasures of the body and is called sensuality, animal nature, handmaid, heart.” Although it is “in the nature of the superior to rule the inferior,” sometimes “the inferior prevails and leads the superior astray.” This

104 Pepin

(2008), 239. Cf. Dante’s Purgatory, canto 31. (2008), 241. The Third Mythographer returns to this topic on 244–245. 106 Pepin (2008), 243. “The philosophers” are said to have resolved the apparent contradiction by explaining that Plato calls the soul “unbegotten” insofar as “it does not yield to the law of things that have been begotten, namely, that it might be dissolved either naturally or actively,” and calls it “begotten” insofar as “according to many the soul also has hyle, ‘preexistent matter.’ Although Plato nowhere asserts this, he nowhere contradicts it” (244). 105 Pepin



INTRODUCTION 31

leads to an analogy with the Fall in Genesis, “for if the superior Adam had ruled himself with reason, the inferior Eve would not have led him astray.”107 Humanist scholars at the school of Chartres, like the famous schoolmaster Bernard of Chartres and his students, John of Salisbury and William of Conches, responded to Plato with glosses, commentaries, and even original philosophical poems and works of prose. In his glosses on the Timaeus, William of Conches defended Plato as a source of truth: “If someone does not inspect Plato’s words so much as his meaning, not only will he not find heresy, but he will encounter the profoundest philosophy covered by verbal wrappings. And this we, lovers of Plato, will attempt to show” (§ CXIX).108 (This was not supposed to be easy: William said that the truth, like a rabbit, hides in a dark tunnel and the adept scholar must chase it down and bring it into the light.109) Besides glossing the Timaeus, Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy, Priscian’s Institutions, and Macrobius’s Commentary on Scipio’s Dream, William composed a major systematic treatise on natural philosophy, the Dialogue on Natural Philosophy (Dragmaticon Philosophiae). In the Cosmographia, Bernardus Silvestris presented a Latin philosophical allegory about the creation of the universe, also known as the De mundi universitate. And Alain de Lille’s Anticlaudianus provided a systematic treatment of natural philosophy.110 Close readings of Virgil and his commentary tradition, like Bernardus Silvestris’ work on the Aeneid, also popularized the theme of the descensus ad inferos (“descent into Hell”), with Aeneas’s visit to the underworld seen as pointing to Christ’s Harrowing of Hell.111 A key concept in all of this was the “integument” (Latin integumentum, from intego “to cover, to protect” and mentum “instrument, medium”). The term was used both for the “wrapping” or “cover” that concealed the truth in ancient authors, and for the truth that was believed to be so concealed.112 In many ways, the concept reminds us of how Socrates says in the Theaetetus that he is “like the midwife, in that [he] cannot [himself] give birth to wisdom” (148e): the mythographer’s understanding of the integument elicits truth that is already there, whether the human author of a myth intended it or not (the same idea as for Augustine).113 Bernardus Silvestris also distinguished 107 Pepin

(2008), 245. Jeauneau (2006), 211. 109 Dronke (1974), 49–50. 110 Alain’s Anticlaudianus is certainly Neoplatonic, but it also blends a Boethian concept of theology (for example in its conception of God as pure form) and, it might be suggested, already hints at certain Aristotelian concerns: see Simpson (1992). 111 Chance (1994), 445. Chance delves into all of these topics in more detail, and especially, in the following pages, the contributions of Bernard Silvestris. 112 Dronke (1974), 5. 113 See Copeland (1991), 81; and Blumenfeld-Kosinski (1997), 7ff. 108 See

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integumentum from allegoria: both involved a kind of hidden truth, but allegory applied to a historical account, while the integument applied to a story (fabula).114 This distinction may not have been widespread, but it shows up again at least in John of Garland (see below). Bernardus’s commentary on Martianus Capella’s De nuptiis gives further insight into how Ovidian myth was received by twelfth-century French Platonists. The accessus uses the descent of Theseus and Pirithoüs to the underworld to illustrate the human tendency to cling to earthly, perishable, transitory things – a key theme picked up by the OM (and in the context of this myth, specifically). Bernardus, like Fulgentius, etymologized Theseus as theos eus, “that is goodness, God, is Wisdom, which Boethius calls the teacher of virtue. But Pirithoüs, derived from perhite, that is, god of circumlocution or periphrasis, is eloquence. When they descend to the underworld, it means that wise and eloquent men are turning their attention to temporal matters.”115 Because “wisdom in theory is endless, in practice, transitory,” Bernardus explains, Theseus is a demigod and returns to the upper world, while Pirithoüs is wholly mortal and remains in the underworld: “though wisdom rises from the temporal to the eternal, eloquence remains among things which are transitory.” Bernardus says in the same accessus that “integumenta have double and even multiple meanings.” For example, the goddess Juno, “in Virgil[, is] an equivocation for the lower air and the practical life. When you read that Juno came to Aeolus, this signifies that the lower air aids the birth of man.” But in another instance, the judgment of Paris, Juno now “stands for the practical life, submitting herself to the judgment of sense (i.e., the affective quality) [represented by Paris] together with the theoretical and the voluptuous life [represented by Pallas Athena and Venus, respectively].”116 This kind of diversity of readings was seen as a good thing, rather than an impediment to understanding or a sign of inconsistency in the interpreter. After all, what if one, single allegorical reading could not encompass all truth(s) mined in the source? His commentary on the Aeneid gives similar advice: “One must pay attention to the diverse aspects of the poetic fictions and the multiple interpretations in all allegorical matters if in fact the truth cannot be established by a single interpretation.”117 In his understanding of Virgil, “the same name designates different natures, and conversely, different names designate the same nature, so that Apollo sometimes designates the sun, sometimes Divine Wisdom, and sometimes human wisdom.” It makes sense that, by the time we get to the OM, the fourteenth-century translator and commentator feels no need to explain how 114 Dronke

(1974), 119–120. on Martianus Capella 2.134–146, ed. Westra (1986), 47–48, our

115 Commentary

translation. 116 Commentary on Martianus Capella 2.93–109, ed. Westra (1986), 25, our translation. 117 Commentary on the Aeneid, 1.72, trans. Schreiber and Maresca (1979), 11.



INTRODUCTION 33

his various levels of reading, even seemingly conflicting ones, might coexist: this approach to allegorizing Ovid had been accepted for centuries. There is something distinct about Bernardus’s reference, when glossing Juno, to the “judgment of sense” or the “affective quality” of the soul: we recognize here an Aristotelian framework of interpretation, seamlessly integrated alongside Plato in the text. For Aristotle, the soul could be divided into three aspects, or parts: (1) the nutritive soul, the part responsible for nutrition and growth; (2) the rational soul, the part responsible for reason (logos) and its virtues, including theoretical wisdom (sophia), understanding (sunesis), and practical wisdom (phronesis); and (3) the appetitive soul, the part that governs desire and “partakes of reason insofar as it complies with reason and accepts its leadership.”118 For Aristotle, the appetitive part of the soul can be trained to follow reason but it is also partly irrational, because it is not a faculty of thought. Its virtues are the moral virtues that are the subject of Book 2 of the Ethics (e.g., temperance, courage, truthfulness, etc.). For Aristotle’s teacher, Plato, the soul also consisted of three parts, but Plato’s overarching framework was different. For him, the three parts of the soul, located in different regions of the body, consisted of (1) the logical part (or logistikon): related to reason and located in the head, it regulates the other parts; (2) the spirited part (or thumoeides), located near the chest and dealing with passions that are not strictly embodied; and (3) the eros (or epithumetikon), related to desire and located in the stomach.119 Although the new translations of Aristotle wouldn’t arrive in university circles until the thirteenth century, Aristotelian thought was already the subject of close scrutiny in the twelfth, thanks to the translations and commentaries of Boethius and, later, of Avicenna, translated into Latin by scholars at Toledo in Spain near the end of the century. Influential Platonists like Bernard of Chartres aspired to follow in Boethius’s footsteps and reconcile the teachings of Plato and Aristotle; in the Metalogicon, John of Salisbury tells us that Bernard wrote a treatise to this effect, now lost,120 and John himself studied Aristotle’s idea of the golden mean in relation to moral virtue.121 All these elements of the intellectual tradition made their way into the “Cauldron of Story” from 118 See Nicomachean Ethics 1102b31. For Aristotle’s fuller account of the soul, see his De Anima. 119 In the Phaedrus, Plato compared the soul to a chariot drawn by two horses that are led by a charioteer. Considering the metaphor in the context of the Timaeus, the charioteer can be identified with intellect (nous), and the two horses with spirit (thumos) and desire (epithumia). Furthermore, Intellection (noēsis) is the highest faculty of the soul, and Intellect (nous) has the Forms as its objects. See Robinson (1990) for a thought-provoking reconsideration of the tripartite soul in Plato’s Timaeus. 120 Boethius set out to translate Aristotle’s works into Latin and write Latin commentaries on them to show the agreement between Aristotle and Plato. He completed translations of only the logical works (e.g., Categories and On Interpretation), and some commentaries. 121 See Nederman (1986).

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which the OM would emerge. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts of the school of Chartres and other twelfth-century Platonists was the ability to digest, synthesize, and repackage for their readers a comprehensive understanding of the mythographic tradition. To twelfth-century scholars, Plato and Aristotle were seen as working in tandem.122 It’s within this rich intellectual context that Arnulf of Orléans composed a complete, standalone commentary on the Metamorphoses, the Allegoriae (c.1175).123 The city of Orléans, in the Loire valley, was another main center of classical schooling during the Middle Ages. Known as the flagship or capital of Grammar and Literature, it would not be “dethroned” until the triumph of Logic and Aristotelianism in the thirteenth century and the rise to preeminence of the newly formed University of Paris. The rivalry between these two intellectual centers, focusing respectively on Grammar and on Logic, was immortalized in Henri d’Andeli’s thirteenth-century Battle of the Seven Arts (Bataille des vii ars), in which Ovid is a leader in the army of Grammar (i.e., of Orléans). The study of Ovid at Orléans had by this time spanned centuries; we have already mentioned Bishop Theodulf’s enthusiasm as early as the eighth. From the twelfth to the thirteenth, three Orléans masters – Fulco, Arnulf, and William124 – produced around 40 percent of all commentaries on Ovid to have survived from the time period.125 Arnulf and William’s works on the Metamorphoses have survived; if Fulco also composed one, it was lost or has yet to be identified. Arnulf, nicknamed “the Red” because of his red hair and temperament, seems to have written two commentaries on the Metamorphoses. The Allegoriae was one; the second took a more elementary, grammatical approach, like William’s Bursarii Ovidianorum a generation later (c.1200).126 Of these, Arnulf’s Allegoriae, said to mark the beginning of the allegorical

122 In

the thirteenth century, the arrival of new translations of Aristotle shakes things up, as we shall see below. 123 A new critical edition and translation is expected from David T. Gura, based on his doctoral work (Gura 2010). For an edition and translation into French, see Fritz and Noacco (2022). Coulson and Roy (2000) provide a list of manuscripts. See also Coulson (1986). Ghisalberti (1932a) edited the accessus and believes Arnulf’s commentary was originally interlinear (179). Much scholarly attention has been devoted to Arnulf, beginning with Ghisalberti (1932a): see also Hexter (1987), Lauren Silberman (1988), Chance (2000), 56ff., Kathryn L. McKinley (2001), Cameron (2004), Coulson (1987; 2008a, esp. 13–14; 2008b), and Fritz (2021). 124 See also Coulson (2011), 50. Hilary of Orleans is also known to have commented on Ovid; see Coulson (2015), xiii. 125 Engelbrecht (2008), 59. 126 The Bursarii Ovidianorum (or Versus Bursarii) takes on the entire Ovidian corpus and has been discussed by Shooner (1981) and Born (1929ab).



INTRODUCTION 35

tradition of commentary on the Metamorphoses,127 is the most interesting forerunner of the OM. The text is in four parts: (1) an accessus, that identifies the author and provides the expected components, including the vita, a consideration of the title, and an overview of the subject matter, authorial intent, usefulness of the text, to which part of philosophy it should be assigned, and the didactic procedure it employs ; (2) the school commentary, or glosulae, commenting on points of grammar, rhetoric, style, etymology, geography, history, mythology, and so on; (3) a comprehensive list of transformations (mutaciones) for each book, introduced by the set phrase mutaciones huius libri sunt haec (“the transformations in the book are these”); and (4) the allegories (allegoriae), presenting historical, moral, and allegorical interpretations, typically introduced by the phrase modo quasdam historice, quasdam moraliter, quasdam allegorice exponamus. From the outset, Arnulf states that Ovid’s authorial intent is to speak of “change,” not only the kind of change that occurs on the outside in physical bodies, good or bad, but also the kind that happens on the inside, i.e., in the soul. Thus Ovid leads us off the path of error and turns us back towards the great Creator. In this vein, Arnulf invites us to follow Ovid, just as Dante and his readers will be invited to follow Virgil out of the dark wood. Arnulf illustrates this using Io, who is turned into a cow by Jupiter in Book 1. This, he tells us, is how Ovid sought to illustrate one of these movements of the soul that occur on the inside: Io was transformed into a heifer because she succumbed to vice. She then recovered her beautiful shape because she rose from vice. For Arnulf, this emphasis on vice situates the Metamorphoses within the part of philosophy dealing with ethics. By reading Ovid, we learn to shun the transitory things of this world (temporalia) in favor of true and constant stability that can only be found in God – a framework we later find alive and well in the OM. Arnulf adds that reason was gifted to the soul by God to repress sensuality, just as the rational movement of the firmament represses the irrational movement of the planets. And to deny such rational motion is to turn against God himself.128 From this we can infer that when Arnulf shares his Allegoriae, he means to continue the task and help guide his own readers towards God – an aspect of the translation and commentary process the OM will render explicit, both in the Prologue and at the end of Book 15. With a much wryer sense of humor, Arnulf hints at his own hope for eternal life, glossing Metamorphoses 15.862: “unlamentable. Indeed, the souls of the good are not lamented, rather those of the wicked, and for this reason the 127 Coulson

(1987), 57n11. by Gura (2010), 68.

128 Summarized

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soul of Rufus Arnulfus, who made these glosses at Orléans, should not be lamented if he made them well, nay if the vagaries of poets have any truth I shall live with Ovid.”129 Arnulf’s description of the wandering soul as lost in error, and finding its way back towards Truth and God, is both overtly Platonic and explicitly Christian. But his systematization of metamorphoses in types, or categories, testifies to a keen interest in Aristotelian and natural science as well. All of this makes sense, because Ovid supplies material compatible with the teachings of both Plato and Aristotle. For example, in Book 1, Ovid develops his cosmography and states that man, alone among the created animals, walks erect and turns his head towards the stars – from which he came, according to Plato. But what Arnulf sees as Ovid’s focus on matters of “transformation” or “change” (mutatio) raises further questions around the concepts of alteration and generation, the subject of Aristotle’s Of Generation and Corruption (De generatione et corruptione). This was widely read in the twelfth century in two Latin translations, one from the Greek and the other from Arabic.130 A little background is helpful here. In chapter 4 of the De generatione, Aristotle distinguishes between alteration and generation because the latter affects substance, whereas the former affects affection. Thus, a seed turning into blood, or water into air is a case of “generation” (and a corruption of something else). But when the body is well, then ill, it remains the same body, thus this corresponds to a case of what he terms “alteration.” Sometimes, Aristotle adds, the change can be from something perceptible to something imperceptible, as in the case of water into air.131 We know Arnulf had Aristotle in mind because he explicitly names him when glossing the opening lines of the Metamorphoses (1.1–2), where Ovid declares his intent to sing of “forms changed into new bodies” – or is it “forms changed into bodies,” or, as the OM will ponder, “bodies changed into new forms”? These kinds of false readings are what Arnulf’s gloss is trying to help us avoid. He explains that it makes no sense to say that “forms are changed into bodies,” because they can’t be. Forms are qualities, but bodies are substances, and qualities can’t change into substances. Bodies, however, may take on diverse forms. This is why, Arnulf notes, “Aristotle says that substance alone is susceptible to contraries in and of itself.” Thus, we must read Ovid as “forms changed into new bodies.”132 129 Trans.

Gura (2010), 12. De generatione was of keen interest well into the thirteenth century: Thomas Aquinas even wrote a commentary on it. It makes sense that Ovid, replete with examples of generation and alteration, would continue to be of interest in the century to come. 131 Aristotle’s theory of change is further developed in the Physics, especially Book 1. 132 See Chance (2000), 67–68. Chance notes that Arnulf’s explanation of Aristotle “introduces the concept of mutation as hypallage, only a change in accident and not 130 The



INTRODUCTION 37

As Chance notes, Arnulf’s systematic classification of Ovid’s metamorphoses into categories reflects an Aristotelian, scientific methodology.133 Arnulf distinguishes four principal categories. The first category, the natural (de naturali), deals with generative and degenerative properties of the elements, that can be combined or pulled apart – for example, the transformation of a boy from sperm, or a chick from an egg. The second category, the magical (de magica), concerns corporeal transformations as opposed to mental ones, like Lycaon turning into a wolf, or Io into a heifer and back again. The third type, the spiritual (de spirituali), focuses on non-bodily transformations of mental disposition, like Agaue, beset by madness. Arnulf further distinguishes between inanimate objects that become inanimate (like Philemon and Baucis’s modest house becoming a majestic temple), animate objects that become animate (like Acteon becoming a stag), animate objects becoming inanimate (like the serpent that tries to eat the head of Orpheus turning to stone), and inanimate objects becoming animate (like Pygmalion’s statue, or Deucalion and Pyrrha’s stones134). Also worthy of note is Arnulf’s clever interpretation of Ovid’s name: Ovidius is said to derive from “ovum dividens,” i.e., “dividing the egg” – a popular medieval interpretation, inherited by the later Vulgate Commentary (c.1250), and celebrated visually in manuscripts of the OM, where Ovid is indeed on several occasions shown holding and studying his egg. The idea is that the egg symbolizes the four elements, with which Ovid is concerned in his cosmography: the shell of the egg symbolizes the heavens (and seat of fire); the skin, the air; the white of the egg, the waters; and the yolk, the earth itself. Arnulf’s Allegoriae enjoyed widespread popularity across Europe from the later twelfth to the fifteenth centuries and influenced subsequent interpretations in Latin like the Vulgate Commentary and Pierre Bersuire, as well as the OM. At first, all the parts of Arnulf’s work circulated together, but by the thirteenth century, they began to travel independently. The allegorical interpretations even got bound together with another mythographer’s work: John of Garland’s thirteenth-century allegorical poem in Latin, the Integumenta Ovidii.135 The Rise of Aristotle in the Medieval University By the thirteenth century, fresh translations of Aristotle were supplanting the study of Plato at the newly formed University of Paris and throughout Europe. By the time Dante wrote the Divine Comedy, he would remember substance and therefore referring to qualities, actions, and passions (that is, what Aristotle calls alterations).” 133 Chance (2000), 67. 134 Arnulf later says (Allegoriae 1.7) that Deucalion and Pyrrha’s stones turn into men and women respectively, because sex is determined by whichever has more sperm, in keeping with Aristotle’s view of the female as a deficient male. 135 See Demats (1973), 142.

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Aristotle as the epitome of classical learning: “the master of all who know.” (Unfortunately, without Grace and Revelation, Aristotle can see only so far, and finds himself in Dante’s Limbo in a space that uncannily and probably not coincidentally resembles Plato’s Cave.136) Meanwhile, interest in Ovid remained high. When in 1210, 1270, and 1277, Aristotle was temporarily banned from study in Paris by the Church under penalty of excommunication, Ovid’s tales, ripe with examples of generation and alteration, may have even provided a pretext to continue discussing scandalous topics of Aristotelian science (scientia, i.e., body of knowledge – a term of significant import for the OM, where it is rendered as OF science).137 The University of Toulouse, founded in 1229, even seized the occasion to invite students to relocate south and study forbidden books with them instead.138 Aristotle did present a number of ideas that appeared to run counter to foundational Christian doctrine. Most notably, he argued in the Physics and On the Heavens that the world is eternal – a real problem for anyone who believed the Christian God created it ex nihilo.139 As a result, the Aristotelian corpus was seen by some as such scandalous reading that even some of the works of St. Thomas Aquinas, arguably the most famous Aristotelian and scholastic theologian of the thirteenth century, ended up on the bishop of Paris’s list of banned books in 1277. Thomas wasn’t excommunicated because he never read Aristotle in a way that contested the beliefs of the Church. He also benefited from the fact that the University of Paris was under a new, direct papal patronage;140 there was only so much the bishop of Paris could do without the pope’s approval.141 That said, this was the thirteenth century’s version of our modern-day “cancel culture.” Writing about Aristotle in any 4. our Introductory Lexicon, s.v. “science” (p. 78). 138 Grant (1974), 42. 139 See for example Physics Books 1 and 8, On the Heavens Books 1.10 and 2.1. 140 In March 1229, on Shrove Tuesday, a physical fight broke out between a group of drunk students and a tavern owner, over a bill. The students were beaten up and thrown into the streets. The next day, the students returned with friends and armed with clubs: they broke into the tavern (closed in honor of Ash Wednesday), ransacked it, and badly beat the owner. The matter was taken to the ecclesiastical courts and, although the students had the benefit of clergy, the situation escalated to the point that Blanche of Castile, regent of France, stepped in. When the university allowed the city guard to punish, and even kill, several students (who likely didn’t even participate in the Ash Wednesday riot), the university went on strike. Striking students left for other universities, and faculty refused to teach. The situation took two years to resolve, and only thanks to the dedication of Pope Gregory IX, who had attended the University of Paris himself. On April 13, 1231, he issued the Parens scientiarum bull, which placed the university under papal patronage and guaranteed it independence from local ecclesiastical and secular authorities. 141 Although rumors did arise surrounding Thomas’s death, that he was poisoned on the order of Charles of Anjou (or by a physician seeking to ingratiate himself to the nobleman): Dante asserts this in Paradise (10.99) when he encounters Thomas, along with 136 Inferno, 137 See



INTRODUCTION 39

way, even one that focused on ideas compatible with Christian doctrine, could lead to being banned. It was in this context that, around 1234, John of Garland composed his Latin verse commentary on the Metamorphoses, the Integumenta Ovidii. Born in England, John studied for a while under John of London at the University of Oxford, then left for Paris, where he became one of the earliest Masters around 1220.142 After the infamous strike by students and faculty in 1229,143 he temporarily relocated to the University of Toulouse as Master of Grammar, then returned to the University of Paris around 1232, possibly because the inquisitors at Toulouse had become suspicious of his keen interest in Aristotelian science. It was shortly after his return to Paris that he is believed to have composed the Integumenta.144 John’s writings spanned questions like the victories of the Church in the Crusades (in the De triumphis ecclesie, an eight-book epic poem in Latin); the symbolism or mystery of cathedrals and Christianity (De mysteriis ecclesie); the cult of the Virgin Mary (Epithalamium Beate Marie Virginis, a 6000line mystical treatise); a compendium of world history (Historie majores ab origine mundi), now presumed lost; treatises on grammar and rhetoric; and other moral and religious texts. The breadth of John’s readings and corpus of written work offers valuable insight into the kind of context in which he and his contemporaries were reading Ovid: theology, literature, history, grammar, rhetoric … these are not the strict disciplinary boundaries we are accustomed to (for better or worse) in today’s modern university. The Integumenta Ovidii are brief and succinct, totaling just 520 lines of elegiac verse. They survive in thirty-five manuscripts.145 In the proem, John explains his intent: “Ovid’s Metamorphoses are unlocked with John’s little key and this work serves them. It unknots the knots of secrecy, reveals closed things, scatters the mists, sings the integument” (vv. 5–8).146 Throughout, he

Bonaventure, in the heaven of the Sun. But an account by one of Thomas’s friends seems to debunk such a claim. 142 The introduction to Paetow (1927) remains the best account of John’s life. 143 See note 139 above. 144 See Born (1929a, 1929b). The Integumenta were first edited by Ghisalberti (1933), and have been newly edited and translated by Gervais (2022). For more on John of Garland, see Chance (2000), 231ff., and Fritz (2021). 145 Coulson and Roy (2000) and Coulson (2002); Ghisalberti (1933), 32. 146 Our translation. The latest edition and translation of the Integumenta is by Gervais (2022). There is an earlier translation by Born (1929a) in his Ph.D. thesis, and an edition and translation of the first 118 lines by Garrett Schoffro (2020) as his M.A. thesis at Western University (Canada). We have opted for a more literal interpretation. A discussion of Lat. integumentum and its etymology is included in our cursory overview of Chartrian humanism above, pp. 31ff.

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borrows frequently from his predecessors, especially Arnulf of Orléans,147 but his approach is not comprehensive. In fact, John invites the reader to remember not to “investigate all parts of a fabulous narrative,” but rather to focus on the essence (summum), and what truth can be gathered from it (vv. 19–20). John of Garland is another important precedent for the OM, both because his commentary takes the form of a poem, and because the OM incorporates many of his Integumenta. Like his predecessors, John distinguishes between types of narratives (vv. 55–62): story (fabula), history (historia), and allegory (allegoria). A story can be invented with two intents in mind: to conceal truth, or because it pleases – and it can do both at the same time. History, meanwhile, tells of great men’s deeds, written down and handed on to future generations. An allegory is truth in the form of historical narrative; that is, it’s written as if it’s historically real, but it’s a form of fiction that points to truth. The “integument,” according to John, is the cloak or wrapping under (or in) which the truth lies hidden. How do we open up the story? With our key, that is, the light of heavenly reason (vv. 65–66). John directly addresses the reader here, as on many other occasions: the task of interpretation is as much ours to undertake as it is his. This invitation into the task of interpreting and commenting reflects the participatory nature of the mythographer’s endeavor, and of the act of translatio itself. Glosses and commentaries are by nature “writerly text[s]” (texte scriptible) as opposed to “readerly” ones (texte lisible), as Roland Barthes would put it centuries later: they invite the reader in to do the work and supply meaning. When the OM author appeals to readers to correct him and add to his work in the Prologue, it’s not mere lip-service. Rather, the process of interpretation and handing off the text to the next generation is part of what keeps Ovid’s “eternal song” (perpetuum carmen) alive and relevant. It’s also what ensures the progress of learning, and knowledge – OF science and Latin scientia. In keeping with his predecessors, John preserves the multiplicity of readings, as the OM will. Thus, Theseus is explained on historical grounds as a brave man who fought against robbers and the Minotaur (vv. 305–306). Immediately afterwards, in an allegorical reading, Theseus now represents the glorious life that seeks the heavens (i.e., the contemplative life), in contrast to Pirithoüs, who signifies the active life. This theme is picked back up in the discussion of Cerberus (vv. 361ff.): if the monstrous dog Cerberus represents the world, then Theseus is explicitly named as the “contemplative life,” and 147 For example, John shares Arnulf’s historical reading of Jupiter’s abduction of Europa: he explains that Jupiter was referred to as a bull because he abducted Europe using a boat that had a bull painted on it (compare OM Book 2, vv. 5085–5102). As previously noted, some manuscripts even transmit the two commentators together, and Coulson has shown that John’s verses sometimes find themselves placed as glosses alongside the corresponding allegorical commentary by Arnulf. See Coulson (2011), esp. 50ff.



INTRODUCTION 41

Pirithoüs, the “active.” According to John’s interpretation, only a man of outstanding virtue can make both sublime. Aristotelian themes continue to inform and permeate the Integumenta, as they did Arnulf’s Allegoriae. For example, in speaking of Atreus and Thyestes, Atreus is interpreted as the body, Thyestes as the soul, and the child as the will (voluntas).148 The adoption of Latin voluntas appeals explicitly to Aristotle and Augustine, and extends the readings of Bernardus Silvestris discussed above.149 And, it should be noted, it is a term that will be the subject of much discussion throughout the rest of the thirteenth century. Shortly after John of Garland, St. Thomas Aquinas will write at length on the idea of voluntas,150 relating it – and what he elsewhere calls intentio – to Aristotelian βούλησις (boulêsis). As T.H. Irwin notes,151 voluntas is the standard Latin translation of boulêsis: i.e., “will” or “rational desire.” The term denotes one of Aristotle’s three species of desire: pleasure-based (epithumia), retaliatory (thumos), and good-based (boulêsis). For Aquinas, in keeping with Aristotle, this “intellectual appetite” will be distinct from the “sensitive appetite,”152 as will the two loves associated with each. To read John’s Integumenta and understand it, we must consider his lexicon within his overarching preoccupation with Aristotelian and theological questions. We realized over the course of our translation that the same is true of the OM: the OF translator consistently must find OF terminology to approximate Aristotelian thought and matters debated at length in the universities of the thirteenth century. In the Integumenta, John’s adoption of terminology is relatively easy to discern, as he adopts the same words in Latin. But for readers of the OM, confronting the OF poem and commentary, the instinct might not be to do the same. In the OM, indeed, the task involves another step: we must consider how the OM author adopts OF terminology to create equivalences for philosophical and 148 In this particular instance, Born’s reading of “affection” is misguided, as Thomas Aquinas, John’s contemporary in Paris, discusses Lat. voluntas at length, and specifically in its Aristotelian and Augustinian contexts. 149 See pp. 31ff. 150 See, for example, the Summa Contra Gentiles 1.87: “God does not necessarily will things outside Himself. Will is of the end: choice of the means. Since then God wills Himself as end, and other things as means, it follows that in respect of Himself He has will only, but in respect of other things choice. But choice is always an act of free will. Man by free will is said to be master of his own acts. But this mastery belongs most of all to the Prime Agent, whose act depends on no other” (paraphrased by Rickaby 1905, 65; compare the translation by Pegis 1955, 269–270). The terminology is from Aristotle, Ēthika Nikomacheia III, 1113. For Aquinas’s detailed discussion of the will (voluntas) as a distinct faculty of the soul in the Summa Theologiae, see ST I, q. 80, art. 2. See also his De Veritate 22.3–4. 151 Irwin (1992), 456. 152 ST I–II, q. 26, art. 1.

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theological discussions in Latin. We consider and document key examples of this phenomenon in “Notes on the Translation,” below, and signal them throughout the translation itself. The focus on reason permeates the Integumenta. Like Arnulf, John isn’t afraid to showcase his sense of humor. Discussing Midas’s ears, he emphasizes the prime importance of rational judgment by saying that any reader who succumbs to the senses instead is just as much of an “ass” as King Midas himself (vv. 430–432). His treatment of Polyphemus and Ulysses picks up the same thread: the cyclops’s single round eye stands for his exploring the world not through the senses, but through rational thought. Since Ulysses surpasses Polyphemus in intellect and cleverness, he bores out his adversary’s eye (vv. 463ff.) – an analogy for how scholars dispute one another. Ultimately, John’s poem deals with serious concerns of everlasting life. If Ovid’s Metamorphoses culminated in the apotheosis of Julius Caesar into a star, John’s short poem-commentary inscribes his own quest for immortality within the story of the Incarnation, and implicitly, the promise of the Resurrection (vv. 511ff.), for when Jesus is born, “a new star shines.” This star, John explains, signals that earthly law will not bind or rule Christ in this life; mortality will not contain him. Like Ovid, John aspires to eternal life and hopes his own star will shine on without setting: “Let there be end without end for me!” (v. 520). John did indeed live on: almost every glossed manuscript of the Metamorphoses during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries includes, next to the appropriate transformation, the corresponding lines from John’s commentary.153 This makes it inconceivable that the author of the OM was not deeply familiar with the Integumenta. But it’s John’s implicit subtext that is even more striking here, and the message would be glaringly obvious to any medieval reader who is a Christian. Through Christ’s sacrifice, John and his readers can aspire to life-everlasting in a way that Ovid, or Caesar himself, never could, because their stories are inscribed within a greater story that in human time begins with the Creation of the world and looks to the Second Coming. The seeds for the OM’s quest to bring Ovid’s song and its integuments “down to [our] own times” have been sown – a task that the very popular and anonymous Vulgate Commentary (c.1250) further amplifies. The Vulgate Commentary builds on its predecessors154 and also presents new, innovative materials. Coulson has identified a plethora of sources, including 153 Coulson

(2015), xiv. from the Vulgate Commentary were edited by Coulson (1991), with a useful introduction that sketches the history of commentary traditions on the Metamorphoses from late antiquity to the mid-thirteenth century. Selections presented include Book 1.1–150 (from the creation of the world through the Four Ages of man), and Book 10.1–77 (Orpheus and Eurydice). Coulson (2015) also edited Book 1 with an English translation. A new translation of the Vulgate Commentary Books 1–5 has also 154 Selections



INTRODUCTION 43

Lucan, Virgil, Statius, Theodolf, the Ilias latina, Juvenal, Horace, Petronius, Valerius Flaccus, Walter of Chatillon, Bernardus Silvestris, Servius, Isidore, Boethius, Alain of Lille, Matthew of Vendôme, Macrobius, Calcidius’s commentary on Plato’s Timaeus, Bartholomaeus Anglicus, the Latin comedy Pamphilus, and of course Arnulf of Orléans and John of Garland.155 Such a list attests to the truly interdisciplinary and intertextual practices of glossing Ovid during the thirteenth century and beyond. The Vulgate was transmitted in numerous French and Italian manuscripts and became the most widely disseminated and reproduced medieval commentary on the Metamorphoses,156 transmitted as a series of interlinear and marginal glosses surrounding the source text in the manuscript. Often, it includes both allegorical and moral interpretations. Moreover, the text of the commentary across the manuscript tradition is “extremely stable” and reveals “only minor variation amongst manuscript witnesses.”157 It’s inconceivable that the author of the OM did not at some point read or consult it, and much work remains to be done to document and understand the influence of this thirteenth-century work on the OM. The Vulgate Commentary provides explanations of grammar and syntax as well as allegorical readings. Simple explanations aimed to help with reading Ovid’s Latin tend to be inserted interlinearly. Coulson notes, for example, that many of these denote the use of a particular case, or signal compound verbs, the referent for pronouns, or clarify ellipses and metrical anomalies.158 In the marginal glosses, Coulson recognizes the interests of a thirteenth-century schoolmaster. The marginal notes frequently quote Alexander of Villa-Dei’s Doctrinale and Eberhard of Béthune’s Graecismus. The etymologies of Isidore of Seville also make an appearance, as well as extensive references to Arnulf of Orléans and John of Garland. In terms of general approach to the Metamorphoses, the Vulgate author is eager to get to work, and dismisses typical concerns of the accessus “since longwindedness generates boredom.”159 Plus, he surmises, plenty of people have covered the typical topics before, so there is no use repeating them, especially since we find ourselves here in “the middle of [Ovid’s] poetic corpus.” In addition to the theme of dividing the egg, the Vulgate recalls that Ovid’s surname, Naso,

been published by Piero Martina and Wille with facing Latin edition by Coulson and Martina (2021). 155 See Coulson (2011, 2015). 156 It survives in at least twenty-two manuscripts and is believed to be how Dante read Ovid. 157 Coulson (2015), xv. 158 For a useful overview in the Vulgate, see the summary provided by Coulson (2015), xv–xviii. On the mechanics of interlinear glossing, see Gernot Wieland (1983 and 1998). 159 Coulson (2015), 23.

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is thought to derive either from the author’s very large nose, or because of his skilled ability to track down and capture truth in his poetic veil: Like a hunting dog, which, once it captures the scent of a wild animal, tracks it down until it is captured, so he is called Naso since he follows the scent, since his poetic corpus, which is decorated with rhetorical flourishes, characterized by insights in fields of physics and philosophy, supported by grammatical correctness, as well as being well done because of its author’s cleverness, engenders a fragrant intellect for its readers.160

Already in the accessus, the commentator is presenting both a historical reading of Ovid’s surname – the big nose – and an allegorical one. One might even suggest that the emanating fragrance implicitly alludes to the holiness of such pursuits. And the comparison of Ovid to a hunting dog tracking down a wild animal brings to mind William of Conches’s rabbit lurking in the dark tunnel that the scholar must track down, retrieve, and carry out into the light.161 Commenting on the opening lines of the poem, the Vulgate reinforces the Aristotelian framework we encountered in Arnulf and John. Discussing Ovid’s “my spirit drives me” (Met. 1.1), the Vulgate notes: “He intimates that a higher calling of the soul and not a lower one inspired him to write this work, not from sensuality but from reason, when he says spirit.” It is not at all surprising that some seventy to seventy-five years later, the OM embarks on a similar quest to understand Ovid not as a sensual poet, aiming purely to delight the senses, but as a deeply insightful guide to be read and interpreted through the tools of reason, including systematic philosophy and theology, and as an invitation to practice discernment. The Vulgate also makes a point of addressing Ovid’s usage of Lat. perpetuum, in order to explain how the perpetuum carmen does not negate a world created ex nihilo by the Christian God, a topic of much concern in thirteenth-century university circles and for readers of Aristotle, as previously noted. Specifically, the commentary distinguishes between “perpetual,” “everlasting,” and “eternal.”162 Perpetual is “that which had a beginning and will have an end, like the world.” Everlasting is “that which had a beginning but no end, like the soul and an angel.” And eternal is “that which has neither beginning or end, like God.” Later, on the creation of man (Met. 1.76–77), the Vulgate adds: “the author says more holy, etc., and more possessed of profound mind, namely, intelligence, since although other animals were cognizant, they could not reason. Or read of profound mind, that is to say, deep memory, since no animal 160 Coulson

(2015), 23. p. 31. 162 Coulson (2015), 27. 161 See



INTRODUCTION 45

with the exception of man has the ability to discern.”163 We recognize here the central concern of Aristotle’s On Memory and Recollection, in which he offers a detailed account of memory as the cognitive power through which we apprehend objects in the past.164 Unsurprisingly, man’s creation is also read immediately within the context of the Fall. From man’s rib, “on the authority of Genesis, God made woman. Hence Walter of Châtillon says, “from mud was created man, his own rib deceived him” (Alexandreis 4.190–91).”165 This reference to mud affords a lengthy discussion about Prometheus: It is incredible that, as man did not yet exist, Prometheus, who was mortal, should create man. In truth, God created man from the mud of the earth, inculcating reason to him, as Genesis attests (Gen. 1:27). That Prometheus formed him from the mud of the earth and from that fire stolen from the chariot of the sun breathed life into him is mythical, and on this account he was bound by Jove on the Caucasus mountains and vultures were placed near to eat his liver.166

The Vulgate does not miss yet another opportunity to reference Aristotle, and to provide an allegorical interpretation of the Prometheus myth, which is itself a form of integument that needs unpacking: “The fact that vultures eat his liver reflects the fact that too great study wastes away the body of man and consumes his inside. Walter of Châtillon comments on this in his Alexandreis when speaking about Aristotle: ‘Truly the work of study afflicts the limbs and outer flesh with hunger; the inner man receives the nourishment.’” (As we will find out in the OM, the risk here is that, consumed with learning and a false sense of power, the scholar might succumb to pride.) No wonder the Vulgate author expediently declares, “But I am being long-winded here and should stop,” before moving on to his next topic: Aristotle’s “efficient cause” (κινοῦν, kinoûn), and specifically how God created the world ex nihilo because prior to Creation, “the image of the world existed in the mind of God, and God created the world according to what was in his mind.” The Vulgate also echoes predecessors and anticipates the OM by interpreting Ovid on different levels. For example, in its discussion of the giants transformed into mountains (Met. 1.151–155), moral and allegorical readings not only coexist, but are explicitly linked. First the Vulgate explains 163 Coulson

(2015), 42.

164 Aristotle defines the scope of memory as follows: “But memory is of the past; no one

could claim to remember the present while it is present. For instance one cannot remember a particular white object while one is looking at it, nor can one remember a subject of theoretical speculation while one is actually speculating and thinking about it. One merely claims to perceive the former, and to know the latter” (trans. Hett 1957, 289). 165 Coulson (2015), 42. 166 Coulson (2015), 43.

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the four ages of man as a “moral” transformation.167 The first age, of gold, is morally preferable to all the other ages, just as gold is preferable to the other metals. Eventually, the ages degenerate to the point that the giants rise up against the heavens, like men reaching above their station: “this transformation is a moral one,” notes the commentator, “and the allegory is as follows.” The giants are derived from the Greek ge, which means ‘earth.’ Thus giants are said to love earthly things. Hence, they are imagined to have the feet of serpents, and, since it is characteristic of snakes to slither over the ground, we understand those giants to be anxious about earthly possessions and to be heaped with riches. They are thought to have piled mountain on mountain and to have assailed the heavens, because they ascended into the heights of pride; but they tumbled down themselves, struck by the thunderbolt hurled by Jove, that is to say, God the Father, since God breaks all pride (Prudentius, Psychomachia, 285), and this fall is designated through the punishment which is prepared for the wicked, hence the verses in the Integumenta: “The world thirsted to cast out the god, whence first it suffered ruin. Virtue of mind fled from the citadel. The virtues are the gods, the throng of vices the giants, the lowly mind will be Phlegra, the mountain will represent pride for you.”168

The OM’s allegorical interpretation is strikingly analogous to this and might even be borrowing from it: {I} can give this the following allegorical interpretation: the giants, who, in order to oust God, resolved to build up the heap of mountains right up to heaven, represent the prideful of the world, in which all wickedness, pride, perfidy, treachery, and envy abound, who in their foolish presumption hold up their thoughts against God to make war on him. They want to overcome him through violence, and they become prideful and arrogant and think to usurp his glory from him. But God, who overthrows all pride, defeats those who want to raise themselves up, and makes them fall into the deepest part of the fire of hell. (Book 1, vv. 1185–1202)

Where the OM will surpass the Vulgate and prior mythographers is in systematically providing up to four levels of interpretation, normally beginning with the historical (see the section below on “How Does the OM Moralize?”). Here, for example, before getting to the allegorical level, the OM interprets the giants on the historical level as the builders of the Tower of 167 Coulson 168 Coulson

(2015), 56. (2015), 57.



INTRODUCTION 47

Babel: “the tale and theology agree that long ago the pagans built a foundation that they wanted to establish so securely that it could never be knocked down” (Book 1, vv. 1154–1155). The OM’s systematic approach reflects the spirit of thirteenth-century university culture, the rise of Aristotelian “science,” and scholastic theology. And, to state the obvious, the OM doesn’t do this all in Latin: it opts for the vernacular, a significant yet logical shift, or pivot, from the mythographic tradition we have explored to this point. The Vernacular Mythographic Tradition and Its Courtly and Theological Contexts Translating classical authors like Ovid from Latin into OF was not new to fourteenth-century France. The twelfth-century romans antiques (“antique romances”) set the stage for the transfer of Latin learning and literature to the vernacular. For example, the Roman d’Enéas presents a retelling of the Aeneid that follows Virgil’s material in some detail, but also takes great liberties in developing elements the medieval poet believed to be of interest and entertainment value for his contemporary audience. We know such romances were sometimes read in private but could also be performed aloud for groups of distinguished guests. While it is unlikely the Enéas would have been performed in one sitting, due to its length, portions might have been shared with a courtly audience after dinner. Moreover, the Enéas takes its job of amplifying, expanding, innovating, explicating, and adapting Virgil to its contemporary audience very seriously; this was no act of word-for-word translation, in the modern sense of the word. As a result, the OF romance itself constitutes a sort of creative and generative “gloss,” in narrative form, on the Latin original. Early OF romances reflected for their learned, but courtly, audiences the concerns of the learned, Latin culture of the day. Even the Timaeus’s preoccupation with preserving ancient stories found its vernacular articulation. It was a common twelfth-century trope to claim an ancient source for one’s work in order to guarantee its significance. Benoît de Sainte-Maure’s Roman de Troie claims to be based on an eyewitness account that either has been lost or never existed in the first place. Chrétien de Troyes also says that his romance of Cligés is based on a very old book found in a cupboard; thus, he contends, it must be true. The spirit of translatio – of translating the Classics into OF, preserving and passing them on to future generations – permeated the age. The twelfth-century retellings of Piramus et Tisbé, Narcisus et Dané, and Philomela are a direct result of this desire to translate and adapt the Classics for medieval audiences. Taking up tales from Ovid, the anonymous authors aren’t satisfied with translating their classical sources verbatim. Rather, they retell by improvising and adapting, while drawing on tools of the poetic arts studied in the schools of the time. For example, the process of amplification (amplificatio) oftentimes leads to the addition of dramatic, extended passages

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of direct and indirect speech (oratio recta and obliqua), techniques that the OM author will also put to good use. Just as the Enéas builds and improvises upon Virgil, so, too, do twelfth-century Ovidian tales take liberties with their sources. It would have been inconceivable to a medieval author engaging Ovid through the act of translation to frame his duty as similar to what we, as twentyfirst-century translators, have undertaken here. The medieval translator did not have the same understanding of relationship to subject matter (matiere). For him, Ovid was a point of departure for a creative and generative process. For us, the goal has been to shepherd into English the most faithful possible translation while documenting our thoughts in footnotes, to distinguish them from our “source material.” There is already in the twelfth-century Narcisus et Dané a clear indication that Ovid is being read within a moral framework. The following moralizing statement, taking Narcissus as an exemplum (in this case, a moral counterexample169), frames the entire poem: “Narcissus who died of love must serve as an example to us. […] Let all other lovers take great care to keep from dying as he did” (vv. 35–36 and 1005–1006, our emphasis).170 As Robert de Blois would note in the romance of Floris and Liriope (vv. 1504– 1506), Narcissus’s great failing is pride. The problem is not that he loves, but how and what he loves: an obsession with the self that leads him to shun any possible other object of affection, including God. This is quite a different lesson compared to that offered up by Guillaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun: the Romance of the Rose exhorts ladies not to shun their suitors, as it would condemn them to a similar fate as Narcissus himself. That said, the lesson is nonetheless compatible with the earlier Narcisus et Dané poem and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, since it is the eponymous hero’s own shunning of Echo that results in both characters’ demise. By the early fourteenth century, the OM renders even more explicit the lesson it imparts to readers: human beings must not attach too much importance to fleeting worldly beauty and pleasure, lest they be deceived by the false mirror of the world, epitomized by Narcissus’s fountain (Book 3, vv. 1291–981). Such examples can be seen as part of a much broader phenomenon: the translation of the mythographic tradition itself and its integration into the vernacular. Even Marie de France provides an early example of this kind of re-situation of Ovidian narrative.171 In fact, we would not be amiss to speak of a “vernacular mythographic tradition” in romance that finds its way into, and culminates in, the OM, woven together with its Latin-language predecessors. 169 Such

as those developed by Dante throughout the Inferno. qui fu mors d’amer/ nous doit essemple demostrer […] Or s’i gardent tui autre amant/ qu’il ne muirent en tel sanblant.” See Murray (2008), 80. 171 See, for example, Murray (2011), and the various contributions to the roundtable on “Marie and Ovid” published in Le Cygne (third series) 5 (Fall 2018), 53–84. 170 “Narcissus



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Thus, it is not entirely odd to see the OM adopt the octosyllabic couplet, the poetic verse of choice for Old French romances. While the OM is indeed doing something new – a departure from tradition – that departure at the same time builds and expands upon vernacular receptions of Ovid prior to the fourteenth century. In so doing, the OM expands the mythographic audience from its home in the learned, Latin-centered culture of its time, to the world of the courts and courtly audiences. The OM must be distinguished from what most readers – even learned ones, who entertain Plato’s distinction between “poets” and “philosophers” – might think of as poetry today. The OM is not purely a work of literature, as opposed to, say, a philosophical or theological treatise. Modern scholars might describe it as “interdisciplinary” in nature. Taking Ovid’s “fables” as a point of departure, the completed translation and commentary weaves together what we now regard as the separate disciplines of philosophy, theology, and literature. This tells us something about our author, too: he was concerned not only with discussing big questions – about life, ethics, faith, belief, society, mythology, and so much more – in learned, religious, and therefore Latin-centered circles, but with sharing these concerns and ideas in the vernacular, presumably for courtly audiences. To all intents and purposes, the OM author is taking Ovid’s Metamorphoses as a guide and also continuing the process, bringing the text, through the commentary, “down to his own times.” Like Dante, our author integrates many philosophical and theological teachings of the thirteenth century, from the rediscovery of Aristotle to the wealth of systematic theology that ensues. (A quick glance at the commentary volumes by Charles S. Singleton makes the richness of interwoven sources in Dante abundantly clear.) We hope the OM will in turn benefit from such detailed consideration now that it can invite into its midst distinguished scholars of other disciplines to whom the lack of any translation whatsoever has presented a barrier to entering the scholarly conversation to date. Just as the twelfth-century Narcisus et Dané can be read as reflecting the philosophical and theological concerns of its age, and most notably, the Chartrian Platonists, the OM reconsiders Ovid through the lens of scholastic culture and the gamut of questions – from the resurgence of Aristotle to the rise of systematic theology – taken up in university centers across Europe during the thirteenth century, and most notably, at the University of Paris. With the rise to preeminence of the faculties of the University of Paris, students flocked there to begin their general course of studies with a liberal arts curriculum: grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. Advanced students could then opt to pursue law, medicine, or the longest and most rigorous course of study: theology. It was at this time that scholastic theology reached its pinnacle, ushering in a renewed relationship to reading the Classics (including Aristotle, but also Ovid)

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and thinking about humankind’s place in the world and relationship to God. This shift is as deeply transformative as Augustine’s contributions had been centuries before. Indeed, the OM marries the myth-making of Ovid with significant disputed theological questions of the thirteenth century. The effect is that it does far more than reflect the spirit of its age: it puts it into practice and incorporates it into the mythographic tradition, now reframed in the vernacular. Scholasticism had been in the air for some time: already in the eleventh century, St. Anselm of Canterbury, credited as the “father of scholasticism,” had offered his ontological proof of God’s existence in the Proslogion. In the twelfth, Peter Abelard addressed the problem of universals and pioneered conversations about intent. But by the thirteenth century, fueled and reinvigorated by new translations of Aristotle, scholasticism came surging to the forefront, as evidenced by the writings of Alexander of Hales, Albertus Magnus, Duns Scotus, William of Ockham, and of course, St. Bonaventure (c.1217–1274), and St. Thomas Aquinas (c.1224/25–1274), whose Summa Theologica, composed c.1265–1274, is considered by many to represent the pinnacle of scholastic thought. Inspired by the foundational aspects of Aristotle’s scientific method, scholasticism placed a strong emphasis on dialectical reasoning to extend knowledge by inference and to resolve contradictions. In the classroom and in writing, this approach often took the form of a disputation (disputatio), relying on reason, past authorities, and logic to provide arguments pro and con for the question under consideration, followed by the master’s answer. The study of Peter Lombard’s Sentences at the University of Paris furnishes unique insight into how scholastic methodologies built on intellectual traditions inherited from previous generations. Born in Lombardy at the end of the eleventh century, Peter was educated at Rheims and Paris, then became a master at the cathedral school of Notre Dame, and eventually bishop of Paris; he was a contemporary of Hugh of St. Victor and Peter Abelard. His early works included glosses on the Psalms and Paul’s letters. His duties at the cathedral also included preaching to clerics and students, and he has left a collection of carefully edited homilies, including marginal notes, preached between 1145 (when he became canon) and 1159 (when he was elected bishop). By far his most influential work was the Sentences (c.1157–1158). Collections of “sentences” – from Latin sententia, i.e., a quotation from an authoritative source – had been compiled since patristic times. Prosper of Aquitaine (c.390–455), believed to have originated the practice, compiled a list of quotations of St. Augustine. Isidore of Seville (c.560–636), who covered a range of topics from Creation to the nature of evil, the ecclesiastical orders, and the Judgment of God, drew primarily on quotes from the Bible, Augustine, and Gregory the Great. In composing his own Sentences, Peter



INTRODUCTION 51

had to make authoritative decisions about what to include (or not), how to organize the topics under discussion, and how to resolve any tensions between the authors he cited. In the opening pages of Book 1, Peter explains the guiding principle used to structure his work. Citing Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine (De doctrina christiana), he distinguishes between a “thing” (res), that does not point beyond itself, and a “sign” (signum), that references another. For this reason, he decides to treat the “realities” of the Christian faith – God, Creation, and Christ – before the Sacraments, which he understands to be signs of grace. Peter further distinguishes between things “to be enjoyed” (fruendum) and “to be used” (utendum). In keeping with this distinction, he notes, the Trinity alone can be properly enjoyed, whereas the world is an object of use. Consequently, Book 1 of the Sentences deals with the Trinity (unity of the Godhead, quality of the three persons, providence, evil, etc); Book 2 focuses on Creation (origin of the universe, existence of angels, the Fall, original sin); and since the human being is fallen, Book 3 focuses on the Incarnation and redemption (e.g., the hypostatic union and the Christian virtues). Finally, Book 4 turns to the Sacraments, the Resurrection, and God’s future Judgment. Each book is divided into chapters and paragraphs with rubrics, and in the thirteenth century, Alexander of Hales further groups chapters into “distinctions,” i.e., larger divisions indicating overarching topics. Such attention to organization and detail, guided by logic, is a key feature of what will become the “systematic” approach. The resulting body of work is a reflection on the Old and New Testaments, read through and in juxtaposition with the tradition. Throughout, Peter draws on St. Augustine, the Glossa ordinaria, canon law, and Peter’s own glosses on St. Paul, Hugh of St. Victor, Peter Abelard, Otto, St. John Damascene, St. Hilary, Julian of Toledo, and others. In the medieval university, Peter’s Sentences was a go-to reference for theological questions, and standard reading for all theology students: in fact, a commentary on the Sentences was a requirement for any aspiring Master of Theology, so Bonaventure and Aquinas both composed one, as did their contemporary “Masters of the Sacred Page.” What did these commentaries on the Sentences look like? In effect, a disputation. Taking Peter’s topics one question at a time, Bonaventure and Aquinas advance arguments pro, then con (Aquinas’s sed contra), and then provide their “response” (Aquinas’s “solution”). Aquinas would perfect this same method of inquiry in his Summa, which reconsidered many of Peter’s questions, and Bonaventure would return to them in his Breviloquium and other works. Systematic theology transformed the way scholars thought and wrote about God. Disputations themselves were a big deal in university culture and far livelier than public lectures held on college campuses today. Classes were canceled and Masters and students were required to attend; even people from the surrounding community would join. It stands to reason that students of grammar, including

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those reading and commenting on Ovid, would have participated in such events, and that what they learned in the process in turn shaped their engagement with their own course of studies. Moreover, those exploring Ovid in relation to Aristotle’s Of Generation and Corruption, Physics, and On the Soul now had companion commentaries on these works by Aquinas himself. Theological sources like the Sentences, Summa, and Breviloquium provide important context for understanding how the OM moralizes. Many of the themes explored by Peter Lombard, and in turn taken up by Aquinas and Bonaventure in their Commentaries and later works, are prominently discussed in the OM. Although the OM may not have borrowed directly from these theologians, their writings are important models of how thirteenthcentury readers were engaging, systematically, with big theological questions, and the OM participates in this broader discussion as it interprets the “signs” it uncovers in Ovid. When it veers into technical discussions of the Trinity, angels, the Sacraments, Creation, the Second Coming and Judgment, etc., these are not idle digressions, but confrontations with pressing issues that the most famous theologians of the era were debating.172 Unlike earlier mythographic texts that integrate Christian elements, or even those that are overtly Christian, from start to finish the OM unapologetically affirms its belief system: like Anselm in the Proslogion, it assumes its readers are Christian, and its ultimate goal is to educate them more about Christianity than about Ovid. Hence points of grammar or rhetoric in Ovid’s Latin fall by the wayside (making it acceptable to grapple with the text in French) in favor of reading the Metamorphoses as a series of signs that point to and invoke lessons drawn from the Christian faith. Of course, the OM looks nothing like a scholastic disputation. However, it does reflect another duty of the Master: lectio and disputatio were both excellent preparation for the important task of praedicatio (preaching). Peter Cantor (d.1197) compared these three duties to the three parts of a building: Reading is, as it were, the foundation and basement for what follows, for through it the rest is achieved. Disputation is the wall in the building of study for nothing is fully understood or faithfully preached, if it is not first chewed by the tooth of disputation. Preaching, which is supported by the former, is the roof, sheltering the faithful from the heat and wind of temptation. We should preach after, not before the reading of Holy Scripture and the investigation of doubtful matters by disputation.173 (Our emphasis) 172 Throughout

the notes to the translation, we provide references to key theological works (e.g., Aquinas and Bonaventure) that informed our work and help contextualize specific passages. 173 Peter Cantor, Verbum abbreviatum, 6, ed. Boutry (2004). Cited and trans. Smith (2021), 39.



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“On this view,” concludes Randall B. Smith in his learned study of the scholastic culture of medieval Paris, “disputation is not an end unto itself, but a means to the end of a better, more well-informed, more judicious preaching, as the building of foundation and walls of a building support the roof.”174 And according to medieval preaching manuals, like the anonymous thirteenthcentury Ars concionandi, “preaching should not seem to be a disputation.”175 Although better preaching could be informed by intelligent reasoning and deduction, very specific practices solidified in the thirteenth century when it came to the art of preaching itself. We believe this renewed interest in and dedication to the art of preaching also significantly impacted the OM and the way it goes about moralizing Ovid. Preaching and the OM The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were a period of urbanization. Paris was the largest city in France, and one of the largest in Europe. In the twelfth century, Peter Abelard had already made it an important center for the study of logic, and notable scholars like Hugh of Saint Victor had only added to its reputation. Thus, “once the Dominicans and Franciscans opened and staffed important priories in the city and began teaching at the University of Paris, the die was cast.”176 Now Paris became the main European center for the production of sermons and the publication of teaching manuals. To ignore praedicatio as a central component of scholasticism is “to miss one of the primary intellectual and cultural driving forces of the thirteenth century.”177 Aquinas and Bonaventure both left a plethora of sermons. Moreover, delivering sermons was a requirement not only for those seeking to become Masters of the Sacred Page, but also for those seeking Bachelor’s degrees. It has even been suggested that the sermon was the most-produced form of writing during the thirteenth century in France.178 In 1215, the Fourth Lateran Council emphasized the importance not only of preaching, but of good preaching – that is, preaching that is true, and represents the beliefs of the Holy See. We recognize in Canon 10 key themes and imagery taken up by the OM. For example, just as our physical bodies are fed with material food, the soul must be fed with spiritual food, for as it is said in the Bible, man does not live by bread alone but by the word that proceeds from 174 Smith

(2021), 39. Smith adds that “not everyone would have shared this view […] There were undoubtedly those who would have viewed disputation and preaching as two very distinct, largely unrelated skills.” 175 Ars concionandi 3.40 (falsely attributed to Bonaventure, now considered anonymous, but included in the Quaracchi edition of Bonaventure’s collected works, vol. 9, 9–21). Cited and trans. by Smith (2021), 39. 176 Smith (2021), 37. 177 Smith (2021), 17. 178 J. Leclerq (1946), 143–144.

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the mouth of God.179 And since bishops, being busy or unwell, were not always able to travel to minister to all those under their spiritual care, the Council decreed “that bishops are to appoint suitable men to carry out with profit this duty of sacred preaching, men who are powerful in word and deed and who will visit with care the peoples entrusted to them in the place of the bishops […] and will build them up by word and example.” The Council further noted that ignorance or “lack of knowledge” in bishops was “to be altogether condemned and is not to be tolerated in the future” and that the work of itinerant preachers, who had become popular during the twelfth century, but oftentimes preached unsanctioned and untrustworthy doctrines, was to be eradicated. (The OM echoes such concerns by calling out on numerous occasions those bad preachers who lead their flocks astray.) The Holy See was determined to make sure its flock received not only preaching, but better and more learned preaching. University centers like Paris, soon to be under the protection of the Papal Bull of 1231, had a crucial role in this: their rigorous course of studies, guiding students through lectio, disputatio, and the art of praedicatio, would empower and prepare a new generation of preachers. The mandates of the Fourth Lateran Council were further bolstered and made possible by the establishment of new orders of friars, not bound to their cloisters, who were able to travel widely across Europe preaching and teaching, and who, armed with sound biblical theological training, could supplant their untrustworthy itinerant predecessors. Indeed, 1215 was also the year that the Dominican order was founded in Toulouse by Dominic de Guzman and six brothers. From the beginning, the Dominicans were committed to preaching the Gospel and opposing heresy (another topic of import for the OM). Thus, Dominic and his brothers were known as both an “order of preachers” (ordo praedicatorum) and “order of teachers” (ordo doctorum). By January 1218, Pope Honorius III issued the Gratiarum omnium, a papal letter exhorting the prior and brothers of Saint Romain, preachers in the region of Toulouse, to continue their work and authorizing the community to exercise the right of preaching: “This was effectively unprecedented […]. With the Gratiarum omnium, the Dominicans were recognized as a special form of regular canons, with the right to preach vested in the community as a whole.”180 In fact, the early history of the Dominican order is so inextricably linked with the interests of the papacy that it is sometimes unclear whether developments in the order resulted from the initiative of Dominic himself, or the Holy See.181 Meanwhile, six years earlier, St. Francis of Assisi had gained unofficial approval for an Early Rule (regula non bullata) for the order of Franciscans 179 Smith

(2021), 27. For the analogy with food, see Matthew 4:4. (1991), 456. 181 See Zutshi (2005). 180 Morris



INTRODUCTION 55

from Pope Innocent III. This Rule put less emphasis on public preaching. It stressed that the Franciscans, also known as the “lesser brothers,” were not to preach contrary to the rite and practice of the Church or without permission of their minister.182 What it emphasized instead was preaching by deeds: “It seems as though Francis envisioned that his ‘lesser brothers’ would work in and around the townspeople using the skills and in the occupations for which they had been trained before entering the order. After finishing their work, they were not to accept money, but they were allowed to accept food and a place to sleep. This, it seems, was to be their primary way of preaching.”183 However, by the time the Later Rule (regula bullata) came out in 1223, Francis dedicated an entire chapter to the importance of preaching. Further echoing the mandates of the Fourth Lateran Council, it noted that a friar must have the approval of the local bishop, must be approved (for theological orthodoxy and general preparedness) by the Minister General of the order, and must have had the office of preacher conferred upon him. The language of such preaching must “be chaste for the benefit and edification of the people, announcing to them vices and virtues, punishment and glory, with brevity, because our Lord when on earth kept his word brief.”184 When Bonaventure became Minister General of the order in 1257, as his own sermons attest, the Franciscans had embraced the art of preaching as much as their Dominican counterparts. This, no doubt, was due in part to the kind of preparation Bonaventure himself went through alongside Thomas Aquinas at the University of Paris. This is not the place to delve into the art of crafting principia and the role of the very popular sermo modernus in shaping, or even defining, the art of preaching in thirteenth-century France. Fortunately, Smith has covered the topic in detail. There are three key points for reading the OM. First, the manuscript tradition doesn’t associate the OM with any specific religious order. Many illuminations echo references to “preachers” (predicateurs) in the text by depicting both Dominicans (in their black and white robes) and Franciscans (in their brown ones). So even if the author was a Franciscan, the OM was not transmitted as a distinctively Franciscan product. The second link between the OM and the art of preaching are the biblical distinctiones, a form of reference work entirely new to the period. These emerged around the same time as concordances to the Scriptures, and alphabetical subject indices to the writings of Aristotle and to the Church Fathers. As Richard and Mary Rouse explain,

182 “Early

Rule” (Regula non bullata), no. 17. See Armstrong et al. (1999), vol. 1, 75. (2021), 32n27. 184 Armstrong et al. (1999), vol. 1, 104–105. 183 Smith

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These are works to be used, rather than read. Moreover, in many cases – for example, the concordance, or subject index to the works of Augustine – these new tools helped one to use, rather than to read, the texts to which they were devoted. Tools such as these are unknown in classical antiquity. They are alien to the Hebrew and Byzantine traditions until imported from the Latins. And they emerge with striking suddenness in the West, to the point that one may say that before the 1190s such tools did not exist, and that by 1290 the dissemination and new creation of such tools were commonplace.185

At their core, distinctiones were lists of terms found in the Bible, usually alphabetized, for which various figurative and symbolic meanings were provided, often illustrated with a biblical passage. The Rouses, and Smith, offer up for consideration a notable example from Peter Cantor’s very popular Summa Abel.186 For avis (“bird”), it gives the following: Trending unto the heights, namely the just. Whence fish and birds are of the same matter. But fish, that is evil men, remain in the waters of this age; birds, that is good men, tend unto the heights. Remaining on high, namely an angel. Whence: “In the secret of your private chamber, detract not the king, because the birds of heaven will announce it.” (Eccl. 10:20) Falling down from on high, namely the proud. Whence: “If you ascend into heaven as an eagle, from thence I will bring you down.” (Obadiah 4) Rapacity, namely the devil. Whence in the parable of the seed it is said that the birds of the sky ate it. (Luke 8:5). Consumption, that is the tumult of evil thoughts. Whence Abraham drove birds away from the flesh of the sacrificed [animals]. (Gen. 15:11) Prelates. Whence the bird nested in the mustard bush (Matt. 13.31–32), that is, the prelate in the catholic faith.

One of the distinctive features of the sermo modernus was to select a Bible verse as a thema, a sort of guiding principle and mnemonic device. Then, if a student or Master were to deliver a sermon constructed around a thema verse containing the word avis, he might consult Peter Cantor’s Summa Abel and 185 Rouse

and Rouse (1991), 221–223. Smith (2021), 35–36. The text is named for the first entry in it, “Abel.” It has now been edited by Barney (2020). 186 See



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choose one or more figurative readings to expand on. (There is evidence that even scholars of unparalleled memory, including Bonaventure and Aquinas, made use of distinctiones when composing their sermons.187) A bird might signify the just, or the proud; an angel, or the devil; the tumult of evil thoughts, but also a prelate in the catholic faith: multiple concurrent readings coexist in Peter’s concordance. Likewise, multiple interpretations will coexist in the OM’s moralizations of items in Ovid. Given the widespread demand for biblical distinctiones throughout the thirteenth century and beyond, it seems that future research could fruitfully explore how these concordances relate to the moralizations served up by the OM. It’s easy to imagine our author turning to such reference tools and others (like Hugo de St. Cher’s concordance of the Bible, or collections of Sentences), in addition to traditional mythographic sources. When reading a story in Ovid about a bird, the OM author might even have sought inspiration from the Summa Abel entry cited above. The third point to consider when reading the OM is a technique known as dilatatio, for developing and expanding on a topic. We already noted that the sermo modernus style involved using a thema – a carefully selected Bible verse that served as an organizing and mnemonic device. After choosing his thema, the preacher would make a divisio of the verse into several parts. For example, in 1271, Thomas Aquinas selected as his thema for a sermon for advent the opening words of Matthew 21:5, Ecce rex tuus venit tibi mansuetus, “Behold, your king comes to you, meek sitting upon a donkey.”188 He then divided this thema into four parts: (1) Ecce, focused on the coming of Christ; (2) rex tuus, on the conditions of Christ’s coming; (3) venit tibi, on the benefits of Christ’s coming; and (4) mansuetus, on the way of his coming. In his principium given for inception, Bonaventure selects as his thema Wisdom 7:1, Omnium Artifex docuit me sapientia (“Wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me”). He then proceeds to divide the verse into four parts: (1) Artifex; (2) omnium; (3) sapientia; and (4) docuit me. Bonaventure and Thomas continue to subdivide each divisio further as needed. The next, and perhaps for our purposes, most important step, was that the preacher now had to develop or perform a “dilation” (dilatatio) of each part of the divisio – and specific techniques were prescribed for each of these steps.189 Most notably, one of the techniques recommended for dilatatio was none other than the fourfold exposition according to the historical, allegorical, moral, and anagogical senses of Scripture.190 187 See

Karris (2002). Smith (2021), 46ff. 189 Smith (2021), 49ff. Smith reviews the instructions provided by Robert de Basevorn in his Forma Praecandi. 190 Smith (2021), 62–63. 188 See

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To the extent that the OM does the same, dividing Ovid’s stories into smaller chunks that it moralizes individually (although it doesn’t go as far as breaking up the Latin verse lines), it looks like a vernacular form of dilatatio. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the OM presents itself as a preaching text, just that it might have been composed using the same tools as practitioners of the sermo modernus.191 Smith distinguishes eight authoritative methods for dilating sermons: (1) proposing a discussion based on a noun as it occurs in definitions or classifications; (2) creating subdivisions; (3) argumentation; (4) the chaining of authorities; (5) setting up a series (good, better, best); (6) the use of metaphors; (7) the four levels of reading – a technique the OM employs throughout; and (8) consideration of causes and their effects. We hope our translation will open new avenues for research aimed at understanding how these other recommended means of dilating the thema of the sermo modernus might have helped to shape the OM’s approach to moralizing. The OM’s Legacy The OM exerts a major influence over the subsequent reception of the Metamorphoses in France, England, and elsewhere. Manuscripts were produced for almost two centuries, until the late 1400s, and continued to be glossed and annotated.192 While the so-called “Z redaction” distanced itself from many of the OM’s moralizations,193 the moralizing tradition carried on. The OM was succeeded about twenty years later by the Latin Ovidius moralizatus of Pierre Bersuire (Petrus Berchorius, c.1290–1362).194 Bersuire’s influential treatise on the Greco-Roman gods, De formis figurisque deorum (a project akin to Boccaccio’s subsequent Genealogy of the Pagan Gods195), in turn serves as a preface to the OM in the Copenhagen manuscript. Bersuire also knew Petrarch and was friends with the composer Philippe de Vitry 191 Although,

in the fifteenth century, there is ample evidence for the widespread use of Ovidian myths in sermons. While preaching in Florence in 1496, the Dominican Friar Savonarola complained about the use of Ovid in sermons. He even remarked that the audience seemed to have become more accustomed to hear about Ovid than the Scriptures from pulpits. See Delcorno (2020), 97. This became so much of a problem that in 1559 the Church enacted a ban of the Ovidius Moralizatus; see McKinley (2001), 112–113. On Ovid in the pulpit, see Wenzel (2011), 173–174, and Delcorno (2016). 192 The glosses on Book 1 of the OM are edited as an appendix to the new edition, Volume 2, 457–494: for discussion, see the new edition, Volume 1, 211–223, and Radomme (2021a), especially Part 3. 193 See Deleville (2021). 194 See Ghisalberti (1933) for the Latin, Reynolds (1971) for an English translation, and now Coulson and Haynes (2023) for both. 195 Boccaccio’s Genealogia Deorum Gentilium is being edited and translated by Solomon (2011, 2017).



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(1291–1361), from whom he borrowed a copy of the OM.196 Vitry’s ars nova motets show some clear Ovidian influence, in dialogue with the reception of the Roman de Fauvel,197 and the OM’s influence on Guillaume de Machaut was immediately noted by de Boer.198 French Latin commentaries on Ovid also continued to thrive into the age of print.199 In 1466–1467, a monk at Angers produced a condensed prose version of the OM for King René d’Anjou. Known as the Ovide moralisé en prose,200 this is the text that Raphael Lyne refers to when, in his survey of the early modern English reception of Ovid, he notes that “the ‘translation’ of Ovid that emerges from the cradle of printing is not a humanist triumph of classical learning but William Caxton’s verbatim version of a French redaction of the Ovide moralisé.”201 The Calvinist Arthur Golding’s translation of the Metamorphoses, first published in 1567, was a major influence on Shakespeare: and for Lyne, Golding still “displays a degree of tension between the need to reproduce a classical text and the need to amplify its moral content, with something of the moralizer’s temperament retained alongside a faithful translation.”202 And, as Maggie Kilgour comments, “many critics have believed that Ovid was mediated to Milton through the allegorical tradition […] made infamous by the Ovide moralisé. It had a surprisingly long life, partly through the influence of the schools, where it continued to coexist happily with the newer humanist emphasis in which Ovid became primarily a teacher of rhetoric.”203 *** Much scholarship has affirmed the OM’s significant influence on Middle English writers like Gower and Chaucer.204 This was recognized early, with scholars making a case for various points of direct influence on Chaucer.205 As 196 Zayaruznaya (2015) refers to “the French moralized version which he [Vitry] owned,

as evidenced by Pierre Bersuire’s acknowledgement of a loan in the prologue to the second redaction of his Ovidus moralizatus (1362)” (131n48, citing Wathey 1997, 149). 197 Examples in Zayaruznaya (2015), 52–62, 243–255. 198 De Boer (1915), and his edition of the OM, Volume 1, 29–43. 199 For the Renaissance French reception of Ovid, see Moss (1982). 200 The scholarly edition is by de Boer (1954), and an important manuscript (of Dutch origin, listed among the contents of the English Royal Library in 1535) is British Library MS Royal 17 E IV (late fifteenth century), digitized at http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/ FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Royal_MS_17_E_IV. 201 Lyne (2001), 29. 202 Lyne (2001), 30. 203 Kilgour (2012), 3, with references at 3n8. 204 See, for example, Galloway (2014) and Akbari (2016), and compare Gerber (2015); on Gower specifically, see Galloway (2016); and on Chaucer, Fumo (2020). 205 Lowes (1918), Meech (1931); work making comparable connections with Gower seems to come much later (e.g. Mainzer 1972).

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reading the present translation will make clear, reading the OM also coaches us in habits of mind that open new avenues of reading and interpretation, even when the source relationship isn’t explicit. For example, in the Knight’s Tale, the two knights and their love interest, Emily, pray to pagan gods, their temples rich with Ovidian imagery. Arcite asks Mars for “victory tomorrow” against Palamon; Palamon asks Venus for “full possession” of the girl, even if it means his death; and Emily asks Diana to reconcile Arcite and Palamon, but let her stay unmarried – or, if marriage is her destiny, to let her marry the one who desires her most. Both men get what they asked for, in a way, since Arcite wins and then dies of his wounds, and a grieving Palamon is left to marry Emily. Meanwhile, Emily’s prayer to stay single is denied, which seems unfair, perhaps even misogynistic – or is Diana not as powerful as Mars and Venus? Most recently, these prayers have been analyzed as “a robustly imagined version of pagan devotional interiority”: “Chaucer asks readers of The Knight’s Tale to participate imaginatively in the work of pagan prayer.”206 Some of Chaucer’s readers would no doubt find their way from this imaginative experience to the kind of absent-center reading of […] The Knight’s Tale that some modern critics have proposed, in which the tale’s purpose is to expose the inadequacy of paganism and the “bleakness of the world without Christian religion.” This interpretation locates the tale’s meaning in a truth that remains outside of the tale itself, but even so, it derives all its force from the imaginative encounter with paganism enabled by the characters’ prayers; any insight the reader might reach into the benefits of Christianity can only follow from her [the reader’s] vicarious experience of pagan alterity and its “bleakness.” In this way, the work of inhabiting Athenian prayers can strengthen a reader’s Christian piety, but importantly, it does not have to.207

But seen through the Augustinian lens of the OM – a lens with which Chaucer himself has been proven to be familiar – the pagan world of the text is already inhabited wholly by Christian truth. Thus, when Arcite, Palamon, and Emily believe themselves to be praying to three different gods, they are in fact praying to one and the same God, the God of Christianity, whose single plan unfolds without their knowledge. The Prologue of the OM says this clearly: “Ovid, in the beginning, calls on several gods and says: ‘Help me make this poem, o gods […]’ Although the pagans believed there were multiple gods, we must 206 Murton

(2020), 70–82, at 75. Murton’s idea about Diana is that her temple mural links her to Proserpine and to Lucina, goddess of childbirth, and hence “aligns the goddess with the transition from maiden to wife to mother […] Emily is attempting to invoke one aspect of Diana’s identity as a protection against the other two,” which is why her prayer doesn’t work (78). This is a compelling explanation but, with the OM in mind, we can appreciate it as one level of explanation, which does not invalidate others. 207 Murton (2020), 82, citing Peter Camarda (2002) for the “bleakness” quotation.



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firmly believe that there is only one” (Book 1, vv. 98–146). The narrator of the Knight’s Tale, as familiar as he is with Greco-Roman myth, is also a fourteenthcentury paragon of Christian knighthood: it goes without saying, we think, that he would have shared this view, and it also makes sense that he would not have felt he had to go out of his way to convince his audience of it. Instead, at the end, in a comment that seems natural, obvious, and low-key, he invokes the Christian God as the authority over this pagan story: “Palamon has wedded Emelye. / And God, who has made all this wide world, / Send him his love who has dearly paid for it; / For now is Palamon in complete happiness.”208 The OM helps us better understand how pagan, Ovidian references might have been interpreted and integrated by post-OM medieval authors. How does the OM moralize? Standard procedure for the OM is to alternate retelling and moralization, explaining every episode from Ovid after relating it in French, and the moralizations go according to the four senses of Scripture.209 First comes the literal or historical sense, often introduced by the phrase par estoire. This involves taking the Bible as historical fact. To the medieval and Christian reader, Ovid’s Metamorphoses as written could not consist in historical fact, since the Greco-Roman “gods” were not actually gods, and the Christian God rarely transforms people into plants and animals.210 Thus, the historical sense suggests what historical events might have inspired Ovid’s myth, as recounted in the OM. Typically, these interpretations fall into two categories. Either the “gods” were ordinary humans and the metamorphoses were simply metaphorical (saying that Lycaon “became a wolf” is the same as saying he became an outlaw, for example), or the “gods” were planets or natural forces – sun, moisture, soil, etc. – acting on the natural world.211 208 “Hath

Palamon ywedded Emelye. / And God, that al this wyde world hath wroght, / Sende hym his love that hath it deere aboght; / For now is Palamon in alle wele” (lines 3098–3101), as glossed by https://chaucer.fas.harvard.edu/pages/knights-tale-0. 209 For a concise explanation of each level of reading, see Thomas Aquinas’s summary of the long-standing approach to Scripture in ST I q. 1, art. 10, although Aquinas discusses the allegorical sense before the moral one. The story of Lycaon follows Aquinas (historical, allegorical, moral, eschatological) but the rest of the OM has the order here. Augustine is one of the major sources of this model of reading to whom Aquinas looks back: see Augustine’s Unfinished Literal Commentary on Genesis, especially 2.5, and the Literal Meaning of Genesis, especially 1.1.1, both trans. Hill (2002). On the relationship of allegory to history, see Augustine’s City of God 16.2 and 17.4; and on the importance of taking certain scriptural passages as figurative, see On Christian Teaching (3.10.14). Bonaventure also takes up this question in the fourth part of the Prologue to the Breviloquium. 210 A rare example of biblical metamorphosis is the transformation of Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26). 211 As explained above, “euhemerism” is the technical term for this kind of historical thinking, after Euhemerus (fourth century bc). It wasn’t confined to the classical tradition:

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The moral or tropological sense, occasionally introduced by remarks such as Qui bien i veult exemple prendre (“For anyone who wants to take a lesson from it”), relates the story to the realm of ethics. This level of reading judges how the characters have acted and considers straightforward implications for how humans “ought to” live (as Aristotle puts it throughout the Nicomachean Ethics). The allegorical sense, often flagged with par allegorie, is symbolic: everything in the story stands for something else and points to Christian truth. Just as the Moralized Bibles of the thirteenth century juxtaposed readings of the Old Testament as prefiguring the New, the OM relates Ovid to the New Testament, especially the life and death of Jesus, but not exclusively. It also brings in other points of Christian doctrine and issues affecting the fourteenth-century Church. Last is the anagogical or eschatological sense. Also sometimes flagged with par allegorie, this level of reading is similar to the allegorical one, in that everything stands for something else, and distinct in that it deals with the future events of Christian history, such as the Second Coming of Christ and the Last Judgment. In order to illustrate the four levels of reading, we take a closer look at how the moralizations build upon one another after the stories of Phaethon and Orpheus. Phaethon: Book 2, vv. 1–630, moralized in vv. 631–1012 Summary: Phaethon is the son of the sun god, Phoebus, and a mortal woman, Clymene. He goes to see his father in his celestial abode, and the god promises to give him whatever he asks for. He asks to drive the chariot of the sun. The god objects, warning the boy that the route is steep, the signs of the Zodiac – real celestial animals – are menacing, and the horses are hard to control; any deviation from the proper course will freeze the world or burn it to a crisp. Phaethon insists, and the god, bound by his oath, relents, with predictable results: the horses fly out of control, the chariot swoops too low, mountains combust, rivers are vaporized, deserts are created, and the ocean boils. The cracking earth calls out to Jupiter in distress. Unable to quench the flames, Jupiter smites Phaethon with a thunderbolt, hurling him dead from the sky. 1. Historical interpretation: there are two options. a. Phaethon was a prince of Heliopolis in Egypt at the time of a horrific drought. His father, the king, was worshipped as a living god. (The OM stops there, but one could extrapolate: perhaps when his father delegated some of his authority to him, Phaethon’s mismanagement was blamed for the people’s suffering and they killed him.) the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241) explained the Norse gods, like Odin and Thor, as Trojan magicians who just made everyone think they were gods.



INTRODUCTION 63

b. Phaethon was an amateur astronomer with crackpot theories about the heavens. Jupiter, some kind of authority figure, embarrassed him by discrediting his publications, and he committed suicide by jumping off a cliff. 3. Moral interpretation: pride goes before a fall. A person shouldn’t overreach themselves. The devil fell through pride. 4. Allegorical interpretation: the sun travels the heavens and brings light to the world. What else brings light to the world? Holy Church. And who is the driver of Holy Church? The pope. Phaethon is an allegory for what happens when the pope is corrupt. As every level tries to curry favor with the one above, the Church hierarchy becomes consumed with the flames of covetousness and greed, which spread to the laity, until the whole world is on fire with vice. This, says the OM, is actually the state of the Church today. But God will not let this continue; the Church is his beloved bride, and he will come to her rescue and set things right. 5. Anagogical interpretation: the driver of the fiery chariot who will set the world ablaze is Antichrist, and Christ at his Second Coming will strike him down before the Last Judgment, along with those who share his pride.

Orpheus: Book 10, vv. 1–195, moralized in vv. 196–577 Summary: The musically gifted Orpheus, son of Phoebus Apollo, marries the nymph Eurydice. After the wedding she is propositioned by the shepherd Aristeus. She rejects him and frolics on the grass until a snake bites her and she dies. Orpheus descends into “hell” (the OM’s take on the Greco-Roman underworld, emphasizing the torments of Tartarus) and sings to Pluto and Proserpine, who are so moved that they let him leave with Eurydice, on condition that she follow him and he not look at her until they have fully exited hell. In his eagerness and concern, he turns around too early and sees her melt back into the shadows, and from then on hell is barred to him. He mourns her intensely for a week, then forswears the love of women and moves to the mountains of Thrace, where he originates the practice of having sex with young men. 1. Historical interpretation: a man named Orpheus once married a woman named Eurydice, who was bitten by a snake and died. In his immoderate grief, he turned to homosexuality. 2. Moral interpretation: folded into the historical interpretation is a condemnation of homosexuality, “in which, contrary to nature, a male is made feminine, without any hope of offspring.” We are told to avoid it.

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3. Allegorical interpretation: in keeping with Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas, Orpheus is the rational part of the soul, and Eurydice is the sensitive part. Their “marriage” puts reason in charge of sensuality, which makes it possible for sensuality to embrace the good life, represented by the shepherd. When sensuality rejects the good life and frolics unsupervised among earthly delights, it exposes itself to the snakebite of sin, and the soul experiences the “hell” of inner torment in the heart. Reason visits the heart and tries to show sensuality the error of its ways. If reason leads the way, the soul can be brought back to life. But if reason gets turned around and follows sensuality, the heart then shuts it out entirely and refuses to acknowledge truth. 4. Anagogical interpretation: Orpheus is a type of Christ. The snake is the devil. Eurydice represents humanity tempted by the devil and condemned to hell through original sin. Christ rescues us from original sin through his death and Resurrection, but if individually we backslide into freely chosen sin, he won’t get us out of hell a second time, and at the Last Judgment we will be condemned. God likes people who are not spiritually soft and “feminine” and recidivist, but spiritually “virile” and passionate for union with him, which corresponds to the young men in the mountains of Thrace.

These layers of reading can present what seem to be disturbing inconsistencies. An action that is negative on the moral level can be positive on the allegorical or eschatological level, and vice versa. For example, in “Orpheus,” male homosexuality is strongly condemned on the moral level, while on the eschatological level, it models humanity’s ideal relationship with God. When the newly married Eurydice rejects the shepherd Aristeus, the moral level would approve of her fidelity, but the allegorical level says that the sensitive part of the soul, wedded to the rational part, must embrace the good life, or else it becomes vulnerable to sin. It misses the point to say that on the moral level, Eurydice is right to reject the shepherd and on the allegorical level, she is wrong – therefore what is she supposed to do? For the medieval reader, these layers of reading were not in competition. They could all coexist, thereby revealing different layers of human experience and, ultimately, of truth. Not every episode gets the full fourfold treatment and in fact, most don’t: they might omit the historical or the moral level, or present only one symbolic interpretation, called “allegorical” even if it corresponds to the anagogical level rather than the allegorical one. Still, we can use the four-step structure as a guide to how the text operates.



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The OM does favor certain issues.212 It preaches against covetousness and greed, the emptiness of worldly pleasures and honors (down to certain fashionable hairstyles), sexual sin (on the moral level of interpretation, the OM has a predictably unfortunate attitude to same-sex relationships), corruption in the Church, and Jews. There are a startling number of moralizations which target Jewish people, who are often called false, wicked, and envious, among other bigoted and stereotypical characterizations. The theological claim is that Jesus “came unto his own, and his own received him not” (John 1:11): because the Jewish authorities rejected the Son of God and had him crucified, this reasoning goes, God withdrew his favor from the Israelites, who were once his chosen people. The OM associates “Synagoga” or “Judea,” a singular personification of Judaism or the Jewish community, with a range of arrogant, malicious, suffering, or humiliated women in Ovid: God’s chosen spouse or handmaid now deprived of his love. (Illuminations such as the one on fol. 59r of the Rouen manuscript show her blindfolded, and more unwilling than unable to see the truth.) This was no mere theological exercise. There was a real toll on the Jewish people of fourteenth-century France. By that time, the Church in general had grown increasingly hostile to the Jews of Europe. In 1306, King Philip IV, experiencing financial stress, expelled 100,000 Jews from France on pain of death, seized and auctioned off their property, and collected on the debts that were owed to them. Lending money at interest was considered usury, a serious sin. Since, as a matter of Christian doctrine, the Jews were damned anyway, they might as well be allowed to perform this vital economic function. Hence the stereotype of the medieval Jewish moneylender.213 Their status as royal chattels made them vulnerable in case the king decided they shouldn’t be paid back, and in this case the king made a lot of money from hitting up their debtors, too. In 1315 they were invited back under a twelve-year amnesty from Louis X but were heavily fined and persecuted by his successors in the 1320s. None of these kings had much success in convincing them to convert to Christianity. The OM expresses sympathy for some of the characters it analogizes to the Jews, but generally acts like their fate is deserved. This would be consistent with papal and royal agendas at the time. Meanwhile, in a few places (notably 212 It has many of these issues in common with its close contemporary the Roman de Fauvel, a satire about a horse whose name is an acronym for the seven deadly sins. This was composed in 1310 and 1314 by the royal chancery clerk Gervais du Bus, and amplified in 1316–1317 by Chaillou de Pestain. Chaillou’s manuscript, Bibliothèque nationale de France MS fr. 146, had the same master illuminator as the Rouen manuscript of the OM. Radomme (2021a) has now jointly considered the fourteenth-century reception of Fauvel and the OM, but any affinities of the texts themselves are still to be explored. 213 But on this, see Mell (2017–2018) and Dorin (2023).

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the moralization of Hecuba in Book 13, vv. 2128–2200), the OM seems to respond to debates about whether Christians had anything to learn from Jewish approaches to Scripture, a position argued at the University of Paris by the Franciscan Nicholas of Lyra in 1309.214 Despite its considerable value as a historical document, the OM can also be read “not of an age, but for all time.” The questions it inherently poses about the nature of human existence, humans’ relationship to God, their moral formation, how to live the good life, are – like the topics raised by Aristotle, St. Thomas Aquinas, or, more recently, C.S. Lewis – universal.215 A twenty-first-century Christian would agree that human beings wrestle today with the very same deadly sins against which the OM cautions its readers: pride, avarice, lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, and wrath. As Lewis notes, we each struggle over the course of our lives to discern the difference between a love that is all-consuming and idolatrous, as in so many of Ovid’s tales, and one that is selfless, turned outside of ourselves, and, for the Christian believer, towards God. Thus, the theological dimension of the OM – that part which makes it seem strange, foreign (quaint, even) to a post-Enlightenment and post-humanist world – was of primary import to the medieval French work. Ultimately, more than using God to make a case for Ovid, the OM uses Ovid to make the case for God, whom it considers the central point of all that exists and, in Aristotelian fashion, that towards which all truth in the world points. Human life, much like the chaotic flux of the world of the Metamorphoses, is transient. All that we touch passes away. And in keeping with St. Augustine, wrongful or misguided loves – of other human beings, of objects (gold, a statue), of one’s own ingenuity, of the offices of the Church, even, created to bring people closer to God – lead human beings astray when they are turned towards self-gratification.

214 See

Klepper (2007) for more on this. (1960), passim.

215 Lewis

Notes on the Translation The translation was made primarily from the edition by Cornelis de Boer and others (5 volumes, Amsterdam, 1915–1938). We checked his readings and investigated problems using his base manuscript, Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen O.4, digitized at https://www.rotomagus.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b10102188w, and occasionally other manuscripts, especially Copenhagen, Thott 399 folio, digitized at http://www5.kb.dk/manus/vmanus/2011/dec/ha/object116197/en/. To approximate the experience of reading a medieval book, we note the miniatures and majuscules in the Rouen manuscript. Other editions were used as follows: For Book 1: Ovide moralisé, Livre I, edited by Craig Baker, Marianne Besseyre, Mattia Cavagna, Stefania Cerrito, Olivier Collet, Massimiliano Gaggero, Yan Greub, Jean-Baptiste Guillaumin, Marylène Possamaï-Pérez, Véronique Rouchon Mouilleron, Irène Salvo, Thomas Städtler, and Richard Trachsler. 2 volumes. Paris: SATF, 2018. For Book 10: “Das Buch X des Ovide Moralisé: Edition und philologischer Kommentar nach der Handschrift Rouen O.4,” edited by Lisa Šumski (Ph.D. dissertation, Universität des Saarlandes, 2016), now published as Ovide Moralisé: Commented Edition of Book X on the Basis of the Rouen Manuscript, Bibl. Mun., O.4. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2021.1

The focus was always on issues affecting the translation: it was not our goal to systematically correct de Boer or comprehensively critique the new editions. It was also not our goal to systematically document the OM’s relationship to sources, although there are many indications of this in the notes. (The notes to the new edition of Book 1 and various items in the bibliography make it clear how much further work this would involve. The collaborative project that produced the new edition of Book 1 is ongoing and should continue to Also, Endress’s PhD dissertation at the University of Zurich (2020) includes a new edition of vv. 1–1036 of Book 9 (308–409). 1

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generate new insights. Chloe McCarthy is also preparing a study and edition of Book 11 as a dissertation at the Université libre de Bruxelles.) We used Ovid’s Metamorphoses to inform our reading and to standardize the spelling of Classical names. In general, when there are no indications to the contrary it can be assumed that the OM is following the narratives in Ovid more or less closely: we don’t provide a point-by-point comparison. Only when there are interesting differences that wouldn’t be obvious, we quote the translation by A.S. Kline at https://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/trans/Ovhome.htm and the edition at https://ovid.lib.virginia.edu/metamorphoseonUVA.html: while there would be other distinguished editions and translations of Ovid to choose from, these were the ones we actually used because we found the tone and faithfulness of the translation to match our own reading of the Latin text. We hope they will be of equal assistance to our readers. Issues in the Latin were checked against the Oxford Classical Texts edition by R.J. Tarrant, P. Ovidi Nasonis Metamorphoses (Oxford University Press, 2004), and other sources and commentaries. The immediate goal of this unabridged translation is scholarly use. Grace was sometimes possible, but not at the expense of gracefully fudging something theologically specific, and the translation grew ever more literal as we revised it. Because this is a first translation of the work, we consider that it has a special obligation to reproduce the structure of the French as long as the result reads with reasonable clarity and ease, even when there might have been a more concise or elegant alternative. Hence, as a simple example, we translate Juno dist que ce n’est pas voir (Book 3, vv. 1019) as “Juno said that wasn’t true” rather than “Juno denied this.” We do try to avoid the ridiculously literal, such as translating mout l’amoit de grant amour (Book 3, v. 8) as “loved her very much with great love” (we chose “loved her passionately”). The OM favors the historical present, and we tried to strike a balance between accurately rendering the tense in French, and maintaining some consistency within episodes so the reader is not subjected to disorienting shifts. This normally involves rendering historical-present verbs as past. We also break up long periodic sentences with nested relatives, and, having weighed the attractiveness of using square brackets for this and decided against it, added an explanatory word or two from time to time as signaled in the notes. We assume that readers will grow accustomed to the structure of the moralizations, and have rarely labeled the levels of interpretation beyond the indications given by the text itself. The OM makes abbreviated statements like “The sailors were carrying Bacchus, because they were transporting a large quantity of wine,” when what it really means is “When the story says that the sailors were carrying Bacchus, this is because, according to the historical level of interpretation, we are to understand that they were transporting a



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large quantity of wine.” For this, rather than add explanatory verbiage, we use quotation marks: “The sailors were ‘carrying Bacchus,’ because …” A common tactic on the historical level of interpretation is to use the name of a god to mean, in effect, “some guy named Jupiter,” since the premise is that the Greco-Roman gods can’t have existed as such. The moralization of Jupiter’s war with the giants in the Lycaon episode, for example, starts with Emprez la premiere victoire / Que Jupiter ot des tyrans (Book 1, vv. 1390–1391), which effectively means “After the first victory that some entirely human and not at all divine king named Jupiter won over the tyrants who were his enemies,” etc. The translation typically stops short of this kind of expansion. The impersonal third-person singular is famously common in French, while constructions using English “one” are often stilted. We use singular “they” to refer to the generic human being, reserving “he or she” for where the French is explicitly gendered (aucun ou aucune, cil ou cele, etc.). Gendered pronouns are also challenging: for example, Gentilise (“Gentilisa”), the personification of paganism, Judee/Judaïme (“Judea”), the personification of Judaism or the Jewish community, and Sainte Eglise (“Holy Church”) are all treated as a feminine singular in the moralizations, where they are typically associated with individual Ovidian women. English forces a decision between “she” and “it,” which French does not. Divine Wisdom, or Sapience, is also grammatically feminine, and insofar as this refers to the Son of God, it is challenging to render: see especially the moralization of Caenis/Caeneus (Book 12, vv. 2976ff.). The OM isn’t always inspired poetry, but it is poetry. Our experience on the Princeton Charrette Project2 has made us alert to the structure of poetic figures such as adnominatio and chiasmus, which we have invariably tried to render in the translation, or at least to signal in the notes. Since meanings will vary depending on context, not every adnominatio could be rendered. In some cases where it was possible to privilege the poetic nature of the text without sacrificing meaning, we allowed ourselves to look for creative solutions. For example, when Chiron’s daughter Ocyrhoë turns into a horse, she cries out “Ez que doit ce?” (Book 2, v. 3078, glossed by de Boer as “Tiens, pourquoi cela?”), and hence was called an eque (2.3079). Our Ocyrhoë cries out “Eek! Why now this?” and is called an “equine.” The punctuation in de Boer has been regularized and often adjusted, on the understanding that some of it might reflect the performative qualities of the text. Episode headings and paragraph breaks have been added for clarity according to our sense of how the text is structured, often in places where de Boer’s edition has an em-dash: we were guided in making these decisions by the majuscules and illuminations in the Rouen manuscript. The translation 2 See http://www.princeton.edu/~lancelot/ss/. The latest presentation of the project’s findings was in Greco and Thorington (2012).

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tries to approximate the experience of reading the medieval book and facilitate studies of text–image relations by making it easy to follow along with the manuscript images online. A first translation of any text imposes a special burden to represent it fairly. As both a translation of Ovid (and others) and a theological project that disavows pretensions to poetic elegance,3 the OM can be distinctly technical; it was also anxious not to make heretical mistakes.4 Subtle French wordplay is involved in getting from Ovid’s Latin to some of the moralizations, and at any moment, with or without warning, the OM could also be using French to translate Scripture or Latin theological vocabulary. So (for example) it would be tempting to render vaines cogitacions as “fruitless thoughts,” une plus de deux as “three,” and chauves soris as “bats”: but our notes explain why we had to stick with “vain cogitations,” “two plus one more,” and even “bald-mice,” and, conversely, why a seemingly straightforward remark like Jhesus dota would have meant something more particular to a medieval reader than “Jesus was afraid.” Given the specificity of the language, we have done our best to translate the same words the same way when they mean the same thing; but they may not always mean the same thing even when they seem to. Many French words have a wide semantic range. Many young women are called sage et bien aprise: should that be “polite and well-behaved,” or “wise and highly educated”? A feature of medieval French narrative poetry in general is doublets of what often seem to be synonyms: orde et vis, “foul and base”; larron et robeor, “thieves and robbers”; and so on. Arguably sage et bien aprise would be one of these. Some translators find it makes for easier reading to translate them with a single term: “huge” instead of “big and huge,” for instance. But because we suspect there are often theologically significant nuances associated with these pairs of terms (for example, larron et robeor might be making a distinction between theft by stealth and theft by violence, where there was theological debate as to which was worse), we almost never reduce doublets to single terms.

3 4

See OM, Book 15, vv. 4183–4212. See OM, Book 1, vv. 59–70.

Introductory Lexicon Below are comments on specific items of vocabulary. This lexicon is not exhaustive: it is only a sampler of key issues arising. (Compare and contrast the lexicon in Burgess and Kelly 2017, 415–431.) affection  this is not just fondness, but “affection” in the theological sense, and an example of how the OM adapts into OF the lexicon of Latin-language scholastic theology: see Dixon (2003), 1–61, Miner (2009), and Lombardo (2011) for background. ami(e)  when referring to a human being can mean “friend,” but usually means “beloved”: our translation varies to reflect the relationship. It is also used for would-be lovers (“have mercy on me, your ami(e)”), where “beloved” would presume too much about their target’s feelings: in that case we would consider “suitor.” When referring to God, amistie and ami have deep roots in scholastic theology and refer to God’s “friendship” (vs. “love”) towards us, and ours towards him – the highest form of love. The term translates Latin amicitia, which has Aristotelian resonance and refers to the love God has for humanity: see Yamamoto (2007) and Lefler (2014). (The first instance of this usage occurs in Book 1, v. 1520.) Prior to the rediscovery of Aristotle, biblical authors and early Church Fathers were also influenced in their portrayal of the intimacy between God and humankind as “friendship” by the early Alexandrian translators of Scripture; see Sherwin (2021). In the thirteenth century, the rediscovery of Aristotle adds another layer to the adoption of Latin amicitia by scholastic theologians. For example, drawing inspiration from Aristotle’s treatise on friendship in the Nicomachean Ethics (Books 8–9) and Augustine, Aquinas’s vision of friendship with God echoes Aristotle’s friendship of the Good, devoid of any sense of utility or convenience (i.e., it is non-transactional in nature). For the “invitation of friendship in Jesus Christ,” and Christ as “man’s greatest friend,” see Aquinas, ST I–II q. 108, art. 4. See also John 15:15, where Jesus calls his disciples “friends,” John 20:29–31 and ST II–II q. 23, art. 1. When Jesus commands the disciples to “love one another” (John 13:34–35), the Greek bible uses Gk. agape, not philo.

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Bonaventure refers frequently to St. Francis as God’s “friend.” In a famous passage from a sermon he gave on the Feast of the Transferal of the Body of Saint Francis,1 dated May 25, 1267, Bonaventure explains the “special reasons” for which Jesus “calls St. Francis his friend,” including his humility, purity of heart, and the serenity of his contemplative soul. For these reasons, Francis was chosen to bear the stigmata, an outward marking of his very special relationship of “friend” to Jesus: “the word ‘friend’ is addressed to St. Francis because he was a faithful, congenial, and intimate friend of the Lord, conformed to him by the marks of the stigmata on his body.” amours/Amours (amors/Amors)  while Latin amor and modern French amour are both masculine, in medieval French the word for love is variously masculine or feminine, and, as with fortune/Fortune below, in many instances we might suspect it of being personified in a way that might or might not be equivalent to Cupid or Venus, or the courtly medieval God of Love. The manuscripts do not have the capitalization that de Boer sometimes supplies in his edition, and the singular possessive adjective is not marked for gender, so any given instance is a judgment call to translate. Although the OM incorporates the twelfth-century Narcisus et Dané and Piramus et Tisbé, it is not obvious that a fourteenth-century audience would have understood these in precisely the same way as a twelfth-century one. It would be hyper-reductive to read the OM solely through the lens of twelfthcentury courtly literature, or, more specifically, the scholarship and history of interpretation regarding such. (Their reception in the OM might even be an invitation to revisit our understanding of these earlier texts!) For this reason, our practice regarding capitalization and personification of love/Love largely differs from Eley (2001, 2002) and Burgess and Brook (2016) in trying to preserve the ambiguity inherent in the OM, which the moralizations often capitalize on, by leaving the translation ambiguous for the reader. Ultimately, with rare exceptions, we almost never capitalize or gender the word love. A case could often be made for more gendered personification than we have expressed, and our translation is not intended to constrain such readings. Any given instance might refer to the emotion of love, the Greco-Roman or courtly god or goddess, the theological virtue of love, love as a philosophical idea, or some combination. This same ambiguity exists in other texts, like the Divine Comedy. There Dante establishes a framework for understanding love as encompassing the kind of courtly, earthly devotion celebrated in the Vita Nuova, as well as the various degrees of love described by Bernard of Clairvaux, who becomes the pilgrim’s final guide through the end of the Paradise. Dante’s pilgrimage through the various “degrees” of love described by Bernard in On Loving God help resolve the perceived tension between a love of the flesh, and of the spirit. To quote 1

Armstrong et al. (1999), 737–747.



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the opening of Book 15 of On Loving God: “Since we are carnal and born of the lust of the flesh, so too much our desire and our love have its beginning in the flesh. But rightly guided by the grace of God through these degrees, it will have its consummation in the spirit” (our translation). In keeping with this idea, Dante’s pilgrimage is set in motion by his earthly love for Beatrice, but, guided by Virgil and then by his heavenly lady and by St. Bernard, it finds its consummation in the contemplation of the beatific vision in which Beatrice herself partakes at the end of the Comedy. For Bernard, his contemporary William of St. Thierry, and other medieval theologians indebted to Augustine, like Aquinas and Bonaventure, the “birthplace” of love is God. William writes: “There is it born, there nourished, there developed. There is it a citizen, not a stranger, but a native. Love is given by God alone, and it endures in him, for it is due to no one else but him and for his sake” (trans. Davis 1981, 53). But if the will – that William designates as the first of his four stages of love – is not carefully self-ordered, it can “rush headlong into disaster” and be “buried in the hell of the vices, unless help comes to it promptly from grace” (57). Guided by grace, and correctly ordered, the will can mature into love, and from love to charity, and from charity to wisdom. This example from William of St. Thierry helps to illustrate the many, rich connotations that can co-exist in the OM’s use of OF amour(s): even the lustful eros of Ovid, described by William as the “rampaging vice of fleshly concupiscence” (50), originates in, and can be redirected towards, the Christian God. In the moralizations, amours is sometimes used regarding the “passions” or “affections” of the soul, as discussed by Augustine (City of God 9.4–5) and Aquinas (ST I–II qq. 22–48), referencing what Aristotle called pathē. Aquinas distinguishes between “passions” (passiones) of the sensitive appetite and “affections” (affectiones, or pseudo passions) of the rational appetite, and “passions” would seem to be the correct translation of amours, e.g. in Book 3, v. 912. These matters are addressed in detail by Robert Miner (2009), esp. Chapter 2. See also Bonaventure 2 Sent. d. 24, especially art. 2. armes  is “arms” in the sense of “weapons and armor,” as in “the arms of Achilles” for which Ajax and Ulysses compete in Book 13. We invariably translate “arms” except when the reference is specifically to weapons or armor, or when there would be potential for confusion with the limbs of the body, in which case we might translate “war-gear.” chetif, chetive  by default this is “wretch,” but it can also mean “captive”: both would seem to apply equally to a sinner enslaved by sin. clergie  this refers to a “clerkly” type of scholarship, and corresponds to Latin studium as in translatio studii. We render it “learning” or “scholarship.” While clerc might be translated either “clerks” and “clerics,” see Book 3, vv. 229–272, for an example of where the OM seems to draw a clear distinction between these often-overlapping roles.

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contenance, continence  contenance is “behavior,” while continence is “continence,” i.e. self-restraint, not succumbing to excess. For the OM, good contenance implies continence! This is another appropriation of Aristotle, favored by theologians, and also vernacular authors, like Dante. conversacion  not “conversation,” but either “lifestyle, (mode of) living” or “fellowship,” depending on context. damedieu, dame dieu, demidieu  in this context dame does not mean “lady,” despite the gender-bending effects of a feminine Divine Wisdom, and de Boer’s word-division in some books. Damedieu is literally “Lord God,” but is functionally just “God/god,” especially when used in the plural for the Olympian gods (we wouldn’t translate “the lord gods gathered in council”). Demidieu as such, is “demigod.” Especially in Book 1, there is confusion in the manuscripts and editions about whether the reference is to “gods” or “demigods,” and we have done our best to unpick this in the notes. debonaire  not usually “debonair,” but rather “noble,” “free,” or “generous,” again depending on context. diex/dieu (Diex/Dieu)  in the singular without the article: although the manuscripts use majuscules to start new sections, they otherwise do not distinguish upper-case and lower-case, and nothing is “capitalized” in the original. The difficulty here is whether to translate “(the) god” or “God” for the supreme god in Ovid (the creator god of Book 1, and also sometimes Jupiter or another god like Phoebus or Bacchus who becomes the Christian God in a moralization). The OM understands many of the actions of this god to be the actions of the Christian God, so that, in those cases, there is ultimately no distinction. Rather than make up a hybrid like “gGod” when we think this is happening, we invariably use “(the) god” when the OM is telling stories, and “God” when it moralizes. dilection  this is straightforward to translate as “dilection,” which is again a theological term. It might seem to be the same as love, but Aquinas says not. See ST I–II q. 26, art. 3: “dilection implies, in addition to love, a choice made beforehand as the very word denotes, and therefore dilection is not in the concupiscible power but only in the will and only in the rational nature. Charity denotes, in addition to love, a certain perfection of love.” Note the contrasting pour nostre amour v. 1198, vs. pour soie amistié, v. 1202: friendship, the highest form of love, and devoid of any impropriety, refers to the love of, and for, God, in keeping with Aquinas’s lexicon. In I Sent. d. 1, art. 3, Bonaventure describes beatitude as a quieting and delight of the spirit, a state beyond which nothing further is sought. He describes the soul “going to rest” when she encounters the object of her “love” (dilectione), and notes that being “perfectly finished” (perfectam finitionem) requires a “perfect delight” (delectatio). Thus, Bonaventure notes, “for that reason only in God is there



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perfect [delight].” This is the state in which the angels originally experience God, face-to-face (see 2 Sent. d. 3, pt. 2, art. 3). estoire, histoire  when not referring to the historical level of interpretation (usually labeled par estoire), estoire seems to mean mostly “history” or “historical account.” In a few debatable instances, it could mean a “story” that is not necessarily taken as historical. Our translation “story” typically renders conte. fable  this corresponds to Latin fabula, and is the term of choice for the kind of stories that Ovid tells. The problem is that modern English “fable” suggests a story that already comes with a moral, like Aesop’s fables. We translate “tale.” fier(e)  this is more likely “fierce” than “proud” (which is what it means in modern French), although there are many entities, like the devil, that might be both. The OM is very concerned with the effects of pride, arrogance, presumptuousness, effrontery, boastfulness, and hubris, for which it uses words like orgueil, outrecuidance, bobance, bouffoi, vantance, etc. The phrase de fier corage is used often, with positive or negative implications, for heroes, tyrants, etc. We usually translate “lion-hearted”: fortuitously, the bestiary tradition associates the lion with both Jesus (breathing on its cubs to bring them to life) and the devil (marauding for prey). “Bold-hearted” renders de hardi corage. fol(e), folie, fole amour folie can refer to both folly and madness, but the line is hard to draw. For example, the Maenads who tear apart Orpheus in Book 11 are crazed, but Ovid also calls them sacrilegae “impious ones” (Met. 11.41), and in a Christian context, it is both foolish and insane to offend against God. Given the enormous biblical resonance of the word “fool” (e.g. Matthew 5:22, 1 Corinthians 18–25), and the availability of forsenage and desverie for frenzied madness, we consistently translate “fool” (fol), “foolish woman” (fole), “foolishness, folly” (folie), etc., except when it seems clearly inappropriate. This imposes a certain perspective: in Book 2, v. 4792, the punishment assigned to the Belides is called a “foolish undertaking” (fole emprise) not only because it is futile, despite its serious purpose as a punishment, but also in anticipation of its being moralized as an activity that they choose to engage in with foolish purpose. The OM is very interested in fole amour and its consequences. We translate it “foolish love” in all cases to make it easier to track. One caveat is that when a character complains about being tortured by fole amour, it might not be clear to them that their love is “foolish,” even if they recognize it as consuming and obsessive: “crazy love” would be a better fit from their perspective, while the OM knows it is foolish. Of course, in keeping with the principle in 1 Corinthians, a character’s foolish love for another person can be moralized

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on at least one level as a wise love for God (an especially striking example is Myrrha’s incestuous passion for her father in Book 10). fontaine  the obvious translation would seem to be “fountain,” but usually this refers to a natural spring rather than a spouting architectural feature, and so in most cases we translate “spring.” On the “spring/fountain of Narcissus,” see the note to Book 3, v. 1547. fortune/Fortune  like dieu, this is another word that exemplifies the problems of the manuscripts not capitalizing anything. Fortune (Latin Fortuna) is a standard personification, a fickle woman, often blindfolded, who spins a wheel; but not all references to fortune are to the personification. We give it our best guess. franc(he)  this is an example of a broadly positive word with many possible meanings – “noble,” “generous,” “free,” “honest, frank, sincere” – and our translation varies depending on context. glotonie  we translate “gluttony,” but this is often a sin of incontinence in the Aristotelian sense, which encompasses a broader range than gluttony. Compare Dante’s sins of appetite or incontinence of which gluttony is one in the sixth canto of both Inferno and Purgatory. The idea of gluttony can also apply to the gluttony of desire for knowledge, as in the tasting of the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil by Eve and Adam. Adam’s sin was not in eating but in transgressing a boundary. According to Aquinas, ST II–II q. 163, the root of the transgression of the boundary is pride. The gluttony of desire for knowledge follows from that sin of pride. Bonaventure addresses the topic in Brev. III.4, noting that the first parents disobeyed their Master through both spiritual pride and physical gluttony; see also Bonaventure 2 Sent. d. 30. home  the obvious translation is “man,” but like Latin homo (in contrast to vir), home can also mean a human being regardless of gender. French defaults to the masculine for mixed-gender groups, and given the biblical primacy of Adam, it would be consistent with the OM’s worldview to translate according to outdated English usage, where man, mankind, and he can be understood to refer to the species. Contemporary English usage might make this usage seem more aggressively gendered than it was for the OM: so, as mentioned above, we use singular they for most instances of the generic or hypothetical person. We still use man and he in a few situations: (i) historical circumstances that suggest a male focus or viewpoint (references to clergy, preachers, theologians; property owners; clients of prostitutes; etc.); (ii) theological contexts dealing with “the creation of man,” “man’s salvation,” “to redeem man,” “the heart of man,” etc. (in these cases home contrasts with humanite “humanity,” humain lignage “the human race,”



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etc.); (iii) when they would be grammatically confusing, given plurals that could be the antecedent. These situations all involve a judgment call which we normally signal in the notes. When an individual home is male, we translate “man” without any special note: thus, when the OM says that God became incarnate as a (vrai) home, we translate “(true) man” rather than “(true) human being,” although the latter would also be accurate. lescheour  the translation is “lechers,” but – in keeping with Aristotle, Augustine and Thomas Aquinas – this can have broader reference to sins of incontinence or misguided affection rather than specifically sexual sin. lignage, lignee  lignage is “lineage” for an individual, but humain lignage is “the human race.” The OM has a few terms relating to lineage and birth that would seem to approximate the modern concept of “race” (a matter of surging interest in medieval studies, as in Heng 2018), and which we translate accordingly; in most cases these terms are used for the Jews, e.g. la dure estraction / des felons juïfs plains d’envie (Book 12, vv. 2090–2091). martire  as Burgess and Kelly explain (2017, 425), this is not always “martyrdom,” but in the OM, freighted with religious meaning, it is often tempting to privilege that sense over the more mundane senses including “carnage/slaughter” and “anguish/torment.” In this text, metre a martire can indeed mean “make a martyr of” as well as “make suffer.” mesfaire; mesfait  consistently “transgress; transgression” rather than “misdeed”; by contrast, mesprendre is to “make a mistake, be in error.” Montjoie  montjoie Saint Denis! was the battle-cry and motto of the Kingdom of France. Montjoie, from Mons Iovis “the mount of Jupiter” (Olympus) is adapted to the Christian context as Mount Zion, the “mountain of the Lord’s house” (Isaiah 2:2), the “hill of the Lord” (Psalm 24:3, or Vulgate 23:3). “Heavenly hill” is a standard rendering of this idea in English which we have adopted as our translation of Montjoie throughout the OM. muser, musart  muser is glossed in Hindley-Langley-Levy as “spend, waste one’s time, wait uselessly; stroll, loaf (around), mope; amuse o.s., enjoy o.s., play the fool; think, muse, dream; wonder, puzzle; look on idly, stand and stare.” This array of possible translations clusters around a single coherent idea: in general, in the OM, muser describes the effect that the vain pleasures and distractions of this world can have on a person – the musart, perhaps even the fol musart – who is unwise enough to give in to them. Narcissus in Book 3 is offered as a prime example. The OM favors the repetitive adnominatio of faire les musars muser, which Brayer (1958, 36) notes also occurs in the thirteenth-century Somme le Roi and Miroir du Monde, in the section dealing with lust, where it refers to the calculated effect of fashionable women. In

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the context of attraction to women we usually render it “make (the) gawkers gawk,” while in other contexts musart would be “dreamer,” and fol musart might be either “foolish dreamer” or “deluded fool.” The gawking gawker is, of course, also potentially a dreamer or a fantasist, and in opting for any one particular translation of muser or musart we do not mean to preclude others. parage  often in the expression de haut parage. This might be “parentage, (distinguished) birth,” or “rank, social standing”: for a hereditary nobility, these meanings are closely related, and we were not always sure which sense to favor. While de bonne orine is generally “well-born,” de pute orine is consistently “misbegotten” and de put’afaire, “malfeasant.” pendre  while this could reasonably be translated “hang” or even “crucify,” the OM often uses it to mean “put to death” or “kill” in a broader sense, including in situations where hanging or crucifixion doesn’t quite fit the context, such as Book 3, v. 2738. The word choice often sets up a moralization related to the Crucifixion. renomee/Renomee  “renown,” “reputation,” or “fame,” but also “rumor”: this corresponds to Latin fama, and again is a possible personification. “Rumor” seems to be preferred in modern translations of Ovid. In Book 12, the “House of Fame” is a conventional name for it, but here (unlike in Chaucer) there is no distinction between the House of Fame and the House of Rumor. riche  not only “rich,” but “powerful,” “influential.” Since the rich are often powerful, and vice versa, this was sometimes a distinction without a difference, but in some moralizations, an emphasis on either wealth or power favors one translation over another. sage  generally “wise,” but also “judicious, well-bred, well-behaved,” especially in the phrase sage et bien apris(e). The OM may not have seen a clear distinction since it is wise to behave well: unlike the Song of Roland, the OM shows no particular interest in weighing the sage man (like Olivier) against the preux (like Roland). sapience, savoir, science  these three terms are quite distinct. Sapience (f.), from Latin sapientia (f.), historically used to translate Gk. sophia (f.), is Divine Wisdom (as in, Hebrew chokmah, f., in Proverbs 8). In OF, it is grammatically feminine and sometimes feminized, but sometimes equated to the Greek Logos (m.) of John 1, the “Word” of God and Son of God. Translating the pronouns for it is a challenge: “she,” “it,” and “he” would all be defensible in different contexts. Interpreting the story of Caenis/Caeneus in Book 12 (vv. 2881–3034), the OM uses Divine Wisdom and the Son of God to moralize a sex change: feminine Divine Wisdom becomes incarnate as masculine Jesus, the Word (Logos), and we translate the pronouns accordingly. We do likewise for the moralization of



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Byblis, who falls in love with her brother and transforms into a spring, in Book 9 (vv. 2584–2708): the OM gives a positive allegory for the incestuous love as Divine Wisdom joins with “her brother” the human race, in a manner “against nature,” to become incarnate as Jesus whose blood pours out redemptively. This all means that Divine Wisdom, and/or the Son, and/or the Word, can easily be the moralization for both male and female characters in Ovid: the gods Phoebus (Book 2, vv. 2549–2590; Book 4, vv. 1733–1755) and Mercury (Book 2, vv. 4533–4566), but also the goddess Pallas (Book 2, vv. 2913–2948) and the lady Hero (Book 4, vv. 3664–3731), to cite examples only from our Volume 1. This is consistent with various strands of early and medieval theology. Wisdom comes to the fore as a Mother in the Book of Ben Sira (Sir. 24:18) and the writings of Augustine. On God as Mother, a concept perhaps most famously associated with Julian of Norwich, see Bynum (1984). Meanwhile, savoir is often in the phrase de grant savoir, meaning highly skilled. For Aquinas, drawing upon Aristotle’s logic, scientia is an organized body of knowledge that follows in a demonstrative manner from premises either immediately known to be true, or proven in another science. See ST I–II q. 57, art. 2. There is another kind of habit of knowledge, wisdom, which synthetically aims to grasp things in their first principles. Metaphysics represents the height of wisdom attainable by natural reason; and theology (Sacra Doctrina), the height of wisdom attainable with the aid of God’s grace, which reaches its ultimate end in the contemplation of the beatific vision of God in his essence. To keep the distinction and Aquinas-based lexicon developed by the OM, we have opted for “science” (instead of “knowledge” or “wisdom”) throughout the translation. Of course, Bonaventure also preserves this nomenclature, for example in his disputed questions On the Knowledge of Christ, or De scientia Christi (trans. Hayes and Karris 1992), and in the Proemium to 1 Sent., where he poses the question of the matter and subject of theology. siecle  this corresponds to Latin saeculum. We translate as “earthly existence,” not “the world,” to differentiate from monde. temps  this can mean variously “time,” “weather,” “climate,” or (conjoining elements of both time and weather) “season”; “passage of the seasons.” We translate differently depending on context. These are some key recurring terms arising in the OM: others are documented in our notes to the translation. We often cite the French in the notes, and recommend Hindley-Langley-Levy as a general resource.

Bibliography This bibliography is comprehensive, but not exhaustive. As well as reading on the OM, it includes the sources cited in the Introduction and the notes to the translation. The ARLIMA website (https://www.arlima.net/mp/ovide_ moralise.html) is a dynamic resource to consult for updates. Manuscripts of the OM Bern, Burgerbibliothek, 10 (Z1). Bruxelles, Bibliothèque royale de Belgique, 9639 (D1). Bruxelles, Bibliothèque royale de Belgique, IV 621 (e4). Single folio fragment. Cambrai, Bibliothèque municipale, 973 (871) (D2). Genève, Bibliothèque de Genève, français, 176 (E1). København, Kongelige biblioteket, Thott, 399 2° (G3). London, British Library, Additional, 10324 (Y3). London, British Library, Cotton, Julius F. VII (e3). Lyon, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 742 (B). New York, Morgan Library, M.443 (D4). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Arsenal, 5069 (G2). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 373 (A Bartsch; G1 de Boer). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 374 (Z2). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 870 (Z3). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 871 (C Bartsch; Y1 de Boer). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 872 (B Bartsch; Y2 de Boer). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 19121 (Z4). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 24305 (D5). Books 1–7. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, français, 24306 (D3). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, nouvelles acquisitions françaises, 23011, f. 8–9 (d6) Fragment from Book 1. Rouen, Bibliothèque municipale, O. 4 (1044) (A1). Rouen, Bibliothèque municipale, O. 11bis (1045–1046) (A2). Torino, Biblioteca nazionale universitaria, L. V. 12 (T). Destroyed in the 1904 fire. Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Reginensi latini, 1480 (E2).

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Editions of the OM Bartsch, Karl, and Adolf Horning, eds. 1887. La langue et la littérature françaises depuis le IXe siècle jusqu’au XIVe siècle. Textes et glossaire. Précédés d’une grammaire de l’ancien français. Paris: Maisonneuve. (Edition of excerpt.) Bartsch, Karl, ed. 1904. Chrestomathie de l’ancien français (VIIIe–XVe siècles.) accompagnée d’une grammaire et d’un glossaire. Huitième édition revue et corrigée par A. Horning, Leipzig, Vogel. (Edition of excerpt). de Bellegarde, M. l’abbé, trans. 1701. Ovide Moralisé. Paris. de Boer, Cornelis, ed. 1909. Philomena, conte raconté d’après Ovide par Chrétien de Troyes, publié d’après tous les manuscrits de l’Ovide moralisé avec introduction, notes, index de toutes les formes et III appendices. Paris: Geuthner. ——. 1915. Ovide moralisé, poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus. Vol. I (Books I–III), with introduction. Amsterdam: Müller (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen. Afdeeling Letterkunde, n. s, 15). ——. 1918. “La mort d’Hector. Fragment du XIVe siècle, d’après l’Iliade latine.” Neophilologus 3: 81–89. (Edition of excerpt.) ——. 1920. Ovide moralisé, poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus. Vol. II (Books IV–VI). Amsterdam: Müller (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen. Afdeeling Letterkunde, n. s, 21). ——. 1931. Ovide moralisé, poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus. With Martina G. de Boer and Jeannette Th. M. van ‘t Sant. Vol. III (Books VII–IX). Amsterdam: NoordHollandsche Uitgevers-Maatschappij (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te Amsterdam. Afdeeling Letterkunde). ——. 1936. Ovide moralisé, poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus. With Martina G. de Boer and Jeannette Th. M. van ‘t Sant. Vol. IV (Books X–XIII). Amsterdam: NoordHollandsche Uitgevers-Maatschappij (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen te Amsterdam. Afdeeling Letterkunde, n. s, 37). ——. 1938. Ovide moralisé, poème du commencement du quatorzième siècle publié d’après tous les manuscrits connus. Vol. V (Books XIV–XV) with two appendices. Amsterdam: Müller (Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen. Afdeeling Letterkunde). ——, ed. 1954. Ovide moralisé en prose (texte du quinzième siècle). Amsterdam: North-Holland. Endress, Laura. 2020. “Les trajectoires textuelles de l’Hercule médiéval : de la mythographie à l’historiographie et au-delà. Avec édition critique partielle du livre IX de l’Ovide moralisé.” Ph.D. dissertation, Université Paris Sciences & Lettres/Universität Zürich. Kehrli, Heinrich. 1897. Die Phaetonfabel im Ovide moralisé. Bern: Buchdruckerei Stämpfli & Cie. Possamaï-Perez, Marylène, Richard Trachsler, et al., eds. 2018. L’Ovide moralisé. Livre I. Edition Critique. Paris: Société des anciens textes. (Complete new French edition, one book at a time. Cited here as “the new edition”: see our list of Abbreviations.)

Bibliography

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THE TRANSLATION

Detailed Contents * = material to be moralized whose principal source is not the Metamorphoses BOOK 1 Prologue, vv. 1–146 Origin of the World, vv. 147–340 Moralization, vv. 341–453 The Four Ages, vv. 454–718 Moralization, vv. 719–827 The Silver Age, vv. 828–858 Moralization, vv. 859–936 The Bronze and Iron Ages, vv. 937–1015 *Wickedness of the Present Day and Corrupt Judges, vv. 1016–1064 War with the Giants, vv. 1065–1100 Moralization, vv. 1101–1202 Lycaon, vv. 1203–1388 Moralization, vv. 1389–1788 The Great Flood, vv. 1789–2118 Moralization (I), vv. 2119–2365 Moralization (II): Noah and His Descendants, vv. 2366–2646 Python, vv. 2647–2698 Moralization, vv. 2699–2736 Daphne, vv. 2737–3064 Moralization, vv. 3065–3407 Io, vv. 3408–3796 Moralization, vv. 3797–4098 Argus, vv. 4099–4104 Moralization, vv. 4105–4150 Phaethon (I), vv. 4151–4228 Moralization, vv. 4229–4300

125 129 132 134 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 148 154 158 162 166 168 168 174 179 184 188 188 188 189

114

Detailed Contents

BOOK 2 Phaethon (II), vv. 1–630 Moralization, vv. 631–1012 Phoebus Mourns Phaethon (I), vv. 1013–1028 Moralization, vv. 1029–1064 Clymene, the Heliades, and Cygnus, vv. 1065–1141 Moralization, vv. 1142–1261 Phoebus Mourns Phaethon (II), vv. 1262–1310 Moralization, vv. 1311–1364 Callisto (I), vv. 1365–1694 Moralization, vv. 1695–2006 Callisto (II), vv. 2007–2057 Moralization, vv. 2058–2120 The Raven, vv. 2121–2454 Moralization (I), vv. 2455–2623 Moralization (II), vv. 2624–2948 Chiron, Aesculapius, and Ocyrhoë, vv. 2949–3079 Moralization, vv. 3080–3466 Battus and the Stolen Cattle, vv. 3467–3582 Moralization, vv. 3583–3776 Mercury and the Daughters of Cecrops, vv. 3777–4076 Moralization, vv. 4077–4566 *The Danaids (or Belides) and Their Husbands, vv. 4567–4795 Moralization, vv. 4796–4936 Europa and the Bull, vv. 4937–5084 Moralization, vv. 5085–5136

191 200 205 205 206 207 209 209 210 215 219 220 221 226 228 233 234 240 242 244 248 255 258 259 262

BOOK 3 Cadmus, vv. 1–204 Moralization, vv. 205–272 Actaeon, vv. 273–570 Moralization, vv. 571–669 Semele, vv. 670–810 Moralization, vv. 811–998

263 266 268 272 273 275



Detailed Contents

Tiresias (I), vv. 999–1059 Moralization, vv. 1060–1085 Tiresias (II), vv. 1086–1105 Moralization, vv. 1106–1291 Narcissus (I), vv. 1292–1463 Moralization, vv. 1464–1524 Narcissus (II), vv. 1525–1846 Moralization, vv. 1847–1964 Pentheus, vv. 1965–2527 Moralization, vv. 2528–2914

115

278 279 280 280 283 285 286 291 293 300 BOOK 4

The Daughters of Minyas (I): Dercetis and Nais, vv. 1–144 Moralization, vv. 145–218 The Daughters of Minyas (II): Piramus and Thisbe, vv. 219–1157 Moralization, vv. 1158–1267 The Daughters of Minyas (III): The Sun, Leucothoë, and Clytie, vv. 1268–1487 Moralization, vv. 1488–1923 The Daughters of Minyas (IV): Hermaphroditus, vv. 1924–2223 Moralization, vv. 2224–2389 The Daughters of Minyas (V): Changed into Bats, vv. 2390–2447 Moralization, vv. 2448–2785 *Phrixus and Helle, vv. 2786–2928 Moralization, vv. 2929–3149 *Hero and Leander, vv. 3150–3586 Moralization, vv. 3587–3731 Juno Sends the Fury Tisiphone to Torture Athamas and Ino, vv. 3732–3963 Moralization, vv. 3964–4755 Ino and Melicerta, vv. 4756–4785 Moralization, vv. 4786–4864 The Theban Ladies Who Followed Ino, vv. 4865–4881 Moralization, vv. 4882–4980 Further Moralizations about Juno’s Descent into Hell and Iris, vv. 4981–5115

307 309 310 322 323 327 333 338 340 341 346 348 351 356 359 362 371 372 373 374 375

116

Detailed Contents

Cadmus and His Wife, vv. 5116–5199 Moralization, vv. 5200–5381 Danaë, vv. 5382–5489 Moralization, vv. 5490–5636 Perseus and the Gorgons; Pegasus, vv. 5637–5713 Moralization, vv. 5714–5891 *Bellerophon, vv. 5892–5995 Moralization, vv. 5996–6209 Perseus and Atlas, vv. 6210–6301 Moralization, vv. 6302–6585 Perseus and Andromeda (I), vv. 6586–6861 Moralization, vv. 6862–7185 Perseus and Andromeda (II), vv. 7186–7202

377 378 380 382 384 385 388 390 393 394 398 402 406

BOOK 5 Perseus Fights Phineus (I), vv. 1–125 Moralization, vv. 126–185 Perseus Fights Phineus (II), vv. 186–753 Moralization, vv. 754–1017 Perseus Takes Andromeda Home, vv. 1018–1034 Moralization, vv. 1035–1555 Proetus and Polydectes, vv. 1556–1593 Moralization, vv. 1594–1647 Pallas at the Spring of Wisdom, vv. 1648–1762 The Pierides: Typhoeus, vv. 1763–1832 Calliope (I): The Abduction of Proserpine, vv. 1833–2036 Calliope (II): Stellio, vv. 2037–2088 Calliope (III): Ceres, Arethusa, and Ascalaphus, vv. 2089–2299 Moralization, vv. 2300–3450 Calliope (IV): The Sirens, vv. 3451–3483 Moralization, vv. 3484–3504 Calliope (V): Arethusa, vv. 3505–3647 Moralization, vv. 3648–3746

407 408 409 416 420 420 428 428 429 430 431 434 434 437 452 453 453 456



Detailed Contents

Calliope (VI): Triptolemus and Lyncus, vv. 3747–3803 Moralization, vv. 3804–3903 The Pierides Transformed, vv. 3904–3935 Moralization, vv. 3936–3983

117

457 458 459 460

BOOK 6 Arachne, vv. 1–318 Moralization, vv. 319–972 Niobe, vv. 973–1378 Moralization, vv. 1379–1580 Latona, vv. 1581–1772 Moralization, vv. 1773–1920 Marsyas, vv. 1921–1980 Moralization, vv. 1981–2056 Pelops, vv. 2057–2116 Moralization, vv. 2117–2182 Introduction to Philomena, vv. 2183–2216 Philomena, vv. 2217–3684 Moralization, vv. 3685–3840 Boreas and Orithyia, vv. 3841–3954 Moralization, vv. 3955–4068

463 468 477 482 485 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 513 515 516

BOOK 7 *Background to Jason’s Quest for the Golden Fleece, vv. 1–249 *Hypsipyle, vv. 250–272 Medea (I), vv. 273–689 Moralization, vv. 690–820 Medea (II), vv. 821–1080 Moralization, vv. 1081–1245 Medea (III), vv. 1246–1506 Moralization, vv. 1507–1672 Medea (IV), vv. 1673–1951 Moralization, vv. 1952–2068

519 522 522 528 530 533 535 538 540 544

118

Detailed Contents

Medea (V), vv. 2069–2114 Moralization, vv. 2115–2170 Feasts in Athens, vv. 2171–2204 Moralization, vv. 2205–2242 The Athenians Kill Androgeos and Minos Prepares for War, vv. 2243–2318 Moralization, vv. 2319–2386 Plague at Aegina, and the Myrmidons, vv. 2387–2761 Cephalus and Procris, vv. 2762–3280 Moralization, vv. 3281–3678

546 546 547 548 548 550 551 555 561

BOOK 8 Scylla, vv. 1–353 Moralization, vv. 354–616 Pasiphaë, vv. 617–986 Moralization, vv. 987–1083 Theseus, Ariadne, and Phaedra, vv. 1084–1394 Moralization, vv. 1395–1578 Icarus, Daedalus, and Perdrix, vv. 1579–1766 Moralization, vv. 1767–1928 Return of Theseus, vv. 1929–1960 Moralization, vv. 1961–2001 Calydonius, Atalanta, and Meleager, vv. 2002–2332 Moralization, vv. 2333–2460 Althaea and the Death of Meleager, vv. 2461–2676 Moralization, vv. 2677–2736 Acheloüs: Perimele, vv. 2737–2888 Lelex: Philemon and Baucis, vv. 2889–3184 Acheloüs: Erysichthon and His Daughter, vv. 3185–3518 Moralization, vv. 3519–4328

567 572 575 580 582 586 588 591 593 593 594 598 600 603 604 606 610 614



Detailed Contents

119

BOOK 9 Acheloüs and Hercules, vv. 1–234 Moralization, vv. 235–346 Hercules (I), vv. 347–452 Moralization, vv. 453–486 Hercules (II), vv. 487–872 Moralization, vv. 873–1065 Alcmena: Galanthis, vv. 1066–1195 Dryope (Told by Iole), vv. 1196–1289 Moralization, vv. 1290–1381 Iolaüs and Hebe, vv. 1382–1400 Moralization, vv. 1401–1445 *The Seven Against Thebes, vv. 1446–1838 Moralization, vv. 1839–1996 Hebe and Jupiter, vv. 1997–2053 Byblis, vv. 2054–2530 Moralization, vv. 2531–2762 Iphis, vv. 2763–3112 Moralization, vv. 3113–3398

627 630 631 633 633 639 642 644 645 646 647 648 653 655 656 663 666 671

BOOK 10 Orpheus (I), vv. 1–195 Moralization, vv. 196–577 Orpheus (II), vv. 578–626 Cyparissus, vv. 627–707 Orpheus Sings to the Trees, vv. 708–737 Orpheus Sings: Ganymede, vv. 738–752 Orpheus Sings: Hyacinthus, vv. 753–881 Orpheus Sings: The Cerastae, vv. 882–928 Orpheus Sings: Pygmalion, vv. 929–1079 Orpheus Sings: Myrrha, vv. 1080–1959 Orpheus Sings: Adonis (I), vv. 1960–2093 Orpheus Sings: Atalanta (Told by Venus), vv. 2094–2449

677 680 685 686 687 687 688 690 691 693 705 707

120

Detailed Contents

Orpheus Sings: Adonis (II), vv. 2450–2493 Moralization (I): Orpheus and His Harp, vv. 2494–3205 Moralization (II): Cyparissus, vv. 3206–3559 Moralization (III): Pygmalion, vv. 3560–3677 Moralization (IV): Myrrha, Adonis, and Venus, vv. 3678–3953 Moralization (V): Atalanta and Hippomenes, vv. 3954–4127 Moralization (VI): Persephone, vv. 4128–4140

712 713 723 729 730 734 737

BOOK 11 Death of Orpheus, vv. 1–176 Moralization, vv. 177–286 Midas and the Golden Touch, vv. 287–489 Moralization, vv. 490–650 Midas and the Ass’s Ears, vv. 651–770 Moralization, vv. 771–968 Laomedon and the Walls of Troy, vv. 969–1041 Moralization, vv. 1042–1098 Peleus and Thetis, vv. 1099–1242 *The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis, vv. 1243–1315 Moralization, vv. 1316–1468 *Juno, Pallas, and Venus Compete for the Golden Apple, vv. 1469–1735 *Paris’s Lineage, vv. 1736–1831 *Paris Judges between Juno, Pallas, and Venus, vv. 1832–2189 *Venus Teaches Paris the Art of Love, vv. 2190–2400 Moralization, vv. 2401–2533 Ceyx Tells Peleus about Daedalion, vv. 2534–2705 Moralization, vv. 2706–2797 Peleus and the Wolf, vv. 2798–2937 Moralization, vv. 2938–2995 Ceyx and Alcyone, vv. 2996–3787 Moralization, vv. 3788–4147 Aesacus and Hesperie, vv. 4148–4232 Moralization, vv. 4233–4253

739 741 743 746 748 750 752 753 754 756 758 760 763 765 769 771 773 776 777 779 780 790 794 796



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121

BOOK 12 *Paris and Helen, vv. 1–826 Moralization, vv. 827–877 *Menelaus Comes Home, vv. 878–1206 Moralization, vv. 1207–1316 Iphigenia at Aulis, vv. 1317–1510 Moralization, vv. 1511–1582 The House of Fame (Rumor) and the First Battle, vv. 1583–1656 Moralization, vv. 1657–1708 Achilles Fights Cycnus, vv. 1709–1924 Moralization, vv. 1925–2044 Achilles Sacrifices a Heifer, vv. 2045–2083 Moralization, vv. 2084–2154 Nestor Tells of Caeneus, vv. 2155–2880 Moralization, vv. 2881–3034 Nestor Tells of Hercules, vv. 3035–3138 Moralization, vv. 3139–3224 *Chryseis and Briseis, vv. 3225–3346 Moralization, vv. 3347–3423 *Patroclus, vv. 3424–3526 Moralization, vv. 3527–3582 *Achilles Gets New Armor and Kills Hector, vv. 3583–4183 Moralization, vv. 4184–4304 *Achilles in Love, and Achilles Killed by Paris, vv. 4305–4706 Moralization, vv. 4707–4798 Ajax and Ulysses Compete for the Arms of Achilles (I), vv. 4799–4876

797 808 809 813 815 817 818 820 820 824 826 827 827 838 841 842 843 845 846 848 849 857 858 864 865

BOOK 13 Ajax and Ulysses Compete for the Arms of Achilles (II), vv. 1–930 Moralization, vv. 931–1254 Ajax Commits Suicide, vv. 1255–1303 Moralization, vv. 1304–1335 Philoctetes and Hecuba, vv. 1336–1528 Moralization, vv. 1529–1638

867 878 882 883 884 886

122

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Polyxena and Hecuba, vv. 1639–1948 Hecuba and Polymestor, vv. 1949–2056 Moralization, vv. 2057–2296 Aurora (I), vv. 2297–2436 Moralization, vv. 2437–2568 Aurora (II), vv. 2569–2586 Moralization, vv. 2587–2604 Aeneas and the Daughters of Anius, vv. 2605–2758 Moralization, vv. 2759–2920 The Cup of Alcon, vv. 2921–3019 Aeneas Travels to Buthrotus and past Scylla and Charybdis, vv. 3020–3134 Moralization, vv. 3135–3688 Galatea Tells of Acis and Polyphemus, vv. 3689–4147 Moralization, vv. 4148–4294 Scylla and Glaucus (I), vv. 4295–4488 Moralization, vv. 4489–4595 Scylla and Glaucus (II), vv. 4596–4608

888 892 893 896 898 900 900 900 903 905 906 908 914 921 922 925 926

BOOK 14 Circe’s Vengeance on Glaucus, vv. 1–202 Moralization, vv. 203–301 Aeneas and Dido, vv. 302–526 Moralization, vv. 527–596 The Cercopes Turn into Apes, vv. 597–654 Moralization, vv. 655–790 Aeneas and Sibyl, vv. 791–972 Moralization, vv. 973–1066 *The Tale of the Ten Sibyls, Who Prophesied the Coming of Christ, vv. 1067–1716 The Death of Aeneas’s Wet-Nurse, vv. 1717–1738 Moralization, vv. 1739–1750 Achaemenides Tells Macareus about Polyphemus, vv. 1751–1952 Moralization, vv. 1953–2100

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Macareus Tells about Aeolus and Antiphates, vv. 2101–2206 Moralization, vv. 2207–2354

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Circe (Told by Macareus), vv. 2355–2562 Moralization, vv. 2563–2675 Picus and His Companions (Told by Macareus), vv. 2676–2956 Moralization, vv. 2957–3266 Canens (Told by Macareus), vv. 3267–3316 Moralization, vv. 3317–3452 Macareus Finishes His Story, vv. 3453–3480 Moralization, vv. 3481–3550 Aeneas and Lavinia, vv. 3551–3624 Moralization, vv. 3625–3690 Diomedes’ Soldiers Become Seagulls, vv. 3691–3878 Moralization, vv. 3879–4044 The Shepherd Apulus Becomes an Olive Tree, vv. 4045–4094 Moralization, vv. 4095–4208 Aeneas’s Ships Become Naiads, vv. 4209–4307 The City of Ardea Becomes a Bird; Aeneas Pleases Venus and Appeases Juno, vv. 4308–4366 Moralization, vv. 4367–4590 Aeneas Becomes a God, vv. 4591–4670 Moralization, vv. 4671–4742 The List of the Alban Kings, vv. 4743–4794 Moralization, vv. 4795–4864 Pomona and Vertumnus (I), vv. 4865–5119 Iphis and Anaxarete (Told by Vertumnus), vv. 5120–5267 Pomona and Vertumnus (II), vv. 5268–5288 Moralization, vv. 5289–5644 Romulus, vv. 5645–5994 Moralization, 5995–6407 Romulus Becomes a God, vv. 6408–6478 Moralization, vv. 6479–6528 Hersilia Becomes a Goddess, vv. 6529–6594 Moralization, vv. 6595–6716

959 961 963 967 971 972 974 974 975 976 977 979 981 982 984 985 986 989 990 991 992 993 997 999 999 1004 1009 1014 1015 1016 1017

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BOOK 15 Numa Visits Crotona, vv. 1–210 Pythagoras, vv. 211–1228 Numa’s Reign, vv. 1229–1268 Egeria and Virbius, vv. 1269–1452 Tages and Cipus, vv. 1453–1612 Aesculapius Comes to Rome, vv. 1613–1898 Julius Caesar, vv. 1899–2308 Moralization: Numa and Crotona, vv. 2309–2502 Moralization: Pythagoras, vv. 2503–2992 Moralization: Time and the Seasons, vv. 2993–3311 Moralization: The Elements, the Body, and the Humors, vv. 3312–5767 Moralization: Pythagoras’s Natural Philosophy, vv. 5768–6248 Moralization: Egeria and Virbius, vv. 6249–6415 Moralization: Cipus, vv. 6416–6506 Moralization: Aesculapius, vv. 6507–6956 Moralization: Roman History through Julius Caesar and His Apotheosis, vv. 6957–7428 Closing Invocation, vv. 7429–7548

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Please note that some language in this volume may be culturally insensitive or offensive to some readers; it is translated from the original material, which reflects the culture and context in which it was created and not the views of the translators or the publisher. The book also contains graphic descriptions of violence, sexual and other, which readers may find disturbing or shocking.

Book 1 [miniatures, fol. 16r: opening miniatures of characters and their metamorphoses.]1

Prologue {I}f2 Scripture does not lie to me, whatever is written in books is all for our instruction, whether the writings exemplify good or evil.3 For anyone who really wants to pay heed to it, evil is exemplified so that they may guard against it; the good so that they may do it. And anyone to whom God gives the good fortune and grace to master understanding and knowledge must not consider their mouth too precious for speaking well and interpreting,4 for no one ought to hide their understanding: understanding that is shut away is worth no more than riches buried in the ground.5 For this reason, it pleases me to begin translating from Latin into French the tales6 of ancient times as Ovid handles them, and I will tell you how I understand them. [1–19] 1 The opening illumination includes eight medallions showcasing metamorphoses and mythical creatures, and there are two more at the bottom of the folio in the marginal space, along with a coat of arms. In the opening illumination, the top row from left to right seems to be: Io (Book 1), Antigone (Book 6), a centaur, and Glaucus (Books 13–14). The bottom row appears to show someone turning into an animal (perhaps a rabbit, but this could be one of many metamorphoses into animals), another centaur, Arachne (Book 6), Philomena (Book 6). Between the two rows of medallions, three further creatures appear: a bat, probably one of the daughters of Minyas (Book 4), a bird (which could be any one of the many metamorphoses into birds), and a woman turning into a tree, probably Daphne (Book 1) or Myrrha (Book 10). At the bottom of the page, in the marginal space, is a king turning into a bird, possibly Tereus (Book 6), and someone turning into a lion, probably Atalanta (Book 10). For discussion of this image, see our Introduction, “Text and Image in the Manuscripts.” 2 {C}urly brackets are used to identify majuscules in Rouen. 3 Compare Romans 15:4. 4 The idea here is one must not be tight-lipped about knowledge, or consider one’s self above sharing with others. Thus, the person who understands the Scriptures must not be above explaining the good in them to those who might not understand them. It is therefore grievous to remain silent, and also to think it is not necessary to expound the meaning for others. 5 Matthew 25:14–30 (Parable of the Talents), and the admonition not to hide one’s lamp under a bushel in Matthew 5:14–16. Both motifs are also central in the prologue to Marie de France’s twelfth-century Lais. 6 Throughout the volume, we translate OF fable as “tale.”

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Many have tried, no doubt, to undertake what I intend, without accomplishing their whole intent.7 And although it is the case that I have no more understanding or wisdom than those who thought they could accomplish this before me, I place my faith about this matter in God, who hides and conceals his secrets from the wise and prudent, and reveals them instead to the apprentices who are devoted to the seeking of understanding.8 [20–30] {N}ow may God grant me to make such a poem, in which everyone might find a model to do good and abstain from evil, and may he grant that I begin this subject matter well, take it to an even better midpoint, and lead it to a very good ending.9 [31–36] These stories span from the first beginning of the world until the coming of Jesus Christ, who, to redeem us, resolved to come down from heaven to earth. They all seem mendacious, but there is nothing in them that is not true:10 to anyone able to know their meaning, the truth that lies hidden beneath the tales would be revealed. [37–46] I cannot mention every explanation of the tales, for I would take too long at it, and bore the listeners. The subject matter would be too lengthy, and I would not be able to write so much. But, if God permits, I will reveal – as briefly as I can, to be all the more pleasing to those who will hear it – the transformations of the tales which are good and profitable,11 and many people will be able to profit from it. [47–58] 7 The translator alludes to the rich and lengthy practice of reading, commenting on, and adapting Ovid, that led to the expansive commentaries put together by antique and medieval mythographers (like Fulgentius, the Vatican Mythographers, Arnulf of Orléans, and John of Garland) as well as the anonymous twelfth-century Old French poems of Narcisus et Dané and Piramus et Tisbé. 8 See Matthew 11:25. 9 Great stories, according to Aristotle in the Poetics, unfold in three acts: the beginning, the middle, and the end. 10 The narrator develops here the concept of the narratio fabulosa, or “fabulous narrative,” inherited from Macrobius’s Commentary on Scipio’s Dream, and borrowed from Plato’s Timaeus: stories that have the air of a fable, but are nonetheless true, because they point to, or reveal, truth in their telling. This is the rationale underlying all acts of exegesis (biblical or otherwise): by digging beneath the surface of the parable or story, the commentator pulls back the veil and reveals meaning. 11 Les mutacions des fables, v. 53, seems like it could be read two ways: the transformations belonging to – that is, described in – the stories Ovid tells, or the transformations of those stories by the moralizing process, a metamorphosis of the Metamorphoses. The sense of esclorrai in v. 55 would vary accordingly: to “expound” or “explicate” the happenings, or to “reveal” the interpretations. Since the OM does try to moralize every metamorphosis in Ovid, “which are good and profitable” seems to be the basis for deciding which interpretations are worth including, and not which tales: all the tales contain truth (v. 43), but some of the interpretations are unnecessary (vv. 47–49). Hence our translation. In any case, the idea of preserving stories because they can be made helpful and useful to medieval Christian audiences is at the basis of most rewriting of



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But first, because I feel I have only feeble skill and feeble understanding, I beseech all those who will read this book: if I make a mistake in writing or stating something that I should not, that they correct me. I would truly appreciate it, and, with God’s help, I am ready to heed their correction, in conformity with Holy Church, for I must believe what she believes. If anyone should reproach me otherwise, I would say that they are making a mistake. [59–70] {N}ow I want to begin my subject matter. Ovid says: “My heart wishes to tell of forms that were changed into new bodies.” Some people who should have been interpreting and explicating this author12 have meddled with him13 to his detriment, and reproved and contradicted the author, saying that the author should have said, “the bodies that were changed into new forms.” But such lies should not be listened to: a reasonable person can know that the author spoke well, I believe, since before the Creator created the world, there was not yet nor could there be any body that might have received new form. What body was there from which God is supposed to have extracted the form in the beginning?14 There was nothing except him alone. In his divine thought, he had thought up every form just as he would bestow it on the body which he would create from nothing, without the help of anything at all, without any pre-existing matter. [71–96]

ancient literature in the vernacular. It is the argument given in the “Letter to Isocrates” at the beginning of Calcidius’s Timaeus for translating Plato into Latin, and provides the foundation for Augustine’s discussion in the beginning of On Christian Doctrine, of the importance of preserving the ancient poets and salvaging the gold of the Egyptians to put it to good use. See the Introduction, pp. 19ff. 12 The threefold repetition of l’autour clearly emphasizes his auctoritas. 13 I.e., with his text. 14 The relationship of form and matter is of great interest to twelfth- and thirteenthcentury philosophers. For Aristotle, in the Physics, Metaphysics, and On the Soul (De anima), forms do not exist independently of things: every form is the form of some thing. In other words, every physical object in the created world is a compound of matter and form. (This doctrine has been dubbed hylomorphism or “matter-shape-ism.”) Aristotle contends that in every change there must be three things: first, something that underlies and persists throughout the change; (2) a “lack,” which is one of a pair of opposites, the other of which is (3) a form acquired during the course of the change (Physics i.7, 190a13–191a22). The word “form” does not mean that what is acquired is simply a shape: the “form” is the thing’s definition or essence. If we were to compare the relationship of form and matter to that of a wax seal, as Dante (in Purgatory, canto 33) and others do, Aristotle’s “form” might be compared to the stamp, and “body” to the matter into which it is stamped; once assembled, the two can no longer be divided. Thus a crude definition of matter would be that it is the “stuff” out of which a thing is made; the form is the organization the matter takes. All change, for Aristotle, is a kind of coming-to-be (“generation”) or passing-away (“corruption”) as matter takes on a new form. See, e.g., Lewis and Bolton (1997) and Henry (2019). Aquinas wrote extensively about form and matter: see especially On Being and Essence, ch. 2 (trans. Bobik 1965), and also Principles of Nature (De Principiis Naturae) and On the Blend of the Elements (De Mixtione Elementorum) (trans. Bobik 1998).

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[miniature, fol. 16v: god, with his compasses, creating the world; ovid creating his poem]15

{T}his is how I believe it to be, without a doubt.16 [97] Ovid, in the beginning, calls on several gods and says: “Help me make this poem, o gods – you who changed yourselves and the forms, when you bestowed them on new bodies – and perpetuate from the creation of the world down to my own time the present poem that I intend.”17 [98–106] {A}lthough the pagans believed there were multiple gods, we must firmly believe that there is only one God, one Creator, who created everything, and in whom there are three persons of one majesty, one essence, one equality, one substance, and one eternity, without any variability at all:18 Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Anyone who does not believe this is lost!19 [107–118] These three persons created everything and took on tangible form,20 for the Son resolved to come down from the heavens into the world and become a true man to save the lost. Likewise, according to Divine Scripture, the Holy Spirit was seen in the form of a dove above him when, to cleanse us, he had himself baptized in the water. The voice of the Father was heard there, reaching all the way to human ears, saying: “This is my Son, my beloved. Listen to him, all of you who love me.” And so, it seems to me, the three persons appeared together and they could indeed be seen in three distinct semblances. Without dividing their unity or changing the Deity,21 they transformed themselves at one and the same time into three tangible guises. This is why the author could pray to the Trinity in the plural, not because there were in fact three gods – for the three together made up only one God, as they do now and always will, for they can never be anything other than one God. [119–146] The left half of this miniature is comparable to the one on fol. 211r. De Boer encourages us to take v. 97 as affirming what precedes rather than introducing what follows. 17 Que j’entens, v. 106: this could also be translated “that I hear,” playing on the intention to write and the possibility of listening for divine inspiration. 18 I.e., never-changing. 19 This is important to keep in mind as the text unfolds. The question of whether to translate “God” or “god” when a classical character speaks in the story, or, in certain cases, as the narrator speaks, is a perennial question throughout the translation. It is closely tied to the belief of St. Augustine, that if there be any truth in this world, even amongst the pagans, it was/is the Christian God’s truth. In general, we keep lowercase “god” in the story, and adopt capitalized “God” in the moralizations. Occasionally, when it is clearly the Christian God to whom the pagan characters appeal, we adjust accordingly – because for Augustine, as for the author of the OM, they might think they are appealing to Jupiter, but in fact, they are appealing to the one, true God. See our discussion in the Introduction (pp. 20ff.), and diex/dieu in our introductory lexicon, p. 74. 20 Sensiblement se muerent, v. 120: sensiblement most likely refers to our world perceptible to the senses, rather than meaning “sagement” as de Boer suggested. 21 The new edition (p. 311, note to v. 138) is tempted to substitute a possessive adjective for the article here (hence “without … changing their divinity”), but admits the manuscripts would not support it. 15 16



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Origin of the World {B}efore the sea, before the earth and the sky that covers and surrounds everything, there was only one aspect of nature in the whole wide world.22 The world was wholly piled up in an obscure mass. This bulk, from which God drew forth the earth and the heavens, was named “chaos.” It was nothing but a formless heap,23 without art, without design, and without form, where the seeds of things to come were all jumbled together in discord. No sun yet shone, nor did the moon wax then, nor was the earth suspended in the air, nor did the sea extend its arms around the earth. Rather, earth, sea, and air were together, it seems to me, and the elements had not yet been clearly established. All were mixed up together: sea and earth and air and fire. [147–168] Thus the earth was not stable, nor was the sea fit for swimming.24 The air had no brightness and the sky no lightness. No element had its proper form and each of them was at odds with the other, for the hot with the cold, the soft with the hard, the light with the heavy, the dry with the moist, were discordantly lumped together in a meeting of opposites. [169–180] [miniature, fol. 17r: god arranging the four elements into four layers]25

{G}od, fashioning Nature (naturans Nature), uncoupled this discordant coupling: he ordered everything according to his will. From the earth he separated the air, and sea from earth, and air from fire, and he put each one in a clearly defined place and joined them in harmonious peace. Now their ordering was stable. [181–188] The celestial fire leaped up to the highest seat, and after it, the air, which in place and lightness resembles fire more than the earth and sea do. The earth is located at the bottom, being denser and heavier because of the weighty things that make it up. The sea encircles it, stretching its arms around the world. [189–198] [miniature, fol. 17r: ovid displaying his egg to a crowd]

{T}o make clearly manifest and to convey an understanding of how the elements are ordered and arranged, Ovid guided us to see this by coming up with the image

22 En tout le monde, si comme il dure, v. 150. In this and the extended version tant com il dure a la reonde, dure seems to be spatial and not temporal, hence this means “the whole world, as far as it extends” (a la reonde, “in all directions”), not “as long as it lasts.” Our translation simplifies this in every case to “the whole wide world.” 23 Our translation follows the new edition, Ce n’ert fors .i. moncel deforme, v. 155 (see their note, p. 312), as against De Boer’s de forme, which could be “In form, it was nothing but a heap.” 24 Ne la mer n’estoit pas noable, v. 170, could also mean “the sea was not navigable.” We translate following Ovid’s innabilis unda (Met. 1.16), “unswimmable water” (Kline). 25 Fols 17r and 17v have comparable miniatures of this. The other miniature on 17r shows Ovid making his egg analogy.

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of the egg.26 For he wanted to establish a comparison to show and explain openly the elemental structure of the world, I believe: that is, using a hard-boiled egg. In the egg, it seems to me, there are three things that are enclosed within the shell: the yolk, the white, and the membrane, which is closest to the shell. The yolk denotes for us the earth. Just as it is encircled by the white of the egg, which we must take to represent the sea, so too must we understand that the earth is surrounded by the sea. Next in sequence comes the thin and delicate membrane that is located above these two. Likewise, it was God’s will27 to form the moist air above earth and sea. Next in sequence comes the shell that represents and denotes for us the vastness of the sky. Thus the whole sequencing of the elements is made manifest, which adheres well to this adopted model.28 [199–228] [miniature, fol. 17v: god arranging the four elements into four layers]29

{W}hen God had positioned each element in sequence, he first clumped together the earth: he made it equally round and broad.30 After that he spread out the sea, which swells and stirs up often according to the blowing of the wind, and stretched it around the earth. Then he made ponds and springs, flowing rivers, lakes, and wells; he also laid out the open fields and raised high the mountains and installed the valleys beneath, and he made the forests sprout forth.31 [229–242] In the sky he established five zones: two were on the right, two on the left, and in the middle the fifth, burning hotter than fire. He also laid out five zones in the earth: two on the right, two on the left, and the fifth between them, full of heat.32 Two of these zones are so cold they are unlivable; the two in the middle, that occupy a middle ground, placed between the hot and the cold, are temperate. Above all these things, God suspended the air, which was lighter. However, just as air weighs less than them,33 so too is it heavier than fire. In the air, he placed mist, clouds, and thunder, which often makes people terrified and fearful. There he placed the lightning and fog,34 and the winds that make the cold and the strong, hard frost. [243–264] “The image of” added for clarity. We chose this, as opposed to “deigned,” for vault, v. 221, taking the creation of the world to be an act of will. In most cases, vault, with God as subject, is “resolved.” 28 Cette adoptee, v. 228 (which is a hapax per the new edition, p. 313), is glossed by De Boer as “principe admis.” 29 See note 25 above. 30 Egual la fist ronde et lee, v. 232, i.e. in the shape of a globe: this could be interpreted as “of equal height and breadth.” 31 Lit. “grow green.” 32 We follow the new edition, emending ordure to ardure in v. 249. 33 Earth and sea, given the context. 34 We follow the new edition, Illuec mist foudres et broees, v. 262: see their note, pp. 313–314, on the difficulties here. 26 27



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[miniature, fol. 17v: god places the winds around the world, now filled with trees]

{F}rom the eastern land of the kingdom of Nabatea blows Eurus,35 which we call Solar (Solloire). From the west comes Zephyr, also named Galerne. From the north, Boreas (Bise), the cold wind that dries up the streams. Auster, which brings the rain, blows in the opposite direction from the south. The winds are arranged, as I say, separately, in different places.36 Each has two other winds adjacent to it. When one blows, the other ceases: they are not unleashed together but rather blow in orderly fashion. It was not God’s will to consign the world in its entirety to destruction at that time, for if they rushed pell-mell, the whole world would be overthrown. Even though they are divided, they often wreak havoc on the world, because they are so discordant and full of rage. [265–286] God placed the sky, full of brightness, lightness and purity … [287] [miniature, fol. 18r: birds, animals, and trees under the sun and clouds]37

… {A}bove all these things. And the stars, which had been confined beneath the chaotic mass, now revealed their brightness. The sun and the moon shone, appearing then for the first time. So that no region would be unpopulated, God placed signs38 in the firmament, and the stars as well, and the forms of the gods,39 which are eternal. And it was God’s will to place the wild birds in the air. On the earth, he placed the wild and tame animals. In the waters, he made fish swim. [288–304] [miniature, fol. 18r: god creates adam]

{A}n animal of great nobility and more holy dignity was still lacking: that was man, who would have dominion according to his will over the animals, the fish, and all the birds of the air. That’s when man was made. And it was doubtful, according to the pagan belief, which did not know the truth about it, whether that same craftsman who had forged everything, the one in whom all goodness abounds, God, had used divine seed to give form and existence to an image from a better world – that is, to man, fashioned in his image – or whether the earth, which had freshly been separated from the sky, retained some part of the celestial seed. In that case the learned son of Iapetus, Prometheus, The East Wind. The new edition has en divers leuz par eulz, v. 275, and suggests (p. 314) the scribes were split about whether this meant each wind was placed separately or they all got similar or corresponding places. 37 Compare to fol. 32r. 38 The signs of the zodiac, as celestial animals. 39 The constellations, or, as explained in the moralizations below, the planets. 35 36

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undoubtedly used earth and water to create a manikin in the image of the gods, who hold all the power to determine40 everything. The gloss says that in order to give the image the breath of life, he stole from the chariot of the sun a bright, burning torch, with which he made the image animate. And whereas all the other beasts bow their head towards the earth, he gave man an upturned face. He made and ordered man in such a way that he might see heaven at his will, going about on two feet, upright, gazing skyward.41 [305–340] Moralization {N}ow I want to explain this tale, which agrees with history.42 Before God made the sea or earth, or the sky that covers and surrounds everything, or the depths of hell or the abysses, God was all alone and self-contained, reigning eternally in his perfect Trinity, and the good Lord had as much glory then as he does now. By his grace and goodness, and by his generous will, as he in whom all goodness abounds, he decreed that he would make the world and create creatures so that they might partake of his great spiritual joy and his eternal glory. And as it pleased him, so it was done. And he turned this thought into deed without seeking any help from anyone. [341–361] First, he created heaven and earth and the whole world in one heap, and in heaven he arranged the angels. Some of them, who became prideful, fell into gloomy hell. They had been angels, now they are devils: hideous, ugly and truly terrifying. [362–368] And the earth was fruitless and void, and all kinds of great darkness were over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God himself was hovering over the waters.43 And God said, “Most certainly, I will that light be made.” And light was made without refusal. And God separated the light from the shadowy darkness. He called the darkness “night” and the shining brightness “day.” After that God made the firmament directly in the midst of the waters, and he called the firmament “heaven.” Then God gathered all the waters under heaven into one heap and called the gathering of waters “sea.” Dry land appeared, and God made green grass sprout and yield seeds according to his will, and trees that bore fruit according to his pleasure.44 [369–391] Lit. “order.” “In that case” added for clarity. Lit. “[oriented] towards the air.” 42 This signals the historical level of interpretation: the Introduction explains how the moralizations typically proceed, pp. 61ff. 43 The new edition prefers Estoit portez dessus les ceulz for v. 373 (see note, p. 316), which would be “hovering over the skies”; we follow de Boer, who acknowledges that Rouen has ceulz in v. 373, but argues for B’s reading eaux on the basis of consistency with Genesis 1:2. 44 Or a sa devise and a sa guise, vv. 389–390, could refer back to herbe and bois (both singular), so that the grass and trees are producing seeds and fruit after their own fashion, as they please; but this seems less likely. 40 41



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To differentiate the firmament and separate the years and times of day,45 he placed in the sky two great lights – of these, the sun, which is the greater, shines by day, and the moon, which at night must spread its rays to give light, is lesser – and the stars as well. And he placed the reptiles in the waters, and in the air he placed the birds. And on the earth he placed the animals and reptiles of all kinds. Then he made man, who had dominion and was lord over all reptiles, animals, and birds, and to whom all others owed obedience. [392–406] {F}rom a little bit of moist earth God gave form to man,46 but he did more than that: he made him in his semblance and in his image, so that man might know him, and love him and hold him dear. And, by his grace, God breathed into man’s face the breath of life. The matter was most contemptible but the form was very excellent, when in the image of the heavenly King – because there can be no better one – man was made. [407–419] Man must hold himself dear and he must remember very well that God has shown him great grace. He must guard himself against wronging God, but first and foremost serve him and worship him and honor him as his rightful Lord, and comport himself with humility. He must remember that he was drawn forth from baseness and created from mud. He must not become prideful or recalcitrant, but rather must submit to God with good intention, and not place his thought elsewhere. For this reason, he goes about with upturned face: he lifts his face heavenward, upright on two feet, it seems to me, so that all of his heart and his faith and his thought and his hope must be in sovereign things. He must not care about earthly ones: he must think of divine things. [419–439] The other animals go about with their heads bowed towards the earth and nothing else pertains to them, for the earth feeds and sustains them. They have neither reason nor moderation. Man is a more noble creature, and, because he has cognition, there must be some difference between him and a dumb animal, which has neither reason nor understanding. The dumb animal has nothing on its mind except feeding and protecting its body. Man must think of saving his soul, which is mistress and lady over the body, and being worthy of paradise. [440–453] [miniature, fol. 18v: people wielding clubs and climbing trees]

45 The new edition has ans et temps, v. 392, instead of de Boer’s air et temps. Compare Genesis 1:14. “Of day” added for clarity. 46 Home, v. 408. See our introductory lexicon, p. 76, on translating this “man” as opposed to “person” in some instances.

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The Four Ages {S}o, the earth that was once rugged and uncultivated took on a strange appearance and received human images.47 Then the golden age dawned. The people, of their own accord, without fear, without dread of a judge, without the rule of law, were loyal and faithful. They lived without suffering or fear. They had neither bonds nor chains to bind evildoers. There were no thieves or robbers. Without fearing any punishment, they were innocent and without covetousness. No ship had yet been invented to travel to another country, and no one went sailing about at sea in search of another shore or to visit another land. Back then, no one knew anything about war. Back then, there were no towers, battlements, crossbows, or catapults to overthrow fortresses. No one felt the urge to fight, attack, or do battle. There were no ditches or palisades around the walls to defend them. No one waged battle. Back then, there was no trumpet or horn. They did not know how to equip their bodies with helmets, coats of mail, swords, or shields to do battle: the people were at ease and safe. [454–487] The earth, uncultivated by plowshare or colter, gave everyone what they needed. What they had was enough for them. They ate rose hips and strawberries, sorb-apples, mulberries and beech-nuts, as well as acorns and roots. Without plowing, the earth and the fields overflowed with wheat. At that time, the rivers flowed throughout the earth: they were large and plentiful with milk, honey, and spices. People lived most joyfully: no one endured work or suffering. In those days, the earth was full of rich plentitude. Back then, there was no winter or summer. The climate was entirely temperate, without great heat and without great cold. Back then, spring was everlasting. A pleasant and delightful wind, Zephyr, made the flowers bloom – blue-green, indigo, scarlet, yellow, white, and of other hues – without any seeds being planted.48 [488–512] In this age, when all goodness abounded, Saturn was lord over the world. [513–514] [miniature, fol. 19r: a baby being given to saturn by rhea and a midwife; saturn running it through with his sword]

{S}aturn was king of Crete. He invented foolish laws. This king had himself honored, served, and worshipped as a god, as if he truly were a god.49 His men so utterly believed this that no one had reason to seek out another god in heaven or on This apparently refers to the creation of humans from earth, not to humans making their mark on the landscape, which didn’t happen in Ovid’s Golden Age. 48 The new edition (pp. 319–320, note to vv. 509–510) notes that Isidore of Seville, Etymologies XIII.xi.8, “insists on the idea of this wind as a creative force” (“insiste sur l’idée du vent [=Zephirus] en tant que force créatrice”), which of course has a sequel in lines 5–7 of the General Prologue to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. 49 Not having the indefinite article also makes it possible to read “as God” for “as a god.” See our introductory lexicon, s.v. diex, p. 74. 47



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earth. This king was married to a worthy and wise lady, powerful, generous and of great renown: Cybele, Rhea, or Ops was her name. Saturn had by this wife three boys and one girl. Jupiter was the name of the firstborn. He stripped his father of his kingship and drove him into exile. Juno was the daughter, and the second son was called Neptune. Pluto, also known as Dis, was the third. [515–534] Before the three sons were born, the father knew that one of them would seize his kingship, and the land, by war and force of arms. Because he feared this and because he didn’t know which one of them would strip him of his land and exile him, he said he would kill all his sons: thus he would be certain and assured that he would not be dispossessed or thrown out of his realm. He told the plan – which was very wicked and harsh – to his wife, and entreated her, by the great faith and love she had towards him, to bring him all the sons she would bear on the day she gave birth to them, so that he could put them to death. He would rather his sons be dead than that they might exile him from his kingship. [535–555] The mother was afflicted with great grief. It seemed very harsh to her to destroy her offspring. Nonetheless, she truly promised her husband that she would do as he commanded, but she did not tell him the truth. (One does well to lie to maintain peace, for many people lose in telling the truth.50) The lady’s heart was very full of anger because of the cruel commandment and she had very different thoughts on the matter. [556–566] She had conceived a son. When she was full term, she gave birth to a son of such beautiful appearance, that no more graceful creature had ever been seen, in her opinion. On account of his graceful body, his bright face, and also because he was smiling at her, she thought that if she killed him it would be a great cruelty, great treachery, and great wickedness. She could not consent to having him killed. Most willingly, she sought out a ruse by which she might save her son and deliver him from the hands of the father. [567–580] She had the child taken in secret and, without further delay, sent him to be raised in Arcadia. Then she had a stone covered with swaddling clothes and linens, as if it were a little boy. She presented and handed it over to the father, and made him believe, without a doubt, that she had given birth to the stone and that she had not had other offspring. Old Saturn cherished her so much that he could not in any way believe that she would deceive him: he had so much faith in her that he wouldn’t have believed it.51 The more he loved her, the less he suspected her and the more readily he believed her. He took the stone without delay and he ate and devoured it: the lady had deceived him well! [581–599] Then she had another son, whom we are accustomed to call Neptune. She did not wish to hide this one – either she could not or would not delay. She gave him 50 The new edition (pp. 321–322, note to v. 562) flags this as a proverb, also found in Guillaume de Machaut. 51 In her act of deception, had it been made apparent to him.

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to the father right away. Saturn, without skipping a beat, had him thrown into the sea. There, according to history, he drowned, but the tale has us believe he was god and king of the sea. After this, the mother conceived a son who was less lovable, and so, as soon as she had him, she handed him over to the father, and the father killed him before pity could soften him. Now Saturn was no longer afraid of his attack. The third son became king of hell and the earth, as the tale recounts. His realm is most dreadful. Foolish is anyone who would seize such a place: they seek their own misfortune and death. Saturn let his daughter live. Now he thought he was wholly free and would hold his land for a long time, but this business would turn out very differently. Once Jupiter was full-grown, he would consider himself truly deceived for having believed his wife! [600–627] Saturn maintained possession of his land for a long time in peace and in great joy. There was no one who did not believe that he was god of heaven and the whole wide world. They did not believe there were other gods and their foolish belief was as follows: they held Saturn in higher regard than anyone ought to treat a mortal man. For his honor and glory and to memorialize his name, they wanted, as one finds in the tales, to name one of the seven movable planets52 “Saturn” after him, and also the last day of the week. Their belief was both foolish and vain. [628–644] [miniature, fol. 20r: mounted knights in melee]53

{J}upiter grew up and became strong; he came to Crete, and he took control of the whole kingdom by force. He was a cruel friend to the father.54 By force of arms and war he dispossessed him of his land. He cut off his genitals and threw them into the sea. From the foam of the salty sea and of those genitals the great Venus was born. Jupiter fell in love with her.55 Venus, the mother of the god of love, was conceived from this love.56 [645–657] L’un des .vii. planetes errables, v. 36: the “movable planets,” in contrast to the fixed stars. Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat. 54 We translate v. 646 according to the new edition, Au pere fu crueulz amis, as against de Boer’s crueulz anuis, which would mean he dealt his father “cruel injury.” On this section in general, see Possamaï-Pérez (2017a). 55 Jupiter l’ama par amours, v. 655. Aimer par amours, which we usually translate as “fall in love,” identifies romantic, erotic, or so-called “courtly” love, whence the term paramour in English. 56 The OM is trying to reconcile two different stories of Venus’s birth. One (Hesiod etc., and assumed by Ovid, Met. 4.521ff.) is that she was born when Cronus castrated Uranus and threw his testicles in the sea; the other (Homer etc.) is that she was the daughter of Jupiter and Dione. The OM resolves the inconsistency by making la grant Venus the mother of Venus, la mere au dieu d’amours: Venus Senior and Venus Junior, or Primordial Venus and regular Venus. Compare what Cicero says about different Venuses in On the Nature of the Gods 3.23: “The first Venus is the daughter of the Sky and the Day; I have seen her temple at Elis. The second was engendered from the sea-foam, and as we are told became the mother by Mercury of the second Cupid. The third is the daughter of Jupiter and Dione, who wedded Vulcan, but 52

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Later on, Jupiter found his daughter so beautiful and attractive that he went on to fall in love with her, according to the tale: she pleased and charmed him so much that he wanted to sleep with her. From this intimacy that they engaged in, Jocus and Cupid were born. The latter and Venus have the purview to constrain lover and beloved and make them do their bidding. Venus holds and carries a torch and Cupid carries the bow and arrow that he draws to pierce the lovers. Venus burns and Cupid pierces. In paintings, Jocus and Cupid are depicted naked and unable to see, because foolish love and dalliance strip daydreamers of clothing and wealth, of understanding and knowledge, of honor and good virtues. For that reason they are depicted unclothed, and they are depicted blind because love and dalliance blind many fools. [658–680] [miniature, fol. 20r: saturn reaps with a sickle in front of a crowd]

{I} want to tell you about old Saturn, who was expelled from his dominion. He fled to save his life and hid out in Lombardy, and so the people there called it Latium, for “the god who hid there.”57 Janus, who was god and lord of Latium and held all dominion there, received Saturn well and took great joy in his company. Saturn, who was very learned, taught the people there how to use the sickle. Before that none of them knew how to reap their wheat, but back then, without procuring a sickle, would rip it from the earth by hand. Since wise Saturn first taught them this custom, he is depicted in some paintings holding the sickle in both fists.58 [681–700] {F}rom Crete, “Saturn” came to Lombardy – that is, “great abundance” and “plenitude” of goods and wheat, with which the country completely overflowed. [701–704] Jupiter took as a wife his sister, the very learned Juno: she was his sister and his wife. He had a son who was king of Lemnos, contemptible and vile in his person. His face resembled a monkey’s,59 but he was wise and of great renown: Vulcan or Mulciber was his name. Through his mastery, he was the first to invent the art of forging. He was the god of fire, he made the lightning bolts, and he took as his wife the goddess of love, but he was never able to have any heir by the goddess. [705–718]

who is said to have been the mother of Anteros by Mars. The fourth was conceived of Syria and Cyprus, and is called Astarte; it is recorded that she married Adonis” (trans. Rackham 1933, 343). See also Possamaï-Pérez (2017a). 57 The new edition (p. 325, note to vv. 685–686) points to the etymology of Latium as “where Saturn hid” (quod illic Saturnus latuerit) in Virgil’s Aeneid 8.321–323. 58 This is not actually true of the miniature in Rouen (fol. 20r); ces paintures, v. 699, lit. “these paintings/depictions,” probably refers to the typical depictions, although it would be interesting to consider it as a possible reference to illustrations in the archetype. 59 The new edition (p. 326, note to v. 710) has a long note to support the reading Singesse resembloit de vis and we translate accordingly. De Boer’s reading would translate to “It seems to me he resembled a monkey.”

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Moralization {N}ow I want to explain to you briefly the meaning of these tales. In some cases, the tale takes Jupiter to mean heaven and fire. [719–722] [miniature, fol. 20v: jupiter with vulcan working at the forge]

{A} wandering planet is named after him, as well as Thursday.60 Hence he represents God, who governs all: snow and rain, hail and winter. “Venus” is the name of the planet after which Friday61 is named. It is of auspicious nature. Or, Venus, who is called the mistress and the lady of love, represents lust, and an amorous woman. Lust and iniquity62 are born of slothful excess, and the one sin is born from the other. For the more one sins, the more one enjoys the sin, and the more one longs to sin: so one takes delight in one’s transgression. [723–738] Juno signifies our lower atmosphere. When fire “marries” air,63 it thunders and flashes: from this come lightning bolts and flashes.64 Or, Vulcan represents burning heat, who, when he “marries” lust, no fruit comes of his seed, because burning heat destroys it. Or, Vulcan is god of the forge because one cannot forge anything without fire. Holy Scripture testifies that the one who invented the craft of metal-working65 was named Tubal-cain, son of Lamech, who killed Cain.66 [739–752] {W}e can, it seems to me, understand and explain the tales of Saturn and Jove in this way: Saturn is a movable planet, the highest of all seven. For this reason it is claimed at the outset that he was father, and first, and king over all the sovereign gods. Saturn takes thirty years to run its course through the zodiac, where it dwells, thus it has a cool constitution, and so, fictionally, it is said that he67 is both old and slow. This planet is, it seems to me, of evil and harmful nature, for it is used to making snow, ice, cold, hail, and storms enter our hemisphere – and even more on going than on coming.68 For this reason it is claimed that he69 must hold a sickle in both fists in paintings where he is depicted. [753–774]

French jeudi is from Latin dies Jovis, “day of Jove.” French vendredi is from Latin dies Veneris, “day of Venus.” 62 Moralizing Cupid and Jocus. 63 Moralizing Jupiter and Juno. 64 That is, the type of fire represented by Vulcan. 65 Lit. “the forge.” 66 Compare Genesis 4:19–24. 67 This refers to Saturn as a god rather than a planet, so we translate “he,” not “it.” 68 The new edition (p. 329, note to vv. 771–774) observes that this is precisely the opposite to what we find in other commentators like William of Conches, where the planet causes more harm on approach. They add that the OM’s reference to Saturn wielding the sickle is then “simultaneously incoherent and implicit,” made comprehensible only by the Second and Third Vatican Mythographers, who explain that a scythe or sickle is harmless being swung forwards, and cuts as it is pulled back (see Pepin 2008, 102 and 212). 69 Again, this refers to Saturn as a god. 60 61



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[miniature, fol. 21r: naked adam is led by god through the garden and shown the tree with the forbidden fruit]

{J}upiter70 is located nearby, underneath Saturn, but above the other six. It is full of graciousness and of temperate quality. For this reason the tale was invented that he71 gave his subjects the right to live according to their own free will. Jupiter is accustomed to reform and reduce72 the malice and cruelty of Saturn, full of wickedness, for Jupiter seizes from it the power to create snow, hail, and cold when it is in close proximity to it. So says the book where I read it. For this reason, without a doubt, the tale claims that “he cuts off his genitals.” Jupiter has varying effects on the earth, depending on whether it approaches and gets close to the other movable planets. Thus the tales contrive that he taught the different arts he knew to different children he had, just as the tale recounts, as does the other story I will mention to you after this explanation. [775–800] {S}aturn, as I understand it, signifies “time of plenitude,”73 and “great abundance” of all goods with which the earth was provisioned – that is, paradise, where God placed man before he ate the apple or transgressed his command, through which he later came to damnation. In this delightful paradise man lived as he pleased, without hunger, thirst, hot, cold, evil, suffering or hardship, and without laboring with his hands: God nourished him through his grace. Back then the world was “golden,” not because it was all colored in golden hue, but, just as all other metals are worth less than gold, so too were the people then worth more than those who came afterwards, and were more holy in behavior.74 Then man lost divine grace through the serpent’s trick, and, through his presumption, was ousted from paradise, his inheritance. [801–827] [miniature, fol. 21r: the coronation of jupiter]

The Silver Age {O}nce Saturn was ousted and Jupiter, who was king of the world and master and sovereign of the heavenly gods, was enthroned, then he established his justice, laws, and commandments throughout the world as he pleased, and set up institutions. At that point the world entered the silver age.75 At that point, for the As a planet. As a god. 72 The new edition, v. 782 (and note p. 330) has seult amendir et doloir (taking doloir as equivalent to doler, “devenir plus mince,” hence our “reduce”) as against de Boer’s toloir, which would mean “remove.” 73 Plenté de temps looks like it should be “plenitude of time,” but we follow the new edition (p. 331, note to v. 802). 74 Following Engels, the new edition (p. 331, note to vv. 815–822) states that this is based on Arnulf of Orléans, I.3. For Arnulf in general, see Ghisalberti (1932a), Gura 2010, and Fritz and Noacco (2022). 75 Lit. “became silver.” 70 71

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first time, the world’s plenitude failed, after it had been golden, feeding people as an act of grace. Then the god76 shortened the spring and divided the year into four seasons: winter, autumn, summer, and a short spring, which until then had been permanent. Then suffering first began, and from then until now it has been part of the mortal condition. That was the beginning of the hot summers that distress the world with burning heat. That was the beginning of the great cold – the snow, ice, and frost. The art of making huts and houses was first invented then. The people lived in these caves, thickets, and lodges they built instead of other homes: these were their dwelling places. They had no other place to live. It was now necessary to labor, sow seed, and plow with oxen. [828–858] Moralization {A}ccording to the historical interpretation, Jupiter was king of Crete, and he made everyone believe through the art of his enchantment that he was a god, for he did absolutely everything he wanted to, thanks to the art of necromancy. He held the foolish and dumbstruck people in such error that many did not believe there could be any greater god than he. Oftentimes he would turn a stone or a wooden log into an ass or a horse, or, if it suited him, he would make a man resemble a dumb animal. From some, he took sight, hearing, and understanding. He afflicted others grievously with various afflictions, rages and passions, harms and dangers. And when he deigned to withdraw his hand, he feigned to heal them of the terrible ills he made them endure, and for which the wretched and ignorant people feared him because of his wickedness. They placed in him all their faith, for we show more reverence to the wicked for their wickedness than to the gracious for their friendship. [859–886] Jupiter taught the arts he knew to several children he had had, which made them feared and dreaded by the wicked, demented people, and they were mistaken for gods in the lands where they dwelled. For their praise or glory and to memorialize their names, these miserable gods – may God confound them! – caused temples and churches, false idols and altars to be made throughout the world in their names, and they demanded sacrifices of swine, oxen, and heifers. They fooled the wretched people so that everyone obeyed them, and this foolishness grew so much that everyone held the belief that these evil gods gave them the good things that came to them from God. In order to earn their good graces even more and to deceive the fools further, Jupiter gave this law to the foolish and unwise people: that, make no mistake, they could all do exactly as they might please. And so his disciples encouraged the fools in this, who loved them for it. After these “gods” died, the vile demons, in the same manner as the gods used to delude the foolish people, after their death revealed themselves through their idols and gave answers in their names, and so they counselled the people with damning and harmful counsel. [887–922] 76

In Ovid, Jupiter.



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[miniature, fol. 21v: a man plowing with a pair of horses]

{W}hen, through his sin, man acted in such a way that God threw him out of the delightful paradise, by the exhortation of the devil, who made him a debtor to sin, then man knew hunger, thirst, cold, and heat; he experienced suffering, sickness, and hardship; he now had to take heed and make an effort to acquire and cultivate his food and to work hard if he wished to live, as Scripture attests. And yet these people were pious and pure, and behaved more piously than those who came after them. [923–936] [miniature, fol. 22r: soldiers attacking and defending a castle]

The Bronze and Iron Ages {T}he third age was of bronze, for, just as the first people were better and worth more than the second who came after, the second were worth more than the third, just as silver is worth more than bronze is worth. At that point, attacks, battles, and fighting started. At that point, armies were invented. At that point, the people became cunning, clever, and malicious. But they were not of such wickedness as the fourth generation went on to be. [937–950] [miniature, fol. 22r: a ship filled with soldiers]

{I}t was of iron, hard and crude. Then, for the first time, the people strove to accomplish all wickedness, fraud, and deceit. Then, truth and righteousness fled, as did reason, faith, peace, goodness, moderation, all goodness, and all loyalty, and so ruled all cruelty, fraud, treachery, deception, force, ambush, theft and robbery, and the desire to cause harm to others. It was then, for the first time, that people began to sail and so the waters were tested and ships were invented. The earth, until then shared by everyone, placed at everyone’s disposal like the sun and the moon, was divided up and marked out. From the earth, people no longer sought only food in the form of wheat or the usual fruits; rather, they dug caves and mineshafts to extract the gold and silver from it, which often motivate people to commit every unlawful deed. They began for the first time to extract the hurtful iron from the earth, and the gold that is even more harmful. From these two stem the conflicts in which many people are slaughtered, and most lose their lives through covetousness and envy. Most people live by plunder. [951–983] Since then the wicked root,77 by which so many are put to death, has grown. The vast majority of people are given to larceny, robbery, theft, and violence. Everyone 77 The new edition (p. 334, note to v. 984) suggests that this male racine renders opes, inritamenta malorum in Ovid (Met. 1.140), “wealth that incites men to crime” (Kline). But in ST II–II q. 162, Aquinas takes up Augustine’s claim that pride is the root of all sin (see Ecclesiastes 4: 13–16), and the OM may well be referring to pride (although of course Chaucer’s

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cheats, defrauds, and dupes. One ransacks, the other filches,78 or murders without issuing a challenge to the victim. Nobody knows who to trust any more: their son-in-law, their cousin or brother, their son or daughter or father. A wife thinks of harming her husband, and he, of destroying his wife. Hard-hearted stepmothers make poisonous brews to poison their stepchildren. Now no one can love anyone else; rather, they aim to deceive. A son, to claim inheritance from his father, goes about seeking his death and inquiring about his age. Pity lies prone. Nobility of spirit79 is vanquished. Faith, Charity, and Justice flee from this bloody world, where all wickedness abounds.80 But the latter leaves last: with some effort, she lingers for just a little while to find out if the appetite and hearts of the evildoers might be able to be held back by the fear and dread of her vengeance. [984–1015] Wickedness of the Present Day and Corrupt Judges81 {O}nce upon a time, fear of Justice dissuaded people from doing evil. But now she is hardly feared, nor does she ever dissuade anyone from committing any wickedness. Now it is impossible to find anyone who judges rightly. Long ago, there were good judges who, without hatred and without love, without avarice and without trepidation, rendered to everyone their just deserts according to the law. They spared no one and left no soul without redress.82 Now, the judges are corrupt and Justice has a broken neck. Justice is dead, it seems to me. No, she’s not – rather, she is in paradise, for Justice will never die. [1016–1033] Pardoner will preach that radix malorum est cupiditas, and the OM also strenuously condemns covetousness). In article 6, Aquinas also cites Boethius, on the idea that pride alone withstands God while all the other vices flee before him. Bonaventure dives into pride as the origin of all sin in Brev. III, concluding that “every sin, therefore, is born of pride, and tends to its full maturity and end in final impenitence” (III.11). Original sin is also the topic of 2 Sent. d. 30. 78 There is a distinction here between theft by stealth and robbery by violence. This topic is taken up at greater length in Book 6, vv. 1441–1464: see our note there. 79 For Franchise, v. 105, which can also mean, “generosity,” “freedom (of choice),” and more. 80 For vv. 1005–1007, the new edition has Pitié gist, vaincue est Franchise, / Et Foi, Charité, et Justice / S’en fuÿ de ce sanglent monde, grouping together Foi, Charité, et Justice, while de Boer has Pitié gist. Vaincue est Franchise, / Foi et Charité, et Justise / S’en fuï de ce sanglent monde. Since the verbs here are singular (vaincue est and s’en fuÿ), the editions differ about which to associate with Foi and Charité. Since Justice leaves la deerraine, v. 1009, the others must be leaving too, so we follow the new edition. Following de Boer, the translation would be “Nobility of spirit is vanquished, and Faith and Charity; and Justice flees from this bloody world, where all wickedness abounds. But she leaves last …” In any case, this passage corresponds to Ovid’s “Piety was dead, and virgin Astraea, last of all the immortals to depart, herself abandoned the blood-drenched earth” (Kline, for Met. 1.149–150). 81 While not identified as a moralization, this section has no equivalent in Ovid. 82 In v. 1028, the new edition has deportoient where de Boer had departoient, glossed “abandonner.” Our translation “left no soul without redress” should be broad enough to cover both options.



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There is a righteous Judge who will, on the occasion of his general Judgment, give to each soul lawfully according to its deeds and its merit: to the good, reward, and to the evil, loss.83 There, loopholes and false allegations will be worth nothing. No one can deceive that Judge, or corrupt him with any offer of wealth.84 He knows who is in the wrong and who is in the right. [1034–1043] But the false judges nowadays, who get themselves called judges, counterfeit law and justice, and have retained only the shadow of those things. They trample the little people and condemn against reason. Now, a poor person has no rights. The strong, the powerful, the mighty go about tormenting the poor and quashing their valid complaints, and so they win by their speeches of false declarations,85 by bribes and flattery. The wicked judges abide by the strong and uphold their wicked causes and humiliate the poor man, for they attach importance to no law. Even those who are supposed to rule the land and uphold the laws persecute the poor, and do not dare to contradict the powerful. [1044–1064] [miniature, fol. 22v: archers shooting down their enemies]

War with the Giants {B}ecause it was not enough for them to do their wickedness on earth, and so that heaven might have war and fear just like the earth, the giants of long ago resolved to attack paradise, and intended to be lords of it and depose the heavenly king. They brought together many mountains and stacked them one on top of the other, to climb upwards toward heaven. When Jupiter saw the heap and recognized and saw their wicked undertaking, he grabbed some cruel and harsh lightning and split their mountains and razed them to the ground, and he knocked the giants down to earth, dead and bloody. [1065–1082] From the blood of the dead giants was born the least worthy people. Those who were born of the earth and of the blood that had been shed by those who had been laid low were even more wicked and more malicious, proud, inconstant, and envious, and more full of treachery, fraud, and violence, and loved murder and war – even more than their predecessors. From then on, there was an overflowing abundance of all wickedness, all malice, of covetousness and avarice, of treason, treachery, wrath, rancor, and envy, and they scorned the sovereign gods even more than their predecessors had. [1083–1100] [miniature, fol. 23r: fortifications, or the tower of babel, being constructed] 83 On the distinction between the general judgment of humanity and the particular judgment of each soul, see Aquinas, ST Suppl. q. 88, and Bonaventure, Brev. VII.1. 84 “Offer of” added for clarity. 85 The new edition corrects de Boer’s par to de in v. 1055.

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Moralization {N}ow I will tell you how the tale can be made to agree with history. When Titan saw his brother disinherited and expelled from his land, and that Jupiter held the land by force of arms and war, he was grieved, as he had been hoping that, when Saturn died, he would have inherited the land and that there would have been no other heir. He came with a great army and much equipment to make war on the king, Jupiter, who ruled over Crete. [1101–1113] When the latter realized that Titan, on a war footing, was coming to eject him from his lands, Jupiter did not go to meet him in open battle, for the combat was too daunting. Rather, he had his people withdraw to a mountain, to construct fortifications and build war machines, in order to wage battle against those in the valley. Indeed, they hurled down upon them catapulted rocks and tree trunks. No one struck by them could ever get back up, and Jupiter was able to harm those down in the valley far more than they could harm his men. Those in the valley were climbing uphill. They set up ladders against the mountain to continue upwards, in the hopes of forcing their way upwards to strike down those on the mountain, but Jupiter knocked them down with the catapulted rocks that he flung at them. [1114–1134] Thus the war came to an end, and thus the tale was invented that those who lived up the mountain were called “heavenly,” or gods or sovereigns, as the original author and the previous ones claimed.86 Those below were called “earthly,” or “snake-like,”87 because they crept uphill. Thus Jupiter vanquished his first assailants masterfully, but his troubles were not over yet. A more harsh and aggressive, more cruel and treacherous, more hateful and violent people were descended from their lineage. They went on to wage many wars against Jupiter, many quarrels and iniquities. [1135–1153] {T}he tale and theology agree that long ago the pagans built a foundation that they wanted to establish so securely that it could never be knocked down. Then they built a tower on it, which would have been constructed all the way up to heaven. But God, who saw their foolish effrontery, mixed up their language and altered it in so many ways that he transformed one single tongue, which was the only one common to all of them throughout the whole wide world, into seventy-two.88 [1154–1167] Then there arose such a controversy among them that one knocked the other down on the ground, because, when the one asked for stone, the other, 86 Ovid (li premerains auctors, “the original author”) and his sources (li plus ancien, lit. “the older ones,” i.e., his sources). 87 This references what Jupiter says in Ovid (Met. 1.182–184): “I was not more troubled than I am now concerning the world’s sovereignty than when each of the snakefooted giants prepared to throw his hundred arms around the imprisoned sky” (Kline). 88 The new edition (p. 338, note to v. 1167) comments that while the ultimate source of this number is Genesis 10:5, it was widespread enough that the OM’s immediate source for it can’t be identified with any certainty.



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who didn’t understand his language and had another of his own, brought him mortar or sand. Thus, the strong and durable tower was abandoned due to this delay, and the place where the tower that stood unfinished was supposed to have been built was called Babel. “Babble” signifies confusion. Because of the multiplication of languages that God effected then, the place is still called Babel,89 and the languages that were invented at that time still endure throughout the world. [1168–1184] {I} can give this the following allegorical interpretation: the giants, who, in order to oust God, resolved to build up the heap of mountains right up to heaven, represent the prideful of the world, in which all wickedness, pride, perfidy, treachery, and envy abound, who in their foolish presumption hold up their thoughts against God to make war on him. They want to overcome him through violence, and they become prideful and arrogant and think to usurp his glory from him. But God, who overthrows all pride, defeats those who want to raise themselves up, and makes them fall into the deepest part of the fire of hell. [1185–1202] Lycaon {A}bove, the tale touched on the wickedness and sin the giants intended to commit and how they piled up mountain on top of mountain to drag Jupiter down from heaven. But Jupiter leveled their mountains to the ground with his lightning. Thus the giants were destroyed, and others were born from their blood who lived even more disloyally. [1203–1212] {J}upiter saw these people growing ever worse in their iniquity, wickedness, vileness, treachery, trickery, slander, violence, sodomy, and adultery, saw them committing homicide and slaughter, and knew that these blood-born people were entirely bound for perdition. And they were all living such abominable, vile, and corrupted lives, it seems to me, that all fruitfulness was corrupted and perverted by their great corruption, and all goodness was obliterated. [1213–1228] Then Jupiter groaned woefully, and in that woeful groan he was reminded of the stinking table and abominable meat that Lycaon – that wicked gorger who tempted him – had presented to him. And he conceived great anger in his heart: he resolved to inflict torment, death, and destruction on the whole world, and assembled his parliament. He summoned the gods and goddesses, and they came there in great crowds, all of the lesser and all of the greater ones, at their lord’s command. [1229–1242] {T}here is a high road that stands serene above the clear skies: it is called the Milky Way because it has the color and semblance of milk. By this route, 89 The French has Babiloine, Babilon, Babiloine three times, hence “Babylon” (and see the new edition, p. 339, note to v. 1179). But “Babel” means the same.

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the gods, great and small, came to the palace of the sovereign king. First of all, the most noble heavenly gods sat down around the royal throne: those who were most in his favor were in plain view of his face; his intimates had their chairs pulled up closer, while each of the others was seated nearer or farther away according to their status. This is the place, dare I say it, where the god was seated in his exalted joy, with his heavenly host around him. He was seated on his royal throne, on high in the midst of them. He leaned very sternly on his scepter, and shook his head90 in a mighty way, several times; and along with this shaking, heaven, the earth, and the sea trembled. [1243–1268] After that, Jupiter, full of anger, began to speak out of scorn: [1269–1270] [miniature, fol. 24r: jupiter enthroned among the gods]

“{A}t the time when, long ago, the giants tried to assault paradise, wanting to attack us in order to depose us and strike us down, my heart was not more distressed or anguished than it is now. For although they were big and strong and tried their very best to harm us and do us ill, all we had to do then was fight against that one race. But now, there’s no one who does good,91 and the whole world wages war against us. Now I must put to death the human race in its entirety because they apply themselves to every evil. I see the whole world going astray. But first, everything must be cleansed, and evil must be dissevered from any good that one judges to be of any significance whatsoever. We must cut away the disease that causes the flesh to die and decay, before it infects and contaminates the healthy flesh next to it, for one evil feeds another, and the one flesh causes the other to rot. And whoever associates with a wicked person cannot help being the worse for it, since wickedness is everywhere.92 [1271–1299] “I have sent gods93 into the world – the gods of valleys, mountains, forests, waters, and fields. I don’t yet want to take them from the world to crown them here on high. Let us then allow them to live secure on earth. How will they be able to remain safe on earth, free from fear, when Lycaon in his wickedness tried

Here Ovid (Met. 1.179), has Jupiter shake “his formidable mane” (Kline). Psalm 14:1 (Vulgate 13:1), Romans 3:12. 92 De Boer’s punctuation puts v. 1299 with what follows (‘Since wickedness is everywhere, I have sent …’). We follow the new edition, which makes more sense and is more consistent with Ovid (the nature gods aren’t sent to try to save the world). 93 Notwithstanding Ovid’s sunt mihi semidei, sunt, rustica numina, nymphae / faunique satyrique et monticolae silvani (Met. 1.192–193), “Mine are the demigods, the wild spirits, nymphs, fauns, and satyrs, and sylvan deities of the hills” (Kline), we follow the new edition’s demis damedieu, v. 1300, as against reading demis demidieux “sent demigods” or demis de mes dieux “sent [some] of my gods” (see the new edition, p. 343, for discussion). While Damediex, literally “Great God,” i.e. “Almighty God” (we translate simply “God”), is standard for the Christian God, the OM also uses damedieux to refer to the Greco-Roman pantheon (we translate “gods”), which creates potential for confusion with demidieux “demigods,” particularly with minor nature gods as here. The moralization (v. 1740 below) seems to use “demigods.” 90 91



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to tempt and murder by ambush even me, who am lord and master and sovereign of the heavenly gods, and hurl and scatter the lightning?” [1300–1313] All the gods shuddered, and asked what person it was who had done such a thing. Jupiter commanded them to be silent and told them: “Leave off now! Lycaon may have tried to tempt me, but he is suffering cruel punishment for it. Now I’ll tell you without delay how he tried to play me false and what punishment he suffers for it. [1314–1323] {“T}he world was so full of vice, treachery, and malice that the outcries reached beyond the clouds all the way up to me in heaven. When I heard the evil news, you can imagine I wasn’t happy in the least, and I came down from heaven to earth in person to find out if the rumor was true. Thus I traveled around the world in the semblance of a mortal man. But the outcry was never so bad that the transgressions weren’t even worse. It would be very tiresome to relate the great sins, the wickedness, the great treachery, and the envy that the whole world was full of. [1324–1339] “I passed through many forests, many hills,94 many plains, and many great valleys. I came to Arcadia, where I found more than enough wickedness and sin. I stayed with Lycaon, who was supposed to be ruling the kingdom,95 and I indicated in the manner of my arrival that a god was coming. The common folk honored my arrival, but Lycaon scorned me: he derided the simple people for doing me honor and receiving me as a lord. He thought he would test if I was a god. He did so: in the night he tried to kill me in my bed and put me to death in my sleep. But he wasn’t able to complete his wickedness. He did not want to stop there, the wicked tyrant, rather he went from bad to worse: he had one of his prisoners flayed and cut into little pieces. Some went in a pot, some went on a skewer, and some were cooked in pastry. Then he wanted to make me, your lord and master, eat such food! [1340–1366] “But I took very dire vengeance on him for this, for I burned down his house and made it all fall down on top of him. He was very scared of dying. Completely fearful, completely panicked, he fled into the fields. When he tried to speak, he howled, and because of his great anger, an anguished madness took hold of him. His anguish and his madness yet increase as he devours other animals. Just as he was used to slaughter people and eat them, he slaughters animals and eats them still. He still skins and flays them. His clothing was turned into fur, his arms became thighs. His hair is still hoary. He has been

Following the new edition: mains tertres, v. 1340. The new edition (p. 345, note to v. 1345) says to translate qui le regne devoit tenir as “Qui détenait le pouvoir légitimement”: “who held power legitimately.” There is no corresponding sentence in Ovid, who calls him simply “the Arcadian king” (Kline, for Met. 1.218–219). We think devoit suggests that the OM’s Jupiter is taking a critical view of Lycaon’s authority. A compromise might be “who was entitled to hold the kingship at the time [as he no longer is].” 94 95

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made into a wicked and harmful wolf. He still has glittering eyes, and is still full of madness and wickedness, just as he had been before.” [1367–1388] [miniature, fol. 24v: the “historical” king jupiter enters lycaon’s city]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the historical interpretation. After Jupiter’s first victory over the Titans,96 more than ten times as many of that same lineage got together to attack him again. They summoned soldiers from every land to make war on him. Jupiter knew they were gathering. He went furtively and in secret to discover and find out whether any force might avail against them. He arrived where the army was gathering. There were so many people that it seemed to him that there was not a single one left on earth who did not want to make war on him. [1389–1404] When he had discovered their intentions and their hostile battle plan, he went to Arcadia to inquire whether Lycaon, the king of that land, would reveal himself as an ally. But there he did not wish to conceal himself; rather, he said clearly that it was Jupiter who was coming there in such a manner. The common folk welcomed him and esteemed him as they ought, showing him such worthy honor as they ought to show their97 lord. But Lycaon scorned him and said: “I’ll know right away if this is the very mighty king. I want to have real proof of it.” [1405–1420] He falsely invited him to his home, received him and put him up, then, in the night while he was sleeping, he tried to murder him and subject him to torment. But through his power, Jupiter then took harsh vengeance on him: he took all his land away from him and burned his mansions. And he would have inflicted a cruel sentence on the man himself and punished him as he saw fit, but Lycaon, the vile wretch, fled from Arcadia and went into hiding in the woods, where he then caused harm to many people. He lived there by robbery, murder, and violence. No one could escape him, provided he could catch them, without his taking their spoils: he skinned the one and fleeced the other. Thus he would go about harming innocent people without cause and wrongly. That is why it was said, according to the tales, that he was a gluttonous and insatiable wolf. [1421–1444] [miniature, fol. 25r: jupiter and his knights ride forth]

{T}hen Jupiter had his army assemble and made every land tremble before his face.98 Then he sought counsel from his followers as to what he should do about 96 In v. 1391, the new edition (like Rouen, fol. 24v) has Tytans where de Boer had tirans “tyrants.” The moralization starting at v. 1101 above makes Titan a “historical” king, and there is only one of him; here the Titans are clearly plural, making them a family or race of people. 97 Alternatively, “a lord”: the difference is whether they are meant to acknowledge his overlordship of them specifically or just his lordly rank in general. 98 Compare Psalm 68 (Vulgate 67).



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those who had assembled from every land to wage war against him, and who were trying to dispossess him and oust him from his kingdom if he could not fight them off. He did not want to let them invade his lands; rather, he said that he would go forth against them, and invade them, and that he wanted to make everyone99 who opposed him, in their entirety, suffer grievously and subject them to his dominance, or wipe out the whole human race. [1445–1461] [miniature, fol. 25r: herod receives news of jesus before he orders the massacre of the innocents in the next miniature, fol. 25v]

{T}he tale and the Sacred Page100 are in agreement, it seems to me, for Moses affirms101 that the world filled with more and more people,102 and all society bent their hearts to committing iniquity, wickedness, and baseness, and all evils increased and grew and multiplied upon the earth. [1462–1470] The children of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful and took them carnally through marriage.103 From this, collectively, came men who were called giants, mighty men and of great renown, who on account of their strength became prideful and scorned God, their Creator. Thus, they lived shamefully, like base people, dishonestly, and every land was disgraced by them and by their wickedness, for they did everything the worst they could, nor did they have any goodwill. They committed so many wicked deeds, it seems to me, that the outcries about their shameful and wicked lives rose to heaven beyond the clouds, to God. [1471–1488] For that reason, he said he wanted to descend to earth and come to find out whether or not the world was anything like its reputation – and he found it to be far worse than its reputation could ever have conveyed. Then God groaned deeply and, if Scripture does not lie, he repented, in sum, of ever having created man. And he decided that he would destroy the whole world with a flood of water. But before he unleashed upon the world the flood that would drown everything, he commanded that Noah build the ark, in which he was to put his wife, himself, his three sons and their three wives. In this way, he resolved to use the ark to save eight souls and rescue them from the flood. [1489–1507] Now it is right that I explain to you God’s “repentance.” I don’t believe that Holy Scripture says that God’s heart was ever fickle or regretful104 or changeable. But what this really means, no lie, is that he would suffer – he Tout le monde, v. 1458. A wordplay on “everyone,” and “the whole world.” at the University of Paris were known as “Masters of the Sacred Page.” While the OM is clearly referring to Holy Scripture here, the specific reference to the “Sacred Page” is notable and significant. 101 See Exodus 1:7. 102 Lit. “multiplied.” 103 See Genesis 6:2. 104 As though of an error. 99

100 Theologians

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knew it well – only for the sake of man, whom he had created, for he truly did suffer: he suffered death for it in the flesh. [1508–1518] [miniature, fol. 25v: herod oversees the massacre of the innocents]105

{G}od the powerful, full of pity, became a man out of friendship106 for us, and he came down from heaven to earth to redeem and reclaim man. And on his behalf he endured many sufferings. He concealed himself in human form. He hid himself from the powerful of the world and revealed himself to the little ones,107 and he openly gave sign of his divine coming. The humble little ones honored him, and worshipped him as true God, and recognized him as their Lord. But it was the greatest and most powerful, who thought most highly of themselves in this world, who scorned God. [1519–1534] Herod, the false and savage-hearted tyrant, full of anger and rage, learned that the one had been born who would be King over all kingdoms. Then he was afraid – that woeful glutton, that miserable wretch – that God was coming to supplant his rule. And he tried to tempt God108 and murder him by treachery, under cover of feigned109 devotion. When he saw that this had failed – that faint-hearted traitor, that gluttonous wolf, that rapacious wolf,110 that cruel and destructive wolf, enemy of human nature – he put to death the Innocents, and had them massacred in hundreds and thousands, in an attempt to harm God. He was trying to kill him alone, and made many die in his place: that gluttonous wolf tore those he was pursuing from the bosom of their mothers, spilled their brains, guts, and entrails, cut off their feet and wrists, arms and legs, and presented the souls to God. He made wicked use of his power, but God took suitable vengeance for it. In this life he took away his kingdom, and in the afterlife he made him fall into hell: now he screams and howls and can continue to cry out in the stinking and eternal fire. [1535–1567] {T}he tale can have another meaning. One who skins, strips, and despoils the common people, in order to take possession of the spoils, and devours the humble, resembles a rapacious and harmful wolf. Oh, God, how many such wolves there 105 Fols

25v and 385v have comparable miniatures of this. God’s “friendship” (amistie, vs. “love”) for us is a specific terminology borrowed from the biblical tradition and scholastic theology. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. ami, amistie, p. 71. 107 Here, the new edition (p. 347, note to vv. 1525–1526) cites Matthew 25:24 and Luke 10:25, but the Latin they quote (hence the correct set of references) is actually Matthew 10:25 and Luke 10:21. 108 The new edition (p. 348, note to v. 1542) calls this a reference to the temptations of Jesus in the desert, citing Matthew 4:1–11, but this seems wrong since the OM is talking about Herod and the lead-up to the Massacre of the Innocents (Matthew 2: 16–18). Matthew 2:1–12, where Herod claims to want to worship Jesus, is a better fit. 109 In v. 1544, the new edition has fainte where de Boer (and Rouen, fol. 25v) have sainte “holy”: sainte would work inasmuch as the “holy devotion” would be a pretense. 110 The new edition (p. 348, note to v. 1547), following Engels, associates this description with Matthew 7:15. 106



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are nowadays! Wolves who want to test God, wolves that no one can appease, famished wolves, rapacious wolves, wolves that are rabid and pernicious, wolves who eat the flesh and substance of poor people and drink their blood, wolves who go mad on the poor people, wolves who plunder and take everything. Bailiffs, beadles, provosts, and mayors think only of stealing from others. They are all thieves and robbers, and now they are all flayers of men living off looting and pillage, against what is right, against divine law, usurers and loan sharks – and the pastors are the worst. And those who now administer justice are looking for pretexts and charges they can use to fleece those under their jurisdiction. They are all gluttonous and rapacious wolves. And they are now the swiftest to attack their lambs – biting, harassing, flaying, and skinning them – acting as though they are meting out justice fairly, to be sure, but really to ravish and take away their victims’ possessions, because of the covetousness that impels them to do this. They conceal their wickedness under the veil of feigned pity. But do you know what will happen to them? The righteous Judge will come and take away their power from them, and he will take very harsh vengeance for the wrongs they are doing to the simple people: in the fire of hell, in the deep lake, he will make them roast and burn. There, the cruel and rapacious wolves can scream and howl in eternal shame and woe. [1568–1614] My own intellect would not suffice to describe the sovereign palace, or to state and distinguish the sequencing of the celestial signs and angelic orders, for that is beyond the knowledge and intellect of human nature. Nevertheless, according to Scripture and the writings of our masters,111 God, the sovereign heavenly King who rules and reigns over everyone, resolved to create in his heavenly Kingdom nine orders of angels to serve, worship, and bless him without end: cherubim, thrones, and seraphim; principalities and dominations; powers and the ensemble of virtues; followed by archangels, and the ninth order, of angels.112 [1615–1634] The cherubim, in my opinion, are the ones who see the Deity face to face and contemplate him in his perfect Trinity and in his eternal essence. They are full of such great science113 that they know without impediment, and are perfectly 111 On the creation of the angels and their hierarchy, see Aquinas, ST I q. 61 and ST I q. 108. Aquinas divides the angels into three hierarchies each of which contains three orders. Their proximity to God serves as the basis of the division. In the first hierarchy, he places the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. In the second, the Dominations, Virtues, and Powers. And in the third, the Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. In this, Aquinas followed the Celestial Hierarchy (chs 6–7) of the fifth-century Pseudo-Dionysius, which described nine orders of angels, organized from the simple angels to the Seraphim. According to PseudoDionysius, God’s light was so bright that only the topmost angels would not shrivel in it. Bonaventure addresses the confirmation of the good angels during his discussion of Creation in Brev. II.8, and deals much more extensively with the creation and order of the angels in 2 Sent. d. 4 and d. 9 (trans. Houser and Noone 2014). 112 This is only approximately the hierarchical order we might expect, perhaps because of the rhyme. There is a long note in the new edition (pp. 352–354); see also Keck (1998), 53–70. 113 I.e., knowledge. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. sapience, savoir, science, p. 78.

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familiar with, the divine secrets, more profoundly than any of the other eight orders. God showed the seraphim such grace that they are the closest to his face, and so they see the beatific vision and its marvelous brightness114 more subtly and closely than the seven remaining orders. And, the more closely they contemplate him, the more they burn, catch on fire, grow hot, and go on burning with love for him in gazing upon him. Thrones are so full of purity, grace, and beatitude, and they are so perfectly untainted, that God sits fittingly within them, and through them, he draws up and sets forth his judgments115 and his justice. [1635–1660] The order of dominations is of lesser standing than the three that are situated above, and the greatest of the remaining six. They rule over the remaining five, who obey them. Although the princes are beneath the first four, they exercise princely rule over, and govern, the remaining four, assigning them offices and duties as is right and necessary. After that, powers have their authority: the power and lordship to command the remaining three to do what they know must be done. Through them, without a doubt, God reveals and exercises his power. Virtues are the ones through whom God openly works and accomplishes many marvelous deeds, signs, and virtues, and miracles for all to see.116 The eighth seat belongs to the archangels; they are lords and masters of the angels, and that is why they are called archangels. Through the angels, God reveals his secrets openly: the angels reveal the occurrence of things to the human race. Angels are the public messengers through whom God, in whom all goodness abounds, makes known to the world the things that he wills. This is how the angels are ordered in the heavens, in the sovereign realm. [1661–1694] According to the writings of our masters,117 in the sovereign realm there are many chambers, many seats, many mansions, and many dwellings118 other than those I have described, where God arranges his saints as he pleases, and each of them resides close or far, according to their merit. But even the one who might be furthest away from him basks in sufficient heavenly glory that it

The new edition notes some difficulty in deciding if boneürté (“the beatific vision” or “beatitude” or “goodness”) should be preceded by la “the” or sa “his [= God’s]” (p. 335, note to v. 1647), but opts for la. In any case, it would seem theologically incorrect to suggest that this is something that the angels attain outside of God himself. Broadly speaking, they are created with no potentiality, and full actuality, unlike human beings, and so exist outside of time: it is not obvious whether or how they can learn anything new. See Keck (1998), 99–105, for the opinions of Bonaventure and Aquinas on how angels’ minds work. 115 The new edition has ses jugemens, v. 1660, vs. de Boer’s les. Compare Psalm 82 (Vulgate 81). 116 “For all to see” renders communement, v. 1681, which could also mean “all together, collectively,” hence the reported variant ensement “likewise, as well.” 117 v. 1695 could also be attached to the previous sentence, as de Boer has it (hence “This is how the angels are ordered in the heavens, in the sovereign realm, according to the writings of our masters”). We follow the new edition: see their note, p. 357. 118 Compare John 14:2. 114



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protects and sustains them, and each one is satisfied with both their glory and their place.119 [1695–1707] God sits on a high throne in the middle, and more than a thousand thousands serve him.120 There God holds his royal council and there he renders his judgments, decrees and ordinances together with his saints. Whoever wishes to go there must follow the “Milky Way,” that is, the way of innocence and purity, for one comes to this beatitude by the path of innocence, and by purity of continence. That is the proper path, that is the way that leads to the high heavenly hill.121 The holy men and women of long ago came to paradise that way, but – as God is my witness – I do not see anyone who keeps to that way anymore: they are all injurious, foul, and base. Nowadays, it seems to me, our Lord can lament the baseness, the wrong, and the iniquity with which every land is filled, as well as the evil wickedness. Nowadays all men are foul and shameful, and all have become wicked and gone astray from the proper path. Very little keeps God from unleashing his anger and divine vengeance, in order to destroy everything. Truly, he would have come already to obliterate everything if it were not for the pure, the spotless, the “demigods”122 who are in the world and on account of whom our Lord hesitates – they are the worthy men, without a doubt, who are on earth, and wholeheartedly apply themselves to God’s service without treachery, envy, malice, or wickedness. Thanks to them, the world is sustained. [1708–1747] God would already have come to destroy everything, if it were not for the saints and their merits. The worthy men sustain the world just as God said of Sodom and the other wicked cities that he laid waste because of their filth, because of the wrongdoings and wickedness with which they were filled. He would not have laid them waste if there had been ten worthy men there, but he could not find even three or four, and because of that, he laid waste everything and razed it to the ground. [1748–1760] {I} do not know, for certain, what has become of the holy, worthy men who sustain the world through their great merits, but of false beguin123 hypocrites, there are so many that they are impossible to count. The multitude of them encumbers us! Nowadays the good people are sparsely sown: I do not know if there is even one mother’s child who is perfected in God’s grace. There is hardly anyone who does good, or anyone who wants to do so. For this reason, 119 The statement is reminiscent of Picarda’s discussion with Dante in Paradise, canto 3, and his reaching the understanding that everywhere in heaven is paradise. See also Aquinas, ST Suppl. q. 93, art. 2. Bonaventure holds that the glory of heaven is a substantial, consubstantial, and accidental reward (see Brev. VII.7). 120 We follow the new edition for v. 1709, plus de mile mile (see note, p. 357); de Boer has puis mile et mile. 121 A la haute monjoie, v. 1720, with variant pardurable joie, “eternal joy.” For Montjoie as “heavenly hill,” see our introductory lexicon, p. 77. 122 Li demi dieu, v. 1740: see note 93 above. 123 Member of a lay, faith-centered community, not bound by vows.

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I can provide another meaning and interpretation for the demigods.124 The “demigods” are, without a doubt, all those who are predestined to reside in the sovereign realm and who are not yet perfected, nor have they yet earned heavenly joy through their good deeds. It is thanks to them that God holds back from sending forth his vengeance upon the whole world, destroying and laying waste to everything. And I believe that if they were properly ripe, so that they could await the coming judge assured and perfected, without any malice and without trace of any vice, God would obliterate the rest. [1761–1788] [miniature, fol. 27r: deucalion and pyrrha in a boat above the flood]

The Great Flood {A}bove, you heard the lament, how the almighty125 complained of Lycaon, who tempted him, and how he overcame him, burned down his house and made him a wolf. Even now he recounts the transgression, the treachery, the wickedness with which every land is filled, and he complains to the gods and says that the world is now such that there is no faith or loyalty in it, but only envy and disloyalty, treachery and trickery, robbery, murder, and violence. “All are abominable and vile, and all have sworn, it seems to me, that they will never do anything good. By my head, they will pay for it! They’ll be punished, deservedly, and they will pay for their wicked life. Now, my sentence for this is as follows: without further postponing my vengeance, I will undertake to bring mortal destruction on all human nature.” [1789–1812] All the gods who heard him trembled with dread and fear. Some said he would do well to lay the world to waste; others waited without saying a word, not daring to contradict their lord.126 But no matter what each might say or do, there was none who would prevent the destruction and mortal harm that he wished to bring upon the human race. And all of them began to inquire how he would populate the earth, once he had laid the whole world to waste: would he leave the earth deserted, or populate it with wild beasts? If he left the earth as a wasteland, who would conduct the divine office127 and who would offer up sacrifices in honor of the heavenly beings? It would be a great loss and a great wrong, if the earth were laid waste and remained uninhabited. [1813–1834] Jupiter said: “Don’t get worked up. Don’t interfere with me. It’s not your business to question how I’ll arrange the earth. The arranging must fall to me, and I, by marvelous birth, will create a people and a human race completely different 124 Disregarding 125 Jupiter.

the new edition and following aus damedieux.

126 The new edition notes that this turns approving silence in Ovid into disapproving silence in the OM, and affects the reading of the following qui ne displace, v. 1820. 127 About Jupiter, but the wording is compatible with Christianity.



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from the first.” Already he wanted to dispatch his lightning and smite the whole world, but he feared that by spreading so much fire around he might make the sky catch fire too, and the axis of heaven might break so that all of heaven would be ruined. He also knew that there would come a time when the world must end in fire, when heaven, earth, and sea would burn and the present era would end. Then, he set aside his lightning bolt and opted for a different punishment: he resolved to destroy the current generation by water and melt down the clouds into rain. He resolved to drown the entire human race. He immediately imprisoned Boreas (Bise) along with every other drying wind. He allowed Notus and all the others that make rain to run freely through the air.128 Then Notus, having donned its rainy cloak, ran at great speed. Its face was all covered in clouds. It went around whipping its moist wings, and poured down a lashing, powerful rain that echoed as it fell, and, when it had fallen, seethed. All over the world, there poured down from heaven a thick rain that submerged everything. [1835–1870] Iris was stretched out through the air to drink up the water that had poured down, to make the clouds abundant.129 The rain submerged crops. The great clearing and the harvest, on which the farmers had worked all year, was wiped out in a short time. Jupiter did not let up then: his wrath and rage were not at all appeased by the waters of heaven. Rather, he asked for the help of the sea. The god of the sea commanded all waters to come to him, then told them: “I don’t want to hold forth at length or hold lengthy debate, but get ready immediately to unleash all your power.” Then you would have seen all the rivers of the world roused: they ran to and fro, they ran without holding to any riverbed. Nothing could withstand them. The rivers carried off the sown crops and bushes, men and beasts and houses, and whatever they encountered, even the temples and the provisions inside the homes. Never before had there been such ruin. The surging water demolished everything, and if there was some strong tower that the current couldn’t knock down, I don’t think it would have been tall enough to peek out above the waves. By now there was no difference or division between sea and land: all land was overwhelmed by the sea. At sea there was neither seabed nor shore. One man by chance arrived on some hill that he reached; another went sailing, perhaps, and fled in his boat across the sea where he was accustomed to sow. Another sailed above the crops now completely immersed in the flood waters, over the cities, over the bushes, and one could catch the fish that went swimming around above the trees. A man, if chance took him there, set his anchor in some green field; or the whale could

128 On

the winds in general, see Book 1, vv. 265–286. rainbow Iris appears in Books 4, 11, and 14 as Juno’s messenger. See the moralization in Book 4, vv. 4981–5007: “Iris, otherwise known as the rainbow, who is so painted and colored […] can be described in this way: as a reflection of the sun in a watery mist. Iris is bowed and curved in the form of a half circle. She drinks and draws water not to retain it, but to spread it about.” 129 The

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now take up residence where the ewes were accustomed to graze; or the ships traveled over the vineyards. [1871–1923] Woods, cities, and villages were concealed beneath the deep and murky waters; fish climbed to the highest branches. Here one could observe great marvels: the wolf drowned among the flocks it had once been accustomed to attack; lion, tiger, and wild boar130 went floating in the middle of the sea. Nor could the deer run fast enough to avoid having to perish in the sea. The bird thought to save itself by flying in the air using its swift and agile wings, but was forced to drop into the sea when it could not find a place to rest, for everything was covered by the sea: mountains, cities, and green forest. Everything was forced to die. The sea killed the majority of them. Those that were not dead by water died of hunger or fear. [1924–1944] [miniature, fol. 28r: deucalion and pyrrha cast stones behind them, which turn into people]

{B}etween Athens and Thebes131 there was a land which used to be rich and fertile, but now it is ugly, dark, and full of seawater: one can no longer harrow nor sow there. In this place there was a mountain, the highest thing in this world. The sea flowed over all the others, but only this one peeked out. The mountain was named Parnassus and its two high peaks seemed to rise almost above the clouds. Deucalion and his wife came there in a small boat guided by Fortune. They were pious132 and righteous. They feared god and his justice, and they loved him without any pretense. No one of their time had ever been so good or so honest. When the two of them came there, they sobbed, and the gods and goddesses heard them, and Themis especially, the goddess of prophecy.133 [1945–1970] When Jupiter saw the whole world floating under the surface of the sea, and that the whole world had perished except for these two people who were saved, and who were good and righteous and kept peace and piety, he parted the clouds and the waters retreated. The wind Boreas (Bise) blew and the rainladen southern wind134 ceased, and the sea waters went down. Now the sea 130 We

follow the new edition with porc sangler, v. 1930; de Boer has porc et sangler, “pig and [wild] boar.” The same issue comes up in Book 10, v. 3727. 131 The new edition (p. 366, note to v. 1945) calls this a geographical impossibility, and suggests how it might have arisen. The location in Ovid (Met. 1.313–315) is “Phocis, a fertile country when it was still land, separates Aonia from Oeta, though at that time it was part of the sea, a wide expanse of suddenly created water” (Kline). 132 An epithet often used to describe pius Aeneas in Virgil’s Aeneid. It indicates great reverence for the gods. 133 Or, “divination.” 134 Pluians or Pluiaus, v. 1979 (see new edition note, pp. 367–368). This wind is more commonly named Notus.



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was put in its bed, and each river placed in its original riverbed; and now the branches of the tall trees, the soggy earth,135 and the hills136 were visible, and all the fields appeared. [1971–1989] When Deucalion plainly saw the world without any covering, he came to his wife, grieving and full of silence, and he held her close and, weeping, said these words: “My dear sister, my dear beloved, you’ve always kept me company, in both joy and distress. Now, thanks be to god, we’re saved. Nevertheless I still greatly fear these clouds that make me very afraid. In the whole wide world, there is no man or woman, feeble or strong, except us two. By god, what comfort and what composure would you have had if you had been rescued without me and I had perished at sea? Surely, I can love you so much that if you had drowned in the sea, I would have kept you company: I would not have wanted to live without you. Now I only wish that I were able to restore the human race and bestow souls on the earth with the skills my wise father had. Now we must seek out and ask counsel as to how we might labor to restore the barren world, for the restoration of the human race depends on us alone.” As he said this, they both sobbed. They decided they would go and ask the heavenly beings their lot, as to how they might populate the earth. [1990–2024] Thus, they left that place: they came to the ford of Cephisus, whose water was murky and muddy, but had returned to its proper bed. They drew some water from the river, and consecrated and blessed it. They sprinkled it on their clothing, head, and hair. Then they set out on the path that led straight to Themis’s temple, which was covered with unsightly moss. The doors to the temple were open, but there was neither fire nor light so that they could offer sacrifice. When they came to the steps, they knelt down of their own free will, and worshipped the prophetess Themis: “Lady, holy goddess, if we, through humble prayer, can soften the gods, hear, lady, our prayer, and tell us in what manner we might restore the loss and annihilation of the human race. Help the world that has died so that it might be repaired.” [2025–2050] Themis heard the prayer and then said to them: “Don’t be afraid, but leave without delay. You should each ungird yourselves and cover your head, and toss behind you the bones of your great mother.” Both of them marveled at the obscure answer they heard. As a woman, Pyrrha refused to accept what they were asked to do, and said that she would never do it. God willing, she would never toss behind her the bones of her mother, because her mother’s soul would no longer be able to rest. Between the two of them, they searched, 135 The new edition (p. 368) argues for turion, “young shoots,” in v. 1985, which is the reading in Rouen (fol. 28r), but de Boer’s limon is more consistent with Ovid (Met. 1.345–347). 136 We follow the new edition, tertres, v. 1986 (which is consistent with Ovid’s colles “hills”), instead of de Boer’s terres, “lands.”

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interpreted, and examined the obscure prophecy to see if they could find a meaning that they might sanction. Then Deucalion said: “Beloved, listen to me. I don’t think the goddess is asking us to do anything improper. The prophecy has another meaning, for whoever correctly understands it in a subtle way. Our ‘great mother’: that’s the earth. A ‘bone’ can be any rock. It was undoubtedly such ‘bones’ that Themis spoke of, for whoever understands the riddle correctly. Those are what we must toss behind us to advance the human race.” [2051–2080] Pyrrha calmed down a little. Nevertheless she still challenged that the prophecy could be truthful and thought it was all vanity. But what did it cost them to try? They left without further delay. They covered their heads and set down their belts. They threw the rocks behind their backs and in a short while they softened. Ancient tradition, thanks to which we hold this in memory, would have us believe that the rocks turned soft and grew little by little. Their nature softened and the form emerged from roughness. Just as a sculpture takes shape little by little towards a definite form as the sculptor portrays it, so too did the stones that these two threw take on human semblance, and little by little they established themselves in that form. Whatever was soft in the rock, made up of humidity or earth, became flesh, and the very hard part became bone. The hard part stays hard; what was a vein is one still. Thus the rocks were transformed into bodies by divine power, just as the tale surmises. The rocks thrown by the man were changed into bodies of men, and those thrown by the woman became women. From then until now, human beings became harsh and wicked and of harsh nature, and we resemble them well, it seems, since we derive such great hardness from them.137 [2081–2118] Moralization (I) {T}he historical interpretation, it seems to me, is as follows. When Jupiter saw his warriors and his enemies ranged for battle on a valley floor, he had the lakes and fishponds in the high mountains around there burst open and the floodgates lifted so that the waters rushed over them at great speed and drowned all of them together without restraint. And so it was said in the olden days that in Thessaly, at this time, there was such an abundant flood of water in Deucalion’s land that everything was submerged: vines and crops, woods and thickets, villages, castles, cities, and homes; and all those who were in them, beasts and people, perished there. [2119–2138] {T}he Sacred Page and the tale are compatible, it seems, insofar as God, because of the iniquities, the vices, the obscenities, the abominations, the wicked corruptions, the filth of sins with which the world was stained, made it 137 This

puts a negative spin on Ovid (Met. 1.414–15): “So the toughness of our race, our ability to endure hard labour, and the proof we give of the source from which we are sprung” (Kline).



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rain for forty days straight. He caused the sea to flow freely over the world and caused such a flood that he caused the whole world to perish, except for only Noah and his family, whom he placed in the Ark. Once the deluge had passed, the ark arrived in Armenia.138 In it were crammed all the living creatures, two by two according to their nature, which went on to populate the world in restoration of the drowned. [2139–2158] [miniature, fol. 29r: a man embraces a woman in front of a bed; she holds a small dog or rabbit representing her genitalia, and her chastity which is in jeopardy]139

{N}ow I will tell you what this tale you have heard signifies, which mentioned Pyrrha, and how she and Deucalion restored the human race with the rocks they tossed behind them. It is true that human procreation necessitates a carnal mixing-up of man and woman together, and it requires both to come together, it seems to me, in deed and in will, and that they emit seed, or otherwise they will never be able to have an heir. When the man abounds more predominantly in seed and pleasure, just as the natural philosopher says,140 then in this engendering a male is formed according to nature. But if the woman is stronger and abounds more in seed and in pleasure of the union, then a female is engendered. As for the people who are wicked and hard, of strong heart and rough nature, the tale pretends that Deucalion and Pyrrha were “tossing stones” when in fact they procreated. [2159–2184] Let us explain the tale another way. [2185] [miniature, fol. 29v: a penitent kneels before a confessor]141

{T}hrough sin the world was first destroyed, and died: that is the deluge, death, the sea that swells and inundates, that destroys and drowns everyone, the 138 Alternative reading for Qu’il mist en l’arche en Hermenie: God put them in the ark and conveyed them to Armenia. 139 Fols 29r and 300r have comparable miniatures of this. 140 Aristotle’s Generation of Animals. Aristotle explains that if the male element prevails, it draws the female element into itself. But if it is prevailed over, it changes into the opposite or is destroyed (766 B15–17). He also believes that more males are born when the north winds are blowing, vs. the south ones, as when the south wind blows, animals produce more secretion and too much secretion makes it hard for the male semen to prevail, as it becomes more liquid (766 B29–767). Aquinas refers frequently to Aristotle to figure out when human life begins: see especially ST I q. 118. On the issue of the parents’ pleasure, the new edition (pp. 376–377, note to vv. 2165–2184) cites Arnulf of Orléans, Allegoriae I.7 (recycled in John of Garland) and the Vulgate Commentary on Met. 1.414 as the only sources they have identified. Bonaventure discusses the creation of the soul, the physical body, and the human composite in Brev. II.9–11. 141 Fols 29v, 153r, and 245r have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by the confessor’s use of the rod.

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strong and the weak, the young, the white-haired, the poor, the rich, the fat and the thin, the religious and the secular. This evil is not particular to one person but is general throughout the whole world. Sin openly swells, reigns over, and inundates the whole world. Across the board, the most wicked are now princes and rulers. I see the worst people more valued, served, and honored, and I see the good people dishonored, taken for fools, and disparaged. The way things are going now, it seems to me, the good are on the decline and everyone is inclined to doing evil. [2186–2206] And if there is anyone who doesn’t do evil, who is upset and displeased by sin, they still don’t dare to grumble or complain, or to anger the injurious, or to correct or condemn them. Instead, they drown and are swallowed up in the sea of sin, and render themselves guilty along with the evildoers who are damned. This is because, in being silent, they concur with the wicked transgressing people whom they must correct and reprove, and condemn the ones they see transgressing: and instead they excuse them for their deeds. Thus they progressively weigh down their own wretched conscience with the crimes of others. [2207–2221] One can perish through ignorance and the fault of one’s preacher, for, if that person had had a corrector who had shown them their wicked life, they would not have wanted to sin anymore. Rather, they would have repented willingly and would have been clean and pure and whole. But there is no one to reprove them or teach them to do good, for those who are supposed to teach them betray and deceive them all the more by their wicked example, and it seems to me that the masters are even more foul and base and more engulfed in sin. In short, all are now affected and all drown in this sea, even those who are supposed to sow the seed – that is, the doctrine of the discipline of salvation – in order to reap abundant fruit, and plant the fertile earth, that is, the hearts of the good people.142 [2222–2243] All drown, all are sinking in the great deluge that inundates, that drowns, sinks, and swallows up everything, and I see it seize and consume everything. If there is anyone who wants to escape from this great submersion that destroys everything, let all know that no one escapes from sin, which seizes and consumes everything and plunges it into the swamp of hell, nor can anyone come to true salvation except by the ship of Holy Church. And in that case they must keep and hold to the articles of the true faith without pretense, deviation, or arrogance. Then, by holding to true faith, they might sail straight 142 This alludes to the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1–23, Mark 4:1–20, Luke 8:4–15). The new edition insists that the manuscripts argue for et instead of variant en in v. 2242, even if en more obviously makes sense (see note, p. 380): they take semence in v. 2239 and terre in v. 2242 to be twin objects of semer, v. 2238 – “to plant the seed and the earth” – which of course is syllepsis. We expand semer to “sow the seed” and “plant the fertile earth,” respectively, to show more clearly how the new edition’s reading works.



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and come to the highest mountain, which touches and reaches up to heaven, the double-pointed mountain that is perfect charity, which ascends and rises toward heaven. This mountain has two peaks of great height: the love of God and the love of one’s neighbor. But know that no one approaches that place except “Pyrrha and Deucalion” – that is, people of righteous intent, innocent and pure of heart, people without transgression or presumption, and filled with the fear of God. Such fear should be joined to true love, for love is the conjoined beloved without which fear is worth nothing. For fear would perish in anyone who took true love away from it. The fear of God, it seems to me, conjoined with true love, together save humankind from perdition and can restore them after they are drowned in the depths of the deluge that destroys everything. [2244–2284] If there is anyone who laments their sin and wishes to restore themselves and obtain eternal life, then they must seek out the “fords of Cephisus,” that is, the holy springs of the Savior, our leader, our Redeemer, the sacred and blessed water. And there, for every wickedness, they must undergo purgation and be baptized and wash and clean themselves, to scour their dirty head and their clothing of all filth, as the tale teaches us. It gives us an example, symbol, sign, and true demonstration of baptism and of the faith that then was still to come, and that all who wish to restore themselves and save themselves from perdition must now hold, if they wish to accomplish in this world any work that might lead to a good end. [2285–2306] And once they have been baptized and cleansed by baptism, they must go seek counsel from the Church and behave in conformity, per its will, with the recommendation of Holy Scripture, which bolsters the repentant and gives salvific counsel as to how to obtain eternal life and restore one’s soul which sin has caused to perish. I say that any man or woman who journeys through the world143 does a good job of restoring themselves, just as Themis advises, from sin – which drowns and swallows up sinners and puts them to death – when they abandon it and dedicate themselves to doing faithful penance: thus they come to true repentance, and leave the wicked and foolish path. Themis represents the divine word that admonishes and directs us to travel towards God along the true path, and to keep company with God, and that tells us to take off our belts. Which belts? Indeed, the ties of old, evil sins by which we are bound and ensnared. And it tells us to make amends without pretense or perfidy for the ways we have erred, and to set free all the clothing that lies beneath this vile belt. [2307–2337] I can interpret the clothing as the good morals and the virtues in which we should be clothed, and that are “bound,” that is, suffocated and extinguished, 143 For v. 2317, the new edition has vait au monde as against de Boer’s vit au monde, “lives in the world.”

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underneath our sins. And indeed we must “cover our head” with the veil of salvation, and our soul, which is the head and lady of the whole body, with virtues: this is how we must cover our heads, this is how Themis recommends and admonishes us to prepare ourselves and “toss the rocks” behind us. The rocks are the misdeeds, the burdensome calumnies, the hard vices by which our hearts are hardened. Let us beg God for good mercy, and through confession and humble contrition, throw out the misdeeds and sins that stain us, leaving them right behind us, with no intention of turning back. Certainly, anyone who does this will make themselves entirely new: clean and pure, holy and suitable, pleasing and acceptable to God. [2338–2365] Moralization (II): Noah and His Descendants144 As the tale recounts, the people were created from the stones {t}hrown145 by Pyrrha and Deucalion; and from this came their descendants and the hardness of their hearts. Thus the human race grew, and all peoples were descended from them. [2366–2371] [miniature, fol. 30v: ham pointing out noah’s naked legs and shem about to cover him]

{H}istory,146 as drawn from the Bible, says that the whole human race was descended from Noah and his family. From Shem came the royal lineage from which Jesus became incarnate in Mary. From Japheth came the pagans, many of whom became Christian. The Canaanites, and many who clung to false beliefs, descended from Ham. Ham was the one who mocked Noah, his father, when he found him sleeping naked, completely drunk and wasted from the new wine he had drunk and that had made him drunk and overcome him. He was not accustomed to drinking: he had only recently planted the vine and tasted the drink, so he was soon overcome by drinking. Because hard-hearted Ham mocked and derided his father when he saw him naked and unclothed around his genitals, Noah had breeches made for the first time.147 [2372–2394]

144 This

section goes beyond Ovid, adducing the Bible as continuation of this history in the form of a historical moralization inspired by the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha. Following Engels, the new edition (p. 384, note to vv. 2372–2496) identifies this whole section, vv. 2372–2622, as coming from Peter Comestor’s Historia Scholastica or a thirteenth-century summary of it, except for the Semiramis material, which is from Augustine or Orosius. 145 Oddly, the majuscule is mid-sentence. This looks like scribal error, perhaps miscounting the lines to be included prior to the majuscule. 146 L’estoire, v. 2372: this could also be “the historical interpretation.” 147 The new edition (p. 385, note to v. 2394) attributes this to misinterpretation of a gloss here on Peter Comestor that claims Semiramis invented them.



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Ham was a learned man and he exerted himself so much that he discovered the art of sorcery. They say he discovered all seven liberal arts, it seems to me. If he didn’t discover them, he nevertheless discovered the art and the means by which they were safeguarded, so that they were not lost during the flood. Before God sent upon the earth the flood that drowned everything, Ham made seven pillars of marble and seven of brick,148 on which he wrote down the seven sciences he possessed. He did this because he knew there were two times to come when the world would end – by water, then by fire. He did not want science149 to be lost, and so that it would not perish, for fear of a judgment by water he inscribed the art of the seven sciences on marble, which does not rot when it stays in water for a long time. And on brick – which fire does not burn; rather, the longer it spends in the fire, the longer it lasts, and the drier and harder it is – he inscribed it to safeguard it in memory. [2395–2421] This Ham, as history says, was also known as Zoroaster. Among his descendants, there was a wicked man: Nimrod was his name, and he so yearned to be a ruler that he sought to reign over all those around him, whether it was wrong or right. Nimrod became the exemplar for all those who are wont to take pleasure in lordship, and he was the first to inspire man’s desire for power. He was the first to have rule and dominion over Babylon. Now I will tell you how Nimrod became lord over it. [2422–2436] Ashur was son of Shem and he was lord of Chaldea and called it Assyria: from Ashur descend the Assyrians. Ashur was Babylonian and should have ruled over Babylon, but Nimrod, full of wickedness, took possession of the city by his own strength. He made himself the ruler of it and expelled Ashur. Ashur then went to Chaldea and was lord over the country, and Nimrod held Babylon and possessed the realm for a long time. It was not yet called Babylon, but in those days was called the Plain of Shinar. There the tower of Babel was built by his counsel and undertaking. [2437–2452] [miniature, fol. 31r: ninus presents the idol of belus to the babylonians]150

{B}elus the Elder became king of the realm of the Babylonians after the death of Nimrod, his father: in him they had a very fierce general. He went 148 On these columns, the new edition (p. 385, note to vv. 2395–2421) cites Fritz (2004).

The upcoming identification of Ham with Zoroaster is again from Peter Comestor. 149 Again, Aquinas’s scientia. Here, the bodies of scientific knowledge, i.e., of all learning, are in jeopardy from the flood. (Also a key theme of the Myth of Atlantis in the beginning of Plato’s Timaeus.) 150 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition.

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to wage war in Assyria, and so envisioned taking it by force and ruling over it that he conquered part of it, but shortly afterwards he died. His son, Ninus, made himself lord of the whole Assyrian kingdom, and both Babylon and Chaldea were subject to him alone. He had a noble and graceful wife, named Semiramis. She was greatly esteemed and renowned, and Ninus was of great renown. Ham, also known as Zoroaster, son of Noah, who was still alive and king of Bractia,151 it seems to me, was vanquished by Ninus, whose superiority gained him the land of Bractia. [2453–2474] Ninus invented the idols that the heathen and foolish people revered and honored and considered to be gods. When King Belus died, Ninus was greatly saddened by his death and truly thought he would lose his mind. To assuage his pain, he made an image in the semblance of the dead man and revered it like his father, had he been living.152 The people of the realm, in my opinion, venerated the idol partly out of love for him, but far more from fear of him. The idol had a name in his language, that is to say, “the image of Belus.”153 If anyone were to flee to the idol, no matter what crime they might have committed, they were safe and need not fear death or prison. Many people followed Ninus’s example and made such idols. They likewise named them “idols” and offered up divine honors to them. This example was likewise the basis of an institution that the Church still follows, that if someone, wrongly or rightly, is charged in any case which could result in their being beaten or sentenced to capital punishment, then they can flee to the Church: the Church must protect them, without their being subjected to death or torture. [2475–2508] Now it transpired that Ninus died. He had a son, who inherited the whole kingdom of the city of Babylon after his death: he was the son of Semiramis. Then the queen carried out a plan so as not to lose her position of power. She contrived to marry her son: she did not want him to take another woman to be queen over her. She was queen as before, and ruled her whole life. [2509–2520] 151 The new edition (p. 387, note to v. 2472), following Engels, identifies vv. 2470– 2473 as an exact translation of Peter Comestor, including the placename Bractia as such, rather than Bactria. 152 This resonates notably with the story of Pygmalion in Book 10, vv. 929. 153 We follow the quotation marks in the new edition for vv. 2489–2490. With de Boer’s punctuation, the translation would be “It was known as ‘an idol’ in his language, that is, ‘the image’ of Belus.” It depends whether the etymology here is supposed to be for the word idol, or for Bel or Baal as a pagan god, frequently mentioned in the Bible. Both are in Isidore of Seville, Etymologies VIII.xi.13 and VIII.xi.23, respectively: “An idol (idolum) is a likeness made in the form of a human and consecrated, according to the meaning of the word, for the Greek term eidos means ‘form’ (forma), and the diminutive idolum derived from it gives us the equivalent diminutive formula (‘replica,’ i.e. an image made in a mold)”; “Bel is a Babylonian idol whose name means ‘old.’ He was Belus, the father of Ninus, the first king of the Assyrians, whom some call Saturn. His name was worshipped among both the Assyrians and the Africans; hence in the Punic language ‘god’ is called Bal” (Barney, Lewis, Beach, and Berghof 2006, 184–185).



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She governed the land well: Semiramis, who was very able, greatly expanded Babylon and surrounded it with brick walls. She governed the Babylonians well. There may have been several intervening rulers that I cannot recall. Amraphel, as history says, was then king of Babylon, and the arrogance and love of ruling had grown so much that everyone wanted to rule over and subjugate their neighbors, whether by force or through friendship.154 Every city, every castle wanted to have its own little king and all of them obeyed a greater and more powerful king. Ultimately, the prince of Assyria alone was king and lord over them all. [2521–2540] [miniature, fol. 31v: four kings facing five in battle]

{I}n the valley of the Siddim155 were five cities, full of vile iniquity: these were Sodom and Gomorrah, Zeboim and Admah, and the fifth was named Bela, that people called Zoar. These five cities formed a common land, and each had its little king, and all the Sodomites, by fear or love, were subject to Chedorlaomer, who was ruler of the Elamite Kingdom, and for twelve years they paid tribute to him. In the thirteenth year they refused to: now they did not want to obey him or allow him to profit by the tribute. When the ruler of the Elamite Kingdom saw that they were withholding their tribute from him, he was overcome with anger and loathing. He took the king of Babylon and the kings of Pontus and Jenin:156 he led these three kings and all of their people to war against the five others. The Sodomites, who had the worse of it, could not prevail against them. The four kings descended on the five: the former wounded and killed many, they put many to flight and took many captive. They conquered them and all their possessions and, along with the plunder, they captured Lot, who was residing there at the time, with all his belongings. [2541–2572] When Abraham heard the news that Lot had been captured, he was not pleased in the least. To rescue him, he gathered a great army. One night he stealthily killed a good number of the enemy and took prisoner even more. The rest of them fled, but he retook all that had been plundered, and, without injury, he brought back Lot with great spoils. Then Abraham of the faithful heart went back through the King’s Valley straight to Solym or Salem that afterwards was named the city of Jerusalem, or Jerozolima. There Abraham gave a tenth of what he had conquered to the high priest of the city. Melchizedek was the name of the priest, who was king and lord of Salem. He governed the people like a good king and, like a good priest, instructed them. (As I found it in writing, he was Shem, who was Noah’s son and was still living at that time, and lived even 154 The

obligations associated with friendship, an exploitative alliance, etc. “the Sodomois,” so likely the area of Sodom. 156 Gent, v. 2561, could refer to (Ein-)Ganim, i.e. Jenin, a biblical town (but not a kingdom); or to Gentius, who was the last king of Illyria in the Roman period. 155 Lit.

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longer still.) He was a holy man, without malice, and he celebrated the divine offices. In honor of the great and most holy king, Abraham gave him a tenth of his spoils. That was the origin of the tithes that Holy Church – either her, or her defenders – afterwards upheld. By Abraham tithes were invented, and Abel, without wickedness, had devised the first fruit. [2573–2606] Abraham returned to the king of the Sodomites the wealth and men that the four kings had conquered from him when they defeated him on the battlefield. And then God destroyed the five cities for the abominations of the vile sins that those who lived in those five cities had committed. He incinerated the cities with sulfur and pitch, it seems to me, then he made spring up a stinking river, dangerous and fierce, that we call the Dead Sea. The sins that brought down the wrath and vengeance of God on these sons of defiance157 are utterly deplorable. [2607–2622] I will now leave off telling you these historical accounts and go back to telling you the tales, just as Ovid recounts them. [2623–2625] [miniature, fol. 32r: animals and trees under the sun and clouds]158

{I} wrote down and told the tale that recounts how the hard stones took on human shapes when they were thrown by Pyrrha and Deucalion. Now the tale makes mention that the damp and fetid earth, of its own accord, without any other purpose, produced the other animals. For after the sun shone, beaming down on the moistness, and cracked the earth with its beams, all things formed themselves and in a short time settled into such forms as each now has, and that nature had given it; for, although water is discordant with fire, when both work together and heat is joined with moderated humidity, then all fruit and baby animals multiply. [2626–2646] [miniature, fol. 32r: phoebus apollo shooting python full of arrows]

Python {A}fter the flood was born Python, who, as long as he lived, evilly persecuted all the human race. Python was a marvelous snake, fierce, wicked, and proud, and he was so big that he took up more than two acres. Phoebus159 killed him with his arrows, using up nearly all of them. Until then he had previously only 157 Desfiance, v. 2622, with a variant differance, “difference, deviance”: the new edition (p. 394) cites the association of homosexuality with Sodom by the Third Lateran Council (1179), confirming the translation “sons of defiance.” 158 Compare to fol. 18r. 159 In the Greek pantheon, the sun-god Helios is distinct from Apollo. In the Roman pantheon, as Phoebus Apollo, Apollo assumes his functions. We follow the French in giving his name as “Phoebus” (which is usual) or “Apollo.”



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shot his arrows and crossbow quarrels by himself, at deer, fallow-deer, or roebucks.160 [2647–2660] [miniature, fol. 32v: jesus leading adam and eve out of hellmouth]161

{P}ython, spoken of in the tale – a horrid and fearsome serpent that caused the human race to perish – may be understood as the devil, who had placed his snares everywhere, to catch people unawares and trap them. No one could escape him, so that the good and the bad alike were to be damned to hell without any relief. But Phoebus, “god of wisdom, sun and light of the world,” – that is, Jesus, in whom all goodness abounds – fought against the devil on behalf of man, struck down his pridefulness, delivered us from the devil’s prison, and brought us to safety. [2661–2678] [miniature, fol. 32v: phoebus presiding over two men wrestling at the pythian games]

{O}nce Phoebus had overcome Python, he had the heart and the will to establish games in memory of this honorable victory he had had over the serpent, and which should truly be kept in memory. He named the games after the serpent: the “Pythian games,” from Python. There, every year, you could find young men who wanted to prove themselves in wrestling, running, vaulting, or throwing the discus up high. And the one who was victorious wore, as a symbol of honor and glory, a wreath of medlar, because at that time there wasn’t any laurel. When Phoebus put on a crown, he made it of medlar or elm, or of the leaves of whatever tree he had, for he could not yet find any laurel. [2679–2698] [miniature, fol. 32v: women worshipping before a cross on the altar]162

160 The

new edition (p. 396, note to v. 2659) toys with a modern French translation equivalent to “he had previously shot his arrows at him [= Python] only, and his [crossbow] quarrels at deer,” etc., but realizes that this distinction makes no sense and would be inconsistent with Ovid, since nothing says he ever shot at Python before that. So the arrows and quarrels are basically synonymous, while seulement, v. 2658, has to mean “by himself, on his own, away from people.” 161 Fols 32v, 188v, 191r, and 312r have comparable miniatures of this (the Harrowing of Hell). 162 Fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v show comparable scenes of Christian prayer, which have similar composition to the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r.

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Moralization {W}hen God had vanquished the devil and destroyed eternal death, he resolved “to invent and establish games” in order to test the worthy. These consisted of “running, wrestling, jumping, and discus-throwing.” [2699–2704] A “vigorous wrestler” is one who fights valiantly against the attacks of the devil, remaining so firm and stable that no temptation can cause them to be overthrown or vanquished by their adversary, as long as they resist doing anything evil, or any work displeasing to God. [2705–2713] One “runs well” who flees and pursues what they should flee and should pursue, and who does not allow themselves to be caught in the snares that the devil sets; the only goal they have in the world is to reach the true finish line. [2714–2719] Likewise, it seems to me that one who “hurls the discus high and straight” is one who focuses all their desire on God the heavenly Father, thus they live in contemplation and think of heavenly goods: earthly ones matter little to them, except insofar as they provide them with sustenance, nor do they place their hope in them in any way. [2720–2728] A “good vaulter,” it seems to me, is one who is able to jump straight to paradise by living in true humility. And you should know in truth that anyone who can do this to the end, without giving up, will obtain through their victory a crown in eternal glory. [2729–2736] [miniature, fol. 33r: flying cupid uses his arrows to strike phoebus on the one hand, daphne next to her father peneus on the other]

Daphne {I}f anyone wonders why or how the laurel tree first appeared, I will tell them without delay. Daphne163 was the first lady-love whom Phoebus164 ever cared about. As the source material testifies,165 he did not love her by chance, but through the vengeance and anger of the god of love, who hated him. Once Cupid was playing, as a child full of high spirits, and devoting all his attention 163 This

is Daphne in Ovid and in our translation, but her name is spelled exactly the same as the name of Danaë in Book 4, v. 5411 and following. This name also replaces Echo in the twelfth-century Narcisus et Dané (ed. and trans. Eley 2002). 164 Apollo. 165 Il ne l’ama pas d’aventure, / Si com tesmoigne la matire, / Mes par la vengance et par l’ire / Dou dieu d’amours…, vv. 2742–2745. Word for word (“he did not love her by chance, as the source material testifies, but through the vengeance and anger of the god of love”), the OM might seem to be saying that the source material said he loved her by chance, but the OM is correcting it. That would be misleading, since Ovid says the same thing (Met. 1.452–453): “not through chance but because of Cupid’s fierce anger” (Kline). So v. 2743 is translated first for clarity.



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and care to attaching feathers to his arrows in order to shoot lovers. He was holding a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, and due to his nobility, his actions were graceful. Apollo, who had recently killed the serpent Python, said to him insultingly: “Why is that bow hanging around your neck, child? Do tell. “Put it down—I forbid it! And the arrows, too!” Such equipment doesn’t befit you, for I can see you’re much too weak, without a doubt. They suit me better. Give them to me, as I am stronger and know how to shoot better. Not long ago I killed with my arrows Python, the marvelous serpent, who ruled over an acre of land. You shouldn’t have a bow or arrows, but let me deal with them. You ought to be satisfied if I let you carry firebrands and torches to inspire foolish love. It’s not right for you to equate yourself with me.” [2737–2772] Cupid disdainfully answered him: “I’ll soon make you experience my power, and you’ll be able to see if my arrow is capable of penetrating. I believe I can wound you so grievously that it will be hard for the wound to heal. If your arrow is unerring, my arrow is good too and it hits its target well. What madness is affecting you166 so that you compare yourself to me? Neither your strength nor your courage, your prowess and your dignity, your power nor your divinity, can equate in any way to mine. I really want you to hear me in this: just as your power is greater than that of dumb beasts, it is inferior to my power and my glory. You’re not my peer: that’s the truth.” [2773–2792] At that, Cupid flew to Parnassus and landed there. From his quiver he drew two arrows, which had been made differently. They were very different in appearance: the shafts were different, and the feathers were dissimilar. The tip of one of the arrows was made from gold that was purer than any gold from Arabia, sharper than a steel razor, and pointed to penetrate better, thus it was straight, well made, and elegant. No one could be struck by this tip without being forced to love in all respects. The other arrow was twisted and gnarled, ugly and poorly made and cracked, smeared with hateful venom; it had a tip blunted by lead.167 Anyone who was touched by this tip was completely poisoned by hatred. With this hateful tip, the god of love shot Daphne in such a way that henceforth she would never wish to be a lover. He also shot at Phoebus, but did not strike or wound him with this tip; instead, he transfixed him to the heart with the elegant arrow of love. [2793–2819] Now Phoebus wanted Daphne to be his intimate partner, if he could entice her to love him. But for love, Daphne had no use. She was happier trekking through the woods to hunt game. She had no use for courtship. She had given her entire heart over to hunting: she wanted to be a virgin and huntress, like Diana, her mistress. She had bound up her hair and thrown it over her 166 We

follow the new edition, De quel forsenage te taint, v. 2782, instead of de Boer, Quels forsenages t’a si taint. 167 We follow the new edition, Ot la pointe, v. 2810, instead of de Boer, O la pointe.

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shoulders. Many men sought her in marriage, but she was so proud-hearted that she did not wish to bestow her love on any of them or to forfeit her virginity, hence she did not wish to be married. Her father often entreated her and begged her to take a lord: “Dear daughter, so help me god, you ought to have a husband who would give you an heir.” But the beauty hated marriage as much as whoring herself. Her face turned red with shame. She embraced her father tightly, and said: “Dear father, I have no desire or need to take a lord. For god’s sake, let me live as a virgin and follow my lady Diana.” Her father consented to this and granted it: “Dear daughter, I wish it could be so, but it’s a difficult thing, it seems to me, for a woman to be both beautiful and chaste. The great beauty of your face runs overwhelmingly counter to your plan.”168 Thus her father objected to her,169 but the maiden replied to him: “I have no interest in marriage; rather, I want to keep my virginity. I’m a virgin and I’ll stay a virgin. I won’t give this up because of my beauty.” [2820–2860] [miniature, fol. 33v: phoebus pursues daphne; phoebus embraces the laurel tree]

Phoebus was burning more than a fire in straw. His love for Daphne, who was so beautiful, caused him incredible anguish and travail. He loved and desired the maiden, and went about thinking his foolish thoughts, comforted by vain hope.170 Hope, which acts as great comfort, makes a person endure mightily and never abandons them all their life, so that it ceases to keep them company, unless they are some unfortunate person who has despaired of God. It is good to have good171 hope, but a person who foolishly wants to place their hope in vain foolishness has no great wisdom. Foolish hope turns us into fools. [2861–2877] Phoebus could not get his fill of gazing at the beauty. She had blonde, uncombed hair. When he saw her, “God,” he said, “what hair! If only it were properly combed!” Her laughing blue-gray eyes seemed to him like blazing stars. He saw her tiny mouth that seemed to be made for kissing. But the sight did not suffice at all: he wanted too much to have kissed her. He saw the white and rosy face that seemed like a rose and a hawthorn flower. He saw the chest and saw the neck that were made to tease a fool; the long fingers and the white 168 The basis of what the father says here is actually spoken by the narrator in Ovid (Met. 1.488–489): “He yields to that plea, but your beauty itself, Daphne, prevents your wish, and your loveliness opposes your prayer” (Kline). 169 De Boer has Ensi li peres li espont, v. 2855. The translation follows the new edition: Ensi li peres li oppont. 170 This “vain hope” is not the theological virtue oriented toward an unfortunate object, but a pale human reflection of the theological virtue, just as fole amour “foolish love” is distinct from charity. 171 I.e., “true,” as opposed to foolish or “vain.” Hope that is in keeping with the theological virtue.



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hands and the plump arms, soft and smooth, and the naked elbows.172 Whatever he saw on her, he considered very beautiful. He put great effort into the act of watching. And even more beautiful, he thought, was the rest that he did not see: her skin, which was white and delicate; her breasts, which were firm and round as tiny apples. The beauty herself had other interests and fled quicker than the wind could blow, having no desire to be intimate with him. [2878–2905] Phoebus said: “Sweet creature, Daphne, dear beloved, wait for me. Why are you running away? Don’t be distraught. I’m not your enemy; rather, I’m your loyal friend. I have no desire to harm you. If I can entice you to love me, I would consider myself well rewarded. My heart is very distraught. I’m so afraid you might hurt yourself! I see that those paths and places you are hurrying through are full of thistles and thorns. Let’s slow things down. And run with less haste – I’ll follow [even] more slowly behind you. In any case, find out and inquire who I am, I who am seeking your love. Maybe then you’ll be less abrasive. I’m not a peasant from the mountains. Now I really want you to know this: I don’t tend ewes or cows. Fool, you don’t know me if you scorn to become my beloved. I am a king and lord of Claros, king of Delphi and of Patara, and also of Tenedos. If you reject such a lover, you’re not wise, it seems to me. I am a son of the great god Jupiter, and I am the sun, which illuminates everything.173 I invented the art of medicine and all the power of physic.174 I invented the art of music. My arrow is good and accurate, but the one that has wounded me deep in my chest is better and more powerful. I understand the entire strength and nature and heat and cold175 of herbs and roots, but through neither herb nor potion could I obtain any cure for the wound of love I am experiencing. My wisdom and great intelligence is helpful to all those who are ill.176 I am the only one it cannot aid.” Thus Phoebus spoke to his beloved. [2906–2951] 172 We

follow the new edition, Et les coutes que nus avoit, v. 2895, for de Boer’s Et les coutes que mis avoit. 173 This reference to the sun transforms a reference to prophecy in Ovid (Met. 1.517–518): “Jupiter is my father. Through me what was, what is, and what will be, are revealed” (Kline). 174 I.e., “medical learning.” See Bylebil (1990), p. 16. 175 Plants are understood to be hot or cold by nature. For example, the heliotrope in Book 4 and the myrrh in Book 10 are characterized as being, e.g. trop chaude et d’ardant nature (Book 4, v. 1782), “incredibly warm and ardent by nature.” 176 Ma sapience et mes grans sens, v. 2948, is followed by a singular verb, hence these are equated rather than thought of as two separate things. We might have expected science (scientia) because this references Apollo’s body of knowledge. The OM may be choosing sapience (sapientia) because Apollo is a god, in keeping with the idea from Aquinas (and Bonaventure) that wisdom is a gift of the Holy Spirit. See ST II–II q. 45. Bonaventure wrote a Commentary on the Book of Wisdom (trans. Murray 2012), and takes up the question of the gifts of the Spirit in Brev. V.5. For Bonaventure, as for Aquinas, the ultimate source of all knowledge, or science, is God. In the third chapter of the Journey of the Mind towards

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It often happens, I have no doubt, that someone helps and counsels another and yet is unable to counsel themselves, and once a person is consumed by love, they will never be of such great esteem, great intelligence, or good morals that they do not become besotted because of love. Love makes lovers besotted: the wisest cannot see a thing in the midst of it, and cannot counsel themselves. I can’t help but marvel at love, at how it comes about and how it can be that love leads the wisest into error,177 since it holds them captive on its leash. As the tale records, Phoebus made his entreaty, and would have said more if anyone had been willing to listen to him. But Daphne had no interest in speeches. Rather, she fled, having no confidence,178 and left him entirely dismayed. Then he was more sorely distraught, for her beauty increased immeasurably for him because of the disruption caused by her speed. Daphne was running against the wind, which very often blew up her clothing and bared her thighs: they were plump, soft, and white. Her hair, blonde and radiant, fluttered behind her back. [2952–2980] Phoebus saw that his entreaty was failing, for the beauty did not want to grant him her love in any way: he no longer wished to exert himself on entreaty;179 rather, he ran after her, relentlessly,180 as love urged him to do. The hope and the great desire he had to attain his pleasure gave him the strength and the inclination to run fast. He did not move slowly, and the beauty did not run slowly, but like a woman with no desire to lose her virginity. Fear gave her speed. She fled, and he chased her. You would never have seen such a strenuous chase from a hound and a hare in the open. Phoebus strove all-out to seize and grab hold of the beauty and she strove to escape. Nevertheless Phoebus was stronger, more nimble, and more eager, for he had the help of God (trans. Boehner 1993), he notes that all sciences have certain and infallible rules which are as lights and rays descending from the eternal law into our mind. 177 Qu’amours fet les plus sages pestre, v. 2964. This seems to be an idiomatic use of the expression faire paître, which normally means “cause to graze” or even “lead to salvation” in religious contexts (TLFi, s.v. paître). What works here would be along the lines of the modern expression envoyer paître “tell [someone] to go to hell.” Or pestre could be the adjective peestre, in which case we would translate “love makes even the wisest miserable.” 178 Que point ne s’asseüre, v. 2970. This could mean “who did not slow down in the least,” but it seems to be rendering the adjective in timido Peneia (Met. 1.525), “timid Peneïs” (Kline). 179 Ne vault plus entendre au proier, v. 2984. In contrast to vv. 2982–2983, Phoebus seems to be the subject, which requires entendre to be read as investing effort or focus. The corresponding thought in Ovid (Met. 1.530–531) is “But the young god could no longer waste time on further blandishments” (Kline). If Daphne were still the subject, which seems less likely, the translation would be “for the beauty did not want to grant him her love in any way, nor pay any further heed to entreaty,” and ains in v. 2985 would contrast with v. 2981 instead of v. 2985. 180 Lit. “without a pause.”



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love. He pursued the beauty so strenuously, and was so keen181 in his purpose, that he never let her take a rest. He nearly managed to touch her back, and with the blowing from his mouth he blew the maiden’s hair.182 Then the beauty began to grow pale when she realized she could not hold out, nor bear the great exertion. The race had worn out and defeated her. She greatly feared that she would be defiled. She trembled with fear and was distraught. She saw the waters of Peneus, her father, whose daughter she was. She was afraid of Phoebus, who was harrying her, and cried out in desperation: “Dear, sweet father, rescue me! O earth, open up and swallow me, or alter my face, which is making me very fearful of being defiled, and obliterate it.” [2981–3024] Scarcely had she said what I am saying when her whole body went stiff. Her belly, which was ungirt by pregnancy, was completely girt with tender bark.183 Her hair, golden and radiant, became verdant leaves. Her arms were transformed into long branches. Her whole body was altered. The maiden’s swift feet were bound to a firm root. If she had been beautiful before, in body, she was now a tree even more beautiful. Phoebus loved her as before. He felt her warm and moving bosom that was trembling beneath the tender bark. He tried to kiss her, it seems to me, but the tree fled the kiss. Phoebus said: “Since Fortune hinders me184 so that I can’t have you as a wife, you’ll be my tree and I’ll make from you a chaplet and a crown. You will be a laurel,185 and I give you a gift of great nobility: for honor and for dignity, as a sign of love and glory, those who are victorious will make of you crowns for their heads.186 At those great courts and those great festivals you’ll be exalted for evermore, nor will your greenery ever be wilted. I’ll make you bear leaves at all times, and, since I can’t grow old, I don’t want you ever to dry up. Rather, I wish that in all seasons you should have 181 We

follow the new edition, aigres, v. 3005, instead of de Boer, engres. du soufflement de sa bouche / Souffle les crins a la pucele, vv. 3008–3009. In Ovid (Met. 1.538), this thought is expressed as part of the comparison to a hound going after a hare (“spurts from the muzzle touching her,” Kline). Here it contrasts with the earlier effect of the wind that flutters Daphne’s hair. The adnominatio with soufflement … souffle stresses their physical closeness. 183 Ses ventres, qui pas n’iere ençains, / Fu tous de tenvre escorce çains, vv. 3027–3028. This is not in Ovid. The translation “ungirt by pregnancy” and “girt with bark” picks up the correspondence between ençains (from late Latin incincta, “girt” according to Isidore of Seville) and çains. 184 We capitalize Fortune (v. 3043) when it seems to refer to the goddess or female personification of fortune. This is not in Ovid (Met. 1.557–558), which has only “Since you cannot be my bride, you must be my tree!” (Kline). Although the words feme and arbres are there in the OM, it expresses the contrast with more poetic immediacy by rhyming ne t’ai (v. 4043) and de toi (v. 3044). 185 In Greek, Daphne means “laurel.” 186 Feront cil qui aront victoire / De toi coronnes en lor testes, vv. 3050–3051. The point is not that the victors necessarily fashion the laurel wreaths themselves, but that they make of her a crown by wearing the wreaths on their heads. 182 Et

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the greenery of everlasting leaves.” The tree, as a sign that she agreed to this, shook its top and bowed to him. Thus, through divine power, the laurel tree first came into being, which has now greatly multiplied. [3025–3064] [miniature, fol. 35r: the annunciation by the angel gabriel to the virgin mary]187

Moralization {N}ow I must explain this tale. I will say what meaning can lie hidden within it. Daphne was the daughter of Peneus. Peneus is a river where there is an abundance of laurel trees. Phoebus, who wooed her, represents, it seems to me, the sun, whose heat, mingled with moisture, causes these trees to multiply and come into being. [3065–3074] {T}here can be another interpretation that agrees with the truth in a historical sense. Daphne was a maiden – graceful, young, charming and beautiful, rich and of great nobility – who wanted to live as a virgin, without violating her maidenhead, but the beauty of her face induced many men to seek her love. Not for anything on earth would Daphne consent to love any man, or to breach her maidenhead. Phoebus first tried to entice her through entreaties and gifts, but in vain, for he could never sway her to be intimate with him, no matter how he promised or entreated. Then he tried to rape her and take away her maidenhead, but the maiden, innocent and wise, would sooner have let herself be burned. She fled in order to preserve her honor, so that he would not disgrace her and deflower her against her will. The beauty pushed herself so hard and ran so much that she died in flight, before he could deflower her. She was buried beneath a laurel tree. For this reason the tale was composed that she was transformed into a laurel, because she was a virgin and pure, and, for all the time and years she was alive, kept her heart and body free of filth, in the verdure of chastity. [3075–3108] {B}ut now let us give this tale another profitable interpretation. Daphne, who all her life wanted to live in pure chastity and never wanted to be defiled, is understood as virginity, which has no interest in defilement. Daphne was a daughter of coldness, which is indicated by the river. May she who wants to live chastely be extremely cold so that no natural heat can sway her to folly. Daphne “wanted to follow Diana” – that is, the moon without darkness – by way of a spotless life and purity. “Apollo loved her for a long time”: that is, Phoebus, whom the integument,188 according to the pagan creed, called the god of wisdom, 187 Fols 35r, 119r, 179r, 227v (where Gabriel has no wings), and 287v have comparable miniatures of this. 188 I.e., the mythographic tradition. See our Introduction, pp. 25ff. Specifically for John of Garland, see Gervais (2022), 48–49.



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who teaches and instils all things. He is “the sun,” which burns and illuminates – that is, wisdom and charity, which must be found in virginity. [3109–3132] I do not regard as wise the virgin who protects her body but in heart is corrupted and counterfeit.189 The mind must be pure, and she must live chastely for God’s sake, in charity, or otherwise I do not value her continence at all, when the mind desires to engage in carnal sins with which the body would be stained if time or place permitted. I do not believe or consider that such virginity is holy, nor is it when the will is feigned, that is, when any woman avoids sexual intercourse out of hypocrisy, in order to be praised and esteemed, for a modicum of vainglory, and in order to acquire human renown. Such a maiden is not welladvised. So says Holy Scripture, nor does God have any interest in such virgins. That is not virtue, rather it is guile. Of such people God says in the Gospel190 that their lights are extinguished: their actions are false and feigned, full of foolish vanity and devoid of good charity. She whose vessel is empty, when midnight comes – i.e., on the great Day of Judgment – will to her sorrow find herself shut out of the spouse’s nuptials, since God will have closed the door that is now open and waiting. May God never hate us so much that he could shut us out of his nuptials. May the enemy not stretch forth his claw to lead us to the infernal prison, where the damned are in the furnace. [3133–3172] Daphne, who fled so quickly from carnal relations and was then transformed into a tree, signifies that anyone wanting to be a perfect virgin must guard the heart and the body and the mind entirely, without any carnal impulse, without any thought of defilement, and without any interruption. And then she will be made a tree that no wind can blow over, for just as the wind cannot dislodge a strong tree by shaking it, so no gifts, promise, or entreaty, which are all winds of vanity, should sway or move the virgin heart in any way to lose its virginity. [3173–3190] Daphne was changed into a laurel tree, rather than into an oak or a mulberry tree,191 or any other tree one sees. For just as the laurel grows green and never at any time loses its greenery, either through heat or through cold – rather, it grows green in every season without bearing any fruit – thus it stands to reason that virginity must grow green and live without bearing fruit. For it has never happened, and never will, that a woman living her life as a virgin is capable of giving birth. That is, except for the one who, contrary to nature, gave birth to her Father and her Master, God, who resolved to be born of the Virgin. She wisely,

189 Compare

Proverbs 4:23–27 and Psalm 51:10 (Vulgate 50:10). The problem is akin to the one raised from a masculine perspective in Matthew 5:28, that to gaze at a woman lustfully is to commit adultery in one’s heart. 190 See the Parable of the Ten Virgins as recounted in Matthew 25:1–13. The empty “vessel” described is a lamp without oil. 191 Cerisier “cherry tree,” v. 3192, is morier in the new edition. The mulberry tree is moralized in the tale of Piramus and Thisbe in Book 4.

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out of charity, will keep her virginity and be able to preserve it until the end.192 God will give her, as a sign and in the name of victory, in his great delightful glory, the crown that virgins have who are crowned in heaven. [3191–3214] {I} can put forth another interpretation. I can take and gloss Daphne to be that glorious maiden, a pure, graceful, and beautiful virgin, whom God chose preeminently and clearly above all others. Jesus, in whom all good things abound – the Son of God, light of the world, the sun that illuminates every man, the master who has invented every discipline, every art, all wisdom, and all knowledge, the doctor who knows all cures and all the properties of herbs, who can heal and raise from death all the sick and all the dead, King of Heaven, earth, and sea, and King of Hell – was capable of loving her so much that he resolved to be joined with her in the flesh. Thus he allowed himself to be wounded and pierced in the heart by an arrow of love out of love for human nature. That blessed Mary – Virgin Mother in whom fertile virginity and virginal fertility are wed, she who without defilement was a virgin when she conceived and a virgin when she gave birth, and a virgin afterwards for all time – that maiden, virginal and pure, is the laurel, full of greenery, with which the Son of God crowned himself, for the Virgin, she who pleased God, surrounded him in her body, into which he resolved to descend and to take on human and mortal flesh; and God acted in such a way that he seated her eternally in glory in his high court, where she reigns with him worthily. This is the music – the Apollonian harp,193 that is, the faith communal and divine194 – made in lasting remembrance.195 She is the one through whom God advances and exalts in his great glory those who have victory over the world.196 [3215–3260] {N}ow I will tell you what is signified by the quarrel and the controversy between Phoebus and the god of love with regard to their worth and their morals. From this comes the solution to a daunting question that people have been accustomed to ask and put forward, which does a good job of explaining 192 This

expresses Catholic doctrine on the eternal virginity of Mary: see Aquinas, ST III q. 28, art. 3. Bonaventure wrote a Mirror of the Blessed Virgin Mary (ed. and trans. Böer 2012), much of which is relevant background for the OM. In chapter II, he discusses the freedom of Mary from sin, misery, and eternal punishment. 193 I.e., lyre. 194 The common Christian faith in God, and that emanates from God. 195 In vv. 3255–3257 de Boer and the new edition differ significantly according to which manuscripts they privilege. We follow the new edition, which has C’est le ton – la harpe apoline / C’est la fois commune et devine – / Fait par durable remembrance. / C’est cele par cui Dieux avance…. De Boer has Cele dont la harpe apoline, / C’est la fois comune et devine, / Fair pardurable remembrance, / C’est cele par cui Dieus avance …, the translation of which would be: “She of whom the Apollonian harp – that is, faith communal and divine – makes everlasting remembrance, is the one through whom God advances and exalts in his great glory those who have victory over the world.” 196 Compare 1 John 5:4–5.



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the tale. That is, which has the greater worth: good love,197 or wisdom? These two things are properly in God, who without division, without discord, and without distinction is good Love and Wisdom, for when it comes to the Deity, everything is one, without division. But as regards the effect that wisdom and love have and the way that they operate,198 and as regards our own cognition, there seems to be a distinction. Wisdom199 fittingly made man and likewise the world, but man sinned through his folly and was subjected to mortal suffering and eternally damned. And if God, and the love he had toward man, had not compassionately taken a hand in it – this is the sum of it – it would have been better for man never to have been made than for him to have gone on to transgress against God, incurring mortal damnation. God’s love, to rescue man, wounded wisdom with the arrow of good love, and sent it into the world in the figure of a human,200 to join itself to our nature. [3261–3296] Cupid, the one who guides us and shows us the proper path of good love, is, in my opinion, God, the King of Paradise, who instructs us in love, if we adhere well to his instruction. Well does he show us a sign of love when he created heaven and earth, land and sea, and everything that exists, for our advantage. Well did God love us, without a doubt, when he made us in his likeness – in his likeness and in his image – and, in order to free us from bondage, pain, and mortal suffering, into which man had gotten himself through his folly, he had his Wisdom descend to earth and assume human flesh. And he rendered up his flesh to death in order to save us and free us from death and from the infernal prison, and to make us heir and partner in the kingdom of heaven.201 Our God, our Savior, loved us well and cherished us well. He is Cupid, the good archer who knows well how to feather his arrows to shoot at lovers. The arrows are the commandments of the law, which are made differently and with different craftsmanship. One part instructs us to love and the other to hate, one to follow and the other to flee.202 The arrow-tip is the contrition of the heart, and

amours, v. 3270. This “good love” is rightly ordered love – love that, per Aquinas, ST I–II q. 27, is caused by the good and has the good as its object. Bonaventure describes love as the gravitational force of the soul, and only four things are to be properly loved with charity: God and our neighbor, our spirit and our body (Brev. V.8). 198 This Wisdom, who made man and the world, is the Logos of John 1, Jesus Christ, Pantocrator. See our lexicon, s.v. sapience (p. 78). 199 Divine Wisdom. 200 En humaine figure, v. 3295. This could be a nod to Ezekiel 8:2. 201 Lit. “the inheritance on high.” 202 Compare the discourse on the irascible and concupiscible passions in Aristotle’s De anima and the Aristotelian tradition. These now have something external to govern them, i.e. God’s law: see Aquinas, ST I–II q. 25. See also Bonaventure, Brev. III.8, on the origin of actual sin, and his in-depth discussion in 2 Sent. d. 34. 197 Bone

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the shaft must be called rightful intention.203 To fly straight, the arrow must be feathered with two feathers. These feathers, for anyone who would pay heed to them, are two divine commandments, on both of which the law and the prophets specifically depend.204 All those who loyally strive to follow these two commandments know well how to shoot these arrows. [3297–3342] One of the feathers, as I understand it, is that at all hours and at all times, with our heart, soul, and desire, we must do God’s pleasure and love him above all things, with a noble and pure heart, without bitterness, as our Father and our Master: that is the feather set on the right. The other, that everyone must love his neighbor as himself, and never act disloyally toward them. Whoever has feathered his arrow in this way will fulfill well the law our Lord has given. This arrow is named charity.205 From it truly come all goods and all courtliness, and it shuns all baseness, all evil, all disloyalty. It loves all loyalty. He who is pierced by this arrow-point has to love, in all respects, all reason, and all moderation, and has no desire to overstep. With this arrow God resolved to strike his Son, when, in order to save us, he resolved to offer his blessed Son to suffer pain and death for us. Well did he show us the path of love. Charity, as God is my witness, is the best, the truest, and the most sovereign of arrows. He who has this arrow, I know full well, is in God and God in him, for God himself is Charity, as the Scriptures testify, and he who lacks this arrow lacks all other goods. He can scarcely esteem his wisdom, his dignity, or his might, for without the power of charity all other goods are vanity. Charity is the burning flame with which God inflames us with his love. It is the firebrand and the arrow with which God sets us on fire and takes hold of us. [3343–3388] {A}nother, entirely opposite arrow is shot by the accursed archer, the devil, the enemy, who with it has brought pain to many. This arrow is twisted and gnarled, blunt, coarse, and cracked. It is envenomed with hatred. The soul that is touched by it hates all good and all moderation, all reason, all righteousness, all honor, all loyalty, and it loves all disloyalty, all sin, all baseness, all wrong and all wickedness, all filth and all vileness, all evil and all iniquity. The name of this arrow is envy, and its feathers are fixed the opposite way to those on the one previously mentioned. [3389–3407]

203 On right intention, see Aquinas, ST I–II q. 12. Compare Bonaventure, 2 Sent. d. 34, art. 1, q. 3. 204 Compare Matthew 22:37–40. 205 Compare Aquinas’s treatise on charity, ST II–II qq. 23–27, and Bonaventure’s discussion of charity and the “seven steps” to attaining it in The Triple Way (Or Love Enkindled) (ed. and trans. Fehlner 2012), esp. ch. 3, in which he describes the seven steps through which the sweetness of love is attained. See also Bonaventure 1 Sent. d. 17.



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Io Just as the tale recounts, Daphne had become a laurel. Peneus – her dear father, whose daughter she was – gave her up for lost. He mourned her deeply, on a grand scale. [3408–3412] [miniature, fol. 37r: jupiter embraces io]

{I}n Thessaly, the tale says, there was a pleasant and delightful place in a wood surrounded by a trellis inside beautiful hedges. The place was called Tempe. There was a mountain nearby: the name of the mountain was Pindus. The river of great renown that runs through this delightful place is Peneus, who gushes so boisterously from the mountain that all the water froths and turns to mist. The water echoes and roars so that it can be heard from very far away. Here was the seat and dwelling of Daphne’s father, whose heart was heavy for his daughter, who was a laurel tree. Here the river was bedded in a canyon carved from the rock. Peneus ruled over the waters and rivers of the region, all assembled here. They mourned the father’s mourning and they would all have wanted to comfort him, if they could have. They didn’t know whether or not they should be joyful in order to comfort Peneus and distract him from his grief. Each of them, in its own particular way, tried to distract him: the Sperchios, whose banks are lined with poplars, the boisterous Enipeus, the old and slow-moving Apidanus, the gently moving Amprysus. The Eas joined them too, along with many spring waters which flowed through the land wherever they pleased, till they reached the sea. [3413–3449] Inachus was not to be blamed for not coming to this gathering: the wretched river wept secretly in a hidden cave for his daughter Io, whom he had lost. He had searched for her in every land, but he could not search enough to manage to hear news of her, and so he believed the beauty to be dead. One day Jupiter had seen Io, the graceful maiden, returning from her father’s banks and said: “Maiden, you’re going to make some man very lucky with your love. If you believe me, you’ll find some shade in this wood, or that one, and avoid this great midday heat. And if you don’t dare enter the woods alone, gentle beloved, I will keep you company and guide you through the wood, and you won’t have some peasant or shepherd as your guide, but you will have the powerful company of the god who has the authority to rule the whole world: I make the thunder and lightning.” Thus Jupiter propositioned her, but the maiden fled from him, very far from her father’s ford. The fair one had already passed beyond the wide pastures of Lerna and the fields and woodland of Lyrcea when the god, to hold her back, caused a dark fog to appear that held the maiden back and made it impossible to see. Thus he deflowered her, but this wasn’t kept secret for long. [3450–3488] Juno, Jupiter’s wife, noticed, in my opinion, when she saw the fog over the earth. She started to look for her husband but didn’t find him in the heavens.

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Juno, who had caught him in a similar act so many times, realized he had created the fog to accomplish some form of trickery, for she could not see how such mist could appear in the very middle of the day. Juno came down from the heavens without delay, and making straight for the earth, she dispersed the mist to catch her husband in the act. Jupiter, who intuited his wife’s coming, turned the beauty into a cow, so that Juno might not perceive or become aware of his lecherous intent, should she find the young woman with him. In its own way, the cow was beautiful. Juno asked where it had come from and who had brought it there. Jupiter said: “It was born of the earth.” [3489–3512] [miniature, fol. 37v: jupiter hands the io-cow over to juno]

He didn’t tell her anything else about it. Juno found the cow very beautiful, but nonetheless suspected foul play. She lovingly entreated Jupiter to give her the beautiful cow. This request left Jupiter stunned and anxious. His heart was torn. It was a difficult thing for him to turn his lover over to the hands of her enemy, but he dared not refuse Juno, for he would not be able to escape suspicion, by any means, if he refused her a cow. Against his will, he gave it to her. [3513–3527] Juno wasn’t at all reassured when she had her rival; rather she very much feared and suspected, without a doubt, that her husband would steal the cow from her, for many times already, it seems to me, she had caught him in similar larceny. She entrusted the cow to a vigilant herdsman: Argus, who had one hundred or more eyes in his head. His eyes slept in pairs while all the others stayed on guard; day or night, from near or far, whether anyone liked it or not, he could always watch over the cow. He took great care to guard her: during the day, he let her graze freely, without tie or yoke. At night, he tied her up and yoked her like any other cow. The beauty slept on the hard ground and lived on sparse fodder – on grass, leaves, and hay. With this, she fed her hunger. She drank muddy water, truly: she could not find a different drink. She was in great discomfort. [3528–3553] One day she came to the river where she used to enjoy herself: she came to see her father’s water. She looked at her appearance in the water. Her face was horned, and when she thought to speak, she mooed. Io fled and was distraught by both her voice and face; the wretched thing did not know what to do. Her sisters did not recognize her, nor her father, when he saw her. The beauty recognized her father and her sisters, though, and followed them. She frolicked in their company; her father led her along. She submitted to it and took joy in it. He gave her a fistful of green grass and Io took this gift. She licked his hands and kissed them, sobbed and moaned and sighed so, and, if she could have spoken a word to him, she would have told him her name and her situation and asked for his help. [3554–3576] The father looked down at the path as the cow walked beside him: in the dust he saw the steps of she who could not speak. Her footprints were a sign and a true demonstration to him of her transformation for, as I heard it, the



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beauty had a split hoof, and it was as round as one sees that such cows have. The crack made an I, the circle an O, and these two letters spelled “IO.”206 For this reason, word spread that Io was a cow: there were few people who did not know this. [3577–3590] When her father understood what had happened, he was excessively sad. He proclaimed himself wretched and unfortunate, wretched and mournful for his daughter Io, whom he loved so much. He embraced the cow tightly and said: “Oh, this is terrible! Beautiful daughter, I searched for you throughout the whole world, high and low. But in the end I searched for you so much that I have found you in a different fashion than when I had lost you. I, who knew nothing of this, wanted to give you a husband and marry you in great honor, as befits the daughter of a king. I hoped you would give me a son-in-law first, and then granddaughters and grandsons. Now my wishes are shattered, along with my hope and desire. Truly, this breaks my heart, because I can’t expect a grandson or a son-in-law from you – I mean, besides livestock. This vexes and saddens me greatly. I would rather have found you dead. You’ve made me lose all joy, seeing you silenced and mute-tated.207 You can’t answer my call, instead you moo when I call you. That said, I cannot die – more’s the pity – to end this dismay, this pain, this sorrow that your misfortune has brought me, for I am a god, but I will lament this moo-tation eternally.” [3591–3624] At these words, the herdsman appeared. He took the cow away to an outof-the-way place and carried her away from her friends. He placed himself on the summit of a hill. He went to sit on a rock, so that he could see further around. [3625–3630] {J}upiter could no longer bear to let his lover endure such torment. He called his son, Mercury. “Fair son,” he said, “do you see here this herdsman who guards his cow? It’s my beloved over whom he keeps watch. Kill him for me and deliver her, for he is a very wicked master.” [3631–3638] Mercury did his bidding: he prepared for his journey immediately. He put on shepherd’s clothing and left his true form behind. He held a reed pipe in his left hand, and a staff in his right. He led a flock of goats with his staff, and softly played tunes on the pipe. Piping he went along, step by step. Argus, who did not recognize him, heard the sound, which he found incredibly delightful, from the top of the rock where he sat. He said: “Friend, whoever you might be, if you liked, you could relax here by me. There is good shade to shade you and good grass to feed beasts.” [3639–3652] [miniature, fol. 38r: mercury pipes to argus by the io-cow]

206 v.

3588. The new edition gives this as y plus o: “Yo.” et mue, v. 3616, which could also mean “silent and mute.” The translation tries to capture the potential play on words here, involving mue as “mute,” “moo,” and “mutate,” with “mute-tated” and “moo-tation.” 207 Tesant

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The god sat down to his right and played something he made up on the Cornish pipes, and he took care to play well, to beguile and enchant Argus, who was seated beside him. Two, then four, then six of his eyes fell asleep. Argus, who did not know the strength of the pipe, began to marvel, and the piper strove to beguile him and make him fall asleep. Argus strove to overcome his sleepiness, and although part of him slept, the other stayed awake. Mercury piped diligently. Argus asked him how he came to have the reed pipe, having never seen one like it before. [3653–3674] Mercury answered him, still piping, to further deceive the wretch: [3675–3676] {“I}n Arcadia, there was a maiden. Syrinx was her name and she was very beautiful, the most beautiful of the region, so she was loved by many men. Many times the beauty with her lovely body had made the gods of the valleys and mountains, woods and open country, satyrs, and other people fantasize about her: she knew well how to distract the foolish. She lived in Ortygia.208 She was a virgin and, like Diana, she busied herself with hunting: to that she devoted all her care and attention. She was belted like a huntress; in dress she resembled the goddess Diana, and those who saw her believed that that was who she was. She deceived most people in this way, except that she had a bow of horn or sorb209 and the other had one of fine, pure gold. Thus, she distracted people. Pan saw the maiden with the lovely body returning from Mount Lycaeus. Pan said to her …” [3677–3702] At this point, Mercury had intended to tell all the rest of the story: how Pan proposed to Syrinx and would willingly have taken her to love and to marry, but the fickle-hearted maiden refused Pan and his suit, and fled towards the river Ladon, her father, and remained there. The god Pan harassed her, chasing her to deflower her. She began to beg her sisters to change her shape, because of which she was in such distress. Pan arrived without delay, thinking to catch the maiden to do with her as he pleased. And as he tried to grab her, Pan grasped instead a handful of marsh reeds. The young man sighed in grief for the beauty and stirred the reeds by his own breath. When his breath caressed them, the reeds gave forth a somewhat high-pitched sound. Pan made a set of pipes out of the little reeds, which is called Syrinx after the maiden, and in this way, Pan, no lie, invented the Cornish pipes. That is what Mercury was going to say when he saw that Argus’s hundred eyes had fallen asleep one after the other. [3702–3735] As soon as he saw Argus fall asleep, Mercury cut off his head [3736–3737] [miniature, fol. 38v: mercury decapitates argus]

208 Ortygia

= Delos or a nearby island. de cor ou de cormier, v. 3697. In Ovid, the bow is strictly horn; as the new edition notes (p. 431), the OM complements this with a popular bow-making material of its own time. 209 Arc



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and flung it on210 the rock: the mountain is still colored and bloodstained in token of this. Argus and his eyes were dead. Juno was incredibly distraught over his death when Argus was killed in her service in such a manner. She took the eyes and placed them on her bird. For this reason the tail of the peacock is all illuminated and decorated all over with eyes. I cannot express Juno’s grief. She could not put off her great anger; she wanted to make the cow pay dearly for the death of her cowherd. She pursued her throughout the world like a demented beast.211 The frantic and mooing cow fled through every land; in no place could she find respite, or an end to her troubles. [3738–3754] Finally, the suffering and wretched one came to the Nile. She knelt down on the bank and turned her face heavenward. She cried and sighed and, groaning, implored Jupiter’s aid. She sighed from her heart and mooed for she could not speak in any other way. She sought relief from her troubles. The god heard her prayer. He embraced his wife and implored her on behalf of his beloved to grant her relief and pardon by her grace, on condition that he give his word never again to take up with her carnally, and he swore an oath to that effect. [3755–3774] Then the goddess was appeased towards Io, whom she had hated so much: she forgave Io her ill-will. Then Io took back the appearance she had originally had: the hair fell off her body, the horns fell off her head, and her eyes shrank. She saw her field of vision grow narrower,212 her face grew smaller, and human arms and hands and shoulders and feet returned to her. Her cleft hoof stretched out into five fingers; she stood upright on two feet, for she had no more than that. She was a graceful and beautiful woman. Now throughout Egypt she is honored and worshipped as a goddess: the people call her Isis. She had a son, handsome and noble. He was powerful and held in high renown. Epaphus was this son’s name. [3775–3796]

210 We follow the new edition, which has sus la roche in v. 3738. De Boer emended to jus (hence “flung it down the rock”) as being more consistent with Ovid (Met. 1.718–719). The new edition (p. 432) notes that “the conjecture is clever, but no correction is required.” Another reported variant would yield “left it on the rock.” 211 Ausi come beste forsenee, v. 3754: it seems unclear whether this would be the cow or Juno. While the cow is obviously a beast, and the corresponding passage in Ovid (Met. 1.725–27) is “She [Juno] set a terrifying Fury in front of the eyes and mind of that ‘slut’ from the Argolis, buried a tormenting restlessness in her breast, and drove her as a fugitive through the world” (Kline), the OM, which loses the Fury, might be making the point that Juno’s anger reduces her as well to an animalistic state. But the moralization, vv. 3949– 3975 below, focuses on Io as the beast. 212 The new edition gives v. 3783 as Si voit sa lumiere estressant as against de Boer’s Si vait sa lumiere escroissant (‘Her eyesight improved’), with a long note (pp. 433–434), and we translate accordingly. (Lumiere could mean the literal shape of the eyes, or the ability to see: since cows have their eyes on the sides of their head, it made sense to think of the field of vision, but cows’ eyes are also bigger than people’s, so “she found her eyes shrinking” could also translate the new edition’s reading.)

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Moralization {I}f anyone wants to understand this tale, one can well reconcile its meaning with truth in several ways. Inachus was a river.213 You always see the tale using the terms god or goddess to refer to some spring, or permanent body of water, or stream that never stops flowing. This is because these never dry up, nor can the gods die; hence those who possessed these waters called them gods and goddesses. Surrounding Inachus was a meadow well-suited to grazing cattle, and there were beautiful woods aplenty planted near the river. Argus, who “saw with a hundred eyes,” had a castle located nearby: the castle had one hundred towers; even now they are very beautiful. Argus was “well-situated”: his castle sat magnificently on a mountain near the meadow, near the woods, near the river. From “mountain” and “Argus” the castle took the name Montargis. Argus owned the meadow and was lord of the herd. But Mercury, son of Jupiter, duped him greatly, it seems to me: he blinded and killed him and tricked him out of his castle, and did as he pleased with his cows. But now let us now look at this tale from another angle and see how the tale is true via another historical interpretation. [3797–3832] {L}ong ago in Greece there was a powerful man: Ovid names him Inachus, and history concurs.214 Inachus had a great estate; he was the first king of Greece. Through him, the Greeks first began to rule as kings. He had a son, full of loyalty. He was a king: Phoroneus was his name, a worthy man of high renown. He was the one who first invented the system of trial and judgment; he invented trials, many of which have arisen since then. Trials are named after him: in Latin they are called fora. [3833–3848] But we will leave aside Phoroneus and tell of his father Inachus. He was powerful and of great nobility. For his strength and power his people were accustomed to honor him, serve and worship him as a god. He had a pleasing and beautiful daughter: Io was the maiden’s name. She was renowned throughout many lands. A king named Jupiter, who was king and ruler of Crete – and sovereign of the heavenly gods according to the laws and belief of the ancient heathen people – fell in love with the maiden. Love had inflamed his heart and set it on fire with a fiery spark. Ah, how worthy of respect is love and how it exerts great rule, when he who had the power to rule over the whole earth could not prevail against love! [3849–3870] Jupiter stole the beauty away from her father and won her love by his guile, and so he deflowered her. But she held out for only a short time after that until she became a whore without restraint and she did not refuse her body to anyone who desired to have it. Her father could not find out where she was; he searched for her and had her sought throughout every land. Then he found 213 Although

not signposted as such, this begins the historical interpretation. 435, note to vv. 3833–3839) cites Isidore of Seville, Etymologies XIII.xxi.25, and other sources. 214 The new edition (p.



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her – it was devastating – at the brothel with the rabble, poor, naked, filthy, and wretched, so that he would rather she be dead than alive. By promising and pleading eloquently with her, he wanted to take her away and mend her ways, but there was nothing he could do to make her pull back from folly. She was a whore as long as she was beautiful. [3871–3889] When she was older, she became a madam, and, when she could no longer sell herself, she devoted her effort and decided to concentrate on selling and deceiving others. She was a wily old woman, malicious and deceitful, and her malice helped her get ahead; meanwhile, her great intelligence made her a learned woman, and she was greatly knowledgeable as a result. The people of Egypt worshipped her and considered her a goddess; thus she became their lady and queen. She was the one who transferred the teaching and the art of written learning (clergie escripte) from Greece to Egypt. [3890–3904] {T}here can be an allegorical reading that is well in accord with truth. Io, who was a gracious and beautiful virgin when she was a girl, signifies any young girl who, while youthful, lives well and finely and holily, and so behaves respectably, like an innocent and wise maiden, and vows her maidenhead to God and is pure and of good morals. She then “falls passionately in love with God,” and she keeps spiritual company with him as she would with her beloved, for God lives spiritually in a clean heart and takes much delight in it. Then it so happens that she pulls back from doing good, and someone incites her to commit folly and sin. Thus she changes her whole conduct and the good heart she once had. [3905–3925] We have all known some woman who, while she was young and had no knowledge of the world, in which there is much deceit, was an innocent and wise maiden; who afterward, having become a woman and seen herself endowed with beauty, became prideful, raised her horns,215 and took up the delights of the world. And our Lord “gave her” to the world, to which he “abandoned her.”216 Then “Argus had her under his sway.” Argus signifies the world, where there are more than one hundred pairs of delights. The world, to which she abandoned herself, knew how to draw her in so well that she led a brutish life, and she was so seduced by it that she was completely attached to

This could mean becoming prideful; it could also refer to horn-shaped medieval hairstyles that the OM associates with vanity and prostitution. See the new edition, pp. 437–438 (note to v. 3933), which lists comparable expressions involving pride in men (the application of these to a woman is apparently unique to the OM), and also mentions the hair. To add to the references there, Bishop Gilles li Muisis noted the vanity of women who adopted these hairstyles, known as cornes, or headdresses, known as hauchettes, and spoke out against them: see Newton (1980), Appendix II, 129–130. The Middle English Towneley Plays (ed. Pollard, England, and Kölbing 1897) refer to a fashionable woman, who is made up as beautifully as a saint, but is actually worse than the devil, as being “hornyd like a kowe” (375). 216 This is moralizing Jupiter giving the cow to Juno. 215

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it, to the point that she forgot reason and henceforth refused herself to no man who might wish to have his way with her. [3926–3948] She went through the world in every direction, like a cow chased by bulls and by the gnats that stung her, for her thoughts goaded her to run through various regions like a demented beast in order to possess the carnal delights of wine, food, and bed. It mattered little to her from whence this came, just that she had it. However, she suffered great discomfort, for such women who run around like that do not at all have their ease. They often laugh and often cry; often their hearts are in great distress and they suffer bodily rigors. Often they are dressed coldly, poorly shod, and poorly fed. They do not have all their delights all the time, nor do they sleep in beds, feather beds, or sheets of two cloths,217 but rather are covered with stars and lie on the hard ground, in the rain and cold. The woman or man who applies themselves to living so shamefully loses their soul, body, and youth. [3949–3975] There has been the occasional woman who led this destructive lifestyle for a long time and went on to become holy and wise, and so she drew back from folly and came to true penance. Then she wept and trembled so much, and so beseeched her original lover – that is, God, who had loved her first, in the flower of her youth, before she tainted and abused her chastity – and rendered herself so entirely forfeit to God for the wickedness she had committed that God, in his mercy, received her in good concord and forgave her her transgressions, and bestowed on her the grace and strength to forsake her foolishness. [3976–3993] Mercury – that is, the eloquence of the sermons and preaching that the sinful woman heard, which revealed her folly to her and showed her how the world binds, cheats, deceives, and distracts a woman or man the more they take an interest in it – saved her from perdition. Or that happened through her own confession, which denounced her and reproved her so that she started doing all good deeds, so that by true repentance and acts of penance she cleansed all the baseness of her earlier iniquity, becoming wise, holy, and good. And so God gave her the crown he gives the saints in paradise. [3994–4011] Thus it came to pass long ago to Mary, the one from Egypt.218 According to the written legend, she was a sinner and wandered through the world, and put the majority of her lifetime to poor use, committing folly and whoring like a foolish and vile sinner. Then she was converted, it seems to me, through confession and repentance, purging her foul and wicked conscience through humble penance. Thus she became a saint and full of goodness, and accomplished so much through her good life that she is honored and attended to in Holy Church throughout

217 The new edition (p. 441, note to v. 3969) has two suggestions: either these sheets are double-ply, hence luxurious, or there is one sheet to go under the sleepers and one to go on top. 218 Old and middle French versions of St. Mary the Egyptian’s Life have been edited by Dembowski (1977).



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the whole world, and she is sought out by many sinners, whom, through her intercession, she brings into harmony with God, full of mercy. [4012–4030] {N}ow I wish to explain to you the tale of Pan and the flexible reed.219 Pan was, as the author states, god of the beasts and shepherds. It was shepherds, without a doubt, who invented the Cornish pipes from reeds attached to one another. Syrinx was “Ladon’s daughter,” it seems to me, for reeds grew in profusion on the banks of that river, and shepherds used them to make this instrument and entertained themselves joyfully with it. [4031–4042] {T}he tale can have another meaning: whoever might put effort into learning might well expect to profit from it. We can take Pan to mean the world: “Pan” in Greek means “everything” in French. Syrinx denotes the pretensions and the vain earthly delights that everyone has chosen as their goal. Syrinx means the same as “attraction”: everyone is attracted by these fickle and vain delights, which are false and deceiving, but they think they are worth a lot. Many people do not wish for another paradise, one can see this clearly, for there is no one, whether from the woods or the plains, city or rural village, knight, layperson, scholar, or priest who does not seek after these vain delights. Syrinx was “a river’s daughter” because these delights are more vain and changing than fleeting water, and every day they flee away without stopping. No one can hurry after them so much that they don’t abandon them in a short time. [4043–4067] Syrinx was “a virgin and a huntress,” for those who pursue worldly delights are deluded and their hunt is in vain, for no good fruit can come of it. Syrinx “wished to behave in the fashion of Diana” for, just as the moon is now full, now horned, and now there is none, these worldly goods are unable to be in one place very long; thus there are many who foolishly put their heart and attention into them. Whoever trusts in them and ardently desires to wed them is very foolish. Whoever wishes to rest their heart there – when they have hunted for a long time and think to have acquired everything and conquered what they hoped of the worldly delights they sought – is left “holding a fistful of reeds.” From night to morning they have completely lost these goods full of changeability, either through death or sickness, or some other circumstance of fortune. Those goods are more changeable than the moon or reeds that bend before the wind; they can all be lost in a single breath. No wise person places their hope in goods full of such deception, for many lose the eternal goods for such vain, fickle ones. [4068–4098]

219 At the end of Canto 1 of Purgatory, following Cato’s earlier instruction to Virgil, Dante is girded with a reed in lieu of a pilgrim’s belt, as symbol of rebirth and regeneration. Dante and the OM attests to the popularity of the reed as a symbol of flexibility and humility, well before Pascal’s statement in his Thoughts (no. 347) that “l’homme est un roseau pensant” (“man is a thinking reed”).

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Argus {A}rgus was dead and his eyes, too. Juno was saddened by his death; she took his eyes and placed them on her bird. For this reason the peacock’s tail is all illuminated and adorned with shiny eyes. [4099–4104] Moralization {J}uno put the eyes of her cowherd, whom she loved so much, whom she held so dear, in the tail of the peacock, which is such a bird now. Let us hear what this tale means. [4105–4109] Juno is the goddess and queen of power and authority and everyone bows to her, for everyone applies themselves to acquiring wealth and authority: it is now the most selected aim. The eyes are the worldly delights with which “the peacock” glorifies itself. The peacock signifies a person full of pride and arrogance. A prideful person desires only to make pomp and crack a smug smile: that is the peacock that spreads its tail and becomes arrogant about it. A prideful person places all their efforts in having worldly delights, of food, clothing and beds, and of riches and honor, to be called master and lord, to preen and tart themselves up. Thus they wish to rule over the humble and torment the poor. They are the peacock that admires itself and goes around spreading its tail and adorning its elegant body with these worldly adornments, and thinks so much of its pleasing traits that it does not remember its own feet, that is, its death. And when it so happens that death has come upon them, they find their soul ugly and naked, given over to shame and suffering, for the wretch, through their folly, placed their body in great harm by having prized it so highly. Then they would repent, if they could, but it is too late. They should never have lifted up their tail so much that they maimed their soul: foolish are they who condemn their soul to death to benefit the body. [4110–4150] [miniature, fol. 41r: clymene points out the sun to phaethon]

Phaethon (I) {A}bove, you heard the tale of how Jupiter turned his lover into a cow and then a goddess, who then became a queen, and was crowned mistress and lady over Egypt, and honored throughout the whole kingdom. By this lady and Jupiter was born Epaphus, it seems to me, who was worshipped, served, and honored as a god throughout Egypt. He possessed temples jointly with his father, and was lord alongside his mother. [4151–4162] Phaethon was a boy of the same age, the same beauty, and the same mettle. This Phaethon was the son of the Sun, and his heart was so full of pride due to the nobility of his lineage, as he was the son of Phoebus, that he considered Epaphus beneath him and did not show him any reverence. Epaphus despised him greatly. In great anger he jeered at him and said: “Mean wretch, you



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give too much credence to your mother and her words; you are too prideful and haughty about Phoebus, whom you don’t take after at all.” Phaethon was ashamed and said nothing; he was embarrassed by the jeering. [4163–4178] He went off to his mother and told her the great spite and shame in what Epaphus had done and said to her: “He insulted and maligned me greatly, and jeered at me so nastily that I couldn’t say a single word; it really upsets me that he insulted me while I never answered him. Now I beg you, my very dear mother, by the great faith you owe me and by the love you have for Merops, your lord – may God grant you joy and honor! – give me certain knowledge of my father so that, if I am born of Phoebus, give me some sure sign of it so that I might see that I am truly his son.” Then he embraced her lovingly.220 [4179–4197] Clymene was upset and troubled by anger and pity. She was angry because he had been mocked – don’t think she took it lightly; she felt pity for the son whom she kissed and who held her so sweetly. She turned her face towards the sun, stretching her two arms out to heaven, and said and swore to the young man: “Fair son, by this holy light that warms and brightens the world, I swear to you – be completely sure of it – that you are the son of this sun that shines on our faces. And, if I lie, may it please god that I never see another day than this one. If you want to know it from him, you can ask him without much difficulty; his house is not very far away; the region where he rises is nearby.” [4198–4217] Then Phaethon jumped up without a pause, and traveled beyond the Indians and those black Ethiopians: he thought he had reached the heavens. Phaethon had searched and sought so much, by his mother’s exhortation, that he came to his father’s hall. In his foolish courage, he undertook a thing that would soon cause him much harm. Because of his pride, because of his presumption, he fell into shame and baseness. [4218–4228] [miniature, fol. 41v: the rebel angels falling as devils from heaven]221

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the historical interpretation, just as I believe it to be true. Epaphus son of Io, who was of great worthiness, nobility, honor, and valor, was crowned king of Egypt. He founded the city of Memphis that was of great nobility and capital of all Egypt: written history bears witness to this. A young man of noble lineage, Phaethon, who was the son of Apollo, king of the city of Heliopolis, scorned him in his naivety and pride of heart, to his own shame and detriment. [4229–4245]

220 We follow the new edition in not associating Clymene, v. 4198, with v. 4197, but rather with what follows. 221 Compare and contrast the miniatures on fols 41v, 154v, 209r, and 295r.

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{N}ow I will tell you the allegory that this tale signifies. “Jupiter,” God, all-helping Father, the Almighty, Creator of all, in his heavenly brightness created angelic nature and, in his goodness, placed them near his majesty. Lucifer was made at the same time, I believe; the equal of them all in age and seniority. In his presumption and pride of heart, he wanted to overpower his Creator; for this he fell in due course from the heavens, where he wanted to be master, into the depths of hell, into the stinking abode. [4246–4260] [miniature, fol. 42r: phaethon meeting his father in the abode of the sun]222

{T}here is another possible meaning that is well in accord with truth. When a sinful man or woman mends their ways and leaves their wickedness behind, thus turning wholeheartedly to God, the heavenly Father, in their guilt for the sins of which they repent, and then set out to do all good deeds, God accepts their repentance. Then he gives them grace and profit such that, through his favor, God gives them in heaven an eternal crown and absolves them of past transgressions. [4261–4273] There is another type of person, who does a lot of good and lives well in the beginning, but because of their good deeds foolishly223 becomes prideful and glorifies themselves and trusts in their own holiness. They constantly boast of their good deeds and disdain and scorn the repentant sinner as a fool. Thus the fool feeds on and delights in empty glory, upon which they are so intent that they completely obliterate their good deeds, and, through their folly of pride, that seduces and binds them, they thinks themselves worth as much as the whole world and that there is no good thing they don’t have in abundance, and by their goodness they think themselves to be sovereign of the heavenly kingdom. Thus the vain glory that distracts their heart deceives and confuses them; it erases all their good deeds so that they cannot acquire the grace of God, no matter what they do, but rather lose it more than the obvious sinner does, and their wickedness surpasses that of people who seem far more wicked. Thus their pride destroys them and they fall down into deep hell. [4274–4300]

222 A particularly embellished miniature, which takes the shape of the palace rather than the usual square. 223 We follow the new edition, which has folement for v. 4276, as against solement in de Boer (see p. 454 of the new edition for why).

Book 2

Phaethon (II) {Y}ou heard above, I believe, how Epaphus, son of Jupiter, reproached the arrogance of Phaethon, who was proud and puffed-up because of who his father was; how Phaethon lamented to Clymene,1 whom he loved so much; and how Phaethon reached his father’s house, as his mother’s advice and his own heart guided him. [1–9] {T}he chamber of the Sun was founded on tall columns, on high and truly sumptuous, bright with flashing gold and gems gleaming red. The engraving was truly opulent; the roof was made of ivory; the double doors were engraved with beautiful and fine silver. The work on them surpassed the material, for Vulcan had seamlessly engraved it with the sea and the world, which the sea entirely encircled.2 There one could identify and locate in the sea Triton the trumpeter; there was the fearsome Proteus,3 who is so varied and mutable; Aegaeon the great was there, who rode whales; and Doris together with her daughters,4 some of whom, it seems, were swimming, while the rest sat on the rocks, drying their green hair. Their forms were not all identical, nor too different: each had her own just as sisters do. It was a very wise smith who had portrayed and depicted such images. On land, people were shown along with castles and cities; towns and villages and farmsteads; plains and meadows; vineyards and marshland; animals domestic and wild; rivers, streams, and springs; nymphs; gods of the fields and pastures. Above that, the firmament

His mother. The Rouen manuscript doesn’t mark the beginning of this Book 2 division with a miniature. Rather, it continues on smoothly from the story of Phaethon in Book 1. It’s also conceivable that it sees Book 2 as beginning with the miniature on fol. 41r, as the Incipit in a different (later) hand indicates. 2 While this is consistent with Ovid, it also corresponds to the configuration of medieval maps. 3 The “Old Man of the Sea,” most famously mentioned in Book 4 of the Odyssey, who herds seals on the island of Pharos, takes on many different forms, and can prophesy. 4 Doris’s daughters are the Nereids (sea-nymphs). 1

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was depicted with great subtlety: there were six signs of the zodiac on the right,5 and six signs on the left. [10–48] The child Phaethon came there. He stayed far away from his father, because he could not stand the light of him. Phoebus sat on a throne encrusted with emeralds, wearing a crimson robe. Around him at all times6 were the days and months and years, weeks, hours, and minutes, and earthly existence in its rightful order: Spring was there, full of flowers, adorned with various colors; Summer was there, who was naked and wore a hat of wheat-sheaves; Autumn was there, who produces fruit, tramples the grape harvest, and puts wine in casks; Winter was there, full of frost, its head hoary and bald. Amid these things sat Phoebus, who saw the young man standing flabbergasted in his hall. Then he addressed him and said: “Hello, Phaethon, dear son – what are you doing there?” When the one heard the other call to him, he answered in this way: “Phoebus, fair father, who gives light to the world universally, if by that name you do name me rightly, and I am your son, give me a sign, so that everyone can trust that my mother wasn’t trying to hide her whoring with a cover story,7 and that I am your son. If I can be sure and certain about that, I’ll be much relieved about it.” [49–83] Phoebus then lowered his rays and had the young man approach, embraced him, and said: “My dear son, for certain I will not disown you: truly Clymene, my dear beloved, conceived you by me. And, to put your mind at ease, ask for whatever gift you want, and know well, you will never lack it.” He swore to him by the depth of hell, that no god ever breaks his word. Phaethon was joyful, and, out of arrogance, asked to drive and direct the chariot of the sun: he wanted to lead the horses out by day. [84–98] [miniature, fol. 42v: phaethon embraces phoebus]

{P}hoebus heard the foolish request; he repented, shook his head, and said: “You’ve absolutely made me lose my wits. If I could reject the promise I made you, I’d reject it. Folly and youth are leading you astray, dear son. You’d never be able to meet the demands of the office you’re requesting. You court your harm and your death. It doesn’t suit a mortal man. There is no god but me, in essence, who could make the chariot budge an inch, hard as he might try. Jupiter himself, who thunders and flashes, who hurls and forks the lightning, wouldn’t be able to control the horses. [99–115] “It’s a great peril and a great trial to drive the chariot and keep it on course. The way is steep in the beginning, and the fresh horses, full of energy, are hardly able to climb it. In the middle the sky is too daunting, too high, and too 5 6 7

The right-hand door. Or, “in all of time.” Lit. “false image.”



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terrifying. I myself am very frightened when I see the earth and sea below me from such a height. The last part of the route is angled downwards: whoever goes that way had best go straight and manage the chariot carefully, or else he’ll flip over, head first. Thetis is often very afraid for me when she sees me coming down, fearing that I’ll have an accident. [116–132] “And there is even more that daunts me, for the sky is constantly turning, pulled after them by the stars: I know of nothing else so unstable. I travel counter to the movement of the sky, nor would I ever abandon my course because of its whirling; so I always have the sky against me. But now tell me what you would do, if you had command of the chariot? Will you be able to hold your own against the sky that never ceases spinning? It would carry you off, without a doubt. [133–145] “Perhaps you have some foolish hope of finding towns and cities up there, and rich delights; but you won’t find those there, and you’ll travel by many treacherous ways. You’ll never be able to follow such a direct route that you’ll avoid crossing paths with the Bull,8 Cancer, the Lion,9 Sagittarius, and the Scorpion,10 all of them incredibly wicked and treacherous, horrible and terrifying. You’ll be in great fear from the sight, if you aren’t powerful enough that you could control the horses by your own effort, which are fierce and strong; they can barely put up with me. When they’ve caught their breath and warmed up,11 they’ll be out of control: no reins will hold them. [146–165] “Dear son, watch out for yourself now. Don’t ask for a gift from which harm will come to you. Think of yourself, while you still have the chance. I’m well aware that you really want to know if you’re my son, but you can and must be sure of it from the fear I feel for you. I praise you, fair son, and chastise you, too, so that such folly might not overcome you. I wish you could see the fear and worry I have over your impending accident. If you only knew how much it weighs on me, you would know without a doubt that I care for you with a father’s love – you can be very sure of that, and, to make you even more sure, if there is any treasure you can see in the sky, in the sea, or on earth, that you might like to have or request, ask and I will give it to you: I will never keep it from you. This alone I caution you against, though I see you are so eager for it: you will win more pain and suffering than honor if you receive it.” [166–192] No chastisement could make Phaethon let go of asking for the boon for which he yearned so much. He kissed and embraced Phoebus: he demanded his boon, however it might turn out. Phoebus said: “You shall have it, without fail, whatever the cost – because I have sworn it.” When Phoebus saw that he 8 9 10 11

Taurus. Leo. Scorpio. Lit. “their heat has awakened.”

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could make no more delay, and he was chastising to no effect his son, Phaeton, in hopes that he would stop wanting to have his boon, he took him to the chariot, to find out whether the sight of it would calm him down and make him abandon his foolhardy plan. [193–206] [miniature, fol. 43r: phaethon takes off in the chariot of the sun]

{N}ow, I feel the need to describe what the chariot looked like and from what it was made. The axles were not made of poplar, nor was the chariotpole, it seems to me; rather they were both made of pure gold, and the wheelrims were gilded. The spokes installed in the wheels were worked in silver. The yokes were studded with chrysolites,12 amethysts, and various gems artfully arranged: they sparkled brightly as they reflected the sun. Phaethon contemplated the beauty of the chariot and marveled greatly. [207–221] Then the crimson dawn appeared, arising in the orient. The stars fled away, pursued by Lucifer,13 which finally usurped their place. When Phaethon’s father saw the world redden and the dawn grow clear, he summoned the Hours: he commanded that the horses be harnessed. The Hours did his bidding: from their stalls they immediately led the horses, that vomited fire; and they harnessed them and put reins on them along with everything else that was needed. And meanwhile, the father, who was concerned for his son, anointed Phaethon with a precious unguent so that his face would not roast and the heat would not trouble him. Then he placed the sun’s rays on his head. Once more he groaned and sighed. He admonished and chastened his son: [222–243] “Dear son, if only you would trust in my admonishment, no matter what, I’d advise you to keep a tight grip on the horses’ reins. Don’t urge them on. It’s hard work to keep them held back and reined in – they fly without being spurred. Don’t wander through all five sky-zones; the route cuts across so that it passes three of them in the end, and so the path won’t stray to the north or south.14 Thus you’ll keep the royal road, 15 where wheel-ruts are visible: you’ll A green or yellow-green gemstone, typically a gem-quality olivine or peridot. The Morning Star, son of Aurora and Cephalus and father of Ceyx (see Book 11, vv. 2996–3787), not the Christian devil. 14 The terms for north and south, bise and ploial (line 255), are based on the idea of a cold dry wind and rain, respectively. See the discussion of the winds associated with the compass points in Book 1, vv. 265–286. See also this example from Roman d’Alexandre (vv. 10040–10041), Ne fust pas tel domaige se fust mort o ocise / Tote la gent qui est entre ploial e bise, which shows how the terms can refer to the ultimate north and south without the etymology coming to the fore, so it wouldn’t be necessary to translate here “toward the cold dry north or rainy south.” 15 The “royal road” that Phoebus is indicating to Phaeton is the sun’s path through the Zodiac which is known as the ecliptic; this also lends its name to the via regia, the oldest and longest road link between Western and Eastern Europe, and a route well-travelled by pilgrims. Now over 2000 years old, it connects eight European countries over 4500 km. 12

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see the way clearly marked out. To heat the earth and sky equally you should keep strictly to the way, and in any case go neither too low nor too high: you’ll sear the world, if you go too low; if you go too high, you’ll burn the sky. You’ll be safe in the middle. Don’t deviate to the right, toward the Serpent, or to the left, toward the Altar, but wisely travel between the two.16 I commend you to god, and may Fortune watch over you. We can delay no longer: it’s time to illuminate the world. Night is leaving, day returns. Get into the chariot and take the reins, or, if you can, then repent, and take my admonition to heart. Change your foolish plan while you still have the chance. Give up your destructive wish, and let me drive the chariot and illuminate the lands, lest you be destroyed.” [244–283] Phaethon jumped into the chariot, and started handling the reins. Facing his downfall, his heart was joyful! He thanked Phoebus and expressed his gratitude to him, but his father kept sighing, indifferent to his thanks, for they screamed to him of his impending misfortune. This is what the horses of the sun looked like: Pyroïs, who had red hair, looked exactly like fire; Eoüs in turn was white; Aethon, resplendent with color; and Phlegon, full of great heat. These four were very fierce. They struck the chariot-shafts with their hooves. Tethys opened the gate for them, apprehensive about her nephew. Such great disaster awaited him! [284–301] The horses sprang into motion at once. With their swift and vigorous hooves they tore through the oncoming mist and outstripped the east winds. But their load was so light that the horses were unaware of it – they did not have the burden they should have had. The chariot leaped into the air and rocked like a ship at sea in danger of sinking, when the ballast is badly distributed. When the fierce horses realized that, they became out of control and started to gallop sooner than they were accustomed to, for they had no regard for their charioteer. Phaethon felt great fear and uncertainty. He did not know how to keep his proper course, he could not control the horses – the grueling task overwhelmed him. [302–320] Then he began to heat both the southern and northern hemispheres. Phaethon was at the summit of the sky. His heart almost failed him. When he looked at the earth below him, he became greener than a leaf in a garden: he shook from fear, and the light of the sun’s rays blinded him so that he could hardly see to drive. He had taken the chariot in hand to amuse and entertain himself, but now he found the entertainment all too bitter. It weighed on him that he had ever received it. Folly and pride had deceived him. Now he would have repented, if only he could have. He would have much preferred never to have seen his father in his life. Phaethon had advanced so far that it would spell disaster to stop, but he still had a long way to hold his course. [321–340] 16

The constellations Draco and Ara, respectively.

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He kept looking to either side. One moment he looked to the west, which he desperately longed to reach, but the price seemed too high. Another moment he looked to the east, whence he had set out with a laughing heart, but now he had no wish to laugh. He did not know what to do. He pulled and tugged, but no matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could restrain the horses, which were running utterly out of control. The signs of the zodiac and the awesome images of various wild beasts that are spread across the sky filled him with much horror and dread. Scorpio had stretched out its arms, and raised its tail, on two sides, so that it resembled twin bows.17 Phaethon beheld the sign: he was so afraid of it that in his fear he let go the reins that he was holding. And when the horses realized that the reins had been dropped, they left the proper path and sped off in a heedless rush, downwards one moment, upwards the next, whichever way they felt like going. Now they ran across the firmament, then through the lower air. The chariot almost capsized. [341–371] The heat of the sun’s rays caused the sky, the air, and the mountains to smoke. The air was so intemperate18 that the crops in the countryside there were burning. Vineyards and woods and meadows burned, so that towns and cities unavoidably perished from the heat, and people died. All the lands were laid waste, and the mountains set on fire. Near Athens burned Hymetus, Symeon, and Aracinctus, and also Marathon. On Crete, Ida and Dicteüs burned. Next to Thebes burned Parnassus, and in Scythia, the Caucasus, normally filled with cold; now it was overtaken by great burning. Caspes,19 Mount Ripheus, and Falernum in Campagna, burned. Massias burned and experienced great harm, and Athos burned in Macedonia. The great mountains of Thessaly burned from the cruel, wicked heat: Olympus, Ossa, Pelion. Othrys, Pindus, and Pangea were overtaken by combustion. Dindimus (Dindyma), Ida, and Gargara burned in Phrygia; so did Retheum and Thymetus and Sicheum. In Cyprus, Cithaeron burst into flame. In Thrace, Hemus and Ismarus, Oete, Mimas, and Rhodope. Edon was engulfed in the heat issuing from the chariot. Michale perished from the heat. Taurus, Tmolus, and Cilix, Helicon, Cyntus, and Eryx perished in great suffering. Etna burned with double heat. Atlas in Libya was on fire, and plenty of other mountains. In Arcadia burned Erimenthus, Stegedes, and Berecintus. Menalon burned, and so did Cillenus and Nonacris and Talburnus. The mountains of Lombardy received their share of this heat: Mount Jeu (i.e., Mons Iovis, i.e., of Jupiter), Mount Vestal, Mount Cenis (Mons Cereris/Cerealis, i.e., of Ceres), Janiculus (Janiculum/the Janiculan Hill), 17 Scorpion ot ses bras tendus / Et tenoit sa coë en deus pars, / En la semblance de deus ars, vv. 356–358. The two arcs (‘twin bows’) would seem to be (i) the curvature of its legs and pincers, and (ii) the curvature of its tail. It would be tempting to translate “Scorpio had stretched out its arms on two sides, and raised its tail,” but the French doesn’t say that. 18 This should be read in the context of the temperate zones established in Book 1, vv. 243ff. 19 A city near Tarsus, identified thanks to Gautier-Dalché (1995), 131.



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Mount Quirinis (the Quirinal Hill), the Apennine Mountains and Palatine Hills; Mount Aventine (the Aventine Hill) burned as well. [372–422] {P}haethon himself was in a desperate plight. He was wearing around his head the heat that he saw consuming the whole world, it was completely full of fire and ash: he almost suffocated. He felt his chariot heating up until it really seemed to him that it must burst into flame. He did not know where he was, and had forgotten the route, if he had ever known it. His face was so shrouded in smoke that he could not see to drive at all.20 You would have heard the fire leaping from his throat spit and crackle like sparks leaping from the forge. The horses without bit or bridle ranged freely on a whim, as if they had no driver. [423–439] It was then that Libya lost its moisture, becoming dry and sandy as it is today, instead of humid as it was before. And it was then that the Ethiopian people, as the ancients say, got their black color. Because of the great strength of the heat, springs, wells, and lakes dried up. The Thebans lost Dircen (a famous fountain), ?Ysmenon, and ?Ypocrimen.21 Those of Argos lost ?Amymonen. In Epirus, ?Phirenide failed. The Alpheus dried up in Eldye (Elis), the Tigris in Mesopotamia, and the Eurotas in Laconia. And the Mincius ran dry in Laurentia. In Phrygia: the Gallus, the ?Xente, the Meander, the Marsyas, the Simois, and the Licormas (Evenus). Nilus (the Nile) was completely appalled and fled to the end of the world, and hid his head,22 which has never been seen since. In the land of Egypt there appeared seven tracks of dust, which had been seven watercourses before the Nile dried up.23 [440–465] These also dried up: the ?Singa, Tagus, Sicoris (Segre), Betis (Guadalquivir), and Hisber in Spain; the Rhône and Lyon24 in Burgundy; the ?Varus, Arar (Saône), ?Yse, and Saône; at Soissons, the Axona (Aisne); the Seine in Paris; at Pontoise, a river called the Oise; the Loire at Orléans; at Sens, the Yonne; and Athas (the vallée d’Aspe) in Narbonne. In Thessaly: the Æas, Amphrisus, Spercheus, Citaresus, ?Anagrus (Tanagrus), Enipheus, and the great river Peneus. In Achaea: Inachus ran dry. And in Xaintes (Saintes): Tabellicus (the gulf of Lit. “one step.” Endress (2018) productively compares this list of mountain and river names to Ovid, the late antique authors Vibius Sequester and Lucius Ampelius, and two fifteenth-century Latin manuscripts (Vatican Pal. lat. 1741 and Trinity College Dublin 632). She suggests that the OM has one or more sources, as yet unidentified, in common with the fifteenthcentury lists. In the ensuing list of river names, names not yet confirmed or identified are marked like ?this, and to limit the number of footnotes, suggested identifications or alternatives are given in parentheses in the text. 22 The river’s headwaters, i.e. its source. The French makes no distinction between “his” and “its,” but the river may be sufficiently personified, like Acheloüs in Books 8 and 9, to justify masculine pronouns. 23 In Ovid, these are the seven mouths of the Nile delta. “The Nile” is added for clarity to go with the singular verb. 24 The city of Lyon is at the intersection of the Rhône and the Saône, so it isn’t clear what this refers to, unless the point is that the city of Lyon dried up along with the river. 20 21

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Aquitaine, or a river in southwestern Gaul). In Libya: ?Pont25 Bisten and ?Lice. And the Vulturnus ran dry in Venice (the Volturno, actually in Campagnia). Then in Libya: the Bagrade (the Mejerdah, near Tunis). The Ladon and the Arethusa in Arcadia. The Pactolus and the Hermus (Gediz)26 dried up. In Libya: the Agmon.27 In Greece: the Erimus. And in Thrace: the Tyton, the Strymon, the Hebrus, and the Biston. The Amascuus in Sicania (Sicily). The Erimethus in Octolia. The Acheloüs in Calydon. And the Euphrates in Babylonia. The Sangaire and the Alis in Cappadocia. And the Orantes in Antioch. In Perthemia: the Cynapses, the Sangaris, and the Dirapses, along with the Panopus, the Thyrsus, the Hispanis, and the Camisus. The waters of Sicily ran dry, and the Cignus dried up in Pamphilia. The Indus ran dry in India, and the Ganges. In Media, the Hydaspe dried up. The river Jordan dried up in Judea, and the Phasis in the land of the Medes. The Siler ran dry in Salerno. The rivers of Auvergne ran dry. In the land of Romania, the waters of the Touvre dried up. The Rhine and the Rhône also ran dry, if the tale does not lie. In the region of Bordeaux, the Gironde dried up. I can’t remember every river in the world, and I can’t know all their names, but, in whatever land those rivers might be, they were dried up because of the vast burning. [466–516] The earth was full of chasms: light penetrated the cracks as far down to the realm, full of stench, that terrifies the souls in hell. The sea shrank markedly – most of it dried up. What was once a sea of water became, because of the heat, a sandy desert.28 It is from that erstwhile heat that we get the sandy desert that exists today. The sea was so endlessly hot that the salmon and the dolphins died of heat in the open ocean. The whales hid themselves, not daring to come out in the open. [517–531] The earth could not sustain the fire or the great heat: full of anguish and suffering, she collapsed in on herself and shook brutally, and her29 violent motion brought all things crashing together. She would have cried out to god most willingly, if she were able – it seems to me – and made him this appeal: [532–540] {“D}ear lord god,30 who made everything and constructed the entire world – god and father and king and master and sovereign of the heavenly gods – if I’ve done anything against your will that I ought to be sorry for, and if it seems good Or, en Libe Pont could be “in the Strait of Lybia.” Both in Anatolia. 27 There are multiple mentions of Libya (Libe) in this section. Ovid mentions Libya only once (Met. 2.237) and does not name any of the rivers there. 28 Lit. “a sea of powder/dust.” 29 La terre is feminine in French, and here, since the earth is crying out to Jupiter, it seems to be personified sufficiently to call for feminine pronouns in English. 30 Following Ovid, this is addressed to Jupiter, but in keeping with the Augustinian framework that anticipates the moralization, the earth only thinks it’s talking to Jupiter. See Book 1, n17. The present tense statements about Jupiter could just as easily apply to the Christian God; even if he’s not usually pictured with a thunderbolt, presumably the weather happens at his will. 25 26



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to you that I perish by fire, then let your own fire punish me: then at least the suffering of my misfortune will cause me less harm. I am all burned and scalded. Is this then the pay, the honor, and the recompense you give me back in return for the fruits I give: grass to the oxen and the horses, rye and wheat and the other grains to the people for their sustenance? I’m the one who yields the incense for which the world admires your temples, where you are worshipped. I’ve always served you willingly, but now I’ve been given a bad reward. What suffering has the sea deserved? It’s almost completely dried up: Neptune is deeply upset about it. [541–565] “If you don’t want to show mercy to the sea or me, see how your whole sky is blackened by the heat that overtakes it. If you take no pity on the heavens, and you let them be corrupted by flame, your whole palace will necessarily shatter and come crashing down in its entirety. You must take pity on your sky: Atlas can no longer hold it up. Don’t let the world end in woe, nor be subjected to such annihilation, but preserve it from corruption, if there is anything left of it that doesn’t perish right now.” [566–580] [miniature, fol. 45v: phaethon falls from the chariot and the horses scatter]

{T}hus the earth lamented and appealed, and made her plea to god, for she could not endure the pain or anguish of the heat. She hid her face within herself, far down, close to the depths.31 When god32 saw the combustion of earthly existence, and the destruction by which the whole world was suddenly overtaken, he did not take even brief counsel33 about it. Such a scourge unsettled him from his royal seat, on which he sits,34 from which he thunders and from which he flashes, from which he hurls and dispatches the lightning bolts, and from which he is used to make it rain. And, if he could have had rain just then, he would have doused the earth, but he hadn’t found any humidity at all in the sky, which was dry from the great heat that it was experiencing, so that it had lost all humidity. [581–601] Then god loosed his lightning to damage the chariot: with one fire he sought to relieve another. He struck the charioteer in the ear. Phaethon fell, small wonder: he lost his body and his chariot. The horses were completely bewildered: they all had free rein. They had all forsaken the proper path: one

Of hell. Jupiter. 33 With the other gods, presumably: Ovid has him “calling on the gods, especially on him who had handed over the sun chariot, to witness that, unless he himself helps, the whole world will be overtaken by a ruinous fate” (Kline). 34 Tel pestilence li dessiet, / De son real siege, ou il siet, vv. 591–592: the adnominatio makes this highly repetitive. 31 32

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ran this way, another that. The chariot splintered and broke up: the ornamented chariot-pole fell to one side, to the other fell the axle and the spokes, and all the rest was pulverized. [602–615] Phaethon plummeted headlong, and was borne upon the air as he fell, the way a comet35 with a long tail is borne upon the air, and though it does not fall, appears to fall. The body tumbled, all ablaze, far from his homeland, in the west, into the river Eridanum. The people of that place put him on a bier and erected a monument for him, on which the following epitaph reads pithily: “Here lies Phaethon, who out of arrogance sought to drive the chariot of the sun. He could not, so he suffered for it. For his foolish audacity he fell.”36 [616–630] Moralization37 {N}ow I will explain to you on the historical level of interpretation in what sense the tale might be true. The histories that mention this conflagration say that in Ethiopia there was such great burning that, unavoidably, fields flamed and bodies of water dried up, and animals and humans perished from heat. Phaethon lived at that time and was, as I understand, the son of a king of great nobility, the king of the city of Heliopolis. The people took him for the sun god, and called him Phoebus. [631–644] {T}here can be another interpretation that is historically compatible with truth. Phaethon was a man who was versed in scholarship (clergie). He wanted to apply himself to astronomy, and the movement of the sun and of the firmament, in what manner it was organized and lit up by the sun. And why the sun is set right in the middle of the other six planets, and for what reason and how there is a different mix of weather in different seasons; and regarding the days, what disposition makes it that some are long and others short. And how the sun traverses the sphere of the zodiac, and in what interval of time and space the sun makes its own orbit.38 Where eclipses come from, and the waning of the moon, which changes so, and where that dark shadow comes from that the moon has in its center.39 Where are the seats and the locations of the signs of the zodiac that the sun passes by, when it traverses the arc of the zodiac to illuminate the whole world. [645–671] Lit. “shooting star.” This inscription, from Ovid (Met. 2.327–328), anticipates the OM moralization without strictly belonging to it, in that it finishes the story with a moral. 37 In the Introduction we use this as a case study of how the OM conducts its moralizations (pp. 61ff.). 38 Lit. “transit.” 39 Publia, v. 674, is literally “published,” but not in the modern sense: there was no printing press. In Paradise 2.49–51, Dante calls the shadows of the moon, or moonspots, the marks of Cain. 35 36



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All that was what Phaethon wanted to find out, but he studied poorly. He wrote books based on his research, which he made public, and thereby led the world into folly.40 Phaethon had too little knowledge to complete such an ambitious project, and so he could not bring it to a good end. Jupiter41 had a better understanding of the situation, and brought him to defeat and confusion: he caused his books to be obliterated and his theories to be rejected. Phaethon was full of rashness: in his ire and impatience, he threw himself off a mountain to the earth. Thus he killed himself. All his limbs were shattered. So in that sense Phaethon was “struck by a thunderbolt.” [672–688] {F}or whoever wants to draw a moral from it,42 the case of Phaethon may be understood to mean that no one should pridefully engage in an overambitious undertaking; rather, everyone should stay within moderation, according to their ability and their nature. Whoever gets puffed up with pride, and takes on such great responsibility that they cannot bear the strain of it, is incredibly foolish. A prideful person cannot long endure without misfortune befalling them. It is entirely right that they fall in their turn, just as Phaethon fell. Through his pride misfortune befell him: through pride and folly he sought to have dominion over the sun, and hence he could come to no good end. [689–705] To his great shame and great misfortune, Lucifer long ago tumbled, through his pride, from paradise. He wanted to rise higher than he was meant to. God had formed him to be fair and handsome, and had him partake in his grace. But pride, which wipes out all good things, took hold of him and ensnared him in such a way that he sought to make himself God’s peer and resemble his Creator. But God in turn hurled him down into a place full of pain and burning. Since then he has been the most accursed and the most vile of all created things. [706–719] It has long been said, I believe, that whoever rises higher than is proper will fall from higher than he would wish. It is foolish to make common cause with pride, and wise to humble oneself, for the simplest folk and the humble43 are, as the Gospel bears witness, masters and lords of paradise. Humility glorifies the humble and exalts them, and pride undoes the prideful. [720–730] {T}here can be another interpretation of this tale. It is God who44 in his wisdom45 made the sky and the earth and the sea and the world. It is God who set the circumference of the sky. It is God who rules everything, who makes it 40 An example of the sin of false counsel (leading others astray), for which Ulysses is condemned in Inferno 26. 41 Understood here as a historical person, perhaps a senior astronomer. 42 This signals the moral level of interpretation. 43 Or, “meek.” 44 This paragraph breaks up a very long sentence beginning “This God who …,” the main verbs of which are in vv. 762 and 768. 45 Par sa sapience, v. 732, for “wisdom” (vs. Aquinas’s “science”).

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snow, rain, hail, and frost; makes the thunder, the lightning, and the lightning flash; and thus divides time into four parts.46 It is God who first set the sun and moon in the firmament, to separate months and years, weeks, hours, and moments. He made the stars twinkle. He who made everything to his satisfaction fashioned the heavenly hall, which is neither dark nor dirty: rather, it is bright and resplendent, full of spiritual joy. There resides the Holy Trinity, in glorious eternity; there resides the Sun of justice, who ordains everything according to his will, on the emerald throne, clad in a sanguine crimson robe, that is, in his vestment of flesh, that for the sake of our human nature was dyed a sanguine color when he suffered mortal pain for us. It is God who illuminates the world with the rays of his divine brightness. Without surrendering his divinity, he deigned to step down and lower himself, when – “to accept humanity as his son”, and draw us from the exile into which the serpent, the enemy, had placed us through deception, and to bring humanity to himself – he humbly resolved to become man and take on our mortal flesh. [731–769] He is the one who directs the chariot of the sun, which illuminates everything: it represents knowledge and doctrine, belief, the rule, the faith that governs and rules the world and all of Holy Church. Ezekiel describes this chariot in his book, in the first chapter, I believe. The four evangelists are the horses pulling this chariot and which convey the Gospels, upon which Holy Church is founded. To illuminate the whole world and keep everything on the proper course, God entrusted the direction of this chariot to a man – St. Peter, pope of Rome – and thus anointed him with the ointment of charity, to protect him from evil burning, and set the crown on his head. But now there is so much wickedness that no one seeks this office any more except out of greed for gain or for fleeting honors, or out of pride or vainglory, not for the common good. And often one who is least worthy to drive and guide this chariot expends such effort and takes such pains using gifts or friends that he is installed in the office counter to reason and to justice. [770–801] The way the thing works now is that, without divine election, everyone tries to assume the office through simony or violent seizure, on the strength of friends or wealth, and yet it is not a mortal man’s prerogative to do so. The point is, I dare say, that no one, however fine a man he is, can perform this office without transgressing or doing wrong unless God gives him the grace to do so. But now no one seems to be concerned about that, rather everyone strives and takes pains – whether it be God’s will or no – to usurp and seize control of the chariot, and to direct Holy Church. And so, however well they may be suited to the task, they try to govern all of Holy Church out of a desire to rule in the world and to gratify themselves, rather than for any profitable end. [802–822] 46

The seasons.



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Oh God, someone consumed by pride and covetousness makes such a blind charioteer! Can someone who cannot direct his own course possibly guide the world? Can someone who cannot see possibly illuminate the world? This is why all evils and misfortunes abound in the world, and why people are full of sin – because everyone models their behavior on that of the master of light47 who is supposed to direct and guide them, but makes them all lose their way. After he is installed in the office, he has no interest or concern about anything except acquiring and amassing and heaping up riches, and filling his treasury with pale silver and red gold, and with gifts that are brought to his court, when the whole world flocks there and everyone makes gifts and presents to him – on the basis of which he appoints them cardinals, bishops, patriarchs, or archbishops, or gives them some office, prelacy, or benefice. And some of them, to show their submission, or in exchange for dispensations regarding marriage, family ties, or godparents, present him with pounds or pence. And he, consumed with avarice, pockets everything and grabs everything and takes it – nothing attracts his notice without his laying hold of it, no matter where a gift might come from. [823–856] The cardinals are likewise on the take: they all burn and are consumed by the same fire that consumes the pope. This fire has spread to others so that covetousness abounds in these other worldly prelates, and they all burn with covetousness. Now Holy Church may well lament. She should fear and worship, love, serve, and honor God alone, and to all humanity she should give spiritual fodder and drink of discipline and salvific doctrine. But now the springs that were once full of holy preaching are drying up, and the Church is utterly corrupted, and full of the ruts caused by the multiple tracks of those who are supposed to be directing her, but who are marring and spiting her by diverting the course of faith, out of covetousness and hubris. The Church, which ought to ignite and blaze with the fire of gentle charity and divine love, and loving one’s neighbor for God’s sake, is completely aflame and consumed with the blazing fire of covetousness, and all pity is dried up. [857–887] Now “Martha” and “Mary” emit smoke: that is, the active and the contemplative life, which once used to be two entrances to paradise. The people of the world and of the Church both burn with covetousness, increasing day by day. This is why we see quarreling, dissentions, wars, and battles break out across the lands, and malice grows and redoubles, unsettling the whole Church. And, unless God takes notice of it soon, the remnant of Holy Church, not yet aflame with covetousness, will be entirely destroyed. But God, since it is his will, protects her, and will extinguish and annihilate this flame that is consuming the whole world! God will never allow Holy Church to perish like that! He will 47 The pope. But this could also be setting up the next level of moralization where the false light is Antichrist.

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save and heal it, for it is his spouse and his beloved! He can do this, I have no doubt, and he will do it when it best pleases him, and soon. [888–913] {W}e might well explain the tale in another way, and understand this meaning: I can take Phaethon to mean Antichrist, who will seek to lead all people into folly through his deception and who, counter to the divine will, will seek by force to usurp and seize the rule and government of the whole world, and have himself falsely believed in and honored, served, and worshipped as God, for he will say that he is God himself, sovereign and exalted above all others, and by his deceitful guile he will seek to pervert the Gospels and bring Holy Church to dissolution.48 With false signs he will mislead the deluded, whom he will delude with the false miracles that he will perform. All the better to deceive the world through gifts and greed for gain, he will first blind the pope, and then, all together, the great prelates of Holy Church, who will all burn with covetousness; then, the earthly lords, the kings and major princes. When all of these are on his side, he will make short work of corrupting the other people, and the whole world will believe in him, because of the false signs he will present. [914–944] Those who will not want to do his bidding, he will have dismembered and destroyed, with no appeal or recourse, and if our Lord does not take heed – the tender, saving Father and merciful helper – who then can possibly be saved? Who can possibly endure the assaults that the Antichrist will make upon Holy Church? Who will be able to endure the trial, the stings, the temptations, and the grievous tribulations which he will inflict upon good people if God does not help out his servants? Who will be able to endure the blazing fury and the pride of his heart? What will Holy Church be able to do against a foe so wicked, so faithless, so deceitful, so deadly, and so treacherous, who will exalt the wicked and set back the good, and will try to confound truth? [945–967] Then it will be time for good people to hide for fear of diverse afflictions. Then the fountains of true preaching will give out. Then tribulation will come upon Holy Church and all who belong to her. Then the false doctrine of betrayal and malice, covetousness and greed will hold sway throughout the world, of its own accord, and our mother Holy Church, so exalted and honored, will be laid low, and dishonored by its wicked persecutors. [968–983] But God, Savior and protector of Holy Church and her people – God, who does not forget his servants in times of tribulation – will come rescue and restore them from this persecution, and not let them perish. He will hurl his lightning bolt against the evil one, and strike him with lightning, making him fall to the bottom of hell and the deep abyss, into the lake of accursed misery. [984–993] In this way, we can clarify the tale, and the time will come when the skies, the earth, and the seas will burn, and the fish in the sea will die because they cannot stand the heat. Then we will see the earth gape, revealing the voids 48

Compare 2 Thessalonians 2:9–12 and Revelation 13:11–16.



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beneath, and livid light will penetrate the realm of shadow, and the trembling of the ground will make the whole world tremble. Then the evil proud people of this world in whom all iniquity abounds, who pull of the chariot of sin, will confess themselves bewildered, deceived, and betrayed. Their pride will necessarily end in great shame and great misfortune, and their glory will come to nothing. [994–1012] [miniature, fol. 48r: jesus on the cross, flanked by mary and john49]

Phoebus Mourns Phaethon (I) {Y}ou have heard about foolish Phaethon, whose pride turned out unhappily for him. Phoebus was very sad and very angry when he learned of his son’s death. He decided to plunge the world into darkness: he reflected and resolved that it would never get any light from him, and, in case anyone dared disbelieve him, for the length of a whole day, the sun did not come out at all, nor did the world have any speck of light, except from the huge fire that was still raging. (The disaster was advantageous in that way. As the proverb says, “Every cloud has a silver lining.”50) [1013–1028] Moralization {I} read somewhere that the sun eclipses itself in the natural course of things and, for a justifiable cause, partly loses some of its light; nevertheless part of it is still visible and shines forth, as I understand it. This lasts only for a short time, and it does not happen across the entire sun, but only where the moon gets in the way. But it happened that by an outright miracle, without any natural cause, as a sign of profound grief and woe, it went dark throughout the whole world, at length, the day that – for the salvation of every human creature – the Son of God was treated with shame and abuse when he resolved to offer himself up for suffering and Passion in order to redeem humanity, which was in woeful subjugation. At that time the sun lost all its brilliance, and so plunged the world into darkness. There is a day still to come, when the world must end, a day filled with grief and wrath, a day filled with anguish and torment, when the sun will cloud over and the world will grow dark, dreading

Fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v have comparable miniatures of this; see also fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall, and fol. 307v for his being taken down. 50 Lit. “We don’t see any evil occur without some good being able to come of it.” We chose a corresponding English proverb. 49

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divine vengeance. Nevertheless, this misfortune will be a beginning of new life51 for the good people who will have earned it. [1029–1064] [miniature, fol. 48r: cygnus looks on as clymene falls on phaethon’s grave and the heliades mourn]

Clymene, the Heliades, and Cygnus {C}lymene wept, howled, and cried aloud over Phaethon’s death; utterly crazed and in mourning she rushed through the world, her hair undone; everywhere asking and everywhere seeking, looking, and inquiring for news of where the body might be found. She found the bones, all jumbled together, buried in the west. At once she lay down on the tomb where the bones were interred; she read the letters that were on it, where she found the name Phaethon inscribed. She washed the inscription with her tears. [1065–1078] The Heliades, Phaethon’s sisters, wept, for they felt great sorrow for their brother Phaethon. They made such an outcry, such a lament, and such a noise as they walked the banks of the Eridanum52 that no one there could hear God’s thunder. Never in four whole months, as it seems to me, did they cease to mourn and grieve, to weep, to wail, and to howl. The one would beat her breast; the other would tear out her hair. Clymene’s daughters mourned Phaethon’s death so much that this mourning and grief became their very nature: they all turned into trees. [1079–1095] When Clymene saw them, you can be sure she was not happy. Bereaved, she hugged and kissed them, wept and wailed, lamented, and tried to tear them from the bark by force. She went around breaking off the branches of the trees, but, damaging the trees, it was her daughters whom she dismembered and damaged: blood spurted from the branches she broke.53 They in turn cried out and protested, for they felt suffering and pain from that; and they mourned their bereavement and their loss. They were completely covered in bark. They joined their mother in mourning, who could do no more to help them. The trees are weeping even now; tears run down from them and harden in the hot sun. These tears, when they harden, become resin: we call it “amber.” It floats down the Po to the kingdom of Lombardy, and the ladies there make it into baubles. [1096–1118] [miniature, fol. 48v: the heliades transformed into trees; cygnus transformed into a swan] 51 52 53

“New” added for clarity. The Po River. Cf. Dante’s Wood of the Suicides in Inferno, canto 13.



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{C}ygnus – a very distinguished king who was of their line, Phaethon’s cousin and Clymene’s niece, the son of her sister Stheleneia54 – was present for this transformation. He felt great sorrow and a great burden at his loved ones’ misfortune. He gave up his kingdom, abandoned his lands and domain, and grieved profoundly for Phaethon; he could not stand to live another year. In the end Cygnus was transformed into a bird, which has the name “swan” (cygne), and makes its home on the Po and other rivers, because of its opposition to the fire that traumatized its dear cousin.55 Cygnus never flew high again, nor did he ever wish to ascend too high, for even now he remembers the dreadful fall that Phaethon took because of his pride – because he undertook a more than foolhardy flight, he inevitably made a deadly exit. [1119–1141] [miniature, fol. 48v: scene of baptism]56

Moralization {C}lymene, the mother of the Heliades, represents humidity, and they claim the sun as their father, for all fertility originates from heat and humidity. These two factors cause trees to sprout, and grow, and bear fruit; and this relates to the Heliades, who craved moisture in their affliction. These trees weep for their brother, for resin comes trickling from them, of which there is great abundance in the land of Lombardy. [1142–1154] {O}ne can explicate this tale otherwise, and give it the following sense. The Heliades were Phaethon’s sisters and grieved immoderately for the great misfortune that befell him. They were wise because, remembering his death, they mended their ways, so that they never again overstepped, not for family, titles, honors, or riches. They became trees in the tale because they kept their hearts firm and steadfast in humility, nor would they pride themselves for any worldly vanity: they took pains to grow leaves and flowers and make good fruit, and to hold back their thoughts from pride. [1155–1172] {C}ygnus, I believe, signifies the prosperous man who humbles himself and reflects on the misfortunes of others. One should be regarded as wise if they mend their ways in response to the harm that befalls another. When we see a foolish person doing foolish things, and being undone by foolishness, blessed is whoever takes care to avoid similar foolishness. Wise is whoever humbles themselves and shuns hubris, for simple humility profits those who practice it, and improves their station, while foolish pride – as many have learned – casts the prideful into shame. It is foolish to become puffed up with 54 Filz de sa serour Stelené, v. 1122. As de Boer points out, this corresponds to Ovid’s proles Stheneleia (Met. 2.367), which, although it looks feminine, actually identifies his father (Clymene’s brother, Sthelenus). 55 The fire of the sun. Compare this story of Cygnus with Cycnus in Book 12, vv. 1709–1924. 56 Fols 48v and 221v have comparable miniatures of this.

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pride and climb so high that one cannot help but tumble. Cygnus did not want to hoist himself up or rise too high in self-confidence; rather, he was of such great foresight that he mended his ways on account of another. Phaethon acted foolishly from pride; misfortune claimed him. Cygnus took heed of that, and wisely learned to behave humbly: he left his high estate to live secure in poverty. It is better to live humbly, in safety, just as one would like, than to rise to too high a degree, from which one would need to basely fall. No wise person should become too attached to acquiring worldly honors. Rather, they should live humbly on earth, and govern themselves wisely, so that they might not come to grief. [1173–1208] {T}here can be another interpretation that is well in accord with truth. When the false one, the presumptuous one, the evil one, the malicious one, Antichrist, who will rule for a short time, is condemned and overthrown – what will they do, the presumptuous, the weak-willed, and the hedonists, after they heeded him, after they placed their love and hope in him, after they called him brother and beloved, and after they loved earthly delights, and cherished vainglory, calling it their mother and their lady? Well may they sigh at that point; well may they rend and tear their hair; well may they cry and howl. They will have plenty of time for mourning. Their vainglory and their pride, which will soon fail, will matter little, when they are consigned forever to excruciating torment. They will be unprofitable trees – trees that will burn in eternal flame, and that will weep forever in the fires of hell, where they will be. [1209–1234] {C}ygnus can be understood as those to whom God will give the fortitude to amend their behavior, to weep and repent so as to obliterate the sins which they will have committed through ignorance and the false deceit of the evil one, whom they will have believed. They will recognize themselves as deceived, in that they will have shown contempt to God, and they will weep so much that God will hold them as penitent and worthy of his mercy. Those who will have been blackened by unbelief and sin, with which they were stained, will become pure and cleanly swans, and will come and dive in the water of baptism, and will leave behind their blackness there. And so, through lovingkindness and harmony, they will be reconciled with God, full of mercy, and will abandon the earthly delights that they previously chose, and become poor and humble, as recommended by the Holy Gospel, to acquire heavenly honor, and be pleasing to our Lord: in this way, the tale relates to truth. [1235–1261] [miniature, fol. 49v: jupiter remonstrating with phoebus while the other gods beseech him from the clouds]



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Phoebus Mourns Phaethon (II) {A}bove, I told and related to you how Phaethon, because of his folly, came to shame and woe. Phoebus felt great grief and great anger for the death and martyrdom of his son, whom Jupiter had slain. Everything dimmed, everything darkened; the world was dimmed, as during an eclipse. He devoted his heart to mourning. He refused to illuminate the world – in fact, he said: “Ever since I was born, I have never gone a day without being strained, without having any choice or any reward. Hence it is only right that I permit myself not to labor and strain any more. And whoever wants to drive the chariot in my place can drive it, to bring light. And if there is no one else who might be able to, and no one who dares to attempt such a feat, let the one who struck down my son with lightning, because he drove the chariot badly, come and try his strength at driving and directing it. Indeed, I know very well that if he drove the horses, he would have his hands so full that he would feel sorry for having taken my son from me.” [1262–1289] {P}hoebus then lamented, and grieved for the young man. All the deities of heaven surrounded him with contrite expressions, and humbly entreated him not to darken the world. Jupiter asked and harangued him, arguing that it was better for Phoebus to have lost his son than for the entire world to be laid waste. “Son, don’t be hostile, and show no more malice towards the world, but do your duty as you used to do. And if you don’t want to obey me, I will punish you severely for it.” Phoebus angrily gathered the fierce horses, which were all shaking from the great fear they felt; he goaded and struck them cruelly, and reproached them for the death of his son. [1290–1310] [miniature, fol. 49v: christ in majesty at the last judgment, flanked by saints and angels, with the dead arising from their tombs]57

Moralization {G}od continuously mourns for the loss and harm and death of the human race, which is spiritually dead. And he feels that he has been poorly repaid and that all he did for us has been for nought, when he humbled himself for us to the point that he resolved to come to the world as a mortal man, and become a serf, and offer his blessed body to endure pain and suffering. His effort was misspent, and he declares that he has received a poor return for his service. And so it seems that he has given up on Holy Church and the whole world, and that he has no care or desire to drive the chariot that ought to direct the whole world, for the whole world is filled with misfortune and shadowy darkness, and if it were not for the saints and their prayers, and the pity with 57

Fols 49v, 141r, 192r, 305r, and 333r have comparable miniatures of this.

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which God abounds, he would have plunged the whole world into shadow, and eternally consigned it to shadows and torment. [1311–1340] But pity, which presses and subdues him, restrains his anger and his vengeance, and he suffers only so that he can rescue us at all costs from the sins with which the world is stained, and so he gives us direction that enlightens and guides us. These lights and guides are the honorable preachers and wise preceptors whom God sends via Holy Church to show us the proper path to acting well, to the extent we lack it. [1341–1351] But God is extremely vexed by the shortcoming of those who, by their good example, should have been giving light to the world and guiding society, and these people end up causing it to go astray and err more than it would have done if it had not followed their example. Hence they are guilty of, responsible for, and the cause of the sins of the others, and God, on the Day of Judgment, will reproach them harshly for it, and seek terrible vengeance on behalf of the simple people whom they cause to err. [1352–1364] Callisto (I) {W}hen Phaethon’s fire had subsided and the world was illuminated by the sun as it had been before, Jupiter became extremely fretful about the sky, which had been blasted in many places by the heat of the fire, and investigated and checked all over whether he might find it pierced anywhere. He found it whole and unruptured: it had no need of repair. Then he looked at the earth, which had been parched and blistered by the hot and blazing fire, and the people had been baked and scalded. [1365–1378] He came to Arcadia, to which, it seemed to him, he had the greatest attachment. To nourish the land, he restored the earth to greenery. He replenished wells and springs, and made the rivers which had been dried up by the heat run again as they used to. And he made it so that the trees bore leaves and all the dry forests of Arcadia became green once more. [1379–1388] As he was going to and fro, he spied a damsel … [1389–1390] [miniature, fol. 50r: jupiter kissing callisto; callisto being cast out by diana and her followers]

… of Arcadian birth, noble and beautiful. As soon as he saw the maiden, he was completely consumed with love for her. He took notice of the beauty, contemplated her appearance: she had elegantly tied her garment with a fringe, and her blond hair was done up with a cord, without any ornament or hardware. She had never learned to adorn herself or dress daintily. She had learned to hunt wild beasts throughout those woods. She carried javelins



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and quivers full of arrows and the Turkish bow.58 With this, she served the Arcadian:59 she was a companion of Diana, the most skillful and valued member of her whole company. She was always at her side, but no human power can last for long. Though the maiden was Diana’s bosom friend, and she was hers, all too soon Diana took away her grace and favor all at once, and cast her out all of a sudden. [1391–1418] The affection of a great man is fleeting: whoever relies on it is incredibly foolish, for it is not at all reliable.60 Many men who were personal friends of the great were raised to high status and high office; they had high honors and rubbed shoulders with lords. And then in a short time they lost their patrons’ favor, and so fell into great shame and great opprobrium. Such love is not to be trusted at all, nor should one err though hope in them, for one soon loses favor. Thus the beauty I am speaking of lost the love of her lady for a fairly minor reason, despite her being one of her household, and Diane held her in contempt. I will tell you why, without delay. [1419–1438] One day the noon hour had passed, and this young woman, who was tired of running through the woodlands and chasing game, went into a wood to rest. She unstrung her bow, put down her quiver, and lay down on the thin sparse grass. When Jupiter saw her weary and alone, and without any protector who might have caught sight of or disturbed him, he said and thought in his heart: “I will take this woman’s virginity, and in such a way that my wife will never find out or notice. If she does know, then I don’t care, nor will I desist at all for that, since I have time and occasion and leisure to do a thing that pleases me. I’m not that afraid of her anger.” [1439–1459] At once he approached the girl, then took on the form and body language of Diana, and said: “Virgin, fair companion whom I love the most, on which mountain have you been hunting all day long?” She got up without delay and said: “My lady, my mistress, goddess more noble and valiant than Jupiter – if he wishes, let him hear me! May great honors and great joy come to you.” Jupiter heard her and this pleased him greatly. Nothing she said displeased him. He was glad to hear her dispraise him as Jupiter in order to praise him as Diana. He approached the damsel and kissed her lasciviously on the mouth, more than any virgin ought to, and began to pull her toward him, more than Diana had been used to doing. While she tried to tell him where she had been 58 The arc turquois, v. 1406, was a composite recurve bow, attested in antiquity (among, for example, the Parthians) but, as noted by Fanny Caroff at https://www. lesclesdumoyenorient.com/Cimeterre-arc-turquois-javelot-ou-feu-gregeois-La-description -des-armes-de-l.html#nb8, also a staple of Old French crusade literature. 59 De ce servoit l’Archadiane, v. 1407. Although Callisto herself is an Arcadian, references elsewhere to “Arcadian Artemis” suggest that l’Archadiane should be taken as the object of servoit, as opposed to taking it as the subject and translating “the Arcadian made use of this.” 60 A proverb, also referenced by Marie de France in Eliduc (vv. 61-63).

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hunting, Jupiter rushed to embrace her; he flung her on the grass and took her virginity. She defended herself to the extent that she could, and I think that if Juno had known that, she would have been less hostile toward her afterwards. She defended herself with all her might, but who might you find who could overcome Jupiter? No one could have overcome him. [1460–1491] Jupiter traveled skyward, when he had had his pleasure of the beauty. The girl was mourning in her heart, and she loathed the place and the wood where she had lost her virginity. She went from there so stunned that as she left, she almost forgot her Turkish bow and her arrows and her quiver.61 Eventually she saw Diana and her companions coming through those mountains with a great haul of game. When Diana saw the girl, she called to her. Callisto was afraid, but when she noticed that the band of companions was all together with Diana, she saw clearly that there were no grounds for fear, and joined the group. [1492–1509] No one under heaven but herself knew that she had been deflowered; but there is no deed so well concealed that it is not necessarily revealed. No transgression can remain concealed. The transgression manifests itself on the face of the transgressor, for it always seems to him that no one is aware of anything except his guilt and his shame and the scandals he has committed. Always the man who has transgressed fears that the deed he feels guilty about might become apparent to all.62 So it seemed to Callisto that everyone knew the nature of what had happened between Jupiter and her. She felt such great shame and humiliation that she did not dare to look at anyone. It was fully apparent from her, from her face, from how she blushed and grimaced, that she had lost her chastity. She was ashamed and preoccupied, and was never as talkative as she had previously been, nor did she stay as close by Diana’s side as before, nor did she go out in front as she used to do; instead she was seen to lag at the back. Her companions, seeing this, did not notice from any of the signs what was the matter; and Diana would have noticed, if she had experienced such a thing herself, but she was still a virginal maiden, so she remained unaware of Callisto’s condition.63 [1510–1544]

Son arc turquois / Et ses fleches et son carquois, vv. 1499–1500, reverses the earlier les carquois / Plain de fleches et l’arc turquois, vv. 1405–1406: this is the close of a chiasmus that contains the rape. 62 In this section we use he/him/his for the generic transgressor, to make it clear that (as we understand it) the transgressor thinks everyone else is acutely aware of the transgressor’s guilt and shame, not of their own guilt and shame. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. home, p. 76. 63 Se tele chose esprouvee eüst, v. 1542. Tel chose could refer to rape and signs of trauma, or merely to sexual intercourse and signs of pregnancy; or it might conflate the two. In Ovid (Met. 2.450), as here, Callisto “is silent and by her blushing shows signs of her shame at being attacked” (Kline), but the OM departs from Ovid in making Diana, as a virgin, unaware of the 61



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Eight months had already gone by, and much of the ninth. It was hot and past noon, and Diana, who was growing tired from the heat and the arduous hunting, entered a wood that was as cold as ice. In the wood there was a spring which was clear and lovely, pure and healthful. From the spring there sprang a stream, running over the pebbly soil in the wood; its babbling echoed in the trees, and it made the grass and little flowers grow. Diana looked upon the pleasant place, and the clear and shimmering stream, whose water was fair and cool. Without hesitation she washed her feet in the water, which was like silver, and said: “In this place there are no people, nor any man we need fear. I want us all to bathe, to refresh and clean ourselves.” [1545–1565] The words she heard grieved Callisto beyond measure, for she realized she was swollen and pregnant. Surely, when she was naked, it would be known how she had acted. Therefore she was afraid and hung back. The others kept looking at her – they had already undressed, and many of them had already jumped in the water. Whether she would or no, they stripped her, and tore away her clothes. Then, all of them could plainly see that her belly was full. She tried to cover her belly with her hands. Diana forbade her to come in and bathe with her; with no hesitation she drove her out and expelled her from her retinue. [1566–1583] Juno was completely inflamed and consumed with great jealousy. For some time she had been aware that Callisto had lain with Jupiter, and that she had had a son by him, which made the adultery64 obvious. Juno was aggrieved, it was clear. It was clear? Truly – or rather, it would be clear: the mother would pay dearly for it. Juno had delayed the venting of her anger and vexation until an appropriate time. Now the matter was made public by the birth of the child. He looked a great deal like his father, and this is what grieved Juno most. She came to Callisto and accosted her arrogantly in speech: “You unruly, crazy slut! So you just had to conceive by my husband, and have a son in order to show off your whoring? How could you be so bold as to offend against me this way, and seduce my husband? You put too much store, it seems to me, in the beauty of your face – but I will take that from you, truly, and render you up to shame.” [1584–1612] Then without another word she ran at her and seized her by the hair and dragged her to the ground, all disheveled, and beat her and kicked her and treated her viciously. Callisto, meanwhile, humbly reached out her arms to her, to ask for mercy – and suddenly they were blackened, and covered with horrible situation; per Ovid (Met. 2.451–452), “Even if she were not herself virgin, Diana could sense her guilt in a thousand ways. They say all the nymphs could feel it.” 64 Here l’avoutire “the adultery” is not ascribed to either Jupiter or Callisto, but v. 1820 refers specifically to Callisto’s avoultire. This word should not be taken to mean that Juno is enraged at Jupiter for cheating on her. In fact, as her speech shows, she puts all the blame on Callisto.

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fuzzy hair. Her face, which used to be so pleasing, became filthy and hairy: it was now dreadful, disgusting, and so marvelously hideous, being split65 almost as far as the ears. She had long, sharp nails, and bent and hooked hands, on which she walked instead of feet. Her lovely body was foully changed; whoever saw her would never guess that she had once been Jupiter’s lover. And so that she might never soften through her pleading the hearts of those who saw her, and who might hear her lamenting, Juno took speech from her. And when the poor girl tried to speak, without rhyme66 or reason she let out a truly awful noise, threatening, fear-inducing, and full of dreadful growling. Of all she had originally possessed, nothing human remained to her except understanding and thought.67 She had been transformed into a foul she-bear. [1613–1646] She mourned profoundly. Such arms and such hands as she had, she reached up to the sky, and sighed and moaned, and in her heart she complained of the one who had deflowered her, causing her to experience such shame that she became a foul she-bear.68 The poor girl had lost all honor, and taken on all shame. She often wandered alone, bewildered, in front of what had been her dwelling, without taking rest or shelter. She had all too little of her former pleasure. She did not dare stay alone in the woods; instead she strayed across the fields and dogs ran barking after her. She fled before the chase, deprived of any human help, and she was forced to hide from the bears she saw roaming and creeping in those mountains. She avoided wolves and their mates wherever she saw them, daughter of a wolf though she was.69 For fifteen years, she was in such misery. [1647–1671] Her son, Arcas, who by now was fully grown, a lively and noble young man, was one day setting his nets in the woods and valleys as a prelude to hunting wild animals there. And so he happened to see her, but did not recognize her. His mother recognized him, and stopped when she saw him. She tried to kiss him and rejoice with him. But, when he saw her ugly appearance, the young man began to flee, having no interest in making her acquaintance. He took his spear and threw it at her, and would have struck her with it and wounded her in the chest without delay, but Jupiter, who had loved her, protected her from wounding and death. Nor would he accept that Arcas should strike her. Rather, he swept up and carried I.e., the mouth extended. Lit. “sense.” 67 Sans senz et sans raison, v. 1639, would appear to form a chiasmus with l’entendement et la pensee, v. 1645, contrasting her apparent failure to make sense with the continuity of her human intellect. This would seem to relate to Aristotle’s understanding of humans as rational animals. 68 The multiple enjambments in this section would seem to reflect Callisto’s sense of dislocation. 69 A reference to her father, Lycaon, the cannibalistic king of Arcadia whom Jupiter had turned into a wolf: see Book 1, vv. 1203ff. 65 66



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to his sky the spear, the she-bear, and the young man. The star70 into which the she-bear was transformed is still called “The Bear.” [1672–1694] [miniature, fol. 52r: diana (or juno) pointing the finger at callisto; callisto being pawed by men]

Moralization {C}allisto was a maiden who was beautiful in her youth. Diana represents, it seems to me, the purity of virginity. Callisto was a companion and friend of Diana, and part of her retinue, while she was in her youth and kept her maidenhead. Then it became known by her belly that she had lain with a male, and then she “lost her companionship.” [1695–1705] There are a great many women who spend a good part of their lives whoring around, without losing their renown for being virgins. As long as no one sees what they are up to, or their wombs do not conceive, every one of them passes herself off as a maiden. This woman, or that one, is a chaste virgin – or so she lets on – as long as she can conceal herself, but when she has a full belly, then suddenly all bets are off, on the evidence of her pregnancy. Although it be against nature, against justice, and against mercy, some women, all the better to conceal their wickedness, use potions – and this is a great loss and a great wrong – to make the semen perish in their bodies, or to compress and kill it at birth. Oh, God, what awful treachery and horrid cruelty it is when those who are completely guiltless are given over to eternal death and condemned by their mothers, often before they are even born. And so those who ought to have been their mothers and friends turn out to be their mortal enemies, and the babies pay for the transgressions that the women themselves have committed. [1706–1734] No one ought to love such a woman, who has a heart so full of bitterness, anger, and wickedness that she would destroy her offspring to conceal her whoring. The father, who loses the child in this way, has incredibly tragic progeny. I would dare to say openly that anyone who puts his faith in such a woman is in peril of his life, for if he is the kind of man who ever scolds her, or incurs her anger, she will poison him, in truth, or asphyxiate him in his sleep! What fidelity can she bear him, if she could abort her own son? [1735–1750] If this kind of woman had wanted to keep her whoring secret, she could have gone on pilgrimage to a place where she was not known, so that her doings went unnoticed, and in that way she might have given birth and let her infant live, and have it nursed on the hush-hush. Or if she did not have the wherewithal, or at least want to nurse it herself, she could at least have

70

Constellation: Ursa major.

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entrusted it to someone, instead of aborting it, and sent it to its father, who would have had the obligation to provide a nurse.71 And if he did not want to, or could not, or if the mother did not know which father to assign the child, she could have left it on the porch of any hospital, instead of destroying it. For the sake of God the spiritual father, it would have been supported by public almsgiving.72 Or, maybe, she could have found it some woman who would feed and nurse it, and see it safely out of infancy. But instead, she who bore it, and above all others should have fed it and watched over it and held it dear, causes it to die as a martyr,73 and brings it to naught before it has even had a beginning. [1751–1778] These kinds of mothers, who betray their offspring and go around harming their children in order to conceal their shame from the public eye, are harsh and cruel. When children are abused and destroyed without their having done anything wrong, in a way that usurps the prerogative of nature, it were better that they had never been conceived or born. Nature, it seems to me, designed the carnal commingling of male and female in order for there to be reproduction, for the young to grow up and increase and populate the world. But the act itself is really gross and foul. That is why, as it seems to me, nature associated pleasure with the filth. Otherwise no one would have any interest in it, if one did not take great pleasure from it. Rather, if the act were not pleasing, for whatever delight might be in it, then fruit would not be forthcoming from the act such as nature requires. Hence anyone who is not primarily seeking and choosing the fruit itself, never the pleasure, is utterly an animal. And yet, so I believe, no one would have been made an animal by the stirrings of pleasure were it not nature itself that stirred them, so that some fruit would come of it. Hence those who cause the fruit to be harmed are completely demented, and nature, which expected the seed that was spilt to result in suitable fruit, is forestalled. False is the mother who destroys the fruit that nature made, and causes her offspring to be undone. But now let us set aside such mothers, who are so bitter and cruel, and return to our subject. [1779–1819] Because of her adultery, Callisto was despised and defamed and slandered and disliked by everyone who knew her. All her relatives hated her for it, 71 Qui de norrice l’avoiast, v. 1762. De Boer has a note: “avoier = satisfaire un voeu […] Donc: ‘qui doit lui procurer la nourrice qu’elle désire (pour son enfant)’.” 72 Demats (1973), 125–126, has identified the preceding language, and some of what follows, as an almost exact match for the thirteenth-century Latin poem On the Old Woman (De Vetula), which aligns with the OM insofar as it makes Ovid a Christian convert. The modern editions of De Vetula are by Klopsch (1967), Robathan (1968), and, with English translation, Hexter, Pfuntner, and Haynes (2020), 134–297. 73 A martire fenir, v. 1776, is an example of how the word martire can mean martyrdom specifically or suffering and death more broadly. An alternative translation would be “causes it to die in pain” or similar.



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and left her to fend for herself; and at that point Callisto gave her body up entirely to whoring. But her beauty soon perished since she adopted that line of work. She found herself in want of everything; she often endured privation and risk. She had little to eat and drink, was poorly clothed and shod, and her complexion grew pale. Her beautiful coloring, fresh and fair, resembling a rose and a hawthorn bloom, was soon dulled and drained away from her. She became rough and hairy, from poverty and want. Her face, which had been so beautiful, became hideous and fuzzy and pale, and her locks, which used to be so golden, became gross and filthy. Her whole body was dishonored. Woeful, grieving, she often cursed the one who had deflowered her. [1820–1846] The tale says that she became a bear, for just as that animal attacks and flies into a rage on slight provocation, and consequently lives by predatory behavior, this young woman became enraged and supported herself by preying on people. She lived by predation and robbery, since she was unable to meet her needs by prostitution. No one valued her body enough to stoop to promising or giving her anything for it, now that she had lost her beauty. She loitered alone, bewildered, through fields here and byways there, and yet found no man, be he white or black or red or of some other kind, who might have had any interest in her body – rather, she could not find a man worth anything who valued it at all. The rabble dragged her around and abused her like dogs.74 She fled from the robbers, murderers, and defilers, because of how they yanked at her, and took from her all she had. [1847–1872] Her son Arcas, who put all his effort and attention into hunting, and was having his hunting nets set out to catch game,75 happened to come across her. But he did not recognize her, because she was too degraded and denuded, hideous, contemptible, gross, and foul. Callisto, who had carried him in her womb, surely recognized him, it seems to me. She approached him, when she saw him, to kiss him and rejoice with him, and she began to tell him all about her life and her appearance, and how she had initially conceived him by such-and-such a king. Arcas felt shame and spite on account of this, when he saw his mother’s shameful state, and learned of her whoredom, and how he was born of adultery. He held her in contempt, and without another word he 74 Come chien la mastinoient, v. 1868. De Boer’s note on mastinoient (“traiter comme un chien, maltraiter”) suggests some uncertainty about whether the rabble are abusing her as if they were dogs, or as if she were a dog. Since what is being moralized is that Callisto, as a bear, “strayed across the fields and dogs ran barking after her,” it makes more sense that they would be the dogs, but there might be deliberate ambiguity or wordplay here, to the effect that they, like dogs, treat her like a dog. 75 Fesoit tendre / Ses rois, vv. 1875–1876. The phrasing suggests that this is being done for him by others, while in Ovid (Met. 2.498–500) he is more likely alone: “While he was hunting wild animals, while he was finding suitable glades and penning up the Erymanthian groves with woven nets, he came across his mother” (Kline).

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would have killed her, or wounded her with a piercing tapered arrow, but he recollected how, according to divine admonishment, a son should not strike his mother for anything she does, nor his father, and so stopped himself from hitting her. Instead he approached his mother, and reconciled with her so that he recalled her from her folly. [1873–1902] “Jupiter made her a constellation”: she was wise and mended her ways, so that she forsook her wicked life. From then on she had no desire to sin; from then on she lived well and undefiled, and through her good behavior, she set a good example for living to those who might wish to follow in her footsteps, and so earn entry to paradise.76 This is why the tale feigns long ago that she was turned into the constellation still called “The Bear.” [1903–1914] [miniature, fol. 53r: a nativity scene – mary lies in bed with joseph sitting at her feet; jesus lies in the manger flanked by an ox and a horse]77

{C}allisto – who was so beautiful as long as she was a virginal maiden, and who was a servant and friend of Diana, and her best beloved – can be understood as Judea, who used to be at the service of our Lord, and used to be held in great honor, for as long as she was undefiled and pure and took pains to serve the Trinity, which is God, in holy unity. The almighty Father and helper,78 the Creator and Savior of the whole world, embraced her with pure love, and he impregnated her with a blessed lineage, whose principal distinction was to assume preeminence over all other people: that is, the Son of God, the beautiful, the noble, Prince above all the kings of the earth. In order to take possession of and to redeem and to unburden the human race, he resolved to come down and become incarnate in the body of the Virgin Maiden, who was the chambermaid and handmaid in the temple of the deity, which is triple in true unity. It was in this pure, Virgin Maiden, this very noble creature, that the Son of the heavenly King resolved to come down and be born as a true man: he was born directly of the line of Judah.79 And therefore I can openly declare that her Son, who is preeminent over all kingdoms, was born a Jew. And Judea was held in high honor, and was pleasing to our Lord, 76 In other moralizations, the OM mentions Mary Magdalen as the exemplar of this process. 77 Compare and contrast the Nativity scene on fol. 122r. 78 God is called a “helper” several times in the Old Testament (Hebrew ezer in Exodus 18:4, the Psalms, etc.) and in Hebrews 13:6. 79 De Juda (v. 1947) and de Jude (v. 1949) are translated “Judah” and “Judea” on the assumption that the OM differentiates. Jesus was descended from Judah (see his genealogy in Matthew 1:1–6, Luke 3:23–38) and is called the “Lion of the Tribe of Judah” (Revelation 5:5). While Judea corresponds to the former kingdom of (the tribe of) Judah, it is also the female personification of the Jews that is used to explicate their relationship to God.



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and God prized her as his beloved and was in covenant with her, as long as she was an undefiled, pure virgin, and as long as she took care to keep from being foolish, sinning, and straying. [1915–1958] But then she undoubtedly lost all his grace and his fellowship, his covenant and his love, when he discovered her wickedness. And from then on, God disdained her because the foolish woman, because of the pride she was filled with, held shame and disdain in her heart for bathing in the spring where the Savior bathed, that is, baptism, in which God resolved to bathe and baptize his body to cleanse the whole world. But Judea, like a proud, puffed-up, and presumptuous woman, disdained – as she still does – to bathe herself, and from then on, lost the love of God and any claim to paradise, as one who is disdained and vile. Now she “is a she-bear,” vile and disdained, and vilely frolics and delights in the cushy luxuries of her worldly vanities. And the vile sins that lead her on to shame and grief lead her astray. And if God, a Father full of pity, mercy, and help in need, who so loved her in the beginning, were not giving her occasion to reflect and the grace to repent, the ire and vengeance of the Son of God would put her to a cruel death, no lie, punishing her for the vileness and the shame and the transgressions that she committed towards him and commits even now, from hubris, by disbelieving in him and his religion. But God, a Father filled with pity, will be mindful of and recollect his ancient friendship, and appease his Son’s ire and vengeance towards the Jewish people. And God will give them the ability to recognize the Son of God, and know and love him, whom they used to disdain and slander. Then Judea will be honored, seated in the heavens and crowned with glory and lasting radiance. In this way, the tale is in accord with the truth. [1959–2006] [miniature, fol. 53v: juno swoops down from the clouds to speak to the sea-gods]

Callisto (II) {A}bove, I told and recounted to you how Jupiter prevented Arcas from harming his mother, then raised them into the sky and transformed them into stars. This really infuriated Juno, as well it might infuriate her, no question, when she saw in the sky her rival sparkling among the stars. Now she could do her no more harm, for she was out of her clutches. Juno came down from the sky forthwith, and she arrived at the sea: she wanted to complain to the maritime gods. The gods of the sea received her handsomely, with great honor – as well they should – and asked her what the matter was, and what had brought her there. [2007–2024] Juno said: “You ask me why I’ve come? Well, hear the reason, because I’ll tell you, and never lie about it. I was accustomed to being the lady and the goddess who reigns over the gods. Now I have some mistress on my hands

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who wants to occupy the sky in my place. As soon as night falls, you’ll be able to confirm openly that I speak the truth: you’ll be able to see seven stars, newly set in the firmament by order of the highest heaven, situated near the ultimate axis of the sky, and they weigh heavy on my heart. For do I not possess great power? Didn’t I perform a great feat? I deprived Callisto of human form when she offended me – now she has become a goddess! Didn’t I stick it to her? Wasn’t that some revenge I took? I wouldn’t be nearly so worked up if Jupiter had given her back her original form and appearance. He should have just made her the queen of heaven, and traded me in for her! Now I ask that you never let her dip into your sea, if you want to show me any affection.” The gods of the sea granted what Juno asked of them, and Juno went away happy. [2025–2057] Moralization The Bear appears in our hemisphere80 and never disappears in any season, because it is fixed at the point around which the circle of the firmament commences spinning; it cannot pivot so far away that anyone can observe it in the opposite hemisphere, the southern sky. As for the seven stars I am speaking of:81 because of those seven stars, the part of the sky where the seven (sept) are visible is called Septentrion. That’s why tales claim that they never dip into the sea – because they are so close to the point around which the firmament rotates that all they do is go around in circles, and they never move away from us. But the stars that roam farther from the center often disappear from our view as the sky stirs, and so we observe them in different configurations according to the different movement of the sky in different seasons. And that, it seems to me, is the reason why the Bear is called the “Lazy Cart” (Chars tardis), because it can always be seen near the pivot point, and turns about the axis lazily, it seems, not getting much mileage. [2058–2087] [miniature, fol. 54r: above, the heavenly host crowned in glory; below, the devils stuffing people into the hellmouth]82

{T}here can be another interpretation of this. When God, full of mercy, has drawn the Jews back into his peace and his concord, his grace, his acquaintance, and his love and his union, and has removed them from the pain of hell and installed them in heavenly glory, never – it’s the truth – never will they be able to suffer any misery or pain, or any bitterness of weeping, any woe, any sadness, but rather, joy and pleasure and happiness, both they The northern half of the sky. That make up the constellation. 82 This miniature combines two images that occur elsewhere separately: there are numerous instances of the hellmouth, while the heavenly host is like the image on fol. 192v. 80 81



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and the saints who will be there together. Nor will they ever dip into the dark and choppy sea of hell, which unsettles sinners, and puts them in awful dread. On that day, fear will come upon the sinners, the wicked prideful men of this world in whom all iniquity abounds, who disdain the truly repentant, and foolishly delight in the vain excesses of earthly pleasures, which delude them and draw them in, and draw them on to an infernal death. When in darkness, they will see the bliss of the good, enjoying eternal life. And envy of the benefits the good receive will grieve them more than the grievous suffering they will endure. [2088–2120] [miniature, fol. 54v: juno taking off in her chariot drawn by peacocks]

The Raven {J}uno had complained to the gods of the sea about how the Bear, which she could never bring herself to love, had been made a constellation in the sky, and so it was promised to her that it would never be lapped by the sea. After this, Juno rose into the air in a chariot drawn by peacocks, which had been freshly painted with the eyes of Argus. [2121–2129] The raven, who was initially colored whiter than a swan – neither snow on a branch nor a white dove or white goose was whiter or more elegant than the raven used to be – was blackened through his ignorance, and his color was changed from white to black through his foolishness. And his vile, gossipy tongue, which was harmful and treacherous, had caused him to recently turn black. Now I shall tell you how. [2130–2142] [miniature, fol. 54v: coronis sitting with and embracing her lover]

{I}n Thessaly there was a maiden, the most pleasing and the most beautiful. Her complexion was fresh and pure. The girl’s name was Coronis and she was born in the city of Laurissa, and she was of great nobility. Phoebus loved her for a long time, but the beauty secretly loved another young man. [2143–2151] At that time, Phoebus had a bird of his that used to be called the raven. None more beautiful could be found at the time. His plumage was beautiful and delicate, and whiter than freshly fallen snow, then it turned black through his idle gossip. He noticed the debauchery of the maiden’s adultery.83 He went to Phoebus to tell him the news about what he had seen. The crow followed The point of this awkward phrasing might be that (notwithstanding the miniature in Rouen) he actually saw them having sex, as opposed to picking up on less obvious signs that they were involved with one another. 83

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him and asked him where he was going. The raven told her84 he wanted to tell his lord such-and-such, and reveal the kind of adultery in which he had caught his lady. [2152–2167] The crow, who knew well how high the cost might be, was very knowledgeable, and she advised him against going, for so much harm can come to one who bears a bad message: “He who brings bad news comes too quickly to the door; he will never manage to arrive too late. It could go incredibly badly for you to disclose this adultery. Not all truths are good for telling: one often loses by telling the truth! It’s not very wise for someone to want to reveal everything they know. It’s better to conceal one’s heart than to disclose through ignorance anything that is sure to bring harm. I know well that when Phoebus will know of this it will make him angry and depressed, and I don’t think he would be pleased to hear someone speak ill of his beloved. If you tell him, he will hate you, and things could go incredibly badly for you. [2168–2190] “I realized clearly a long time ago that speaking truth hurt me very much. My loyalty did me harm. All other birds, if they are wise, should mend their ways on account of me, for whoever sees someone else acting foolishly and suffering for his folly is very foolish if he does not mend his ways on that account. You should pay heed to my words of caution. If you deign to listen to me, I will tell you the great harm I incurred from another message. [2191–2202] {“I} was once lady and mistress over the household of the goddess Pallas. She loved me and held me dear. Now my lady has rejected me and cast me out of her company. Now she has as her companion the owl who is called ‘Noctue’ or ‘Nyctimine,’ the one who sullied the paternal bed with her whoring. It was through my gossip, for sure, but for the truth that I spoke, that I lost my relationship with Pallas, and in my stead she placed the one who seduced her own father! Now listen and I will tell you, without lying a single word, why Pallas became angry and drove me from her home. [2203–2220] [miniature, fol. 55r: pallas hands the chest to the three daughters of cecrops]

{“V}ulcan – the contemptible, the base, who had forged Jove’s thunderbolts, who because of the ugliness of his face had lost the favor of the gods and, with that, their company – coveted Pallas foolishly, and lustfully pursued her. But she never consented to such a thing: she did not wish to violate her virginity. Then Vulcan tried to constrain her by force, and would have willingly defiled her if he could have. But he was never able to overcome her; rather, he spread his seed on the earth. The seed took shape in the earth and a child who had a double form,

84

La cornille, v. 2162, is feminine in French.



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who was called Erichthonius, was born of this emission. It was a marvel, since, without a mother, he was born from his father’s semen. [2221–2240] “My lady took this infant, who was of double appearance: he had the body of a man, and the feet of a snake with which he slithered along on the ground.85 She took it upon herself to conceal the child and put him in a closed chest: she did not want the child to be seen or the chest’s secret known.86 She had the child watched over in Athens by the three daughters of Cecrops. She forbade them from opening the chest or revealing its secret. [2241–2252] “Pandrasos was the oldest of the three sisters; the middle one, it seems to me, was named Herse; and the third one was called Aglauros. These three took custody of the chest. Aglauros was the most reckless: she ignored my lady’s command and stealthily took the chest and forced it open. And she disclosed the whole secret to the other two, who were grief-stricken over it and shut the chest as fast as they could. [2253–2264] “I saw this, being hidden beneath an elm tree, where I spied what the three sisters87 might do, and whether they would ignore her command. I immediately went to tell it to my lady, which made her so angry with me that she drove me from her service and chose the owl in preference to me. Now she doesn’t love me or care for me one little bit. [2265–2272] “If you tell me that I inserted myself and wormed my way into her service against her will and in spite of herself, only for her to dismiss me at the first opportunity, I certainly did not! Rather, she begged me to join her retinue. Even though she is upset with me, I know well that if anyone asked her she would never conceal the truth about it. [2273–2282] {“I} was once very beautiful and from a very noble family, the daughter of a queen and a king, a beautiful woman and of high station. Coroneus was my father. I rejected many handsome men, because I did not deign to love a single one of them. One day on the seashore I was relaxing on the sand. Neptune, who found me very beautiful, begged for my love and pursued me, but he gained nothing by begging: I did not want to do his bidding. When Neptune found me so proud that he could gain nothing, he ceased his begging. He tried to deflower me by force, and without delay he attacked me and chased me along In Ovid, the child in the osier box has a snake (draco) beside him (Met. 2.561) but is not himself part snake. Ovid’s gemino de Cecrope natis (Met. 2.555) indicates but does not spell out (as Kline does in his translation) that it is Cecrops who is half-man, half-snake, as in Apollodorus (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, 66). 86 Ses secrez, v. 2248, and son secré, v. 2252: since the French possessive does not show gender, is this “his” or “her” or “its” secret? It could be either, but we make it “the chest’s secret,” following Kline’s translation of Ovid (Met. 2.552–556): “Once upon a time Pallas hid a child, Erichthonius, born without a human mother, in a box made of Actaean osiers. She gave this to the three virgin daughters of two-natured Cecrops [...] and ordered them not to pry into its secret.” 87 Lit. “companions.” 85

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the seashore. I wanted to keep my virginity, and fled as quickly as I could, but I was a woman and could not endure the exhaustion of the race. And I did not see anyone who might have wanted, or been able, to help me. I began to shout and howl, for I felt weak and exhausted. I called upon the gods and goddesses. I was spent from running when my lady came to my rescue. To save my virginity, she endowed me with such speed that the chase didn’t trouble me at all. Her help came to me in the nick of time: Neptune would have raped me, but I flew off through the air with the help of Pallas. I who was once a maiden became a crow and am now black. Pallas was my protection and refuge at that time, as my lady and friend, and she took me into her retinue. [2283–2324] “I was there for a long time, and still would have been, had I not revealed to her the matter that made her angry and caused her to drive me out of her dwelling. And this is what perturbs me the most: that my lady has set the owl in my place and in my office, she who, due to her great wickedness, dares to fly only at night. All other birds are a vexation to her, because when she is in plain view they can catch her. And so she doesn’t dare come out by day, but flies at night, in secret, so that she’s not attacked during the day.” [2325–2338] The raven insulted and cursed the crow who had said this to him. “May god bring great misfortune upon you,” he said, “I don’t care one bit what you think. I won’t give up because of your preaching. I don’t believe so much in omens that I would act so treacherously. Am I to suffer my lady’s whoring and my lord’s dishonor and shame? I’ll certainly not permit it. Instead, I’m off and I’m going to tell him.” [2339–2350] Then he went to Phoebus and told him of the wickedness and the great shame Coronis had committed towards him, and how she had violated his love by being intimate with a new lover88 to whom she had given her affection. The raven had caught her in the act, and observed her crime firsthand. When Phoebus heard the wickedness and dishonor of his beloved, he was incredibly upset and very dismayed. His harp fell from his hand, and so did the bow he was holding.89 He forgot any sense of joy. The crown fell from his head. He was overcome with grief and vexation. His heart was filled with overwhelming anger. In this state of anger and rage which consumed his heart, he took up his bow and arrows. He drew his bow and shot a single arrow. He did not miss with that shot, rather it struck right to the heart of the beauty whom he had loved so much. What a loss and sin that was! [2351–2375] Her tender body, white and delicate, was stained the color of blood all over. She fainted from pain; it made her sight go blurred. Later, when she regained consciousness, she said, in a low voice, with great effort … [2376–2381] Lit. “adulterer.” The OM understands harps and lyres to have bows. See the note to Book 10, v. 2598, where Orpheus’s harp is discussed and moralized in detail. 88 89



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[miniature, fol. 56r: phoebus shoots coronis through the heart]

… weak and feeble as she was: “Dear, sweet friend, I am losing my life, but I have indeed deserved death. A lover, female or male, should indeed die a painful death if they are intent on violating their loyal love. But you might well have restrained yourself, if you had so wished, until I had given birth. You could have let me live until that time, and then, when I had delivered the child you gave me, I could have paid for my misdeed. Now it will necessarily die within me. With one single blow, you kill two people.” [2382–2396] With this, the beauty dropped dead. Phoebus grieved and lamented when he saw her soul depart from her. He repented, but it was too late. Since she was dead, without a doubt, repentance was of little use. He hated his bow and arrow, and the hand with which he had drawn it. He hated the bird who had brought him the bad news about the beauty, and he hated himself for ever having heard that which caused him such great distress. He very much repented taking such vengeance: it certainly seemed to him that she hadn’t deserved at all to die for such a crime. He took the dead girl and embraced her. He kissed her mouth and face. With great compassion, he anointed the body with a most precious ointment, which, through the art of medicine, was meant to hold back the soul in the maiden’s body.90 But nothing worked, for it was no longer there. [2397–2419] When Phoebus saw that he had lost his beloved, he did not want to lose the child. He broached her body, and cut it open, and delivered the child safe and sound. He later became a man of very good counsel, worthy, upstanding, and renowned: his name was Aesculapius. He was wise and well-versed in scholarship (clergie). He founded the art of surgery and knew so much about the art of medicine, and was so familiar with all the power of herbs and roots, that he could freely bring the dead back to life. But for now I will be silent about him, and speak of his father, who had put forth the greatest effort to bring his beloved back to life. [2420–2436] But, since he could find no way to save her, there was no point focusing on anything but how she should be buried. He did her great honor and magnificent homage, according to the custom of the day, by scenting the body with incense. Then he burned it and, as graciously as he could, placed the ashes in an urn. He sent the child to be raised by Chiron, and promised him a great reward if his efforts bore fruit. The raven expected a reward for the news he had brought, and Phoebus repaid him poorly, quite differently from what he had been hoping. Phoebus gave him black feathers and turned his whiteness to black. [2437–2454] [miniature, fol. 56v: the “historical” phoebus about to strike coronis with his sword] 90

“Body” added for clarity.

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Moralization (I) {I} will briefly expound these tales, first historically and then in a different way. Phoebus, an esteemed young man, brave, clever, and spirited, had a love-relationship with the beautiful Coronis and thus impregnated her with a son, who became worthy and wise and knew how to discover remedies and medicines for all kinds of illnesses. Phoebus greatly loved the maiden and kept her honorably, but the beauty secretly had relations with another lover.91 One of Phoebus’s attendants, a wicked and foolish speaker, a slanderer and a gossip, knew this and informed him of it. And he thought that for telling him the truth and revealing the infidelity in which he had discovered his lady, and for which he now had clear proof, he would receive a great reward. As soon as Phoebus learned that his beloved had done wrong by him, he was completely overcome with jealousy and filled with anger and sorrow. In such anger, without hesitation he struck her a deadly blow with his sword,92 so that he almost killed within her the infant she was carrying and to which she was shortly to give birth. When he saw that he had struck her dead, so that the beauty whom he used to love so much could not be saved, Phoebus had her cut open and broached in order to save the child, and drew it out of her alive. And, no lie, he hated so much the attendant who, because of his gossiping, had caused him to kill his beloved, for which he had great grief in his heart, that he cast him out of his home. And without delay, he took away his favor and his love from him. Because of this he never again showed him any mercy. That attendant is the white raven who turned black because of his gossiping, and this teaches us that no one should become a gossip, for no one can achieve great esteem by relaying gossip. [2455–2502] No one should love a gossip or place faith in a slanderer. Whoever places faith in one is deceived. Many have realized that a false slanderer and gossip is much worse than a thief. This is easy enough to prove: the thief steals only wealth, but this can be readily recovered by saving or working. But he who uses slander, by his gossiping steals and robs people of their good name, which cannot be recovered. May God confound slanderers! Through calumnious gossipers, many men and women are reviled, who are not guilty of nor tainted by the deed for which they are blamed. [2503–2521] There is great sin in gossiping. Through false slander and evil gossip93 many good men have been put to death. Whoever becomes attached to gossiping is false, for it carries with it a very harmful wound. The raven expected to have a reward for his gossiping. But because he didn’t gain anything at all from it, Lit. “adulterer.” Lit. “with a deadly sword.” 93 Lit. “false slanders and evil gossipings.” Gossip vs. slander is not distinguished in 2 Corinthians 12:20. See also Ephesians 4:29–32 and Proverbs 16:28. 91 92



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anyone can easily perceive that no one should defame another man’s lady-love in front of him. No man would like to hear his beloved, or his wife, criticized in front of him, and if anyone defames her in front of him, for anything she might do, he forfeits his love and his favor as did the raven, which was once white and handsome and later became black, to his dishonor. No man should try to please his lord by speaking ill of his lady. And if she wants to commit adultery, he should neither condone it nor accuse her. He had better lie, or keep silent, in order to keep the peace, than suffer harm for speaking truth. [2522–2548] {T}here can be another interpretation of this: “Phoebus,” Divine Wisdom, loves our human race greatly as long as it abides in truth and is on the path of a holy life, without treason and envy, without pride and avarice, and without acquiescing to mortal vice. As long as humanity is faithful to him alone and behaves with purity, God loves it and holds it dear. But when the soul rejects him for the adulterer with whom it has relations – that is, the devil, to whom it is joined through adultery and sin – and when its heart is drawn to these earthly delights and to committing mortal vices, and by its vile behavior it angers its true love, by wicked consent in which it becomes deluded, and this sin accuses it in God’s eyes, then God draws his bow, nocks and shoots a deadly arrow at the soul, wounding and killing it. But when the soul disentangles itself from and repents of its misdeeds and the outrages it has committed, and acknowledges its guilt before God, and with a humble heart, sighing, seeks forgiveness and indulgence, and suffers its penance with true patience, and humbles itself before God, tender-hearted God is reconciled to it and forgives it its transgression. And the good fruit which it had made – that is, the child which the soul had had and conceived in the love of God – God does not suffer to die within it, nor to miscarry or perish in it, thus making the soul, this is for certain, awaken to eternal life. [2549–2590] We must all strive to do what is good. Because God repays a hundredfold the good deeds that we do in his name,94 at all times, in all seasons it is good to invest in God.95 No one should despair of God because of something wicked they may have done, for he is so overflowing with grace, patience, and mercy that no one misses out on his love. Provided they are willing to ask for it and provided they are willing to mend their ways, God has true pity on them. [2591–2603] I will explain to you the allegory of the white raven, who turned black by his wicked gossiping. [2604–2606]

Pour lui, v. 2593, lit. “for him.” Usurer, v. 2595, but this is obviously not the sin of usury, given the context. Rather, it is consistent with the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1–23, Mark 4:1–20, Luke 8:4– 15) and the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30 and Luke 19:11–27), and speaks to how God wants people to fructify. 94 95

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{T}he raven represents the devil, the accuser, the deceitful one. He was the “gossipy raven”, who used to be white and fair, in joy and heavenly glory with his Lord and Master. Then his face and appearance blackened when he lost God’s grace and fell through his folly. That is the raven who through envy accuses the sinful soul in front of God, its spouse, and defames it, when he was the one who made it go foolishly astray. But now he has a very grim reward in hell, where he is sentenced to damnation for eternity. [2607–2623] [miniature, fol. 57v: the three daughters of cecrops present vulcan with the chest that has the baby in it]

Moralization (II) {A}s I learned via a historical source,96 a maiden of great worth was found in Triton’s salt-marsh,97 hence she was called Tritone. That was Pallas, the valiant, the wise. And no one knew of what parentage or people she was born, but her body was so beautiful and fair, her face so lovely and her complexion so radiant, that they said she was Jupiter’s daughter and came from the heavens, and she was likewise considered a goddess in Athens, where everything was done according to her will, without contradiction. Vulcan, who was lord of Lemnos, pursued her amorously, but the goddess refused him her intimacy and companionship, like one who wished to live her entire life as a virgin and maiden. [2624–2643] But notwithstanding what she said, the beauty took her pleasure in secret. And so she conceived, and afterwards, when she had given birth and been delivered of pregnancy, she took the child that she had had and conceived with the king of Lemnos. She put him in a closed chest. She entrusted him to three maidens who served her as their lady, and who were the daughters of King Cecrops. And she forbade them to open the chest or look inside, but to take it to Vulcan and diligently do as he instructed, so that they would know what to do with it. One of the three, in spite of her prohibition, opened the chest and saw the child. There was another chambermaid, a gossip, who spied her – she was the daughter of King Coroneus, and gossipy as a crow. She saw this, and reported it to her lady, and Pallas, in truth, was so ashamed and vexed toward

Si com j’ai par histoire apris, v. 2623. This is the historical level of interpretation, but apris is an unusual way of presenting it: “as I learned from the historical level of interpretation” might be possible, but since this lake is mentioned by Diodorus Siculus, Herodotus, and others, it would make sense as acknowledgment of a source text. 97 The goddess is called Athena Tritogeneia in Homer and other classical authors. The name is explained as a reference to Lake Trito or Tritonis (named after the sea-god Triton) in North Africa, although Pausanias places it at Alalcomenae in Boeotia. 96



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the one who had brought her such gossip that for that reason she dismissed her from her household. [2644–2672] The child was raised at his father’s, so no one knew who his mother was; except, maybe, to the extent it was whispered about by the women who had carried him, or the one who had spied them when one of them opened the chest. So there was no one who could have known the truth, and people thought his father must have given birth to him without a mother. And, when he grew up, he became a wise man, well endowed with courage and prowess. He devised the art and skill of making chariots, and of using chariots in battle, to wage war and carry the weapons, the harnesses, and other accoutrements. And because chariots creep along the ground, people claimed that he had the feet of a snake. [2673–2690] [miniature, fol. 58r: coronis in the fisherman’s embrace, with pallas standing by to give advice]

{T}he tale says that the daughter of Coroneus became a crow by Pallas’s intervention. It may have been the case that she was once relaxing alone by the seaside. A fisherman saw the girl walking along by herself, unaccompanied, and amorously pursued her. When he could not overcome her by begging, he tried to force her. He would soon have violated her, but her tongue was well sharpened: she plied him so much with flattery, and achieved so much through her gossiping, that through her gossip she managed to avoid the churl pressing her. In this way, “Pallas helped her.” The girl did so much, through wit and cunning, that she thus saved her virginity. [2691–2709] Because she was subtle and wise, sly and silver-tongued, the tale claims that Pallas turned her into a crow, and from then on took her into her household. Henceforth, as it happens, this is how this could be true in a historical sense: when the girl ran off and Neptune pursued her, trying to deflower her, Pallas showed up and helped her; then she took her into her retinue. Then, through her gossiping, she lost the favor and love of her lady. It often happens that a man or woman serving in some high office seeks, by their fraud and malice, to trample on others and have them fired from their post. The one accuses, the other defames their target to their lord or lady, and causes them, through their gossiping, to fire their good servants.98 But when the lord realizes that the bad servant99 is flattering and deceiving him, he dismisses them, to their great shame. [2710–2735] [miniature, fol. 58r: coronis, or a generic maidservant, being expelled from the household] 98 99

Sa bone mesnie, v. 2732: lit. “their good household.” “The bad servant” added for clarity.

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{A}fterwards the tale tells of the filth and vileness and great iniquity committed by the vile Nyctimene. It may well be the case, in my opinion, that Nyctimene deceived her father and lay with him, and that as a result she was so castigated, reviled, and assaulted by all those who knew her – every man and woman hated her, and all of them wanted to shame her – and she felt so ashamed of her transgression – that she dared not come out in public, any more than does the owl, which dares not be seen by day. Pallas resolved to receive the owl and take her into her service, and preferred her over the crow, for the crow is less judicious and self-restrained than the owl, even though the owl is more vile. [2736–2757] {T}his can have, in my opinion, another meaning, allegorically. Vulcan denotes and signifies the ardor and the fire of lust, for which the wise chaste ones have only distaste. He forged the thunderbolts of Jupiter, that is, the horrid and vile desire that burns and inflames false hearts, and that causes body and soul to stink. By the great ugliness of his face, Vulcan lost the favor of the gods and his dwelling in the heavens as well. It is true, if the apostle does not lie,100 that God has only distaste for such filth, nor can anyone who lives in such an ugly fashion aspire to paradise. Vulcan desired and coveted the love of Pallas, just as wicked lustful men expend their pain and effort, and are in a state of attention and eagerness, to violate virginity. They go to even greater pains to lead astray the most saintly and most wise of women, and to break up marriages, than those women who are at their immediate disposal. Pallas would not consent to bestow her love on him for any entreaty or gift, nor could he force her hand, because for all his gifts and promises, she no more wished to let her chastity be corrupted or violated than to have her body beaten and her limbs broken: she wanted to live in holiness. [2758–2792] Virginity is a treasure more valuable and finer than any gold. It is a precious gem, that associates the soul with the angels. Virginity is the fresh lily, it is the delectable delight that offers a guarantee of paradise. Vulcan could not hold back his seed – rather, he spilled it on the ground – when he could not make Pallas his conquest, and so Erichthonius was born. Similarly, when a wicked man does not find anyone with whom he can bring his lechery to fulfillment, and when he tries to entice any saintly or wise woman into whoredom and it turns out she would never be a whore for anything, then he “spills his semen on the ground.” When he sees that he cannot make her his conquest, whether he begs or browbeats her, or gives her promises or presents, and that he is not going to get any, he forgets about her body and does not even touch it. Instead, he brags and declares in public that he got everything he wanted from the beauty with the lovely body; and those who hear him say so, since they saw him importuning the woman before, think that she has given him her love, 100 Likely

a general reference to Paul.



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since he is now bearing witness to them of that. That is what gives rise to the shaming and envy, the nasty blame and the ill-repute, to which she is then wrongly subjected. Such are the mutterings and reproaches of the slanderers, the badmouthers, who defame and mock her, and they sting and prick worse than a snake strikes with its fangs.101 [2793–2829] Then the tale goes on to recount how “Pallas tried to conceal the child”: when the wise woman hears the misguided speech and mockery of the people who go about falsely slandering her, she suffers in her heart and hides it, without criticizing man or woman. Rather, she suffers with all due patience, without showing any sign of affliction, because the more she were to get angry, the more the gossip would increase, and the more she would draw attention to herself. Then “Herse had to watch over the container,” which is when the wise woman bears all the gossip and shaming in her heart, without giving anyone any sign of ill-will or distress. When those who have wrongly and baselessly slandered her see that she comports herself well and wisely, and can observe no sin in all her comportment, they consider themselves soiled by the fact that they ever slandered her or brought up false accusations against her. Thus, the reason for which she was mocked is pardoned. [2830–2856] Then “Pandrosos watched over the container”: after the neighbors stop gossiping about the good woman, and nothing more is heard about the matter over which she had been blamed and mocked and slandered, the matter sinks into oblivion. [2857–2863] Then Aglauros, without a doubt, “watched over the chest” and “secretly opened it,” revealing the secret of the gods when she should have kept it to herself. The good woman’s shame and sadness will never allow her to forget all of this but will make her even more sad and heavy-hearted over it. She will never fail to remember it; rather, from then on she will have to take care to conduct herself better and more graciously than before, and so she flees and seeks to avoid all bad company that might cause her to be debased, and that people might gossip about. She will have to devote all her heart and vigilance to conduct herself honestly and well and prudently, so that no one might find anything about it to reproach. [2864–2881] [miniature, fol. 59r: the devil locked up and guarded by the three sisters moralized below as rancor, contention, and oblivion]

{O}ne can derive another meaning from this. Vulcan, the despised and the vile, who forged Jupiter’s thunderbolts and because of the ugliness of his face, lost the grace of God and was driven from paradise, represents the devil, who once dared, through foolish pride, to rebel against wisdom and against divine virtue. He is the misbegotten craftsman who labors inside the hearts of sinners, gluttons, and lechers, forging with his wicked blows the various temptations to 101 Lit.

“than a snake attacks, biting.”

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sin, which blast102 the sinful soul into the infernal flame. This “blacksmith of bastard birth” lost heaven and the grace of God through his presumption, and earned himself the indignation and the wrath of his creator. And so God locked him irretrievably in the “chest” of the reeking dungeon. There three sisters guard the woeful prisoner, the fell serpent, the battler, the wicked inciter, who is trapped within the burning cage. The three sisters who are watching over him are Rancor and Contention; and the third is Oblivion. [2882–2912] [miniature, fol. 59r: holy church (ecclesia), with cross and chalice, and synagoga/judea, blindfolded and dropping her tablets]103

{T}hat gossipy crow – who was the daughter of Coroneus (that is, of God, the true Savior, the coronet and crowner of those who love him with all their heart and do as he wills) and was Pallas’s attendant – is Synagoga, who once had the grace and goodwill of Divine Wisdom, and was incredibly pleasant and beautiful, so that she was the principal handmaiden, chosen above all the rest, more beloved and more cherished. Now she has been demoted and dismissed from his love and service, and banned from paradise. [2913–2929] And Nyctimene – who once, through foolish error, through foolish delight, corrupted her father’s bed – is Gentilisa,104 who used not to acknowledge God, and who never wanted to devote her heart to anything good, but rather to ill-doing and foolish acts, and the dirtying of her conscience with the filth of unbelief. She was received with great honor into our Savior’s service, and given precedence over Synagoga, who, insubordinate and insolent, has earned the wrath and ill-will of Divine Wisdom, which she disdained and rejected – that is, the Son of God, whom she accused through envy and ignorance, and caused to suffer shame and death. [2930–2948]

102 Like

lightning. 59r, 209v, and 336v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether or not Synagoga/Judea is blindfolded. 104 Gentillise, v. 2933: a female personification of “the Gentiles,” i.e., Greco-Roman paganism. Unlike Ecclesia (Holy Church) and Judea/Synagoga, this is not a common medieval personification, at least not under this name. For example, as noted by Reeves (1969), for Joachim of Fiore “[t]here are two Testaments and these clearly give the pattern of twos, of two great eras of history governed by the Two Persons, “una ingenita, alia genita”, and culminating in the First and Second Advents respectively. Here the divine purpose is perceived in the histories of the two great peoples elected by God – Populus Judaicus and Populus Gentilis – and in the concords between the two eras” (19). This is what we have here, where Gentilisa is opposed to Synagoga. “But,” says Reeves, “when the procession of the Spirit is added, the pattern of twos can become a pattern of threes” (19). The OM sometimes makes a twofold contrast between Judea/Synagoga and Holy Church (as reflected in the Rouen imagery on fol. 59r), and sometimes makes a threefold contrast among Judea/ Synagoga, Gentilisa, and Holy Church, depending on the situation being moralized. 103 Fols



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[miniature, fol. 59v: saturn, as a crowned horse, embracing philyra; the centaur chiron playing the harp]

Chiron, Aesculapius, and Ocyrhoë Above, you heard the tale of how Phoebus killed his lover because of the raven’s gossiping, and how afterwards, was neither good or fair to him. Now I must recount the tale of the child and the Archer105 to whom Phoebus entrusted him. The child grew and made progress, and Chiron raised him well. He devoted great care and attention to the task. He taught him well, he instructed him well. He taught him the art of medicine, which his father had taught him, just as the tale describes. His father was old Saturn, who had been emperor of Crete before the birth of Jupiter, who went on to strip him of his kingdom. Because Saturn knew that by his wife he must conceive a child who would strip him of his land, he racked his brains for some trick that would enable him to have descendants who would not strip him of his wealth, dispossess him, and expel him from his kingship. [2949–2974] He decided that he would abandon his wife and take up with another woman with whom he could lie with assurance, without fear of any misfortune whatsoever. Therefore, he took up with another woman: that is, Philyra, whom he impregnated, but for fear of the queen he took the form of a horse. In this way, he deceived his wife, and Philyra conceived by the god a half-man halfhorse, whom the tale names to us as Chiron. Saturn so loved this son that he made him immortal and gave him the nature of a god. He taught him the art of medicine and the arts of harp music and archery, whence he was called the Archer (Sagittarius). [2975–2992] [miniature, fol. 60r: chiron, young aesculapius, and ocyrhoë, as humans; then ocyrhoë changed into a mare]

{C}hiron cared for Aesculapius with great devotion, for he expected great things from him, and this made him all the more attentive. [2993–2996] This Chiron had a daughter who knew the art of prophecy: she was called Ocyrhoë. She came along, her hair all disheveled, and when she saw the child, she knew prophetically what would happen, and was not able to hold her tongue, but at once burst out: “Child, may god grant that you grow and thrive. May God grant and give you a good life. You will help many people. You will save a large part of the world, and raise the dead. The gods will grow disdainful and envious of it, for this will not please them at all. Your

105 Sagittarius,

the centaur Chiron.

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grandfather106 will be angered, and for that he will strike you down with lightning. And you, who are now immortal, will become a man with a mortal body, and so you will be dead and lightning-struck. After that you will be deified and live eternally. [2997–3019] “And likewise you, dear sweet father, who are of divine nature, and are fated to live eternally without end – you will see such a day arrive that you long for death, because of the venom of the dead serpent107 that Hercules will have slain at Lerna, which will overwhelm your body, so that you can no longer bear it, or endure the great agony. When Hercules comes from Spain, you will invite him to stay with you, so you will host him, and you will come in contact with his arrows, but that contact will be dire, for they will be daubed with venom. One will fall on your feet, and wound you grievously. For a long time you will suffer burning pain, then die of that wound. Afterwards you will be deified, and your body transformed into a constellation, a sign in the heavens. [3020–3043] “Meanwhile I will take the form of an animal – I’ll be transformed into a mare – and live like an animal. This is what my prophetic ability108 will do to me for having so misused it. The art was never so valuable to me, and having learned it was never worth enough, to incur such harm. I would rather have known less and not had the enmity of the gods. Woe betide that I had such intelligence, when I’m forced to be a mare.” [3044–3055] At these words, her tongue betrayed her so she could not produce speech, or rational thought that anyone could understand, for her speech was like the sound of a horse whinnying. Her hair, which spread out equally over both her shoulders, became like a horse’s mane. The train of her mantle became a tail hanging to the ground. Her snout, her nostrils, and her teeth enlarged and lengthened. On either foot she had had five nails; now there was but one, a fusion of the five. Her arms were thighs, her hands were feet. Her face was lowered to the ground. She trotted off whinnying through the fields. All those who had watched this happen before their eyes was dumbfounded, when they saw her in such a likeness. Everyone was terrified and asked “Eek! Why now this?”109 This question, without a doubt, led to her being called an “equine.” [3056–3079] Moralization {N}ow it is proper for me to labor to expound the meaning of these tales. Saturn “wished to conceal himself by taking the form of a horse” when he had relations with the girl and broke his marriage vows: that is to say, he overstepped the bounds of reason, and whoever loses one’s rational mind 106 Jupiter. 107 The

Hydra. “the skill that I have.” 109 The translation reflects a pun in French. The question is Ez que doit ce? and she is called an eque. 108 Lit.



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might as well be transformed into a beast. It is bestial conduct to live lustfully and break one’s marriage vows. Chiron, born of whoring, chose to conform to his nature, so he “took the form of a horse,” because he was lustful and base; but his great rational faculties, in my opinion, and the scholarship (clergie) he mastered, transcended his baseness, and so the tale names him half horse, half man. [3080–3100] [miniature, fol. 60v: the “historical” jupiter strikes down aesculapius with a sword]

{T}he child Chiron was given to instruct knew so much of the art of healing that he was able to bring back from death those who teetered on the brink of dying, using his understanding, his learning (clergie), and his surgical skills. He was “of divine nature,” for all understanding and all instruction and all good intelligence come from the benevolence of God. His grandfather, who was envious of him, killed him because it revolted him for Aesculapius to receive more honor than him. He could not stand for anyone to have greater ability or knowledge than he, for he wanted everyone to believe that he was lord and master over everyone, the sovereign god and king of heaven. But Aesculapius’s knowledge and learning (clergie), and the surgical skill he originally discovered, lived on. And many others then proved themselves in his art,110 so that it never stopped increasing. In this way, he “lived on” through good reputation, and the child “was deified” after he had been “struck down by lightning”: for he had acquired such renown for his understanding and mastery that he “lived forever.” I can say the same of Chiron. In this way, the tale111 can be true. All the rest of it is historical. [3101–3132] [miniature, fol. 60v: jesus rises from the tomb, stepping over the sleeping guards]112

{A}s the ancients, the old scholars of astronomy, say, “Chiron,” or “Sagittarius,” is the name of the sign of the zodiac where the sun is located at the eleventh point of its circuit across the sky.113 This constellation is of cold 110 Ou mains autres puis s’esprouva, v. 3122: lit. “in which many others then proved themselves.” While the antecedent in the OM would seem to be solely and specifically his surgical skill, the corresponding passage in the prose OM (British Library Royal MS 17 E IV, fol. 34v) has Mais la science de medicine et l’art de cyrurgie que icellui premierement trouva demoura aux hommes qui depuis s’en sont esprouves, “But the science of medicine and the art of surgery that he originally developed remained to people who have since proved themselves in them.” To the extent that this represents how medieval readers understood the original OM, we use “his art” with possible broad meaning. 111 The fabulous or fantastical elements of it, as suggested by fable. 112 Fols 60v and 249r have comparable miniatures of this. 113 This refers to the ecliptic, the imaginary line along which the sun, moon and planets appear to move across the sky.

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nature, and so it is said to draw its chilliness from Saturn, the wandering star. For this reason, the tale was made up about Sagittarius, that he was the son of the one who made it cold. [3133–3144] {T}he tale of Aesculapius can have another sense, as certain writings that tell about Jesus Christ attest, about how he came from heaven to earth to save and heal the people, and suffered death and Passion, then came to rise again, and reigns eternally. There were ten women long ago, wise and of very great renown, known as the Sibyls. And all ten prophesied about Jesus Christ and proclaimed, long before he was supposed to come, what was to become of him. And each of them prophesied truly about this. This Ocyrhoë was one of them, who prophesied about Jesus, as is apparent by this text. This Aesculapius of whom the prophetess foretold was a god and born of a god. And in prophesying, she said that the child, who was fair and noble, would be a savior of people, and a marvelous counselor, and a stalwart protector who would heal the sick and raise the dead. And, though he was by nature a mighty god who would have lived forever and been immortal, he would become a vulnerable mortal man and would suffer death, and then be brought back to life and live eternally as a god. This prophecy, which is well in accord with Isaiah, can be clearly understood as referring to Jesus: to save humankind, God the Father offered him up to die. [3145–3186] The gods who disdained Aesculapius and, through envy, put him to death, represent the leaders of the Pharisees, and the senior priests who upheld the divine law and ruled the other people. It was they who, through envy, tried to take the life of the Son of God, and had him sacrificed on a Cross, to suffer agony and death. He died, and through that death, death itself died and was destroyed, and many of the dead were raised and broken out of the dungeon of hell, from which he returned in great victory. Now he lives in heavenly glory and will live on eternally. [3187–3203] [miniature, fol. 61r: students with open books being taught by a philosopher or theologian at a lectern]114

{O}cyrhoë “became a mare” after having been a wise prophet because, being foolish and rejecting divine revelation, she misused the great reason and sacred knowledge with which God had enlightened her.115 Any sage who makes foolish use of his reason courts disaster. Everyone must purely devote their mind and heart to learning for God, in order to better protect

114 Fols 61r, 73v, 126v, and 391r have comparable miniatures of a philosopher or theologian teaching students. 115 The point seems to be that she failed to act on divine revelation, putting her limited human understanding above it.



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and prevent themselves from doing anything that might displease God,116 so that they might all the better receive his grace. For this purpose, God granted understanding,117 so that we might know God and hold him even dearer when we know him better. But nowadays where are the learners who are attentive to this? That is what people did long ago, but now the way we go about seeking knowledge has changed: no one wants to know more except to gain praise or wealth or for some chance at high status or church office – this is what everyone aspires to and counts on. Now people corrupt philosophy,118 for no one wants anything to do with it except insofar as they can derive from it some worldly profit. Some study jurisprudence or canon law to aggrandize and advance themselves, or afflict some neighbor of theirs. Others, to gain fame, a benefice, or rank, study theology; and so on for every discipline. When they are in the public eye, in great wealth, in great honor, they wrangle with our Lord for the good things God has given them, for they have devoted their minds and bodies to every kind of worldly pleasure. They are full of pride and avarice, lust and gluttony and treachery and envy; and they lead dissolute lives; they graze, like mares, upon the filth of the vile sins with which they have besmirched their bodies. [3204–3252] If they wanted to live like animals, like mares, at the very least they could have found something good to imitate about mares! They should have been happier to follow a good example than a bad one. A mare swishes her tail around freely to repel the fly when it attacks her. A person does a good job protecting themselves and repelling flies with their tail when they chase off the fly of wicked temptation or submission to evil – which stings and bites many fools – through the remembrance of death. [3253–3266] Even the person who knows well that they will die does not know when, and that nothing will enable them to wriggle free or escape, and that no one can expect to rejoice in the end after having sinned: they know that they must carefully draw back and take care that they do not stumble so far that they fall into mortal sin. Or, if they do fall into it, they must not pontificate at others, but must immediately climb out and stand back up through repentance and confession, for anyone who allows themselves to rot119 there is a fool. [3267–3278] But people think on death even less than on the fly that bites them, that is, sin, which poisons them mortally, worse than any fly can bite. They do not dodge or flinch, but perish through all their human knowledge, for the fly of pride stings 116 Qui Dieu desplace, v. 3215. The OM uses this expression fairly often. Bearing in mind the other instances, “displease” seems more likely than “displace,” i.e. “take God out of the picture,” which might otherwise be tempting for this kind of misguided intellectual activity. 117 Lit. “science” (scientia), the processes by which we reason and seek out human truth. 118 Human inquiry, as opposed to divine revelation. 119 Porrir, v. 3278. This plays on the word used for the mares “grazing.”

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them, against which they fail to defend themselves,120 and poisons and deceives them with its venomous sting. Alas that they attained that knowledge, which swells them with pomposity and makes them presumptuous. It would be better for them, to my way of thinking, to be humble and simple, and to know less, and have a loving121 heart and serve God out of good intention, without holding back, instead of growing in presumption through their rational faculty and their human understanding, and then falling, in damnation, into the pit of hell. [3279–3300] [miniature, fol. 61v: jewish scholars holding long scrolls]122

{T}here can be another interpretation of this that is well in accord with truth and that complements this one. The Divine Wisdom123 greatly loved humankind, until that ugly creature, the devil, the black raven, who was once so white and fair, divided them by his gossiping. He accused humankind of incontinence when it bit (mort) a bite (mors) of the apple.124 Whence God, inflamed by jealous rage, through a sentence of death (mort), condemned his beloved to suffer eternal death (mort). After this death, the gentle Lord, full of mercy, wished to cure it, and remembered his initial love, and, had it been permissible for him to do so,125 would gladly have taken back both his sentence and his stroke. But the lethal arrow he had shot could not be taken back; nor could the wound that he had inflicted with it be treated medically, for such was destiny.126 [3301–3326] Nevertheless, he in whom all mercy abounds supported humankind in the world as much as possible, within the rightful course of nature, so that people would not go to everlasting death. But this cure was poorly treatable by medicine, since, sooner or later, everyone would have to go that route.

120 That

is, they are not “putting on the full armor of God” (Ephesians 6:11). “charitable.” 122 This seems to be the intellectual activity described in vv. 3433–3466 below, so these are more likely to be Jewish scholars than the Old Testament prophets, and the scrolls they are holding could be either the prophecies that they are said to misinterpret, or their own commentaries. But compare the miniature on fol. 316v, which is associated with a positive take on the prophets. 123 God. 124 Adam’s sin was not in eating but in transgressing a boundary. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. glotonie, p. 76. 125 God is omnipotent, so it’s not that he cannot. Rather, the rift cannot be repaired by God undoing what Adam freely chose. The full healing (cure) for this could come only by humanity making amends, as Anselm points out in the Meditation on Human Redemption, by God becoming man and dying for us. On the necessity of Christ’s sacrifice and the atonement, see also Aquinas, ST III qq. 46–48. Bonaventure describes Christ’s sacrifice as both utterly sufficient and utterly efficacious in Brev. IV.10. 126 This is not a statement on fate or predestination, but rather the only fitting way to redeem humankind after humankind makes this choice. 121 Lit.



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When the Wisdom of heaven127 saw that it could not be otherwise, he could no longer endure this permanent loss of his seed and his creation. In order to redeem and save the dead, he resolved to draw out of humankind, which had been condemned to die, his Son, who was conceived of divine seed by the noble Virgin, the Holy, the Blessed, who was crowned in glory. This Son was of double nature: he was both Creator and created, all-powerful and immortal God, and, at the same time, a transitory mortal man. [3327–3350] Chiron, who had the child in his care, under his watch, and raised him, being half horse and half man, can represent, to my mind, the Jews and the pagans, from whom the Son of God took on human flesh, and the Jewish and pagan law, from which God derived the Christian faith. This people128 was of double origin, of human and equine form. The human form represents Judea, and the other, the pagans, forming the mixture from which God became incarnate.129 [3351–3364] Or the doubleness represents the fact that it involved people of two kinds: sinners of base origin had “equine form,” while those who had “human form” were the patriarchs, who lived well. For, as I understand it, people of both kinds are implicated in the generation of Christ’s body.130 We can know this from one example: Solomon was good in his youth, and wicked in his old age. At first he was a wise man, and lived well and in holiness, just as the Holy Spirit inspired him to do; in his old age he got worse and he lived in sinfulness, and spoiled himself, like a mare, in stench, in ordure, and in vile sins of lust. There were others who were good and bad at different times,131 as I understand it, because for the entire salvation of the world, he in whom all good things abound, our God, our Savior, chose to be born of the good and the sinful. [3365–3390] The daughter that Chiron had, who knew the art of prophecy,132 is properly Synagoga, who by divine announcement – by the sayings and writings of the prophets that she wrote down – knew that there would come a time when a little child must come, who would be both God and the Son of God, and he would save the whole world, and the dead and lost souls would be redeemed by him. And, immortal though he was in the beginning, he would become a mortal man and die for the salvation of the world through the agitation of the wicked Jews, full of envy. Then he would rise from death to life, and so his body would be given life and glorified. [3391–3410] 127 God.

128 Cil pueples, v. 3359, is singular: God created the world and all the people descended from Adam, making them one “people,” even if they are then divided into Jews and Gentiles. See the note to v. 2933 above. 129 I.e. the genealogy of Jesus. “The pagans” is also a singular collective, but paienie “pagandom,” v. 3362, not Gentilise. On prist incarnacion, v. 3364, as “became incarnate” (a straightforward translation in this case), see the note to Book 15, v. 6770. 130 Dou cors Dieus, v. 3372: lit. “the body of God.” 131 The way Solomon was. 132 Lit. “divination.”

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The father of double aspect who was, according to the law of nature, originally created in such a way that he would have lived forever – were it not for the wicked deception of the damnable injury caused by the venom which wounded him – represents humankind, which would have lived forever, had it not embraced the damnable deception and the venomous sting of the serpent, who bloodied it. For the serpent, through his fraud, enchanted it into taking a bite of the damnable apple. Hence death was given to man, who would otherwise have lived forever, and were it not for the instigation of the wicked serpent, would never have committed the sin that did him such harm: it made him subject, in body and soul, to a sentence of death, and he died. [3411–3432] The daughter who “by her learning incurred the wrath and vengeance of a god,” because she applied it foolishly, so that she “became a mare,” can represent Synagoga. She was so prideful and insolent, and made such poor use of the meaning and understanding of the prophecies that she had133 and of the writings she knew, which spoke of the true Savior and announced his Coming, that when the Son of God came to earth, to save and retrieve his people, she consistently refused to acknowledge him. The devout-hearted kings of Tarsus came from afar to worship him, and to serve and honor him with their gifts, but Synagoga, his neighbor, who knew from Divine Scripture where Jesus would be born, showed him no reverence. Rather, she tried, out of envy, to murder the Lord of life and death, before he had really come forth, and before his proper time had come. It would have been bad enough had she gone against God out of foolish ignorance – she would have been guilty enough, without a doubt – but because she betrayed God with malice aforethought, she is the more severely punished, all the more condemned and disgraced. [3433–3466] Battus and the Stolen Cattle Chiron wept for his daughter, who had just been turned into a mare, and went into mourning. In this hour of need he lacked the love and support of Phoebus: he was far away in Elis. Had he been present, I don’t think that at that point he could have done anything to help, or undone Jupiter’s actions. [3467–3475] The tale affirms, it seems to me, that Phoebus, grieving for the death of his son, slain by his father – that is, Jupiter the Thunderer (li foldroiens) – killed off several of the giants who forged Jupiter’s thunderbolts (les fouldres). For this, the gods exiled him from the heavens, and stripped him of the dignity of his godhood. Then he went off like a wretched serf to guard the livestock of Admetus.134 At that time Phoebus had no rich clothing. Instead he wore a shepherd’s garb, and, to herd his animals, carried a crook cut from a wild olive tree. And out in those fields he played the flute. [3476–3491] 133 I.e.,

that had been revealed to her. of Thessaly.

134 King



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While he was distracted with sweet songs and the entertainment of his pipes, and carrying on a sprightly dance with the other shepherds, and intent on his pursuit of pleasure,135 his animals, which were unattended and wandering through the fields of Pylos, were stolen by Mercury, who used his enchantment to lead them off the path and down a hidden side track. No one saw this theft and deception except a peasant of Pylos, who was tending a herd of horses on the valley slopes. It seems to me that the neighbors who knew him called him Battus. He was the only one who saw the theft committed and the cattle led away and stolen. Mercury called Battus to him and entreated and asked him to conceal his theft and not reveal it, and in return for concealing the theft he gave him a white cow. Battus took it, and addressed him thus: “Go on, my friend, with confidence, for I affirm to you faithfully: this will never be known because of me. This stone would tell it sooner.” Then he showed him a stone that lay near him on the ground. [3492–3522] Mercury left him there, but soon came that way again, in other clothes, from another direction. “Peasant,” he said, “as god is your witness, tell me if you saw some livestock that I lost come by this way. If you know where they are, and you tell me, you’ll make a good profit. I’ll show you great courtesy: I’ll give you a cow and a calf.” When the peasant heard that he had been promised double, he pointed out the livestock, knowing full well where they were, and said: “They’re over there. A man, who went that way not long ago at all, relocated them over there, in that valley,” and he showed him the valley. Mercury began to laugh, out of great contempt and anger, and said: “False treacherous peasant, perjurious disloyal peasant, it’s to myself you’ve just betrayed me. False peasant, you promised me that you would never accuse me, but that you would conceal my theft.” Then he transformed the body of the false perjurious peasant into hard stone. The stone, which to this day is of ill repute, is called adoise:136 that means the same as “indicate.” This stone is black in color. [3523–3552] {W}hen Phoebus noticed, he realized that he had been incredibly deceived, in that he had lost his cattle. He was incredibly sad and bewildered. By the art of divination he knew and saw that Mercury had them. He seized his Turkish bow and put a hand to his quiver: he wanted to shoot at Mercury. But the latter, who was wary of his arrow-shots, had stolen them all away by deception, so that he would not be wounded by him. Then Phoebus was even more angry, and even more bitterly hated the one who had now betrayed him twice. But 135 Druerie normally means lustful courtship or “courtly love,” but there seem to be no women involved here. (Perhaps the god is also inclined towards young men.) 136 v. 3550: a play on the meaning of Latin index (Met. 2.706) and the French word ardoise “slate.” De Boer comments that this “free but ingenious translation of Ovid’s wordplay is possibly only due to the weakness of r before a consonant in our author’s dialect.”

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the latter put his eloquence to such good use that he earned his goodwill. So that he would forgive him his anger, Mercury gave Phoebus his lyre that he had made and invented and equipped with seven strings. And then Phoebus forgave him his anger, and gave him his crook, with which he used to herd the animals. With it, Mercury later revived many dead, performed many marvels with it: some he put to sleep with it, others he wakened; and he could bring souls out of hell. [3553–3581] Now I must elucidate this for you. [3582] [miniature, fol. 63v: a queen and other people coveting money, or perhaps the queen is a counter-example, sharing her wealth and thus representing generosity.]

Moralization {W}hen Phoebus sentenced to death the giants who had forged the cruel thunderbolts of Jupiter, here is what it means, in my opinion. God sentenced Eve and Adam to death for their sins, and all of humankind came to grief, for that bite of the bitter apple which the first parents ate against God’s command, for which he harshly “struck them with lightning.” To save and retrieve his people, God sent from heaven to earth his Son, Jesus, who according to Scripture is called Father and Shepherd. In poor clothing and poor raiment, God came for our salvation. Mercury represents the preaching of the masters and preachers and foolish teachers of doctrine who uphold false laws and deceive the common people. The latter are the livestock without a shepherd. “Mercury”137 “hides them by enchantment down a misleading side track,” for, by his false speeches, he draws them away from proper belief into the darkness of unbelief, since the bewildered common herd had no true faith and knew nothing of the true God. [3583–3615] Battus may be understood as the covetousness of this world, wherein all other sins abound: it is the mother, the nurse, the head of all malice and all other vile sins. Whoever is tainted by that vice has the sum of all others; fears neither God nor man; has neither faith nor righteousness, but is filled with iniquity, treachery, trickery, fraud, and defilement. He steals, plunders, and perjures himself. He is so ardently covetous that he neither knows nor cares to know where his wealth comes from – as long as he gets it, he does not care whether he gets it through usury, or through cunning, or by outright seizure, or by robbery, or by fraud, or by extortion. The covetous have no pity, fellowfeeling, or generosity of spirit, or any desire to do good. No one consumed by covetousness can be pleasing to God. Many have fallen through covetousness.

137 A false

preacher.



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It leads people astray, makes them disbelieve in and renounce God, and hate his commandments. [3616–3645] Covetousness makes one obey and venerate the devil, and worship idols. Covetousness leads to perjury and taking the Lord’s name in vain. It leads to violation of the sabbath and to holding the saints in contempt, when their feast days are used for all manner of base, dishonest doings, and laboring in fruitless works. Covetousness makes one flagrantly dishonor one’s father and mother. Covetousness overall leads to people being slain and terrorized, monasteries being sacked and violated. Covetousness causes such girls, lovely young maidens, to enter into shame and prostitution, and partake in incest and servitude. Covetousness causes theft and possession of the belongings of others through robbery, larceny, and violence, and then causes those thieves to be unmasked and hanged, and so causes them to lose body and soul. Covetousness incites men and women to bear false witness. Covetousness moves lawyers, plaintiffs, and others who come before the court to support wicked causes, and become false advocates. Covetousness, that great scourge, causes marriages to fail, and rightful heirs to be disinherited, and bastards to inherit wrongfully and hold land that belongs to others. A covetous person is harder than stone. [3646–3682] So Battus might stand for a covetous person, who saw Phoebus’s cattle being driven off and accepted a cow to conceal the theft. The horses that the peasant was grazing in the meadows138 are the vices that he fed on the enjoyment of his covetousness, which feeds and incites all ills. May covetousness perish! Phoebus wanted to strike the knave who had stolen his cattle, but he had knavishly stolen his arrows from him. God “shoots” by compelling a sinner to repentance, when the sinner fears that God will exact cruel justice for his sins, and changes his mind, and scours his conscience, and comes to true repentance. Men or women, it seems to me, “steal God’s arrows” when they pervert the true purpose of the intelligence and wisdom, understanding and eloquence with which God deigns to illuminate them so as to teach the other people and reproach them their transgressions, and instead teach and provide an example for the common folk to do ill. The peaceful reconciliation of Mercury and Phoebus can be understood as when the false, misguided teachers – who elevated falsehoods and deceived the common people by their wicked teaching and their false preaching – recognize their folly, and come to true belief by rejecting the sins with which they were once contaminated, and humbly ask forgiveness. [3683–3725] 138 Moralizing this detail in Ovid (Met. 2.687–690): “Nobody saw the theft except one old man, well known in that country, whom they called Battus. He served as guardian of a herd of pedigree mares, for a rich man Neleus, in the rich meadows and woodland pastures” (Kline).

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God willingly forgoes his ill-will and anger towards them. Then “Mercury” offers God “his lyre,” that is, righteous chastisement or holy preaching. The lyre is strung and equipped with seven strings, which, I believe, represent the seven articles of faith to which all preachers, good doctors, and good sermonizers, must adhere; or the seven strings represent the seven sacraments that Holy Church confers to us.139 Or, if you like, these seven strings represent the seven virtues140 which must reside in any good doctor or wise teacher. Anyone who wants to preach correctly can then make the lyre sound, it seems to me, well and tunefully. God appreciates such an instrument, and so, by his covenant, he bestows on him his shepherd’s crook, that is, full authority to bind and loose, to absolve and excommunicate the people and the followers of the Church, which he has entrusted to his deputy, the holy father, and to the other pastors, provosts, and rectors to whom God has given the task of leading, pasturing, and protecting the flock of Holy Church. [3726–3757] Alternatively, the stick can represent true penance, which comes after repentance. This stick has great virtue: those who are beaten with it do not willingly leave the way. Penance retrieves those who have gone astray and sets them on the right path. Penance has revived many of the spiritually dead and rescued them from the sin with which they were stained. Penance purifies and heals the soul, so that it does not perish in hell. It is what wakens those who are spiritually asleep. Penance renovates us and puts us in a state of innocence, when it is undertaken in the spirit of patience and humble contrition, after making a true confession. [3758–3776] [miniature, fol. 64v: herse and pandrosos sit inside while mercury talks to aglauros at the door]

Mercury and the Daughters of Cecrops {W}hen Battus had been transformed into stone, Mercury left the earth and flew off through the air: he went off towards Athens. As he arrived in the area, he ran into a crowd of young ladies, beautiful and young and cute, who were coming from the temple of Pallas. They had brought offerings: each one carried a basket on her head, filled with fresh flowers. Just as bright stars shine 139 The seven sacraments; Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Sick, Matrimony, and Holy Orders. See 2 Corinthians 1:22–23 and Aquinas, ST III q. 61. Bonaventure discusses the seven sacraments at length in Brev. VI, a question he also takes up at greater length in 4 Sent., providing a general overview in d. 1. 140 Pope Gregory (590) lists the seven deadly sins, then the seven virtues: chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, humility, which are supposed to protect from corresponding deadly sins. Each terrace of Dante’s Purgatory thus presents one of the virtues alongside the corresponding sin from which it can protect us.



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brighter than candles, and the Morning Star likewise shines more brightly and clearly than any other star, and the moon more than the Morning Star, so one of the young women I am telling you about, on her way from the temple of Pallas, was fairer and more attractive than all the rest of them, more spirited and charming: she was the flower of the whole group. The maiden was called Herse. When Mercury saw the beauty, he was suddenly overcome with love for her. He abandoned the course he had taken and came to earth without delay. [3777–3805] He did not choose to change his form, knowing it to be beautiful. He had confidence in his beauty, but, handsome as he was, he put great care and attention into grooming himself and making himself look good, and arranging his mantle nicely. He made sure the golden hem would show, and did not forget his staff, with which he put people to sleep. He was dapper, polite, and charming. His body was erect and had excellent posture. And his blond hair was well combed, and over it, in a carefree way, he wore, like a man who is truly in love, a garland nicely embellished with love’s flowers, that is, with marigolds and rosebuds, fresh lilies, and violets. The belt that hugged his hips was very fine and sumptuous. The silk purse that hung there was full of coin, and his gloves were tucked into his belt in a carefree way. He had new shoes that sparkled, cleverly stitched and tapered. Thus dressed up, he set off for the beauty’s home, where love directed him. [3806–3834] The house where the girl dwelled was vaulted with ivory. It had three very lovely bedrooms, in which there lived three maidens, the daughters of Cecrops, the noble king who had founded that city. Pandrosos had the room on the right, Aglauros the one on the left, and Herse the one in the middle. When Mercury arrived, he first caught sight of Aglauros, who had the lefthand room. She was arrogant and proud, and asked him ill-naturedly what his name was, where he was from, why he had come, and what he was after. Mercury then answered her and revealed the desire of his heart: “I am an interpreter of languages. I am he who carries the messages of god, my father, through the air. I have no wish to conceal my desire; I don’t see why I’d hide from you the reason for my coming. I’ve come here for your sister Herse, to whom I have given my love and my heart. I want her hand in marriage! Now I beg you – and you would only be wise – to plead my cause with her. You would do well to improve your sister’s status. You will bring her honor and profit, and you’ll be valued all the more for it.” [3835–3866] The deluded fool, Aglauros, stared at him with grim hostility and said that if he wanted Herse, he would give her a big bribe for it, or she would never consent to it, and, in truth, would denounce him to her father and his friends. Then she threw him out of the house and ordered him to go away. Mercury paid her the bribe; he did not want to lose the girl with the lovely body for

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lack of money. So he did what Aglauros wanted, for his beloved’s sake, and the greedy wench was appeased. [3867–3880] Pallas, who saw her brother paying off the nasty girl, grieved in her heart; she sighed so hard with great anger and resentment that her shield looked as though it would shake loose from her neck. She contemplated the greedy wench with disdain, and her previous anger returned as she remembered the offense that Aglauros had committed earlier, when she looked at Erichthonius in secret against Pallas’s will, after he had been entrusted to her. Now she watched the thoughtless greedster enrich herself by extorting money from her brother, the greedy skank! Now she wanted to pay her back for all of her offenses. [3881–3897] She went off, without further delay, straight to the house of Envy, which was smoky and grimy, full of black rot. That house was hidden away in a deep, gloomy valley, surrounded by a thorny thicket, that pricks hearts and make them quiver. Neither sun nor moon could shine there, nor could any wind blow. It was cold there, full of anguish, sorrow, and viciousness. No mercy dwelt there. There was no light, no brightness: it was always full of darkness. When Pallas reached that house, she stopped outside; there was no reason for her to cross the threshold. Rather, she knocked on the front door with the tip of her sword, so that she never set foot inside. The door opened at her knock. Inside the goddess saw the foul one, full of rancor, who was feeding on snakes’ flesh, full of stinking rottenness: that was her life and her sustenance, that was the food that pleased her best; on such meat she fed herself. When Pallas saw her, gobbling that snake flesh, she turned her face away; she didn’t have the heart to look at her or her behavior. [3898–3931] Envy got up sluggishly from the floor where she sat. She set aside the meal she craved, and went along, dragging her feet, toward the goddess, and I don’t think she was without great suffering and rage in doing so. She whined and sighed from her woeful heart at the intelligence, beauty, and great kindness with which the goddess was endowed. The form and appearance of Envy, and her demeanor, I will most gladly tell you, so far as I know it. [3932–3944] She is exceedingly pale and wretched, like a woman bloated and ill. She always looks around squinting with one eye. Never, to my knowledge, has she looked at a person eye to eye. Her teeth are incredibly loathsome and foul, full of bloodstained rot. Her belly and breasts are completely covered in venomous foliage. Her tongue is full of spite, jeers, and venom, and she never laughs except for a bitter laugh when she gets to see people come to harm or suffer misfortune. She neither sleeps nor rests. She constantly plans and plots to inflict harm on others. It fills her with anger and wrath to see good fortune come to any creature: that is the anguish, the distress, the anxiety that wounds her so, and puts her into such a state of dread that her flesh and blood and body



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withered. She’s always slandering, always babbling, defaming one person and mocking another, nor does she aspire to any good deed. [3945–3971] So it is no wonder that Pallas loathed her, and she addressed her with great brevity. “Go,” she said, “I command you, to the prosperous city of Athens. To one of Cecrops’s daughters, the one named Aglauros, I bid you carry the flag and standard of your host: fill her with bitter, harmful poison; anoint and beset her with your reeking rot.” And Pallas immediately fled, leaning on her staff for support. [3972–3984] The disloyal one, the traitor, Envy, stared at the goddess with her one-eyed squint. And she whinged and griped, muttering under her breath; Pallas’s great good fortune made her miserable. But she could not refuse to carry out her command, and anyway, it made her very glad to bring the other woman to harm, since she had now been commanded to do it. She equipped herself at once to do the job: she took a short stick of bramble, bristling with thorns. She headed for Athens, covered by a dark cloud. The stench that came off her breath brought corruption to villages, towns, and people, and made the grass and flowers shrivel up and lose their colors. Ever since, the wretches, the unfortunate ones in those places whose hearts are filled with envy, have been sore beset. Envy traveled through the woods and fields till she saw the city full of great nobility, invention, peace and happiness, reason, wealth, and largesse. She nearly went mad and died from sorrow, for she saw nothing there that didn’t grieve her. She barely held back her tears. [3985–4015] She came to Aglauros’s house to do Pallas’s bidding. She set about filling her bowels with reeking blood-red venom, and filled her heart with worry. And, so that she would have more substantial cause for suffering and fury and woe and heartache, Envy set before her eyes her sister Herse, who was so worthy and wise, and had such an advantageous marriage, to a god who loved and esteemed her. Distress then inflamed her, anxiety and worry of which she complained day and night; anguish confounded her. She gradually burned and shriveled and fried and withered from envy and woe, like ice melting in the sun. What she saw grieved her incredibly: the great benefits that her sister possessed. It made her completely grief-stricken and unhinged. She would rather have died than have seen or known that her sister had possessed so many benefits. She often thought of telling their father about it, as though it were fornication.141 She planned and plotted to harm her. [4016–4043] One day the gate was closed and Aglauros was sitting in the gatehouse, blocking the whole entrance to prevent the god’s coming. Mercury saw her blocking the whole entrance and so he spoke to her, and repeatedly begged her, and urged her not to keep delaying his going in. “It’s pointless,” said Aglauros, “I won’t budge so long as I know you’re here.” The god answered 141 Avoutire,

v. 4042: otherwise “adultery,” but Herse is unmarried.

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angrily: “Then may we all be here for a long time,142 whatever the gain or loss might be.” Then he opened the gate with his staff, and when the woman went to get up, she found her body stiff and so overcome with heaviness and sloth that she didn’t have the power to stand up. She tried to, but found she could not even bend in one direction or another, for the great cold she experienced had stiffened her knees and her whole heart was frozen. She lost her blood and all her color from suffering. She lost her powers of speech and her life. Alas, her wicked envy, which had been her downfall, lived on: she was transformed into hard stone. The stone was dark gray, stained with her false and treacherous thoughts. [4044–4076] [miniature, fol. 66r: the wedding of mercury and herse]

Moralization {T}he historical reading of this is as follows, it seems to me, that Mercury, son of Jupiter, entered into love and marriage with Herse, daughter of the king of Athens, one of the three daughters of Cecrops. This caused the elder daughter to feel such rage and dismay in her heart all her life that she completely withered from envy, so that she had no more pity or moderation in her than a hard stone. [4077–4086] Cecrops originally came from Egypt, if the historical record does not lie. In Egypt he was a great lord, for he was of very noble lineage, according to the ancient writings. This was back when God smote the Egyptians with the ten plagues because the king143 tried to keep the Hebrews in captivity against God’s will: God made him suffer from ten afflictions. When Cecrops saw the plague in Egypt, he became terrified that all Egypt would perish. He was so fearful that he would die there that he came to Greece to be in safety, and there he founded the city he first named Acteïn, which afterwards, on the counsel of Pallas, was named otherwise, so that it was called Athens. Cecrops was brave and proud and strong. He alone put forth as much effort as two men, and even more, so he was called “double-bodied.” Because of his power and his pride and his great speed, the tale (were anyone to believe it) claims that he had a form that was part human, part horse,144 combined in a single aspect. [4087–4116] Now, I want to make known to you what other meaning this tale of Cecrops can have, and then I will make apparent the meaning of the other tale of Aglauros.145 i soions, v. 4056: the variant sores would be “you’ll be here a long time.” in Exodus. 144 Perhaps because Ovid doesn’t specify how Cecrops is double (Met. 2.555: see note 85 above), and Erichthonius is the one interpreted as part snake, the OM interprets Cecrops as a centaur. 145 “Of Cecrops” and “of Aglauros” added here for clarity. 142 Or

143 Pharaoh,



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[miniature, fol. 66v: cecrops as centaur; cecrops offering his soul up to god?]

{C}ecrops was of double nature, for at first he was full of filth and behaved like a beast, then he changed his behavior and his equine manners, and became a man of good doctrine. Cecrops represents the repentant sinner who, for fear of the suffering and damnation forever allotted to those who are ruled by the devil, moved his household from Egypt to Athens. Having fled all earthly wickedness, filth, and baseness, he founded the city endowed with and inhabited by all good things: it was then called Acteïn. The city that he built was his soul, which he sanctified for God by his noble intentions and holy vocation: that was the well-provisioned city, full of worthy virtues. At first the city was called Acteïn, which is rightly equivalent to “sanctified”; then it was called Athens, which means “immortality,” for the soul that departs this world sanctified is blessed and glorified in eternity. [4117–4153] [miniature, fol. 66v: the three daughters of cecrops]

{C}ecrops fathered three maidens, who dwelt in three rooms: these three manifestly represent three modes in which he lived his life. The first was, it seems to me, sinful and wicked and vile, full of pride, full of envy, resentment, and treachery, full of fraud and malice, covetousness and every other vice, and rejecting every good: that is Aglauros, the first daughter who had the room on the left, that is, in the first stage of his life, which was incontinent. [4154–4167] Afterwards came true repentance and the sorrow he felt for his sins, with which he had stained his body and soul. He undertook to repent of them, confessed himself without lying, and after the confession, to make satisfaction for the evils for which he repented, he performed many acts of bitter penance.146 The beautiful Herse, who dwelt in the middle room, that is, in the middle of his life, stands for this. She is the most beautiful and the wisest, and the best, in my opinion, per the judgment of paradise, just as the Gospel says that there is more joy and delight in heaven over a sinner who renounces their transgression and does penance for it than over the more just, without a doubt, who have no need for penance. [4168–4188] After that comes the third maiden, who lives in the room on the right, that is, the share of the blessed; for, when a sinner has properly purged himself of their transgressions and the sins they had committed, through confession and repentance, and done penance for them, God forgives them their folly and brings them back together with his friends and puts them in a state of innocence. [4189–4199] 146 The Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation involves four parts: contrition, confession, penance, and absolution.

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[miniature, fol. 67r: a preacher in the pulpit preaching to a seated crowd]147

{M}ercury represents eloquence, which a good preacher must possess. When the former sinners whom God resolved to choose to be rectors, teachers, preachers, and doctors of the Church had fled the covetousness of this world, where there is too much cruelty, fraud, and misfortune, they “took flight into the air”:148 through contemplative thought they reflected on heavenly things, and despised earthly ones so as to enter eternity, the realm of immortality. In this exalted state of mind that they had, they contemplated the deeds of their forebears, and of those holy and pure souls who once used to present baskets full of flowers, that is, hearts filled with all good things and adorned with good virtues, to God, the King of Paradise. [4200–4222] Hence I can now understand Mercury, who fell in love with Herse, as preaching. Herse is amends, remonstrance, and proper satisfaction for one’s sinful habits through confession, repentance, and the rigor of penance. She loves one who repents, when he sins and makes mistakes and then rebukes himself and mends his ways for his error and his folly. She must love good doctors, good teachers, and good preachers, and be bound to them “by law of marriage.”149 For anyone who wishes to proclaim the divine message, and anyone who wants to rebuke people and set them back on track through preaching, must first and foremost mend their ways, and take care not to have any folly in themselves, or any example of wicked life. And thus they become as pure as they ought to be: this is the practice of a wise teacher and a good expounder of doctrine. It is a preacher’s duty to practice the good he teaches, so that his own fault does not trip him up, before he starts to sermonize or indoctrinate others. It is only right for him to first mend his ways and prettify himself with good habits, just as Mercury did. For you should know that fair words are not enough if one does not act on them. And, if one has transgressed in any way towards God, he ought to take pains to clean himself up, to adorn and prettify himself with acts of compassion which reconcile a sinner with God, by way of setting a good example for those he wants to sermonize. [4223–4264] The gold fringe and the mantle together can be understood, it seems to me, as works of blessed charity. The aspiring preacher must publicly perform such acts, characteristic of his holy life, purer than refined gold and silver, in true humility, without guile and without hypocrisy, in order to give the people an

147 Fols 67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. 148 Like

Mercury with his winged sandals. echo of Martianus Capella’s fifth-century Marriage of Mercury and Philology (De nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae), in which the maiden Philology, dedicated to studies and learning, weds Mercury. 149 An



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example of good life and doing good. To bring himself150 comfort and solace, he carries the staff of penance, so that he is of good conduct, humble, without arrogance, of honest station and in a state of spiritual well-being. He must be loyal and righteous. He cleanses his soul of all sin, and so may lift his head in cleanliness, carrying a chaplet of good habits with which one devoted to love must polish and adorn himself. He must mortify his flesh and keep it lean through penance, fasting, and abstinence, through suffering and affliction, and bring to mind the Passion of Jesus Christ, who resolved to die for us: this is what we can understand by the rose. [4265–4292] And in his “headdress,” holding back his “hair,” he must also put the violet of humility and the fresh lily of virginity and the marigold of true faith, without deception or hubris.151 And so that his “hair” does not fall into disarray or spill out overabundantly, he must also wear the lace-cord of truth and the fine gold headband of purity, with fasteners of strength and courage. He carries the purse of generosity, to dispense his alms and money to poor folk, as much as he can spare, for he will be paid back two hundred times over. He must “wear gloves” to restrain his hands and keep them from doing evil. Let him have “shoes that are clean and without filth, tapered and well-made”: he must have a clear conscience, properly aligned on the straight and narrow, not listing here or there. I am convinced that in that case he can and must preach publicly, and may with confidence rebuke and chastise the foolish, and set the misguided back on track. This is the dress and clothing and the rich attire that people should don if they have the desire to celebrate at the wedding, where the righteous elect will have eternal delight with the Bridegroom, our Teacher and Master, in heavenly glory. [4293–4328] The preachers who do not do this imitate the clapper of a saint’s bell152 which rings to summon people to serve God in the chapel or monastery, but does no more than that. To me, it resembles the pawl of a mill-wheel, that clicks and clatters and never ceases day or night: it constantly agitates and carries on, haranguing and directing those who grind their grain, but expects to gain no good from it for itself. Likewise, some people go around pontificating – their braying never stops – and succeed in bringing profit to others without bringing it to themselves, since through their admonishment, many who have 150 Or

“to bring them,” i.e. the people (le peuple is a singular). But “himself” seems better in context: a staff supports and comforts the one who is leaning on it, even if it can also be used to strike others. For the “wand of discipline” and “wand of penance” being used to strike others, see the moralization of Circe’s wand in Book 14, vv. 2615–2675. 151 It’s unclear whether the “hair” itself should be understood as deception and hubris (in which case it could safely be shaved off: see Book 15, vv. 5516–5549) or a person’s good thoughts and inclinations, which need to stay restrained but should be kept from falling out entirely (see Book 15, vv. 5603–5739). 152 “Bell” added for clarity.

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left behind foolish error come to amend their behavior. Their thinking is like wash-water, which cleans the dirty, filthy fabric and soils and pollutes itself. The debauched do likewise when they usurp through presumption the name of good preacher, and are dishonest and inappropriate in their lifestyle. Their actions are “distasteful to the gods.” [4329–4354] They use a stone channel to send water pouring onto the soft earth, to give it moisture, which is how the earth gets its fertility and bears fruit. But the stone can never be moistened enough to make it soften or flower or bear fruit, nor does the hardness of the stone cause the earth to lose its good fruit, or the water, its good moisture. In the same way, good teaching and holy directives can pass through the wicked teacher to illuminate and irrigate and instruct the hearts of good people, so that they bear spiritual fruit, cultivated in them by grace. The teacher goes around pontificating, and can expect to gain no good profit from it because of the wickedness of his life. But this in no way taints the effectiveness of holy teaching, which illuminates the hearts of good people. Nor should the teacher’s vile behavior make anyone disdain the message of his good preaching, because he knows how to teach that which is good, despite his not wanting to do it himself. We must restrain ourselves from doing evil according to what he will teach, and avoid what he will do. In this way, the preaching will undoubtedly prove more valuable to us than to he who delivers it. [4355–4388] But when lifestyle is in accord with preaching in both word and deed, the marriage is perfect. God153 himself gave us an example of this when he acted and then preached, teaching the people how to properly perform austerity, and carry out penance. Such a marriage does not please in the least the foolish people slumbering in envy and greed, who have grown so hardened in malice that they have no interest in penance, suffering, or abstinence. Nor can they direct their hearts towards beginning any good at all, and disdain every good example and all preaching that does not fill their purse or generate wealth. Hence they want no one to counsel them about how to obtain their souls’ salvation. Such people can indeed be called stone, who have grown so hardened by malice and inured to charity that they do not remember God. [4389–4413] [miniature, fol. 68r: envy in her house, gnawing on snakes, while pallas knocks at the door with her staff]

{P}allas, that is, Wisdom,154 “comes to the threshold of the house of Envy” when the wise person condemns and chastises one who is consumed with envy. But they can never be reproached so much that chastisement will make them want to come to good correction. The ear may well hear the good, but 153 The

Son and the Word (Logos), associated with (Divine) Wisdom below. v. 4414 (see our lexicon, p. 78). Believers in Christ, the Logos, are called to rebuke those who stray (e.g., Proverbs 27:5, Matthew 18: 15-17, 1 Timothy 5:20, Galatians 6:1, James 5:20).” 154 Sapience,



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the hard heart can gain no joy from it. Wisdom will never enter there, but can only stand at the threshold and strike with its staff at the heart, which is the house of Envy, furnished with every vice, full of suffering and woe, hidden in a gloomy valley. The gloomy shadows are those of ignorance, blindness, and forgetfulness that have enshrouded the envious, making them forget all good things. The smoke is of black depression, which has filled their heart entirely with soot.155 The bitter, pungent drink is the harsh and oppressive worries that beset an envious heart, always stabbing and goading it. Sloth and great misfortune correspond to the vicious cold that completely fills the house. It is without the sun of justice, without the moon of purity, without the light of truth. There is no fire of charity at all to be seen, but only black anguish. No wind of grace blows through. [4414–4447] “Envy had a pale face” because the envious are pale, colored by the envy that taints and withers and racks and agitates them all. “The serpents’ flesh she chews are the vile whispers and evil slanders and venomous mockeries that pour from vile envious mouths to defame people: the envious are accustomed to love such food. The venom is the wickedness of false hearts filled with stench that poisons the envious with venom. The envious shrivel up and melt like lard in a drippings pan whenever they see gain, honor, and joy accruing to good people, and they cannot stop themselves from moaning and grieving. But, on the other hand, when they see grief or adversity or injury afflict a person, they find that beautiful and good and lovely. The envious shrivel and sizzle and melt; their sad and worried hearts make them feel incredible suffering and frustration. Woe betide envy and the envious, for the envious make evil neighbors! They are not capable of having a brother or sister or cousin, father or mother or any relative, on whom they can look with favor, or can stand to see rising in the world without becoming entirely consumed with grief. [4448–4480] Our God, the source of all goodness, created an angel, and by his will endowed him with every good quality, but envy, the witherer of false hearts, grew in him, and through folly the angel became spiteful and aggrieved by all the bounty his Creator possessed. He wanted to be his equal, and God, whom no one can mislead in any way, knew that the angel wanted to surmount him, and so he caused the envious one to fall from his glorious paradise into the shadowy darkness of hell, full of ill-fortune. There “dwells Envy” and there it resides, and yet it possesses many in the world, so many that no one knows their number. We are burdened by the nasty miserable multitude of those it has led astray, for it now reigns freely over the whole entire world. And the majority of people are filled with envy and lead such wicked lives that all

155 Enroussi,

v. 4434: this picks up v. 3900.

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good things upset and grieve them, while the hearts of the envious, evil by nature, practically burst when they see anyone do well. [4481–4508] [miniature, fol. 68v: the virgin mary holding the infant jesus, framed by angels waving censers]

{I} can provide another understanding. Herse can rightly represent that Glorious Maiden who was the temple and holy chamber in which the Son of God took shelter, who redeemed us and discharged the debt to which we were subjected by those who ate the deadly apple. This Blessed Maiden was the most innocent,156 and the most beautiful, and the most excellent in the world. She is the one in whom every grace abounds: all virtue, all goodness, all worth, all honesty. She is the flower of all maidens and the sovereign of beauties, lovable above all others. She is the bright Star of the Sea, guiding and leading seafarers. She is Lucifer,157 who ushers in daylight and chases off darkness. She is the moon of purity and the sun of election, of grace and perfection. [4509–4532] She is the beauty whom the “eloquence” of Divine Wisdom158 loved so much that he resolved to join with her completely, in the flesh, in a love and in a marriage that infuriates the envious wench whom the devil has filled and misled with envy – that is, Gentilisa and Synagoga, who is so proud and insolent that, like a presumptuous and brazen fool, she159 keeps the door of her hard heart barred to forestall and repel the coming of the Son of God. God is at the door, shouting and calling, and saying and entreating out of love that if she will only open up, he will enter there. But she says she will never open up to him. She does not want to receive such a guest, and from this, one can see clearly that her heart is harder than a stone. She is so inclined towards the earth, that is, towards earthly evils, iniquities, and vices, that she cannot untether herself, or devote herself to any good deed. Her wicked envy confounds her. She crumbles to pieces and sizzles and melts over the bounty of which Holy Church is the liege lady, and shamefully loses body and soul, stained and discolored by her woeful thinking. She is harder and more intractable than a hard and obdurate rock. [4533–4566]

plus simple, v. 4518. Could also be “simple,” “modest,” “meek.” We have opted for “innocent” since Mary was born without original sin. This is the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. (Mary, however, was preserved from original sin in a different way than Christ.) 157 The morning star, not the devil. 158 I.e., the Word = God. See the moralization of Mercury’s eloquence above. 159 Gentilisa and Synagoga are normally distinct, and used to moralize different characters in Ovid (see vv. 2913–2948 above): here they seem to be merged in the moralization of Aglauros, and would stand in contrast to Holy Church. 156 La



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[miniature, fol. 69r: the danaids with swords, killing their husbands in bed; hypermestra kneeling at lynceus’s bedside]

The Danaids (or Belides) and Their Husbands160 {M}ercury knew how to take harsh revenge on Aglauros for obstructing him, and turned her to stone, and then he left that land and set off flying through the air. Jupiter summoned him to carry out a personal errand, but did not reveal his intentions or what he planned to do; he preferred to keep that information secret and hidden from him. “Go, dear son,” he said, “to the region of Sidon, and lead the cattle you see grazing on the mountain to the seashore.” Mercury went without delay to carry out his bidding. But before I tell you more about that, to better complete my subject matter, I would like to relate and tell to you an account (dit) which is not in this book, as opposed to following the author’s order.161 [4567–4586] In the first book, near the end, I told you about Epaphus, the chief ruler of Egypt, who founded Memphis. The historical record also says that Epaphus was the father of Belus, King of Babylon, and that many great men are descended from him, as the history relates to us. He had eight sons of great renown. One was Ninus. The others were named Abas, Proetus, and Agenor ruler of Sidon, Belus the Younger, Danaus, Aegisthus,162 and Acrisius. [4587–4600] Aegisthus had fifty sons, and thus felt very sure and certain that through them his line would become more preeminent, more feared, and more exalted. He was hoping for too much! Danaus had the same number of daughters. These two lords, who were brothers, ruled one kingdom, but it was not possible for them to rule it in peace, for each of them wanted, first and foremost, to have jurisdiction and authority over the entire state, and to make himself master and lord. And so great discordance, hate, and ill-will arose between them. This discord lasted a long time. In the end, the brothers reached an agreement to unite their lineage by marriage. They would give the daughters to the sons, and so they would be sure and certain that no one would try to stir up conflict, but instead they would all keep peace in the realm. Or so thought Aegisthus; but Danaus had other ideas. [4601–4626] The two men had vastly different intentions. It was neither today nor yesterday that treachery had its inception; it had been a long time coming. The first man born of a mother163 treacherously murdered his brother. He still has many successors. 160 The

principal source for this section, as of v. 4587, is Heroides 14. is, what follows isn’t from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, but from Heroides 14 (Hypermestra to Lynceus). 162 Also known as Aegyptus. 163 Cain. There is no corresponding passage in Ovid. 161 That

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Danaus was treacherous and deceitful and full of guile and entertained great villainy in his heart,164 when he got his sons-in-law drunk on their wedding day, and gave each and every one of his daughters a steel sword to cut off her husband’s head. The cousins’ nuptials and feast were grand, but little did they know what evil a neighbor, that is, Danaus, was preparing for them. He called his daughters and gave each one a blade, asking her to kill her husband in the night, when he fell asleep. Any girl who refused could be assured of death. [4627–4651] All the women killed their husbands at the command of the liar who broke faith,165 except for the noble Hypermestra, who was so honest and honorable that she would not stoop to commit treachery, but she was deeply afraid of her father. When she heard the commotion and the gasps and sobs of the dying men that the wicked villain, that is, Danaus, was having killed, the beauty wept and sighed most tenderly, and became completely bewildered. She lost all blood and color,166 and her memory as well. She was shaking worse than a poplar leaf. She felt terrible anguish and distress for her husband who, totally drunk, lay sleeping in his bed beside her. She had been ordered to kill him as he slept, or she would be killed. “Poor girl,” she said to herself, “you’ve never been a murderess or a traitor before. Am I now going to commit such a crime? Yes: I must do it, otherwise I’ll die – maybe. Without that maybe, I would have to do it: my father’s up to no good, and he would absolutely kill me if I didn’t follow his command.” Saying this, the girl stood up with her arm upraised; she would have struck him without hesitation, but fear and pity made her drop the sword: she could not do such wickedness. [4652–4688] “Poor girl,” she said, “what shall I do? How can I murder my husband? I am a maiden, virginal and pure, and gentle by nature. I won’t befoul my hands by murdering my first cousin! Might I then be more inclined to pity than my sisters? That’s not make-believe: each one has already killed her husband. Why should I be able to avoid this? Why shouldn’t I kill him too? – Nothing will make me kill him! It will never happen! I’d rather lose my life than commit such a sin! What did he do wrong? How did he sin – he or his brothers, who are dead? Did they deserve to die because they wanted to secure the kingdom, which would have come to them by right? If our cousins had never been born, and control of the kingdom had passed to whichever men got us as wives, heaven forbid they should ever do anything to us! Even if they did deserve death, I don’t ever want or desire to become homicidal. Would I seriously commit this homicide? I’m a maiden. May it never please god that I commit such a homicide!” [4689–4716] 164 Compare

Matthew 9:4 and Mark 7:21. here seems to correspond to the moral norm of hospitality (cf. Greek xenia “guest-friendship”). 166 I.e., from her face. 165 Foi



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In this way, she went on lamenting: the beauty wept for her husband. She trembled in fear, and softly whispered to him: “Lynceus,” she said, “beloved, all your brothers have been put to death. And so will you yet be, this very night, before the bright day dawns, regardless of whom it pleases or offends, if you go on sleeping peacefully like this. Pack your things, and fast. On the order of the king my father, your brothers are dead.” [4717–4729] When he heard her speak of death, he became afraid and thought no more of sleeping. He saw the woman standing with the naked sword in her right hand, and heard the awful cries of his brothers, who were slain. “Sister,” he said, “who has killed them, and what are you going to do now, sweet kind gentle sister?” “Beloved, if you don’t take steps to protect yourself, you are sure to die. The moment my father finds you, nothing will prevent him from killing you, without a doubt.” [4730–4743] Lynceus fled, terrified of death, and the girl was left alone, sad, sorrowful, and weeping. Daylight returned; night departed. The king got up that morning. The wicked king and his guards went about searching all the rooms. He counted his dead sons-in-law one by one. Only one was missing from the count. The king asked Hypermestra to turn over her husband’s corpse. She was at a loss. “Sire,” she said, “he’s not here. He ran away when I tried to murder him.” The king seized her by the hair, left her practically disfigured, and threw her into a dark dungeon – that was his daughter’s reward for doing the right thing! After that, he exiled his brother, old Aegisthus. [4744–4763] To safeguard his life, Lynceus had fled, I can’t say where. And so Danaus, by his wickedness, had the kingdom under his thumb. But as the authoritative source says,167 it was not long before Lynceus ruthlessly made war on Danaus and stripped him of all his land. He stripped him of both the kingdom and his life, inflicting justice on him, as befits a traitor. And he had all the sisters put to death, except the one who had helped him. And for acting on the disloyal thought of wrongfully murdering their lords and their beloveds without warning, from the desire to rule, they are, as the tale says, to their shame and their sorrow, subject to everlasting torment in hell. They have begun a task that they can never accomplish: to drain a stream using vessels with no bottom. No matter how they try, they cannot take the water out, or ever complete their foolish undertaking. They are constantly dipping and constantly failing, constantly exerting themselves, so they are in everlasting pain. [4764–4795]

167 Again

referring to Heroides 14 rather than the Metamorphoses. The relevant lines, although they attribute Danaus’s downfall and Hypermestra’s exile to Aegisthus and not to Lynceus, are probably Bella pater patruusque gerunt; regnoque domoque / Pellimur; eiectos ultimus orbis habet (“My father and my uncle wage war: we’re expelled from home and from our kingdom: driven to inhabit furthest places,” trans. Kline).

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Moralization Now I will explain this tale to you. The brothers contending for the kingdom that each of them wanted to rule and dominate and compel, can be taken as the soul and body. Every day they struggle, and each of them tries by force to have primary power to restrict and direct the body as a whole. The soul seeks to make the body fast and keep vigil, to pray to God and also suffer, giving alms and doing penance. The flesh despises abstinence. Rather, it desires all the worldly pleasures of wine, food, and bed, meats, fish, and spices; it wants to drown the soul in vices. The soul hopes to mortify the flesh, and in return the flesh hopes to dominate the soul and exert authority over it, and despises the idea of being dominated by it. Each is abhorrent to the other: for this reason, the contention and war between them are vicious and cruel. [4796–4821] The soul has its spiritual sons, which are the good fruits that issue from the soul and provide the soul with every good quality: charity, peace, and patience; true faith and steadfast hope; temperance and humility; perseverance and truth; kindness and innocence; joy and courtesy and generosity, goodness, sincerity, and compassion; nobility and loyal friendship; chastity, continence, and moderation; reason, loyalty, and righteousness, and the other similar good fruits. [4822–4835] The flesh has destructive daughters: fornication and lust; depravity, vulgarity, obscenity; idolatry and falsehood; sorcery and iniquity; wrath, discord, and provocation; strife, contentiousness, and hatred; treachery and violence; theft, murder, and robbery; disloyalty and wickedness; envy, drunkenness, and gluttony. Such daughters has the flesh, it seems to me – the greedy, stinking, filthy flesh that wrestles with the spirit. [4836–4849] The spirit, which hates this feud and would rather please the body than please God, gives its sons to the daughters of the flesh, so the body can have full enjoyment of its sinful pleasures. In this way, it hopes to be sure and certain that there will now be everlasting peace between them. But the false deceitful flesh means to destroy the spirit, and induces its daughters to kill the sons of the spirit, in secret, by night, as soon as they come together. Because the soul has compromised with the flesh, and the flesh holds the soul on a leash, while wishing to be sole mistress of the whole body, the good fruits of the soul are all dead, and the soul is eternally condemned to mortal damnation. [4850–4866] But good practice keeps the body in line with the soul’s good intentions, so that it will never be so ignorant as to slip into the vices of the flesh. Rather, it flees the worldly delights that bring the soul unto damnation, and deals harshly with the flesh, not allowing it to rule, to grow arrogant, or to have much freedom to indulge. Whoever treats their flesh with austerity, penance, and suffering, ensures the salvation of their soul and protects it from the prison of death, so that it reigns in everlasting life. [4867–4881]



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The torture of the sisters represents the suffering, the burning, and the affliction that afflicts the wretched afflicted, so that they can never cease hoarding and amassing riches. They constantly amass and hoard, and multiply and hoard, more than is normal or needful, and they use various means to sate their covetousness. Some engage in commerce, which brings them stress and strain: they scurry up, they scurry down, they scurry by night, they scurry by day, never resting, never taking time off. They cheat, haggle, and debase themselves. Others rob and murder. Still others labor to enrich themselves through deception and false representations. The covetous can never be at peace, for the fire of their great covetousness, which can never be satiated, burns and harrows and spurs them on too much for that. They never feel they have their just deserts no matter what they have, but covet more. They grow incredibly anxious and take no pleasure from anything, because they cannot get enough. They exert great effort to garner wealth, and suffer great discomfort for it: hunger, thirst, exhaustion, heat, and cold. [4882–4912] When they have sought out wealth and hoarded it, all their labors are still not over, for their great worry and misfortune starts anew. They are in misery and dread. They have great anxiety and fear of losing everything, and these feelings are so profound that they can have no peace or joy. Every day they think on it, and every day they are sure that someone is carrying off or secreting away their wealth, and so they hide and muffle and stash it away, in a chest or a cellar or a crypt. But nothing works, for in the end they must lose their land and wealth and more than that, namely their soul and body. But they cared little for the soul, so long as they lacked for nothing in terms of wealth. They have to have a heart hopelessly foolish and naive, or hopelessly lulled by wickedness, to lose, for the worthless wealth of this world, those delights of heaven above that will last eternally, and thus cast their soul into damnation. [4913–4936] [miniature, fol. 71r: europa riding into the sea on the back of the white bull, away from her ladies]

Europa and the Bull {N}ow Lynceus had slaughtered his uncle, and avenged his father and his brothers, who were dead,168 by killing those who had killed them. Then he ruled as the rightful heir. Now, I want to return to the messenger169 who had led the cattle to the harbor. That was where the king’s daughter, Europa, was 168 Et son pere vengié / et ses freres, qui mort estoient, vv. 4939–4940. Perhaps this is supposed to mean “avenged his father and dead brothers,” but what happened to Aegisthus is unclear from the OM. The story above says only that he was exiled, although according to Pausanias (Description of Greece vii, 21.6), he did go on to die of grief. 169 Mercury.

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used to frolicking joyfully with her sumptuous retinue. Her father was named Agenor; he reigned over Sidon. He had four children by his wife: three young men and a girl. The first son was Phoenix, king of Phoenicia; the second was Cilix, king of Cilicia: these two gave their names to the two lands they ruled. The third son was Cadmus the wise, who was the first to write down the language and scholarship (clergie) of the Greeks. All three of the sons were upstanding men. [4937–4958] But now I will tell you about the girl, Europa, who was so beautiful. I do not want to make a drawn-out affair of describing her beauty, but she was so beautiful and attractive that there is no technique that Nature, using all her skill, could have used to make her any lovelier. [4959–4966] Jupiter loved the girl. For her, he gave up his divine form and became indifferent to everything else. One who is possessed by love is in absolutely no position to exercise their will: no one is too exalted for love to humble. Love’s desire is to dominate the lover and to keep him on a tight leash, for it does not want anyone to be skeptical of it. Lordship and devoted love will never be comfortable bedfellows, because they are too different, and, in fact, at odds. Love is sincere and courteous, and lordship is fearsome, disdainful, and proud, for it wants people to serve and fear it; while love wants those who engage in it to be sincere and gentle and amiable, courteous and helpful, for it wants to find an equal, and not a master. [4967–4987] The mighty god, the king of heaven, Jupiter, who booms and flashes, who hurls and forks the lightning, could not avail against love: he was forced to love despite himself, and to become a faithful lover. Love put him in such a plight that he was forced to obey another. It should surprise no one to see love turn some lover crazy; he who loves properly is practically blind. The god was crazy for love. [4988–4999] Near the seashore close to Tyre, the royal cattle were grazing in a field. Then the god, impelled by true love, in that place where the girl was relaxing gave up his divine form for the beauty, and so abased himself that he deigned to become a bull* because of it,170 and submitted to behaving like a bull*. He went gamboling through the fields with the other cattle. This bull* was whiter than a new snow on a branch, not disturbed or melted. He had a perfectly well-formed head and an innocent, placid expression. His gaze was not frightening, but agreeable and 170 This episode is traditionally known as “Europa and the Bull,” not “Europa and the Ox.” OF bues, however, is “ox,” and tors is “bull.” In Book 8, it is very clear that bues is used to refer to a bull (the one that Pasiphaë is in love with), but this tale appears to use the terms interchangeably, especially in the moralization. (And the introductory miniature could readily represent either animal.) It is also plausible that Jupiter might choose to appear as an “ox,” which is a less threatening and more gentle animal, and Murray has argued elsewhere (Murray and Simone 2015) that the choice of “ox” anticipates the moralization (and may perhaps even sometimes be for the syllable count). To avoid confusing the reader throughout, we have changed “ox” to “bull*” and opted for an asterisk to indicate the changes, and thus track the original terminology in the OM.



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very pleasing. His horns were brighter than sparkling crystal and also tiny: they were made in such a way that they would be easy to grab onto. In front, one could see a big dewlap hanging down, and he had large folds on his neck. He was beautiful, and more than doubled his beauty by his great innocence: he struck no one, injured no one, but was innocent and gentle. [5000–5027] The king’s daughter was frankly amazed at the great beauty she saw in him and his air of innocence. She took great pleasure in looking at him. She would have touched him, but fear and timidity made her hang back. In the end she built up enough confidence to approach the bullock. She picked the delicate grass by hand and fed it to him, while he, ruled by love, licked and kissed her lovely hands. He felt intense delight and joy and satisfaction, and greatly rejoiced at the gift. If they had been alone there, he would have done everything he desired; he was barely able to restrain himself. He basked in pleasure and enjoyment. He had such delight and such enjoyment from the girl patting him and bringing him chains of flowers, and strolled contentedly through the grass, mooing like any other bull*. [5028–5050] He so enchanted the beauty that she, not knowing who he was, climbed up on his back. The god carried her away little by little until he launched himself into the deep sea. Then he went galloping through the waves, carrying his prey away on his back. The maiden was utterly bewildered and distressed, and she was terrified. She looked at the shore and the group of maidens on it, who had such great fear in their hearts for their lady, whom they saw carried off; weeping, they followed her with their eyes. The maiden managed to keep her composure: she held on to one of the horns with her right hand, and rested the other on his back. [5051–5067] The god began to swim, and crossed the sea. He arrived in Crete, and resumed his proper form. He revealed his passion to her and took her virginity from her, which made him very glad and joyous. It was then that Minos was conceived, who would rule over all of Crete. He proved to be such a good judge that, if the tale does not lie, he now delivers the judgments of hell, where the wicked are judged according to their sins.171 Jupiter named a third of the world after his beloved, calling it Europe,172 which he offered to the beauty as a gift. [5068–5084] [miniature, fol. 72r: the disciples witnessing the ascension, with jesus’ feet disappearing into heaven]

171 Cf. Minos in Dante, Inferno, canto 5. Homer had already placed Minos as the judge of souls in Hades (Odyssey, Book 11). 172 For Europa l’apele, v. 5083, Rouen (fol. 72r) has Europa la bele, “beautiful Europe/ Europa.”

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Moralization {T}he historical interpretation says that thus it came about that Jupiter came to Tyre from Crete, where he held the kingship, because love compelled him to come. In Tyre lived the beauty for whose love he had become demented. In Tyre, he abducted the beauty, and carried her off by sea, in a ship with a bull painted on it. That is why the tale says and claims that he had the appearance of a bull* – not because he had the art to transform himself effortlessly into the form of a bull, if it suited him, or to take on any other form using the magic that he practiced. It was in this way173 that he was able to abduct the beauty and strip her of the name of maiden. [5085–5102] There is another interpretation that could be put forward, which is convincingly in accord with the text. God, in whom all goodness abounds; God, who made the sea and the earth and rules the firmament; who by his commandment makes it rain, thunder, and lightning, and spreads and dispenses lightning bolts; who made the moon and sun, and by blinking his eye makes every creature tremble – for the love of humankind, God resolved to come down and abase himself, without abandoning his divinity. Thus he came to Sidon in Tyre, that is, into this world, no lie, to redeem humanity and release it from infernal bondage. He clothed himself in human form. He, the one in whom all good things abound, so abased and impoverished himself for us, that he experienced hunger and thirst in this world, and many tribulations, and then, he suffered death and Passion for us, just like a bull* that is led to sacrifice to suffer death. On the third day, he rose from death, then carried humanity up to heaven with his divinity. There, he reigns in eternal glory – this we must firmly believe – and will come to judge the dead and the living, to give paradise to the good, and to the wicked, along with the devil, eternal torment and suffering. [5103–5136]

173 By

ship, not by magic.

Book 3

Cadmus [miniature, fol. 72v: cadmus, wearing his lion pelt, plowing the field, with the earthborn knights fighting behind him]

{N}ow Jupiter held his beloved1 under his power in Crete.2 He had cast aside the form of the bull and resumed his divine appearance, and revealed himself to the beauty. When Agenor3 heard the news, he became very angry and afraid about it, for he loved her passionately. He sent his son Cadmus to look for her and banished him from his land if he did not bring back the beautiful Europa. Cadmus incurred incredible hardship before he could find his sister and prove what Jupiter had done. With many men and much equipment, he parted from his father the king and left his homeland of Sidon, very sad and troubled as to where he might find a place to reside, should his search prove fruitless and he dare not return home. [1–21] He came straight to the temple of Apollo to ask which way he should go. The god said: “In a certain field, you will come upon an ox4 that no one is watching or driving. Follow it and build your house where you see it stop.” Cadmus had not wandered far when he saw along the cobbled road an ox wandering alone. He gave thanks to the god5 for it, and traveled and went along after the ox while the ox maintained its course ahead of him. Beyond the fords of Cephisus, the ox turned around and caught sight of the group that Europa. Book 3 continues the story of Europa and the bull (i.e., Jupiter in disguise) from Book 2. Europa climbs onto the bull’s back and it swims with her across the sea to Crete. Jupiter then takes her virginity, conceiving Minos. The OM interprets this episode historically as a king named Jupiter sailing in a ship painted with a bull’s eye, and allegorically as Jesus offering himself up to die for the love of humankind, as though he were a sacrificial ox. 3 Her father. 4 A iuvenca, “heifer” in Ovid (Met. 3.15), though a more generic bos “ox; bovine” in Apollo’s instructions (Met. 3.10). 5 Apollo. 1 2

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was following it. When the ox saw the group, it stopped and lay down on the grass. Cadmus was overjoyed about this. He wished to make a sacrifice to Jupiter so he would allow him to build there. He sent his men for running water. In a great, tall forest was a very beautiful spring. There, to their great misfortune, the envoys went in search of fresh water – for which they later paid most dearly. [22–48] There was a huge dragon6 in the spring. The marvelous dragon, which was exceedingly fierce and prideful, had three heads and three rows of teeth. It was lying in the spring, and when the men dipped their pails in, it reverberated through the water of the spring. The wicked dragon, on hearing the noise, leapt out of the water and attacked the envoys: it killed and mutilated all of them. [49–59] Cadmus waited for them so long that it was well past midday. He was very troubled by their delay: he did not know what was keeping them. He held a sharp spear in his hand: he went to search for his companions in the forest, protected splendidly by a tough, sturdy lion’s pelt. He felt great sorrow and distress when he saw his men slain, and the one who had slain them on top of the bodies, lapping up the blood. If fortune allowed him, Cadmus intended to make it pay dearly for his companions whom it was defiling. [60–74] Cadmus was very bold of heart, for he never cowered before the size of the adversary. There is no one in the world, no matter how strong or fierce, who would not have been frightened by it, for its size surpassed the dragon that separates the bears in the sky.7 Cadmus advanced toward it. He was never once overcome with dread, but attacked it boldly. He struck it with a huge rock. The dragon’s thick scales protected it, so that the blow did it no harm, although it would easily have shattered the fortified tower defending a harbor. [75–89] Cadmus struck it again, this time to the spine, with his steel spear. He slipped it into its body: he drove it into the body a full hand’s length. The dragon writhed with pain. It looked and stared at its wound and started biting furiously at the spear. It snatched and jerked at it so much that it pulled and tore out the shaft, but the head of the spear remained within, for the dragon had not been struck in vain: Cadmus knew well how to strike it. Anyone who might have seen the dragon carry on, as it lit up and inflamed with rage, as it swelled with venom and foamed at the mouth, would have done well to fear such a beast. It made the earth shake beneath it. It spewed fire from its nostrils that befouled the whole area. The breath that issued from its body withered the flowers and grasses. Now it coiled up in huge spirals; now it swayed back and 6 An anguis and a serpens in Ovid (Met. 3.32, 38, etc.). The French is serpent, but, like serpent or guivre in the Arthurian romances, this is in effect a dragon: it breathes fire, for example. In vv. 80–81 it is compared to the constellation Draco. 7 The constellation Draco.



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forth; now it raised itself up, longer and straighter than a beam. Cadmus placed himself in great danger when he faced off against its approach. [90–115] With incredible ferocity, the dragon descended on Cadmus to attack him, and flattened whatever it encountered in its approach: nothing could withstand it. Cadmus dodged it and gave way. He wielded his sword in his right hand and held his shield in his left: he deflected the dragon’s assaults with skillful handling of his shield. The dragon did not hold back at all, but assailed him fiercely: it mounted an incredibly vicious assault on him. Cadmus defended himself like a hero, leaving nothing to scoff at. When the dragon struck at him with its teeth, Cadmus set his lance before it and received its bites on his blade.8 Going mad with rage and anger, it bit at the iron. Why should I delay you? Blood poured from its mouth, staining and poisoning the green grass. Cadmus laid into it with great vigor. Discovering the brutality of the iron, the dragon retreated. Cadmus chased after it until he impaled it against a tree, so that it could no longer move. The tree bent inexorably under the dragon’s weight. Cadmus eyed his opponent: he was stunned at its bulk. He greatly rejoiced and celebrated at having slain and defeated it, but his heart would sorely rue the day.9 [116–150] He didn’t linger long: a voice suddenly came to him, he didn’t know from where. It called to him and cried out: “Cadmus, don’t celebrate over the dragon you put to death, for you will be a dragon before you die.” [151–156] When Cadmus heard these words, his heart was totally bewildered. He was in a state of fear and dread, and didn’t move foot or hand, no more than a wooden statue. He did not know where he was, for he had lost all memory. At that moment Pallas descended through the air to reassure him. She ordered him to plow the earth and sow the dragon’s teeth in it, so that the people to come, destined to spring from the sown teeth, would germinate and grow. Cadmus obeyed her command: he plowed the earth and immediately sowed the teeth of the horrible dragon. The crop grew in it so much that armed knights, ready for battle, were born from the teeth that had been sown. Cadmus saw them and Cil li met au devant sa lance, v. 132. The corresponding passage in Ovid (Met. 3.81–84) is: “The son of Agenor gives way a little[,] withstanding its attacks by means of the lion’s skin[,] and keeps back the ravening jaws by thrusting forward the point of his sword. The snake is maddened and bites uselessly at the hard iron and only drives the sharp point between its teeth” (Kline). The lance, not mentioned in Ovid, would seem to be a different weapon than the dard “spear” whose head is now impaled in the dragon. But v. 122, like Ovid, said that Cadmus is now wielding a sword. O le glesve, v. 133, which we translate “on his blade,” could refer to the blade of the sword or possibly to the blade of the lance, if we picture it more as a glaive or halberd than as the standard medieval lance. The seemingly incoherent multiplicity of Cadmus’s weapons may simply be to dramatize the conflict: perhaps the reader is supposed to feel a little bit disoriented by the pace and chaos of the fighting. 9 Lit. “he would have a heart sorely grieved.” 8

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prepared himself to fight if necessary. Then one of the knights cried out: “Put down your arms. Don’t be afraid. Don’t get mixed up with us.”10 [157–182] Upon this word,11 he raised his lance and killed one of his own without hesitation, and right away another slew him, and a fourth killed the third. In this way, they went about killing each other. I don’t know why I would tarry to tell you of their blows or their slaughter, but they each struck and slaughtered away until they were all dead in short order, except five, who abandoned the struggle on the advice of Pallas. Henceforth they were lifelong best friends. Thus the brothers got to know one another. All five helped Cadmus build his mighty city, that was more noble than Tyre had been. Cadmus called it Thebes: he named it after the god and the ox who had led him there. Cadmus summoned people from throughout the kingdom to strengthen and populate his city. [183–204] [miniature, fol. 73v: a philosopher at a lectern (cadmus?) teaching students with open books]12

Moralization {C}admus was wise, clever, and dedicated to the love of wisdom (philosophie). He had companions full of ignorance who thought to seek knowledge in the fountain of scholarship (clergie), from which one kind of wisdom (une philosophie) flows.13 But the tough and brutish14 companions could not endure study, which goads and stimulates hearts and also bodies, so that it leaves 10 Ne te melle en nostre route, v. 182. The precise translation would follow on the interpretation of route as “(road)way,” “(disorderly) crowd,” or “military force”: hence “Stay out of our way,” “Don’t interfere in our quarrel,” and “Don’t insert yourself in our ranks” are options. Ovid (Met. 3.117) has nec te civilibus insere bellis (“take no part in our internal wars,” Kline), which favors one of the latter two readings. 11 Or, “statement.” It is possible that the singularity of mot in v. 183 anticipates the moralization whereby the five surviving knights are explained as the vowels. 12 Fols 61r, 73v, 126v, and 391r have comparable miniatures of a philosopher or theologian teaching students. 13 The terms philosophie, science, and clergie are crucial and are challenging to render distinctly in English. While we could have said that Cadmus was “well-versed in philosophy” or “attentive to philosophy” from the outset in v. 206 (A philosophie ententis), the moralization does seem to postpone the establishment of philosophy as such to v. 219. Therefore, prior to v. 206 we revert to the etymological sense of philosophy as “love of wisdom.” Meanwhile, clergie is clerical or clerkly “bookish” learning, of the kind associated with the Latin term translatio studii and the duty to understand and preserve works of the past. Une philosophie in v. 210 adds a further complication: the point seems to be not that clergie is a branch of philosophy, but that it is one of the philosophical disciplines, just as today there are many fields of scholarship associated with the Doctor of Philosophy degree. 14 Dur et rude, v. 211, could be translated in other ways that pursue different implications: “inflexible and unschooled,” for example. While shedding fat might seem perfectly appropriate for such tough characters, the problem seems to be that the emaciation



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no fat: rather, it causes many people’s flesh to grow thin under their clothes. Cadmus’s companions were, I believe, the first to seek to create philosophy, but they completely failed to do so. They gave it up, like recreants, and drew forth very little knowledge. Then Cadmus came to help them. He was well armed, in my opinion, with a keen desire to learn well, and a subtle mind for understanding. These two things, along with leisure, lead a person to achieve a noble desire. [205–228] Cadmus found the fierce dragon – that is, study, where he tested his courage and his understanding, and he thought so profoundly that he vanquished the wicked dragon. He kept at his studies for so long, and put so much great effort into them, that he conquered the fountain, that is to say, the art of scholarship (clergie) and the source of philosophy. As a result, he discovered philosophy for the Greeks, but the discovery was difficult. The fierce dragon had three heads, each with a golden crest: these are the three liberal arts that we call letters,15 more precious than pure gold and more valuable than any treasure, for there is no knowledge worth anything unless it has its source and beginning in them.16 The voice said that Cadmus must become a dragon, that is, a wise and clever teacher. He plowed the earth and sowed the dragon’s teeth in it, in that he was the first to write down Greek literature,17 and in this way, he spread scholarship (clergie) and made his pupils understand it. He had five companions with him, helpful for discovering the art of literature: they were, I believe, the five vowels, for all art begins with them. No utterance that must needs be written down can be pronounced or spoken unless one of the vowels contributes sound to it, for otherwise it would be impossible to pronounce. Cadmus truly founded Thebes, which is worship of the divine, for divine worship is founded on the written word. It came from scholars (des clers),18 and is preserved by the clerics (li clerc) who maintain the true orthodoxy, for they are the ones who uphold faith and pass it on to the common people. [229–272] which is the effect of study would also reduce their muscle, hence their capacity for fighting and manual labor which would have been their primary stock-in-trade. 15 The literary arts, or trivium: grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic. Cf. Book 12, vv. 3755–3776. 16 Qui d’eulz n’ait chief et començaille, v. 248. Chief is the difficulty, since it could mean “end” or “culmination”: but considering the analogy to the spring, it seems better to take it as “source” or “headwaters.” 17 The need for the ancient Greeks to keep a written record of oral traditions is one of the lessons of Plato’s Timaeus, the only Platonic dialogue available in full (in the Latin translation by Calcidius) in the medieval West. 18 A clerc is one who practices clergie, the kind of bookish learning referenced in the earlier note, but it can also mean a priest or cleric (cf. the usage “clerk in holy orders” in the Church of England). The two senses obviously overlap in the case of learned churchmen, but here the OM seems to want to differentiate them, to emphasize the relationship between textual scholarship (as it relates to the Bible, of course, but also the OM itself!) and Church doctrine.

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[miniature, fol. 74r: fortune spins people on her wheel]

Actaeon {T}here, in the city of Thebes, Cadmus reigned in great prosperity. Now he had much of what he desired. Being in exile scarcely bothered him, for he had taken well to it. He was very wise and greatly esteemed and had taken a most worthy wife: the well-schooled Hermione, daughter of Mars, the god of war, and Venus, who bears the torch to inflame and burn lovers. His wife gave him many noble heirs: sons and daughters aplenty. He found himself very well endowed with male and female descendants and relatives, and feared by all his neighbors. Fortune was very good and favorable to him, a good thing had she been constant, but she changes so much in so little time. A person who laughs in the morning may cry at night, another might have great wealth in hand and be poor from night to morning. No one can have perfect delight except for the ones who are chosen by God in his great eternal glory. Fortune is more fickle than the leaf that falls from the branch. Her goods are so changeable and vain that they cannot remain in one place. In the end, Fortune stabs most bitterly the ones she coddled.19 She soon overthrows the highest and knocks them down under her wheel. She frowns on the proud and hurls the ones she once made arrogant into shame and scorn. Foolish are those who trust in Fortune or who glorify themselves in her name. She overthrows one, builds up another; she keeps one in grief, another in joy; she makes one poor, another rich – this is how she toys treacherously with people. [273–314] Fortune had lifted Cadmus up, but soon she brought him pain, like the incredibly changeable, fickle, and deceitful thing she is. He finally came to realize clearly that until the end, no one born of woman should be considered auspiciously born, or praised at all before their death, for the one who strives to do good in the beginning and ends badly profits little, no matter what he did at first, whereas the one who ends well but began badly gets ahead, because all’s well that ends well. Now Cadmus has everything he could wish for, to his heart’s desire, with nothing outstanding. But in due course, Fortune, who assails the mighty, will make him suffer, and will cause him such a fall that joy will turn to sorrow, as the tale will tell you. [315–336] [miniature, fol. 74v: acteon as a stag and diana with her companions]

{C}admus’s noble wife had given him four daughters, whom he loved very much, as I have found it written. One was named Anthonoë. She was the mother of the noble Actaeon, who was overly passionate about dogs. He was 19 Ceulz qu’ele a lechiez, v. 303. There is a manuscript spelling laissies that would have us read this as a different verb: “the ones she has abandoned.”



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so keen on the hunt that in the end it cost him his life, and he was changed into an antlered stag. His dogs, who thought he was a real stag, were deceived by the likeness, and killed and ate him. But if anyone should ask about his life, they would not find, I believe, that he had ever in his life committed any wrong for which he might have deserved death. But Fortune was against him: you will hear it clearly recounted in the story. [337–354] One day Actaeon was going through the woods hunting game, of which he had slain a great deal: he had killed and captured many of them. It was hot and past noon. And the youth, weary of trekking through the mountains, called to those in his company: “Gentlemen, all day long we’ve had little rest. We’re hot and tired and have taken plenty of game. All our nets are bloodied from it, and our spears are all blunted. It’s past noon, I think, and we’re all worn out by the heat. From now on you can rest, and tomorrow, if you agree, we’ll come back to our business. From now on it’s really time for rest!” The companions, without further ado, prepared to spread out rushes to obey his command. [355–377] Now I will tell you how the young man then went astray. As the others were gathering rushes, he was off alone enjoying himself, frolicking through the vast forest. There was a deep valley, full of pines, cypresses, and firs, that was sacred to Diana: the valley was named Gargaphie. At the head of the valley, in a secluded place, there was a cave, completely surrounded by a very tall forest. The cave was entirely natural, made without any handiwork at all. No human skill or effort had been employed in carving it. Nature had chosen to labor there and had carved it through her mastery. There was a graceful arch, well-crafted from tuff20 and pumice, that Nature had made by herself. On the right there was a clear, sparkling spring, and a clear brook burbled across the sand. The brook was edged all around with grass that was green and fine. Diana was accustomed to bathe there naked, and she had just arrived to bathe in the river. Then she handed one of her female squires her Turkish bow, her spear, and the quiver hanging at her side. Another one slipped her mantle off her shoulders and folded it; two others untied her sandals to remove them from her feet. Krokale rushed forward to tie up her hair; four others21 – namely Hyale, Rhanis, Psecas, and Phiale – drew water from the spring in order to wash their lady Diana. [378–420] While she was washing herself, Actaeon, who knew nothing of this, came to the place out of ignorance, and in this way, Fortune and mischance led him to his mortal suffering. Diana was in the spring, completely naked and uncovered. She saw the youth, who by chance had stumbled across them there. The ladies beat their breasts and cried out because he had seen them 20 The French says effectively “cork-like stone” (liege, v. 397), but Ovid specifies tuff (nam pumice vivo / et levibus tofis nativum duxerat arcum, Met. 3.159–160). 21 Ovid (Met. 3.171–172) lists five here: the list of names that follows starts with Nephele, which the OM omits.

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naked and uncovered. The maidens were dismayed, more for their lady than for themselves, and would gladly have covered her up with their own bodies22 had they been able. Together, they screened him23 and tried to hide her with their bodies, but the goddess, it seems to me, was a whole head taller than they, and was still visible above them all; they could not guarantee that he would not be able to see her face. The lady began to flush with shame and turned her head. And, if she had had an arrow ready, she would have shot him at once, and nothing could have saved him; but because she, for all her wishing, could not get hold of an arrow, she splashed water in his face and said, as if to threaten him: “Say you saw me naked, bathing here, if you get the chance. If you can, then brag about it to the ladies, wherever you may be: I give you my permission to do so.” [421–457] Then she elongated his neck and put antlers on his head. She transformed his face and his entire body. His ears became pointier and his thighs more slender, so he could run faster than he was used to. Wherever the splash ran down, he was splashed with white spots – on his flanks, his back and his sides. He was transformed into a wild stag. Nothing of his former self, except his heart and his natural instincts,24 remained. He became marvelously fearful. He fled in fear, and he marveled at how much faster … [miniature, fol. 74v: acteon attacked by his dogs]

{H}e ran than he recently could. But when he saw the water, in which his horned face appeared, he despaired beyond measure and was frightened, and would have called himself a poor wretch, had he been able to speak a word. He groaned and sighed with a grieving heart, for he could not otherwise utter a word and he did not know how to make another sound. Tears rolled down his face, which was greatly changed, I believe. The poor thing did not know what he could do: whether he should return to his royal lodgings or ought to remain in the woods. Shame and disgrace discouraged him from returning to his royal manse, and fear discouraged him from staying in the woods, since he was scared of the wild beasts. [458–491] While he was in such uncertainty, his dogs caught sight of him: Melampus saw him first of all, then clever Ignobates. These two indicated in their own language that they had found new prey. All the others rushed in pell-mell, Lit. “with themselves.” The manuscript variant la for le vont reponant in v. 437 would instead mean “they hid her.” 24 La premeraine pensee, v. 469: literally, “first thought.” Rather than referring to natural instincts, this signals a perversion of the Aristotelian distinction that what distinguishes humans from animals is the ability to think and speak. Actaeon can feel and think like a human, but can’t communicate, while the dogs can communicate (with each other, and eventually with Actaeon’s fellow hunters), but without human reason. 22 23



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running faster than the wind blows, not keeping to path or trail, but over hills, over rocks, and through valleys, through places where neither beast nor horse could easily go. Actaeon fled with great speed where he was used to following them, and he had no hope of living much longer, when he saw that the dogs were pressing him so closely, threatening to kill him. Alas! What a wretched hunt, when the serf hunts his rightful lord and the master flees his servants: that sport is hardly fine or noble! Actaeon fled, followed by his dogs, which were all struggling and striving to martyr their master. He longed to say, if he were allowed to, if he could, and if there were anyone there who could hear him: “I am Actaeon. You used to know me well, and now you want to destroy me and eat me whole! It seems to me you should have honored me as your lord and master. Why do you want to devour me? None of you should do that.” This is what he would have said to them, if he could have, but he could not utter a word to them. [492–527] The dogs made the air echo and reverberate with their barking. First, Melanchaetes wounded him on the back and bit him. When Actaeon felt the bite, he would rather have been in Damascus. Then Theridamas bit him, then Chrisicropus25 got him in the shoulder, staining his coat with scarlet blood. The three dogs made him shake with terror. They had set off later than he, but had followed him closely via a shortcut over a mountain and caught him in a field, where they forcibly held him fast. All the others gathered around him in a pack. They tore him apart in every direction. They inflicted a thousand wounds on him with their teeth, which were sharp and biting. None of his flesh or pelt were left intact. The mastiffs harassed him from front, side, and rear. Feeling his wounds, Actaeon lamented, and moaned and sighed in anguish. On his knees, bent over, without saying a word, with humble and humiliated countenance, he went on pleading with his dogs for mercy. His companions, hearing the barking of the dogs – who were barking so loudly – gathered around and called out for their lord: he was right there, but they did not realize it! Each of them listened and watched for an opening to leap forward to claim this booty.26 The poor thing was there, to his detriment. The dogs sank their fangs into his flanks, his sides, his buttocks, his chest, his head, his ribs, and so they ripped him apart piece by piece: each one of them carried off his piece. [528–570] [miniature, fol. 76r: a hunter on horseback, with a hunting dog pursuing a hare]

In Ovid, Oresitrophos (Met. 3.233). The French describes this as wanting to “leap forward from some place” (d’aucun leu saillir, v. 563), but the idea seems to be to choose a point of origin that lets them get through the encircling dogs. 25 26

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Moralization {T}he explanation of the tale you have heard can have two meanings. It could be that some young nobleman became a hunter. He loved dogs and birds so much, and spent so much of his own wealth on them, that they reduced him to poverty. He “saw Diana bathing naked,” for he had engaged in hunting for a long time, then gave up on it, but even so he never stopped wanting to hold on to his dogs, without profiting from them as one should.27 He refused to give up his dogs and kept them idle. This so pleased him, and he was so focused on it, that he spent everything he had on it. Thus his dogs stripped him of all his possessions, and so they “devoured” him. [571–590] {B}y this example, every woman and every man should take care not to keep an idle household or attract to their company anything harmful to them, no matter how delightful it seems, because they can see what befell this rich man, who was ruined by keeping his dogs idle. No one can come to a good end by keeping up an idle household, which is unprofitable and also costly: at the very least, they lose their wealth to it.28 [591–603] [miniature, fol. 76r: the flagellation of christ]

{T}he tale can have another meaning, more noble and of greater authority: listen now to its significance. After God had made the first man who, against his prohibition, ate the apple at the devil’s urging – from which he received eternal death, and all those who came after him were damned because of this single bite – the devil did as he pleased to everyone, the wicked and the good alike. He laid his traps, cast his snares, and baited his gins all around, which, to no real gain, destroyed all humanity and put it in his prison. But God, attentive to the salvation of his people, resolved to restore humanity’s loss29 through his holy and glorious Son. And to lift us out of the servitude into which Adam’s bite had cast us, like a good Father and good friend, he caused his dear Son to come down from heaven to earth and take on human flesh and conceal himself in the form of a serf.30 [604–629] Actaeon was transformed into a stag, torn apart and devoured; he was disemboweled by his dogs because he had seen Diana bathing in the spring, 27 The basis is Diana’s status as goddess of the hunt: on the historical level of interpretation, the idle or prurient contemplation of her nakedness seems to be equivalent to maintaining the trappings of hunting without actually doing it. 28 Lit. “he loses his wealth” but the antecedent is “no one,” not “this rich man” and the sense is general. (Meanwhile, “at least” threatens the additional loss of life, or soul.) 29 Lit. “the common loss.” 30 Possible wordplay (cf. vv. 509–510 above: “What a wretched hunt, when the serf hunts his rightful lord and the master flees his servants”): French serf “serf” and cerf “stag” are homophones. As developed in the moralization of Cyparissus (Book 10, vv. 3219– 3256), in the bestiary tradition the stag is symbolic of Christ.



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naked. Diana represents the Godhead that reigned in the Trinity, naked and without human nature, and that Actaeon saw unveiled. Acteon is the Son of God, who with purity of heart knew31 the Holy Trinity, which reigns eternally, without beginning or end, openly naked.32 There he is served by the seraphim and cherubim, by the archangels, thrones, powers, and all the angels. There the Son was truly God and everlasting King, partaker in this great glory: so must we all believe him to be. God, the Father full of mercy, for love of us had his Son conceal himself in human form and be sacrificed to redeem our humanity. The holy Son of God, to reclaim us, resolved to come down from heaven to earth, to live among his own. But the Jews, worse than dogs, did not recognize their Master and their God, and received him disgracefully. In their pride, their envy, and their voracious wickedness, they mistreated and beat him. They placed sharp horns on his head. They hung and nailed him on a Cross, and condemned him to death and damnation like a thief, via false witness. Then he rose from death to life. [630–669] [miniature, fol. 76v: people lament as fortune stands before them with her wheel]

Semele {A}bove, you heard the tale that recounts and tells of Actaeon, how he was devoured by his own dogs in suffering and shame. The young man was much lamented and missed by his friends. The brave youth’s death caused them great anguish. [670–677] Fortune went on assailing Cadmus. She had raised him very high in honor, friends, and wealth, but henceforth she would trample him underfoot. Now Cadmus was sore of heart after having long been happy. Now Fortune, wanting to show him some of her tricks, which are varied and wild, had overthrown him. Ever since he had founded the city, Cadmus had reigned full of prosperity without any cares until the misfortune whereby Fortune did battle against him. Lit. “saw.” Qui purement / Vit a nu descouvertement, vv. 639–640. Here “see” is used in the sense of “perceive” or “know.” We take this as a reference to Augustine’s On the Trinity. The idea (based on Matthew 5:8, 1 Corinthians 13:12, and Philippians 2:5–7, which Augustine builds on to specify the alternate objects of knowledge and sight) is that Christ exists eternally and perceives the Trinity in a way that human beings cannot in this life. Per Miles (1983), Augustine also subscribed to a theory of vision that “specifically insisted on the connection and essential continuity of viewer and object in the act of vision,” which may explain how Christ, who is part of the Trinity, can be analogized to a separate observer like Actaeon: “For Augustine, vision unites seer and seen just as or more surely than contemplation unites knower and known” (Jones 2007, 125). 32 I.e., “face to face.” 31

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Through this battle, the noble Cadmus gained knowledge and proof, so that he knew and was convinced that one must never, at any cost, trust Fortune and her favors. After this grief, which caused him overwhelming anguish, the further pain and anguish that renewed his grief concerned his daughter Semele. [678–700] [miniature, fol. 76v: semele and jupiter, courting]

{S}emele was a maiden, the noble and beautiful daughter of Cadmus. Jupiter had taken her maidenhead. Their liaison was kept secret for a long time, until the maiden became pregnant. When Juno noticed this, she became enraged with the girl. She felt great jealousy and anger that her husband had impregnated her. If she could get close to Semele, she intended to play such a trick on her that great misfortune would befall her before they parted. Juno would make her pay dearly for having made her jealous, if she could manage it. She came down from the sky without delay and, covered by a dark cloud, came to Semele’s house. She disguised herself most singularly. She gave up her shape and assumed another: she was all white-haired with age, with wrinkled forehead and hairy skin, a toothless mouth; her eyes were sunk in her head; she was bent and tottering with old age. She looked like old Beroë, Semele’s nurse. The two talked together for a long time, about this and that and what they were up to. Juno, speaking obscurely, set out to trick her. She spoke of one thing and another until she mentioned Semele’s lover. Semele, madly in love, boasted of her affair. Hearing her boast, Juno was very upset, but hid it well in order to deceive the girl. And so she heaved a false sigh and said: [701–740] “You have given your love wisely, if he loves you as much as you tell me. But you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, because what a fool thinks is not necessarily true, and many young men do all they can to deceive women. They get them to believe truly – believe? no, rather think they believe – that they are gods, in order to betray and dupe them, and draw them in until they can have their way with them. I’m fearful and afraid for you: even if he is a god, if he doesn’t love you, what’s the value of knowing him? Believe me, ask for assurance of his love. And as proof, ask him to give you such a gift as you’ll know how to demand of him,33 and when you have his assurance, ask him to embrace you exactly as he embraces Juno when he takes her in his arms to make love to her. That way, let him prove he’s a true lover.” [740–763]

Tel com demander li savras, v. 757, looks as though it could be rendered “whatever [gift] you wish” or similar, but the future-tense savras anticipates and emphasizes how Juno will be telling Semele what gift to ask for. There is a good deal of repetition in this section (vv. 754–763), involving amour, assegurance, and forms of donner and requérir that form intertwined chiastic structures. 33



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Semele promised her that she would ask for this sign of his love when she saw him. Thus Juno deceived her without her noticing it. Their conversation ended there. Juno left, and Semele waited until her lover came. She remembered her request: she asked him for a gift, without naming it.34 He promised her whatever she might want. Semele, when she had heard the promise, rejoiced over her impending destruction, and said to him: “Dear sweet beloved, the gift you have promised me is to embrace me at once, exactly as you embrace Juno when you take your pleasure with her in true love.35” [764–782] Jupiter was greatly saddened by what she had demanded.36 He greatly regretted that he had given her his word. He sighed and moaned with grief, for he knew well that she would die of it, and nothing at all could save her from that. He rose up very quickly into the sky. He gathered rain, wind, lightning, and thunder, and of the various thunderbolts, he set aside the weakest. Thus arrayed, he returned to earth. Sad and downcast, his face dejected, he came back to his lover’s house. Beautiful Semele could not endure the din and his heat: her folly condemned her to die. Her child, who was not yet fully formed, was extracted from his mother’s womb and sewn into his father’s thigh. There, he was nourished37 as in his mother’s womb until the time of his birth. Ino nursed him as a baby, then he was sent to Nysa38 to be raised, as the text relates. He was brought there in concealment and raised in utmost secrecy out of fear of his stepmother, Juno, who hated her stepson. [783–810] Moralization {S}ome say that Semele had a son who was called Lacedaemon;39 he founded Lacedaemonia40 and ruled over it. Others say, and I believe it, that Lacedaemon, who founded Lacedaemonia, was the son of a daughter of King Achas, named Taygete, and of Jupiter. His brother, I believe, was Tantalus – the powerful, the wealthy – who was miserly and cheap above all others. [811–822] Still others try to claim, appealing to histories that mention Bacchus, that Bacchus first came from the region of Egypt. Because of the plague and In other words, a rash boon. Par fine amour, v. 781. Fine amour, the phrase infamously rendered “courtly love,” is used here for a married couple, and it seems appropriate to take it literally as “refined” or “unadulterated” love. 36 Lit. “by the demand she had demanded.” 37 Lit. “nourished himself.” 38 In Ovid (Met. 3.314), the nymphs of Mount Nysa, in Africa, where Bacchus was raised. Ovid identifies the child by name as Bacchus. 39 This is the historical level of interpretation. We are assumed to know that Semele’s son is Bacchus according to Ovid: Lacedaemon is suggested as a corresponding historical figure. The point would be clearer if the French had said “Some say that Semele’s son was called Lacedaemon [and not Bacchus].” 40 Laconia, the land around Sparta. 34 35

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suffering that God sent upon Egypt, he left Egypt and traveled to Greece, where he was welcomed. There, he was considered a god. There, he founded a most noble city: it was named Argos. Bacchus knew the art and the nature of every sort of vineyard. He set about planting grapevines. It was he who planted the vine-stocks from which the Greeks produced an abundance of wines; and those who happily drank them worshipped him for this. And there were many who drank so much of them that they became mad and drunk: for this reason Bacchus was blamed by some who had thus been fleeced and stripped of all their possessions. He was called Liber, because he “liberated” the drunkard of land and goods, of knowledge and wisdom – but his proper name was Dionysus. He founded the city of Nysa in the Orient,41 which was named after him and called Nysa, from Dionysus. He captivated the people there with his wine and taught them the art of winemaking, so he was called the god of wine. [823–855] [miniature, fol. 77v: semele with her nurse as jupiter descends from the heavens]

{S}emele was struck by Jupiter’s lightning,42 which caused him incredible grief. Semele represents the dissolute body, full of drunkenness and gluttony.43 “Jupiter” – who represents fire, that is, the ardent desire to drink – “loved her,” because the gluttonous body full of disorder is more eager to drink than the wise one full of abstinence. “Semele was with child and pregnant, as Jupiter had impregnated her, having lain with her”: that is, she had drunk her fill of wine. “Juno came to deceive her in the guise of an old crone,” because the elderly drink themselves silly more than young maidens do. Juno stands for feminine weakness, wherein there is great evil when a woman takes to drinking excessively. Semele was slain by her lover, because many hedonists44 – many gluttons and drunkards – are destroyed and lose their lives from unbridled drinking. [856–880]

En Ynde, v. 850. As recently as the twentieth century, the term “Orient” continued to be used in ways that included North Africa, and here Inde would seem to have similar scope, given the known location of Mount Nysa in Ovid (Met. 3.314). Similarly in the line below (Les Yndiens, v. 853), “Indians” would have been inaccurate and “Orientals” now has racist connotations that we felt were best avoided. 42 Fouldroïe fu Semele, v. 856. But in both Ovid (Met. 3.308–309) and the OM’s retelling, she is consumed by Jupiter’s heat rather than struck dead by his lightning. 43 De glotonie, v. 859, and cors glous, v. 863. This is about drinking as a sin of incontinence: see our introductory lexicon, s.v. glotonie, p. 76. 44 Maint lescheour, v. 877. Seemingly “lechers,” but again (see previous note) with broader reference to sins of incontinence or misguided affection rather than specifically sexual sin. This is in keeping with the Aristotelian influences on the OM, and Thomas Aquinas. 41



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Wine is nourished twice, say the naturalists, because all through the cold of winter it is fed in the stock, as in the womb of a mother, but when the warmth of summer returns, the buds shoot forth from the stock and it is covered with both leaves and fruit, and then, it seems to me, it feeds itself on the warmth until harvest time. And that, it seems, is the reason why the tale came up with the idea that Bacchus, who discovered wine, was extracted from the womb of his mother and sewn into the thigh of his father. Juno, who represents the lower air, was his stepmother and his enemy, because out of the air come fogs, cold spells and frosts that harm the buds, or wicked, destructive storms that destroy and beat down everything along the vines that they hit. [881–904] [miniature, fol. 78r: martyrs being put to the sword]45

{I} can record another meaning for this tale. Semele represents the soul that is drunk on and filled with divine love, which must always be animated by fear, dread, and worry at the prospect of losing that love to which its heart must cling. And its mouth and heart must be devoted to nothing other than to speak of its passions46 and think of God’s command. Such a soul must diligently guard itself and take heed that it not be taken in or deceived, and that some evil spirit not come along to deceive it and take it in under the appearance and veil of good works. For many an evil spirit hides under a righteous appearance, in order to seduce the righteous and make them sin. And many false prophets will come into the world, and hold themselves up as God, and each one will say he is the Christ, just as Holy Scripture says. And Jesus Christ – our helper, our Salvation, our Savior, our God, our nourisher, who teaches us the right way to love truly – affirms and makes us believe this. He instructs us to seek God and pray to him that he might will to grant us his love, just as he did to his child, for he forbids and prohibits us any other love. And should anyone wish to ask how God loved his Son on earth, they would learn that from the moment he came to earth he had to be humble and poor, living in pain and hardship, in penance and distress. And he suffered many grievous abuses, and then he offered up his own body to a shameful and vile death for us. Thus he was destined to enter paradise and reign at the right hand of God the Father, in celestial glory. [905–948] This is how God wishes us to rise to glory: not by seeking the delights of this world, nor by way of earthly glories,47 which are vain and transitory. This Fols 78r, 87v, 96v, and 354r have comparable miniatures depicting martyrdom. Ses amours, v. 912. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. amour, p. 71. 47 Pour, v. 950; par, v. 951. The prepositions are clearly distinguished in the French. While both are being translated as “by” in this context, the first is “by [seeking],” the second “by [receiving]”: the distinction is between the secondary goods (per Aristotle and Aquinas) that we seek out instead of God, and the rewards bestowed upon us by our fellow 45 46

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is how holy men in the past rose to paradise. They had quenched their thirst on love and were drunk on God’s grace. They despised the world, and, for the love of God, let themselves joyfully be killed and destroyed. This is how the blessed soul, quenched with love and drunk on God’s grace, must act, not caring at all what becomes of the body as long as the soul does not sin towards God, so that it might live freely and openly with its divine lover in paradise. It is the rightful state and the habit of a soul that kindles and burns with love for its Savior that it have no worldly fear that death, suffering, or adversity could ever separate it from its love. Rather, the soul would prefer to submit its own body to all worldly torments and endure them peacefully. For the love of God, its true lover, it joyfully endures all affliction and injury, all evil and wounding, and even earthly death: and God in his glory embraces it. [949–981] There are some who lack the grace for such fervent devotion. Rather, because of their defective moral constitution that would harshly assault them through temptation, they would falter in their heart and in their intention to lead a good life. But despite that, God does not leave them to be defiled by enemies.48 Rather, like a true father and friend,49 he, in his great generosity, sustains them through their infirmity, their weakness, and their powerlessness, preserving them by his patience until they become steadfast and secure, perfected and mature enough to withstand a cruel assault, if the tempter50 assaults them. [982–998] Tiresias (I) {N}ow Liber51 revealed himself. For a long time, he had stayed hidden because of Juno, who bore him incredible hatred and aspired to destroy him. But now he was so powerful that little did he fear her malice. One time, Jupiter and humans, which can be equally distracting. In Brev. III.8, Bonaventure considers how actual sin arises from a disorder of the mind, or will, that causes the will to withdraw from the First Principle (God); see also 2 Sent. dd. 34–35. 48 Temptations or vices. 49 Amis, v. 990. The analogy is to the relationship between Jupiter and the unborn Bacchus, so “friend” is a better translation here than “lover,” unlike in the two preceding paragraphs where the analogy is to the relationship between Jupiter and Semele. 50 The devil. 51 Bacchus. De Boer’s edition has Ja s’estoit li bers revelez, v. 999, with the manuscript variant s’estoit bacus. The correct reading is almost certainly Ja s’estoit Libers revelez, since Liber is another name for Bacchus (compare de Boer’s vv. 2032–2033 below: Quar Baccus vient, li dieus de vin, / Libers, li dieus de grant vaillance). If we had to make sense of li bers as such, and what de Boer supposed it to mean, the corresponding part of Ovid’s Latin (tutaque bis geniti sunt incunabula Bacchi “and the cradle of twice-born Bacchus was safe,” Met. 3.317) might have led us to translate it as “cradle,” or metonymically as “the child who had been in the cradle” if that were possible. But since the context calls for Bacchus to reveal himself in the fullness of his powers, the singular subject case of baron (i.e., “the lord/hero,” as Cadmus is described in v. 129, come ber) would seem more appropriate. In the process of translating from Ovid to the OM, there might even have been confusion about which li bers (or Libers) this was.



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his wife, Juno, had drunk so much mulled wine that they became drunk. The god was joyous and so was his lady. So they started to banter and exchange pleasantries, as if untroubled by anything. In the course of their discussion, they began to speak of love, and of their respective natures and their habits. And the god said that in fact, the woman loves more ardently than the man and has more enjoyment when the two of them commingle. Juno said that wasn’t true. Now they both wanted to know which opinion was the truer. Since they could not agree, they decided to trust a wise man of great renown, whose name was Tiresias. He had thoroughly experienced both types of lust and so he knew the nature and behavior of both men and women, beyond question, for he had been both a man and a woman. Hear how. [999–1030] One day in summer, he was strolling along enjoying himself, when, in a green wood, he saw two snakes mating. He hit them by throwing a stick at them, and at once – so says the text – altered his form and his nature, and he became a woman for seven whole years. Tiresias experienced fully what it meant to be a woman.52 In the eighth year, he saw again the snakes that had transformed him, and they were mating again. So he said, “Since you had the power to transform me into a woman, I’ll try again, in short, to see if you can make me a man again.” Then he struck them, and at once resumed his earlier form and the habits he had previously had. [1030–1049] This wise man was chosen to resolve the matter over which the gods were in contention. He took the men’s part, saying that women take twice as much pleasure again53 from love as we do. Outvoted, Juno was so sad and furious that she stripped her judge of his eyesight, truth be told. [1050–1059] Moralization From this tale, everyone can readily appreciate and take notice of the fact that the hatred of a powerful woman is a dire and fearsome thing. Anyone, man or woman, who is tasked to do the bidding of a powerful woman must take care not to say or do anything that might displease her, for they would immediately lose her favor and incur her enmity, which could lead to serious problems for them. Her enmity costs them dearly. A woman has no compunction about harming whoever crosses her, whether it is just or unjust, rational or foolish, as long as she has her revenge. Let whoever is under her power take care not to say or do anything that might upset her. Nor should anyone curry favor with a lord by saying or doing anything that displeases his wife. For she desires to be mistress at all times, and if anyone displeases her, she will punish them severely if the opportunity arises. [1060–1085]

52 Literally, “Tiresias fully tried out feminine habits”: the idea of habit recurs in the moralization. 53 I.e., 200 percent more pleasure added on, or three times as much. See the moralization: the sense is indeed this, and not “twice as much.”

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Tiresias (II) {J}upiter was very upset. His heart was sad and incensed when he saw that his judge was impaired – that he had lost his eyesight for telling the truth. He would have given it back, but it is forbidden for a god to undo what another god has willed. He made up for Tiresias’s blindness in another way: he gave him so much knowledge that he knew, beyond question, all that was to come. Then you could have seen all the people of the surrounding country, drawn by his immense renown, flock to him to make various requests. And he never fabricated a lie, but answered his questioners with the whole truth, no matter how daunting54 their questions. [1086–1105] Moralization Now I want to explain this tale to you. [1106] [miniature, fol. 79r: the holy spirit and fire descend upon the apostles at pentecost]

{T}iresias represents the passage of the seasons,55 which is of double nature – now hot, now cold – and alternates diametrically between these two extremes. And the two snakes he saw copulating are the seed that comes together with the earth, so that it germinates, and the season bears witness to its being sown in the fields. It does? Yes. As I understand it, all seeds are conceived in due season. When the seed has begun to germinate in the soil, and summertime takes hold with its impending heat that touches the seed, the season is masculine in nature, drying out and ripening fruit, which is out in abundance. At this time, gardens are full of grasses, flowers, and various fruits. After summer, then winter begins, which is feminine in nature. At that time, the cold recommences, restraining the earth, the grasses, the trees; its oppressive grip stops moisture56 and shrivels the leaves. At that time, I think, no fruits appear on earth, for the cold keeps them locked down in the wood, which will yield fruit again when the masculine season returns. [1107–1136] {J}upiter and Juno disputed: they wanted Tiresias to reconcile their views on the differing intensity of love. Juno represents our lower atmosphere, which is both warm and wet. And Jupiter, it seems to me, represents the fire 54 Douctables, v. 1105, can mean “unclear/obscure/arcane” or “dangerous/terrifying.” While the sense of uncertainty is primary, if we remember the disturbing truths Tiresias reveals to Oedipus (and Pentheus, below), it’s not an obvious choice. “Daunting” is a compromise. 55 This is the unmarked beginning of the historical interpretation. Li temps, v. 1107: see our introductory lexicon, s.v. temps (p. 79). In the context of this moralization, it is consistently translated “seasons.” 56 L’umour, v. 1131. This word can also mean “humor” in the medical sense.



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that is hot and without moisture, i.e., the sun. These two elements fell into conflict and disagreement over their intensity of love, that is, which of them bestowed more favor and nourishment on the cold hard earth and did more to soften it.57 [1137–1155] Tiresias gave the correct judgment, worthy of one who had true knowledge of the subject: Jupiter had three ounces of pleasure and Juno had twice as much again,58 for the temperate moisture of the air does twice as much to make fruits multiply and stimulate plant growth than the fire does. How so? Because it is from the air that the mildness comes that causes sap to turn green and the leaves to emerge from plants, and in turn creates buds, makes plants grow and thicken, and causes fruits to form and spring forth. Meanwhile, the sun, or the fire, causes fruit and grain to ripen. [1156–1171] Tiresias’s vision became clouded, and Juno, swept away by her anger, robbed him of his sight, for in winter, the air grows dark and cloudy: the season makes it perpetually clouded with fog, and full of frost, and no one can see anything clearly. But beneath the cold of winter, frosty and dark, there is a great bounty of fruit maturing, which the heat of the summer season will, in due course, bring forth and cause to appear. Having both59 in moderation is good for the fructification of every plant and seed, as the text60 affirms. [1172–1188] {N}ow I will tell you the allegory this tale represents. Our Savior, our God, our Deliverer, Jesus Christ, the Son of God the Father, took flesh in his Virgin Mother. Then he suffered Passion and death for our redemption, and emerged from that with a great victory. After that he rose in glory, and reigns eternally as part of the Holy Trinity, full of heavenly delights with which he intoxicates his chosen ones, feeding them on spiritual joy at his delightful table. Then he sent his Paraclete, that is, the Holy Spirit, from heaven to this world, to quench, fill, and inebriate his disciples, who were waiting for him on earth. They had been in hiding, fearful of, and threatened by, the Jews. But now they were filled with grace, joy, and confidence, so that they all came into the open, with no more hiding or begging, fearing neither threats nor death. They spread through all the nations to announce how God was born; and how he resolved to come down from heaven to earth and become a true man, and Et plus puet d’atemprance avoir, v. 1149: alternatively, “made it more temperate.” The quantification here derives from Fulgentius. For discussion, see for example Chance (2000), 166–167. 59 Moisture and heat. 60 Si com l’escripture l’aferme, v. 1188. We would normally translate l’escripture as “scripture.” But in ce dist l’escripture, v. 1035, the same word necessarily refers to Ovid, so this reference to a “text” may not necessarily be scriptural. It could be referring to the mythographic tradition, for example. Scriptural possibilities would include Genesis 8:22, Leviticus 26:4, Isaiah 55:10, Jeremiah 12:13 and 17:5–8, James 5:7, and the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1–23, Mark 4:1–20, Luke 8:4–15), where different groups of seeds perish for lack of moisture or sunlight. 57 58

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suffer Passion and death on the Cross, for the redemption and salvation of the world; and how he was miraculously resurrected, and appeared to his friends. And he sent his disciples and servants to preach to all peoples that they should repent, and that those who received baptism would be saved. In this way, the name of God became known and recognized in every land, and many people converted, abandoning the foolish error they had previously espoused. And those whom folly and ignorance had caused to be the most in error, when God gave them repentance and grace and the opportunity to make amends, became more fervent to do good and more filled with love than those who had never erred. A good example of this is the Magdalene, who was more full of love for God, and whose heart was all the more fixed upon it, than if she had never sinned. [1189–1246] We can know this through Saint Paul: at first his heart was craven and selfindulgent, hostile to anything good, proud and nasty, and full of wickedness. But later he gave up his evil lifestyle and transformed his perverse heart, so that he became a man full of prowess, steadfast in heart and noble. He is the one who, by divine power, lost his earthly sight and received it again on the third day. But, in the interim, when he could see nothing at all, God enlightened him so that, no doubt, he beheld all the secrets of the divine, and became so wise and discerning that he was able to give true pronouncements to people in various quandaries. In this way, he knew both natures, for at first he was invested in the world and in worldly delights. But, after he was chosen by God, he cast aside all regard for the world and devoted his entire will to the love of God, which filled him more than if he had never gone astray. [1247–1272] Or, the tale is trying to state outright that women loved God with more conviction than men did. Men deserted him61 in his hour of need. They were fearful and cowed, so they left him exposed, prey to a bitter death. But his Blessed Mother never abandoned him either living or dead, and she alone kept faith in our salvation after his death. Three of the women went to anoint and visit him in the sepulcher, but God had caused him to resurrect. Saint Mary Magdalen, who was filled with love for God, was unwilling to leave the sepulcher until she beheld him openly resurrected from death to life. [1273–1291] [miniature, fol. 80r: echo throws herself at narcissus]

61

The disciples, who abandoned Jesus.



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Narcissus (I)62 {I} told you about Tiresias: how he had been a man and became a woman, and then turned back from a woman into a man; how Juno swindled him, and blinded him for speaking the truth; and how Jupiter made up for this loss by making him a reliable and wise soothsayer, so he revealed to the people the whole truth about their uncertainties. A woman of noble birth, the worthy and wise Liriope,63 was the first to put him to the test. She had just given birth to a son, an exceedingly beautiful child. He was so gorgeously formed and so pleasant, charming, gracious, and amiable that everyone loved him, whether they wanted to or not. Narcissus was the child’s name.64 [1292–1310] The mother, who loved him dearly, went to the seer to find out if her child might live a long life. The seer answered clearly that he would live long and prosper unless he saw himself. Those who heard the word65 took it for folly and idle nonsense. They all made fun of it, but in the end the riddle was proven true: the sudden madness of the proud and vain youth, and the circumstance of the marvelous matter that ensued, made the people realize that the soothsayer had spoken true. [1311–1326] Narcissus had passed the age of twenty-one and far surpassed the beauty of any human being. His fine body and figure were incredibly praised and renowned. Many young boys and maidens, themselves quite beautiful, were smitten with love for him. But since childhood, Narcissus had been so full of pride and vanity that he would not consent to listen to any lad or maiden’s pleas: none could enjoy his love. He had such a hard heart, so full of bitterness, that he never deigned to love anyone: his interest lay in the hunt. [1327–1341] {O}ne day, Echo, that eloquent maiden,66 happened to see him. As the tale tells, Echo had been both body and voice. Now she was only sound, it seems This section of the OM incorporates the freestanding twelfth-century Narcisus et Dané (ed. and trans. Eley 2002). 63 Lyrope, v. 1302: contrast Lynopé in v. 1968 below. Liriope was a Naiad, a waternymph, who had been impregnated by the river-god Cephisus, the father of Narcissus. While this is recounted briefly in Ovid (Met. 3.341–346), the OM names Cephisus as such only in v. 1968 below. (The fords of Cephisus were mentioned above at v. 35.) 64 Narcisus et Dané includes this background but precedes the lai with a moral explaining that Narcissus teaches about love and nous doit essanple demostrer “ought to show us by example,” v. 36. 65 The prophecy. 66 Pucele raisonnable, v. 1343. As de Boer notes, Ovid (Met. 3.358) describes Echo as resonabilis i.e., resounding or resonant, which makes sense since she is an echo. But the French equivalent résonnable looks and sounds like raisonnable “reasonable,” which must have seemed like a better description of a living girl. It would have been perfectly understandable for confused scribes to make the substitution, assuming the author used résonnable in the first place. “Eloquent” is an attested meaning of raisonnable (cf. the verb arraisonner) and could be what the scribes were getting at. 62

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to me. Previously she had had another way of speaking than now: she had been garrulous and chatty. But now she could not be the first to speak, and if anyone else made a sound, she had to repeat the last word spoken. That was Juno’s doing, to punish Echo for a trick that she had played on her when the lady was spying on the nymphs who were making a mockery of her by sleeping with her husband. And she had been on the verge of catching them in the act, when Echo made her listen to her chatter and manipulated the goddess with her deceit, delaying her for so long that the nymphs were able to flee before her and hide, so that Juno could not find them to catch them in the act. [1342–1366] When Juno realized that Echo had deceived her in this way, she said, “You’ve often fooled me with your sharp tongue, hussy, but you’ll never fool me again. I’ll soon cut short that power of speech you have, which you so often used to fool me.” Thus Echo, from then on, could no longer begin a speech to detain man or woman, but if someone else begins, she invariably finishes and repeats the final words like one who doesn’t know how to be silent. [1367–1380] One day Echo happened to see the handsome youth wandering alone in a remote place. He was so beautiful and attractive to her that she became inflamed with love for him. She followed him discreetly so that he would not notice. The more intently she followed him, the more the fire of love which tormented her set her heart aflame like a fire in straw. Oh, how often would she have spoken to him of love, had she been able, and offered to be his beloved! But nature never allowed her to speak to anyone who did not first speak to her, but only to repeat the last word spoken by whoever addressed her. And she listened carefully, in case she might hear him pronounce some word so that she might speak to him. This was all she thought and cared about. [1381–1403] The youth, who happened to find himself alone and had gotten lost, cried out to his companions, saying loudly: “Hey, is anyone coming?” And she replied, “Coming.” He heard the voice and marveled at it. He listened intently in every direction to see if anyone was approaching him, then called out again, in a loud voice: “Here. Come.” And Echo answered him, “Come.” He turned and looked behind him to see if he might somehow discover the one he had heard. Stunned to see nothing, he cried out and asked: “Why flee me?” Echo answered: “Why flee me?” Narcissus heard the answering voice of Echo who was hiding in the woods, and felt a great desire to see the one who was answering him and hiding herself. He cried out, “Here, let us come together.” Echo answered, “Come together.” [1404–1426] Never before in her life had Echo more happily finished an utterance. She happily agreed with what he said. She came out of the woods right away and went to him, thinking to embrace him. Far too proud of his own beautiful face, he fled from her, saying: “I’m not so cheap or desperate yet: I’d rather lose my life than let you have your way with me.” [1427–1437]



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When Echo heard him say that, she was so ashamed and full of anger that she could say nothing other than “have your way with me.” She hid in the forest and covered herself all over with leaves. From then on, she did not want to come out of her hideout, and stayed hidden in a cave, but her heart did not change at all. Instead, her love grew every day, just as her suffering went on tormenting her because Narcissus had rejected her. Foolish love had so deceived her, and she was so plagued by self-destructive doubt that she faded away and crumbled: she became gaunt and thin, and all the moisture was drained out of her. Her body wasted away completely, all except her bones and voice: her bones turned to stone, whether they were large or small, and she had only her voice left. She is usually heard in forests and valleys but has never been found. Her sound lives on forever. [1438–1463] Moralization {E}cho, if the text does not lie, denotes good reputation, by which Juno was fooled. Juno represents the world, which is on the lookout for those who err, and tries to catch them in the midst of their transgressions. One can find lots of people who won’t give up on sinfulness unless it’s because they want to avoid losing the world’s good repute and its praise. Then there are others, if I dare say so, full of guile and cunning, who use a hypocritical semblance of devotion to give the outward appearance of meekness. They act so simple and so devout, humble and well-behaved, practicing so many good works and austerities, that they are foremost in the eyes of the world. Thus they make a habit of deceiving the world under the guise of their false repute, so that no one talks about anything but their way of life and their saintliness. But they are so full of deceit that, beneath false cover, they commit a great many acts of indiscretion when they find themselves in secret. But that will never be outwardly revealed, nor will they be accused or even suspected, because their good name hides and covers all their wickedness and their doings. And so, no matter how much they err, there is no chance they will ever be held accountable. Echo addresses no one unless they speak to her first, for the only way for a person to build up a good reputation is to first do some great deed that can be told to the world, for which they will be praised amongst the people. [1464–1503] The good reputation of Narcissus, the beautiful and handsome, would have been great if he had consented to love her, but he was so presumptuous, full of pride, and devoid of sense that he lost the world’s favor. Because he had such a beautiful face, he chose to hold everyone else in contempt: this diminished his praise and quickly snuffed out and extinguished his good reputation. Echo was transformed into mere noise, because reputation is noise without body. No one can see good repute, for it is nothing but speech that is broadcast by people. People “hear Echo in woods and valleys,” because those are the places

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where they hear echoes when they cry out: no lie, it seems as though a voice comes forth from there and finishes the words they speak. [1504–1524] Narcissus (II) {J}ust as the tale relates, Narcissus rejected Echo and many others as well, who suffered greatly for it. No one ever had enjoyment of his love or heard him speak of it. He caused many to languish and waste away their lives in sorrow for the sake of his love. That’s perhaps why some man or woman prayed to god to give him such a fortune as to experience love, and that he might find someone whom he would love with no satisfaction, so that he might appreciate the suffering to which hearts are subjected when drunk with love, and the painful way that loyal lovers, who can get no satisfaction in love, waste away their lives. God was certainly able to entertain such a prayer as being just and appropriate, and Fortune made it so. [1525–1546] [miniature, fol. 81v: narcissus obsessed with his image in the spring, while echo pines in the woods for him]

{T}here was, in a pleasant place, a pure and clear spring,67 free of muck and mire. The water flowed from an aquifer more beautiful and sparkling than silver. No one lived there: no shepherd or shepherdess, sheep, goat, or bull, or any other beast that might disturb it, nor were there any trees whose branches might break off and disturb it. There was grass that the nearby moisture caused to grow and flourish all around. The sun could not trouble the spot because the woods cast shade all around. [1547–1561] Narcissus, who had taken up hunting for fun, had been wandering widely through the forest. He had been running and was exhausted, and the heat was troubling him a good deal. He came to the spring, guided by Fortune and by the misfortune that awaited him there. At the spring, from which the water flowed, Narcissus bent down to drink. There, love concocted a drink that doubled Narcissus’s thirst and disturbed his mind. For a long time, Narcissus had disdained love, but, as the tale recounts, love was fully capable of taking revenge for the great pride and aloofness that he had always demonstrated towards it. [1562–1579]

67 Une fontaine, v. 1547. This can be translated “spring” as well as “fountain.” In context, it has to be a natural spring, with a still and glassy surface, rather than a spouting fountain. However, the “fountain of Narcissus” becomes a trope in the Middle Ages, and begins to be visually depicted in ways that would be more consistent with calling it a fountain. Our solution has been to translate “spring” in the summary of the tale and “fountain” in the moralization: compare the note to vv. 1848–1849 below.



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As Narcissus drank from the spring he saw the image68 of his body and face. At that sight, love overtook him and surprised him with an unaccustomed madness. What an unaccustomed madness it was, truly! Love made him all too painfully aware of its great power: he loved his reflection and truly believed it was another person69 that he saw. Foolish love, in making him love his shadow, had so greatly deceived him. Now you could call him a deluded fool!70 [1580–1592] He had once enthralled his would-be lovers, but now love kept Narcissus enthralled in vain and foolish hope. He hovered over the fountain and gazed with great focus at the reflection of his beautiful body, thinking it to be that of a beautiful and pleasing youth. He had clear, sparkling eyes that looked like two stars. He had blond hair like fine, pure gold. His face was fresh and flushed with a pretty blush, resembling a rose and a hawthorn bloom, as he gazed on his reflection: the fool burned with desire for the reflection of his own face. Without even knowing it, it seems to me that he lit within himself the fire that was consuming him. Never before had there been such a lover. [1593–1613] He had rejected many who had entreated his love: now such a foolish love had vanquished him that he loved – who? Something that didn’t exist. He loved, and yet he had no lady-love. He alone was both lover and beloved.71 Love had put him in such great error that he could not appease his heart. Often he would lean down towards the spring to kiss his reflection. His fresh, bedazzling face aroused him, and he did not recognize the foolish error that deceived him. Often, love led him to extend his arms towards the spring, but he could never extend them far enough to grasp anything. Ah, foolish wretch, what are you doing? Your hope isn’t worth a damn.72 You want to hold what cannot be held, a vain and fleeting thing that cannot be held or grasped. This thing you desire so much: what is it, according to you? The shadow and reflection73 of your body and face! It is nothing other, nothing more, than your image. And know that if you moved away, you would lose sight of it immediately. [1614–1642]

I.e., “reflection.” But the use of image here is interesting, as Narcissus does end up worshipping his image almost like a god, so his reflection becomes an idol, so to speak. 69 Lit. “body.” 70 See muser in our introductory lexicon, p. 77. In this case we prefer “deluded fool” over “foolish dreamer,” given the context of later instances of the expression. 71 The feminine point d’amie (here translated “lady-love”), v. 1618, deliberately contrasts with the masculine amis (here translated “beloved”), v. 1619. 72 Lit. “a straw.” 73 Pour remirer l’ombre et l’ymage, v. 1650. Thus far we have translated ombre as “reflection,” given the context (it would be misleading to say that Narcissus merely sees his “shadow” in the water, since it appears to him in vivid detail). The OM argues that in the end, the reflection is nothing but a vain shadow: our translation suggests that that message has begun to be communicated here. 68

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Wretched and demented, he reclined by the spring and couldn’t bring himself to leave, not for any need he might have: not to drink or eat, not to rest or sleep. Rather, he applied his whole heart to admiring the shadow and the image that was viciously driving him mad. Nor could he give his eyes satisfaction. Through his eyes, he was sent to his death, and made drunk on such madness that he would never in all the days he had left to live be free of it. He straightened himself up a little and reached his arms out to the forest, cried out in fear, and said: “Oh woods, who’ve seen so many adventures happen in your midst, could it be that never again will anyone love more cruelly? Have you ever seen a lover who dies in such great distress, or who lost his youth this way? I am so incredibly wretched, for sure! I can’t hold or grasp the thing that pleases me, and that I see, and for which I have such great longing, because foolish love is making me so crazed. And to make me even more crazy, there is no obstacle here that I can see: no vast ocean, no long road, no wall, no barrier, no mountain, and nothing else to hold me back except for just a little water. And yet, if he74 doesn’t lie, he has a great longing for me to grab and hold him. He’d really like to come to me, as it seems from his appearance, his expression, and his behavior. When I lean down to kiss the spring, he accepts the kiss, or tries to accept it, if only he could, and he would kiss me, if he were able. He rises to the surface of the spring75 to offer me his acquiescent mouth. It almost seems that I have him. There’s so little that holds me back. [1643–1690] “That’s it, baby, come to me.76 Why do you continue to trick me? Never in all my life have I met anyone so bent on trickery. Why don’t you come when I call you? Surely my physique is beautiful enough and my age is appropriate. I am good-looking, lovable, and gracious enough with respect to you. I love you now the way many women and maidens – most pleasing and beautiful ones – have loved me. But I had no use for them. You’re showing me signs of love and intimacy by your looks and favorable behavior, revealing that you want to hear my entreaty and that I might enjoy your love. When I try to extend my arms to you, you reach yours out to take mine. You smile when you see me laugh, and you sigh when I sigh, and you weep in turn when I weep. I’ve seen the tears and sadness fall from your eyes and run down your face. In short, no matter what expression I make, you mimic the same expression. I see

The reflection. The reflection is literally “bending down,” but upwards to the surface of the spring, since it is the mirror image of Narcissus bending down. 76 The word is enfes, v. 1691 (and again in vv. 1769 and 1821), in the sense “(aristocratic) young man” or similar: thus our “baby” in the context of a romantic appeal. “Child” would be wrong: in the OM, Narcissus is over twenty-one, and explicitly calls himself an ageappropriate partner for his reflection (Et mes aages convenables, v. 1697). 74 75



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you moving your mouth to answer when I speak but I can’t hear your speech. When I lean back, you try to lean back. [1691–1721] “Oh! Foolish love makes a fool of me: indeed, my madness and insanity are taking hold of me, binding me, and trying to trick me. I can clearly see that that’s myself, for my form doesn’t lie to me. I’m in love with myself, and, without a doubt, I myself hold the torch and the flame77 which sets me on fire. So, am I not in a terribly bad way,78 deceived and misled? What will I do? Will I be entreated, or will I entreat myself? Whom should I entreat? I will be both supplicated and supplicating. Never was there ever a lover so crazed. I have with me the object of my desire, but if I could have what I desire, I’d rip us apart. I’m impoverished by excess. I’m losing my strength and wellbeing.79 I’m in so much pain and suffering that I can’t live much longer. But to be set free from the great anguish I feel, I would willingly receive the gift of death. Death wouldn’t displease me at all, if the one I love and desire so much could live on. I wish it would please the gods now to let him outlive me! The only thing that distresses me is the death of the one I love so much, because I couldn’t care less about my own. But the two of us have to die and perish together as one soul.” [1722–1758] Thus he ranted and raved, then he returned his focus to the spring and leaned over the false mirror to contemplate and see his reflection.80 He disturbed the water with his tears so that the reflection became blurred. When he lost sight of the form that had hidden and vanished due to the water’s rippling, he screamed like a rabid beast: “You’re cruel and pitiless, baby – why are you running away?81 In the name of love, stay, for I’ll endure any way that I can keep seeing you. Since I can’t have you and I don’t want my hand to banish you,82 I’ll gaze upon your likeness and feed my madness by channeling my passion into sight.”83 [1759–1777] 77 Je pors le brandon et la faille, v. 1730. While le brandon et la faille is basically a doublet of synonyms for “torch,” the first word is masculine (with possible phallic connotations) and the second is feminine (with a possible double entendre indicating fault or failure), which might be related to how this episode deals with gender. 78 Narcissus says he is trop entrepris, v. 1732. As well as meaning “overwhelmed” or “in a bad way,” entrepris can mean “absorbed” in something. That would also fit the context, with the intensified trop entrepris meaning “overly/incredibly absorbed,” “obsessed,” “transfixed.” 79 Je pers ma force et ma valour, v. 1743. Valour may already have overtones of “worth” and “virtue” that anticipate the moralization of Narcissus’s self-admiration as a moral failing. 80 Lit. “the shadow.” 81 See note 76 on v. 1691 above. 82 To muddle the reflection. 83 This translation takes ou je m’entent, v. 1777, as following on le regart: more literally, “via sight, on which I concentrate myself,” hence the idea of channeling passion

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And thus, Narcissus went on ranting in tremendous anguish and frustration. He rent and tore his clothing until his chest was laid bare. With his white hands, he beat his tender, delicate chest that was whiter than freshly fallen snow, but it was reddened and stained where the blows fell, so that he had stained his chest with a white and sanguine hue that was incredibly beautiful to see. [1778–1789] When he saw the water settle down and his semblance reappearing, his great anguish grew ever greater, and it made him melt and sizzle, as fire does to wax or sun does to ice. The beauty drained from his face, that had been so flushed with color. Now it was pallid and deflowered, and its color was lost. He lost his strength and well-being and all the charms he once possessed. His body itself, once so much in demand, was shriveled. [1790–1803] When Echo saw him overcome with such suffering and such misery, in spite of being so deeply hurt in her heart because he had rejected her, she took pity on him and was sad for the youth, so tortured by love. And every time he lamented, Echo lamented with him, out of pity for the crazed lover. When he hit himself and his body echoed, Echo gave back a similar echo. Love so tormented him that now his voice was failing him. And yet he said at the very end, when his mouth was about to close, as death tortured and racked him, looking toward the spring: “Young man, you have loved for naught.” Echo, bearing witness,84 answered, and called out to him in the same way. “Adieu,” said he. “Adieu,” said she. [1804–1824] Then Narcissus gave way, and, on the green grass, he met his end. Death robbed him of his soul and closed the eyes whose sight had made a martyr of him. He goes to hell, and there in the dark and gloomy water he contemplates his ugly and hideous semblance. When his sisters the nymphs learned of this, it made them very sad and afflicted. They built a pyre and prepared a bier, but they labored in vain, I think, because no matter how hard they searched, they would never find his body on earth. The body had already been changed into a flower that is dyed a yellow color, except for the white petals around it. This is how Nature in her mastery created and made it. Such flowers completely surround the spring where Narcissus, in his madness, lost his life while staring at himself. [1825–1846]

via only one of the senses. Ou je m’entent could also be taken as separate: “I’ll gaze upon your likeness, and feed my madness via sight, [in that place] where I focus my attention.” 84 Tout en oient, v. 1822. This expression means “publicly” or “so as to be heard by all”: we could have translated it simply “aloud,” but since everything Echo says is spoken aloud, in this particular instance it seemed appropriate to privilege the implication of giving testimony or bearing witness.



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Moralization {T}he spring is named after Narcissus, and became quite famous as the “Fountain of Narcissus.”85 We give the name “Narcissus” to the flower, and also to the town that now stands on the site of the forest where the spring was once located.86 [1847–1853] Narcissus was a paragon of beauty. It was said of him that he would prosper and live long,87 if he guarded against seeing himself, for that would cause his downfall. He “saw” himself in that he became prideful of his beauty, which soon withered. Such glory is deceptive and vain. Worldly beauty soon perishes. Anyone who prides himself on it is a fool. One dies; another grows old; another falls sick, which soon destroys their beauty; even he who prospers faces adversity. Worldly beauty is worth next to nothing. It lasts so briefly and withers so soon, and causes so many to perish through their insane arrogance, for which they lose body and soul. Pride undoes man and woman. Through pride, the foolish angels long ago fell from paradise. Narcissus became so presumptuous on account of his beauty that he thought he had no equal in the world, so that he scorned everyone, in short. He came to loathe both men and women and loved himself excessively, and so he was betrayed by the fountain’s looking-glass, in which he looked at his false and empty beauty so much that death ensued.88 Narcissus became a little flower. What kind of little flower? The kind the psalmist says blooms in the morning and by evening is fallen and withered.89 [1854–1889] In so little time, the vain beauty of people is obliterated. Those who grow prideful on account of such beauty are so foolish and ignorant, when in such a short time they perish, for we have no future:90 anyone who is rich or beautiful in the morning, by evening will have lost it all. Anyone who loses the great and everlasting joy for the sake of such a vain and changeable good, is hopelessly

Here the translation of fontaine is adjusted to mark the transition to the medieval trope of the “fountain of Narcissus” mentioned in the note to v. 1547 above. 86 Apele on Narci, v. 1851. The name of the flower is the narcissus, of course. About the town, Knoespel (1985) comments: “By linking the fountain with a town [the OM] shows where earthly delights, once associated with the fountain, most threaten his contemporary audience. The town has become the place most filled with deceit likely to lead man away from God. The author is obviously not referring to a single town but is rather addressing criticism and warning to all towns about their pride” (51). 87 The report of the prediction in vv. 1855–1856 (translated “prosper and live long”) forms a chiasmus with the report of it in vv. 1315–1316 above (translated “live long and prosper”), in effect framing the rest of Narcissus’s life. 88 The normal translation of mireoirs, v. 1883, is obviously “mirror,” but we have “looking-glass” in this one instance to reflect the adnominatio with mire in v. 1885. 89 Compare Psalm 90:6 (Vulgate 89:6). 90 Lit. “tomorrow.” 85

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confused in their heart, and beholds themself in the murky depths of hell and the deep abyss. [1890–1903] For anyone who really wants to learn what this tale means, Narcissus should be taken to represent the deluded fools devoid of sense, the prideful, the arrogant, who misuse earthly goods, and stare at themselves and are distracted in the false mirrors of this world, which plunge and drag them down into folly and madness, and make them drunk on a draught full of bitterness and gall. No one should love such a drink, for the more anyone drinks it, the more it wakens a painful and wretched thirst that cannot be sated. Such a fountain should be greatly loathed, for drinking from it causes pain, madness and folly, sorrow, loss, and martyrdom.91 And the more anyone becomes distracted and stares into it, the more they will enjoy it, and the less they will perceive that the mirror is deceiving them. This is the perilous mirror in which the prideful, who covet worldly delights, admire themselves. The more they dream, the less they accomplish, and the more attached to it their thoughts become. And so the thirst grows stronger, tormenting all the more those who drink from the fountain that is full of false sweetness. [1904–1932] This is the deceitful fountain that makes a faint and changeable shadow seem to be a true and lasting good. The more anyone admires themselves, and can see in this fallible mirror the false shadow in which they delight, through which they distract themselves more, and profit less, the more powerful and rich they imagine themselves to be; and the more they find themselves to be a false dreamer, and the more they goad themselves on, and the more they burn, and the more they veil themselves in the folly that blinds and binds them. Once they think and daydream about, and keep vigil at, the fountain, once they fret and suffer, once they think to hold and seize what never ceases to escape, slip away, and flee, and which no one can ever enjoy – then they are trying to hold on to something that cannot be held, as if it were permanent, and go on thinking their foolish thoughts because of the comfort that false appearances bring. And yet, they see clearly that it’s a waste of time. [1933–1955] I consider anyone foolish and lost who loses eternal glory for such a transitory, false shadow, in which there is but feeble vanity and false fallibility: a shadow that sets hearts afire, tortures bodies, and leads souls to suffering, to eternal damnation in the deep pit of hell. [1956–1964] [miniature, fol. 84r: pentheus mocks tiresias and bacchus]

Although martire, v. 1921, could just mean “torture” or “(extreme) suffering,” it could also be understood as true martyrdom for the wrong reasons, effectively for the sake of false idols. 91



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Pentheus {A}bove, you heard the tale of the deceptive spring in which the beautiful Narcissus, son of Liriope92 and Cephisus, saw himself, and lost himself by his folly. The prophecy of the seer who said that he would die as soon as he saw himself had come true. The event became widely known and the prophecy, long kept secret, was heard everywhere. Now the truth was revealed, and hence the seer became much praised and very famous throughout the land. He was held in great authority throughout the city of Thebes and all the neighboring kingdoms. But Theban-born Pentheus, grandson of Cadmus and son of Echion, who made it a habit to despise the gods, alone in the entire region constantly mocked the seer and said that all his prophecies were lies and fabrications. He reproached him for his defective sight, which had failed him,93 and said that it was for good cause that he had lost it. The seer shook his white head and said: “By the white hair on my head, it would be far better and more fortunate for you if you were blinded too, for terrible things may happen to you if you live long enough to see the rites of Bacchus.” [1965–1999] The young man responded: “Whatever you say, mister, you silly old fool. What do I care about rites, and what harm could come to me?” [2000–2003] The seer replied, “Bacchus will come, I prophesy and affirm it, and it will be very soon. It won’t be long. If you don’t want to honor him and pay rightful and proper respects to the god who is coming, as the others do, who will offer sacrifices to him, you will pay very dearly for it. Your pride will not keep you from being scattered piece by piece across the fields and roads. Bacchus will have you torn apart by those women who hold you most dear, your mother and your aunts, and they will be splashed with your blood. This is what he’ll inevitably do to you, and you will experience what I foretell: you will hold my words to be true – you who make a habit of despising me now – and you will say that I saw only too clearly when I prophesied this to you.” [2004–2026] Pentheus mocked and cast shame on the seer who told him this, and said his words were fanciful. But eventually, the seer’s prophecy must be verified, because Bacchus – the god of wine, Liber, the god of great courage – was coming. All did him great reverence,94 and both rich and poor rejoiced at his approach. Young and old, commoner and noble, youths, ladies and girls were all eager to celebrate him. You would have heard trumpets, drums, horns, and 92 Lynopé, v. 1968, but this is inconsistent with the name Liriope given before in the OM (v. 1302), and in Ovid. 93 It would have been shorter to translate li reproce le defaut / De sa veüe, qui lui faut, vv. 1989–1990, as “reproached him for his blindness,” but the wordiness of the French suggests that his judgment and prophetic sight might be implicated as well as his literal sight. 94 While the rest of this section is in the historical present, this verb is in the past. We translate all ther verbs in the past tense for consistency.

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clarions resound throughout Thebes and the surrounding countryside. No one was lax in rejoicing. You would have seen candles and luminaries burning in all those temples. Incense rose from those altars. They held great festivities and lavish ceremonies. They made sacrifices to the young god. They covered their breasts with skins, they carried torches, and they made crowns of vine leaves for their heads. There was no one, young or old, who did not come to take part in the rite. There you would have seen them strive to make merry and drink a lot! They had not yet understood the drink,95 which made them crazed and made fools of them: one stumbled, another tottered, and many staggered and fell. They ran through the fields, shouting and hollering like madmen. [2027–2061] This young man born in Thebes, whose name was Pentheus – noble and widely esteemed, one of the most powerful men in the city – in his cluelessness, scorned Bacchus and all his rites. He considered those who performed the rites, whom he saw acting crazily in this way, to be clueless, and he rebuked and chastised them, saying: [2062–2070] “Hey, you brave and chivalrous people, you wise, clever, and ingenious people who are born of the fierce dragon, how are you so crazed, deceived, and stupefied? How are you so overcome and vanquished by the drums, the sound of hornpipes, and the screams of feminine voices, in absence of any lance or shield, you who are full of drunkenness and full of debauchery, so that you show no moderation or sense?96 I scorn the elders who fled here from Tyre, sailing across the sea, and are now, by the power of a drink, so overcome and full of drunkenness. You youths full of valor, who ought to have been bearing arms, sporting and cavorting, charging and galloping your steeds, capturing towers and besieging castles97 – you ought to be covered with war-gear and not with green leaves. Cast off those grape-leaf crowns! And therefore I beg you to recall your proud lineage and the stock you first sprang from, sons of the dragon that fiercely defended its spring and endured so much pain and suffering. To uphold its right, it defeated many strong and well-armed foes. Yet now, like rabble, you let yourselves be overwhelmed and shamed by an unarmed child who never learned to do battle, undergo hardship, or suffer, who never learned to wield arms or ride horses. He’s never done anything except slick down his hair, apply makeup, preen and tart himself up, douse his head in oil, and dress up in

95 That is, its power. In context, this seems a likelier reading than “they had not yet learned to hold their liquor.” 96 The sentence has been split for ease of understanding. Literally, it reads: “how are you so crazed, deceived, and stupefied, when you are so overcome and vanquished by the drums,” etc. 97 This is a list of infinitives. The translation conveys our sense that Pentheus thinks that they should already have been doing all these things, not just that they ought to do them – that they “should have ought to,” as it were.



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clothing of gold brocade or grain-dyed crimson.98 All he wants to do is inebriate you and deceive you with his drink! Oh, god, what a loss and what a shame that he makes such fools of you! If Thebes99 had to be lost, I would prefer – and it would undoubtedly be better – for us to be taken by assault and the city ruined, shattered, and leveled by fire, sword,100 or catapult, than for it to be taken in such a base way. And it would be better for us to fight and avenge our deaths! Then you would have been able, without any shame, to encounter death with honor, and anyone who managed to escape would not have incurred shame or blame for revealing his fate: he would never have had to keep it secret. Everyone would have had compassion on his loss and suffering. But we, without lance or shield, are shamefully vanquished by a drunken, clueless child! I’ll never worship him or his rites. He’s a madman, a deceiver! I will soon make him admit openly to his trickery and his malice, and why he holds such rites, and he will tell me why he is full of such boasting that he makes himself out to be a god and the son of a god. He must pay dearly for this wickedness! In an evil hour, he came here to deceive us. Acrisius, who refused to receive him, acted most nobly, and was truly brave and very wise: he barred the gates of Argos against him when he tried to enter, so that he wouldn’t lead his people astray. Go quickly now, my men-at-arms, and bring the so-called master who has initiated such rites back to me as a prisoner!” And they set off on that errand at once. [2071–2163] King Cadmus and Athamas severely reproached their descendant,101 saying: “Son, if ever you loved us, stop your foolish undertaking. You can gain nothing by picking a quarrel with a god.” But their chastisement didn’t amount to much. They couldn’t manage to chastise him in such a way as to make him soften; rather, they stirred him up all the more. It was like what you often observe with a brook that, without a blockage, obstacle, or obstruction, runs swiftly and nearly noiselessly. But if someone happens to put a rock or log to block it, it foams and makes a commotion, froths and rumbles and roars, so that you can hear it from a long way off. In the same way, the more anyone blames or chastises a foolish woman or man for their folly, the more one tries

98 Fast dyed using the Kermes beetle, whose dried eggs looked like tiny seeds or grains of sand, hence the expression “dyed in the grain (en graine).” This dye was especially prestigious in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. See Munro (2003), 214–215; (2007), 56–57. 99 Thebes takes a plural verb, probably because of the -s ending. Still, it means the city, not “the Thebans,” who are invariably cil de Thebes or similar. 100 Lit. “iron.” 101 Lor neveu, v. 2164, could be translated with more precision as “grandson” or “nephew,” but in this case it means both: Pentheus is the grandson of Cadmus and the nephew of Athamas.

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to set him or her on the right path, the more they agitate the fool and cause them to deviate.102 [2164–2186] Full of malice, the messengers returned from the rite. At once, they were asked for Bacchus. Pentheus said: “Give me, captive, the one I sent you to find. What have you done with him? Where have you put him?” [2187–2192] “My lord, we can’t find him anywhere. But we bring to you, captive and bound, one of his household, the most important and most prominent, the one who is most active in urging the unhappy and clueless people to worship him.” [2193–2199] Then they gave Acoetes to him, with his hands tied behind his back. And, when Pentheus saw him, he addressed him in great anger and said fiercely: “So here you are. May you be damned! You’ll die in great shame. I’ll cause you so much pain and grief that your companions can learn from your example. Tell me and don’t keep it from me: where were you born? Of what ancestry? Tell me your name and lineage and why you go about celebrating such rites?” [2200–2214] “Now listen,” he said, “and I’ll tell you without an untrue word.” It was clear from his expression that he feared nothing at all, because he was bewitched by drunkenness. “My name is Acoetes,” he said. “I was born in Maeonia. I am not descended from very high lineage, but from common folk. From my mother I didn’t inherit any gold or silver treasure, any meadows or vineyards, any fields or houses, any wool-bearing sheep, any hogs or cattle, or any livestock of any value. And I inherited nothing from my father except a fishing line. He was altogether too impoverished, so he took up fishing to support his poor living. He had no property or wealth, except for his work and the trade he left me when he departed this world. All I inherited from him was skill at fishing and knowledge of the waters of the sea: this is all the patrimony I can claim. I practiced this trade for a long while, then learned how to sail ships, to steer by the rudder, and from what direction the winds, tempests, and storms would come. I learned the ports and channels, the names of the stars useful for navigation, and the power of each of them. No man knew this better than I. [2214–2252] “One day it happened that I was sailing my ship for Delos. I came to the land of Chios. I reached port, and brought the ship to shore, where it stayed one night. The next day, at daybreak, just as I saw the first light of dawn, I got up and woke my companions, then I sent them to fetch fresh water, and I showed them the 102 The

brook analogy is from Ovid (Met. 3.568–571): “He is only made more eager by their warning, and his rage is maddened and grows with restraint, and he is provoked by their objections. So I have seen a river, where nothing obstructs its passage, flow calmly and with little noise, but rage and foam wherever trees and obstacles of stone held it back, fiercer for the obstruction” (Kline). But because the OM makes it a matter of persistence in moral folly rather than simple stubbornness, this passage could be considered an intercalated or anticipatory moralization.



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path that guided and took them straight to the spring. I climbed a hill to see from the summit what wind we might expect. We would have had a good wind for sailing. I came back down the mountain, summoned all my crew, and reached the ship without delay. Opheltes was the first to arrive, leading a young child, very beautiful and gorgeously formed, who had a feminine appearance. He had found him in a clearing and thought of him as booty. He and the others delighted in him, figuring he would bring them a rich ransom. The child, drowsy103 and intoxicated, went staggering along the shore. I could clearly see by his face, his form, his semblance, his gait, and his bearing that everything about him was divine: in truth, he was the god of wine. I said to him: ‘O god, whoever you are, I beg you to grant us your favor; don’t find fault with these men for their mistake, but forgive them their foolishness.’ [2253–2291] “Dictys said: ‘Don’t you dare pray for us, because we don’t give two figs104 for him.’ Of all the crew, he was the one who climbed the mast the quickest. There wasn’t a single one of them who failed to criticize me for praying for them. They were so starved for booty that they all wanted to abduct him to sell for ransom. They wanted to force him onto the ship. I tried to protest and protect him, saying that he would never come aboard, and that they wouldn’t violate the ship that was rightfully mine to do such violence to a god. I came and stood at the head of the gangplank to block their way. Lycabas, a young man born in Tuscany who had been exiled from that country for a murder he had committed, went nearly mad with rage. While I was standing at the entry to refuse them passage, this Lycabas, filled with anger and rage, struck me such a violent blow to the chest with his hard fist that he would have knocked me over into the sea except that, as I fell, I managed to grab a rope to hold on to – I don’t know how it came about that I was so quick-witted! Each of them had their say, and all of them said he had done well and praised him for his wickedness. Bacchus, who had recovered from the drunkenness and drowsiness that had beset him, heard the tumult and, finding himself their captive, said: ‘My lords, what are you intending to do? What’s this racket? Why am I here, and who brought me? Why am I being held? Where are you planning to dump me?’ [2292–2335] “Proreus replied: ‘Don’t be upset, just tell us where you want to go and we’ll take you straight there.’ [2336–2338] “‘Take me to Naxos,’ he said, ‘that’s my country. If you come there, I’ll lodge you well, without a doubt.’ [2339–2341]

103 L’enfes, plains de sons et d’ivresce, v. 2280, looks as though it could mean “the child, full of noise and drunkenness,” but Ovid has “sleepy,” not “noisy” (Met. 3.608), and dou som in v. 2329 clarifies that that is indeed how sons should be read here too. 104 Lit. “two onions.”

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“Then the whole crowd shouted: ‘Know that we’ll take you there safely: we swear it to you by all the gods!’ Then they told me to set the sail before the wind and steer. Naxos was to starboard, so I turned the sail in that direction, intending to take the ship there. [2342–2349] “Opheltes said: ‘What do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind, wretch? Where are you trying to take us?’ Each man was afraid for himself. Some of the crew urged me to quit my starboard course and tack to port; others whispered in my ear whatever advice they fancied. I was scared out of my mind and dropped the tiller, saying that someone else must take it over from me. I would never again involve myself with it, nor would I agree to have any part or share in their wicked deeds. Then they all started to curse me. [2350–2367] “Aethalion told me angrily: ‘Now you’ve really put us in a mess! If you had let us down, we would have had to suffer for it. Now we’re going to do it right. Do you think you can keep control of us?’ Then he took over my post and seized the tiller. He guided and steered the ship ever away from starboard: he turned in a different direction and left Naxos behind. [2368–2378] “Then Bacchus pretended to be incredibly alarmed, as if he thought he was being betrayed, and pretended to notice that they were trying to deceive him, although he knew full well what the intention of each of them was. He looked at the sea and the swift-moving ship and said, as if in tears: ‘That shore I see there isn’t the one I want to reach. This isn’t the land I’m seeking. Hey, sailors, what folly or mistake did I make that you wrongly and for no reason want to deceive me like this? What glory would it bring you to deceive and betray a young man weaker than you are, a child alone and powerless? The whole world should hate you!’ [2379–2398] “I, who could do nothing more, wept out of pity for him. All the others mocked me and made every effort to sail quickly on. Now I want to swear an oath to you on the very same god I’ve been telling you about here because, to be sure, there is no god I could sooner invoke: may this god give me blessing and joy as I tell you the truth. It’s almost impossible to believe! The ship stopped at once and they could sail it no farther; they couldn’t get it moving again, any more than if it had been run aground. They began to be frightened and rowed furiously. They dipped the oars repeatedly and raised the sail to the wind, hoping one would help the other. They tried to sail using both methods, but they made all these efforts for naught, for they couldn’t get it to budge. The oars were tangled all around by ivy and could not be moved. The sailors thought they saw Bacchus, covered all over in grapes and green leaves, proudly brandishing a long lance with leaves growing out of it. All around the child were panthers, lions, and cruel, vicious tigers. Then, you would have seen the sailors pale and trembling in fear of this marvel. Every one of them was stunned, and marveled, and every one’s courage failed them. In terror, they



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leapt into the sea: every single one of them dove in. Some became sturgeons, others salmon or dolphins. [2399–2441] “I thought I had reached the end and valued my life very little, for I found myself alone in the ship and I was very afraid, so help me god, that I would end up suffering the same fate as they had. The god saw me alone, in great distress and fright. He reassured me and said: ‘Don’t be afraid, but turn back to Chios, where those who put me in this ship captured me: that’s where I want to take lodging.’ I came to Chios, by his commandment, and henceforth I put myself in his service and celebrated his rite. I have been his follower ever since, and always will be as long as I live, for I could never grow tired of it.” [2442–2459] Pentheus said, “That’s enough. You’ve told us a long-winded tale, and I’ve listened a long while to it, which has increased my great ire even more. Your lies make me shake all over, but you’ll pay shamefully for them. Quickly now, men-at-arms, take him and throw him into my shadowy dungeon.105 Then make him die at once a base and painful death.” [2460–2469] Then Acoetes was cruelly led away and immediately thrown into a strongwalled dungeon. While these men were setting up the machines on which they planned to torture and kill him, Bacchus could not allow his follower to be destroyed because of such arrogance. He performed a beautiful and noble miracle: the iron chains gave way on their own, and the door of the dungeon, in which this prisoner was held and bound, opened. As soon as he saw that he was free, Acoetes turned to flight, pursued by Pentheus himself, who would send no other. [2470–2485] When Pentheus heard the celebration and joyful noise made by Bacchus’s worshippers, the horns and drums resounding, he was nearly driven out of his mind by anger. The first to see him, I believe, was his mother, who was raving: she was so overwhelmingly drunk that she thought she was seeing a huge wild boar. She was the very first to move upon him; she split his head open with a great, thick piece of wood … [miniature, fol. 87r: pentheus’s mother and her sisters slaughter the boar]

… then shouted and cried out: “Euhoe! Euhoe! Ino my sister, and Autonoe, come with me! I have to slaughter that huge boar I see!” The great horde, full of drunkenness, advanced upon the noble youth, each woman wielding a large club. [2486–2503]

obscure, v. 2467, is a set phrase in the OM, which we invariably translate “shadowy dungeon.” It notably occurs as a description of the underworld when Orpheus goes there (Book 10, vv. 50, 65, etc.). 105 Charte

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Pentheus repented of his mistake too late, it seems to me. He turned pale and trembled with terror. He was totally wretched and overwhelmed, for he found himself attacked from every side. He cried for mercy, but it was no use crying for mercy here. Mercy never occurred to them: they completely ripped him limb from limb. Ino tore off his left arm, Autonoe tore off his right, and his mother took his head. Now, once again, Cadmus felt renewed grief and distress for his daughters, who in their drunkenness had killed and destroyed his grandson. By this example, everyone in the city was moved to worship the god. Henceforth Bacchus was acknowledged as a god, and there was not a youth or gray-hair who failed to serve and honor the deity. All proclaimed him, all worshipped him, all submitted to his service. [2504–2527] Moralization {N}ow it is right for me to explain to you the meaning of these tales: which people are inclined to scorn Bacchus; which are inclined to worship him, to serve and honor the god; and which people perform his rites. The person who does not care for drink, it seems to me, “scorns Bacchus.” But those who drink too much wine, the gluttons filled with debauchery who think only of drinking and who expend all their time and effort in gluttony and lechery, and who seek carnal pleasures, soft cushions and beds, fine fabrics, expensive clothes, and lavish accessories, farm animals and game, poultry and fish, wines from Gascony and elsewhere – all of them the strongest and the best – and have fruits and various spices to give themselves more appetite for drinking and ingesting wine: those are the ones who celebrate the rites of Bacchus. And those who have no god other than their bellies, and who choose the vices of the flesh for their sovereign pleasure, do him reverence. Oh, God, how many of those people there are now! There is scarcely a single one who does not worship wine and debauchery together. Long ago, it seems to me, these rites were celebrated three times a year. But nowadays these vices have grown and prospered so, and Bacchus is so exalted, that all do him reverence, everyone makes a god of his belly, and all celebrate strong wine. [2528–2567] It is true indeed that our most exalted theologians, who are supposed to teach us and enlighten us through good works and reprimand the other gluttons, are the ones who are the most profligate and the most enamored of their daily food allotment to stuff their fat bellies, hence they oppress the simple folk who feed them with their money. The poor do not dare grumble against them, or contradict or get angry with them. And so everyone serves them, rightly or wrongly, because if anyone refused to serve them, they would incur their wrath and suffer for it. So the world has come to this, that Bacchus is considered a god: everyone wants to perform his rites. [2568–2585]



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[miniature, fol. 87v: a king ordering martyrs (a dominican and a franciscan?) to be put to the sword]106

{P}entheus can represent someone full of religion and holy behavior, good morals and spotless living, who has no desire to do wrong, and in whom all the grace of God abounds, so that they scorn the delights of the world; who serves and honors one God only; who holds idols in contempt; and who reprimands the pleasure-lovers, the gluttons, and the debauched. Certainly, those who want to spend all their time living a life of pleasure and comfort deserve reprimand. They pay little heed to the discomfort endured for them by the Son of God upon the Cross, where he offered himself up to death to pay their debt and deliver them. And they think only of getting drunk and leading their gluttonous lives, so that they have no desire to do good, and hate all penance, all fasting and abstinence. Do they think they will always have everything: the goods of the world, and paradise? There’s no way this can really happen: they will have to hold on to the one and lose the other to gain it. Those who lose sovereign glory for vain, transitory pleasure are remarkably lacking in wisdom. [2586–2616] Likewise, the people of Thebes represent those who must devote their minds to honoring God, to serving and worshipping God. It is a great shame and misfortune if they forget God for their bellies: they should not have done that! Pentheus wanted to dissuade and deter these people from their folly and their wicked gluttony and the wicked life they led. They considered him deranged and mocked his chastisement, his own family most of all: they tore him apart limb from limb and murdered him in a foul way. [2617–2632] {I}n his great goodness, God in majesty, the King of all creation and God of all nature, came down to earth and took on human flesh. He reprimanded the fools’ error and condemned their wicked living. But they, full of pride and envy, treated him foully and put him to death in a hideous way. I believe, if he came today, so peaceful and human, just as he came here long ago, and gave himself up to suffer the scorn of the world, that such great wickedness abounds there that the very same people who should honor him most would kill him. Those who now claim to be the most well-disposed toward him would become the most hostile. And if he were so disposed and so bold that he, through his deeds or his words, dared to condemn their spite, there is no doubt that they would have had him executed107 or condemned to a shameful fate, just as the wicked Jews, full of envy, so villainously did. But he rose from death to life so that he will never die.108 Never more can death have any dominion or power over him: we 106 Fols

78r, 87v, 96v, and 354r have comparable miniatures depicting martyrdom. v. 2656: see our introductory lexicon. 108 In Si que james ne te morra, v. 2661, the te is problematic. We translate according to the manuscript reading that simply omits it. Possamaï-Pérez (2006a, 473n1) suggests 107 Pendre,

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must know and believe this. He vanquished death like a faithful servant109 and no longer fears earthly attacks, for he lives in eternal life with God, the heavenly Father. But because the gluttons of the world, in whom all iniquity abounds, could no longer do any harm to the Master who reigns in his celestial glory, his disciples will pay for him. Those who hate and will hate110 Christ, who will worship the madman full of malice – that is, the Antichrist, who will reign, and who will assail the righteous in a frenzy, and will ensnare the world to the point of drunkenness111 – will put to the sword and slay those who refuse to follow them or to go astray as they do. They will not spare even their fathers, mothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, lovers, brothers, family, or friends, but will have them pitilessly put to a cruel death. [2633–2687] [miniature, fol. 88r: the sailors carrying bacchus diving into the sea before their transformation into dolphins]

{N}ow I must speak of the sailors. The sailors were “carrying Bacchus,” because they were transporting a large quantity of wine. They were foolish and ignorant: they had not learned about wine. They did not know that Bacchus was a god: they did not think that wine was such as it is, nor that it had the strength to have done them any harm. It seems to me that a person “defrauds” wine when they drink too much of it and do not appear to have drunk anything or feel at all intoxicated. The sailors who “wanted to carry off Bacchus” tried to resemble him, but they clearly could not. Instead, they drank so much that they got drunk on new wine, which seemed mild to them, but overpowered them in such a way that they thought they were seeing tigers that wanted to devour them, which drove them out of their minds. “Bacchus changed them into fish,” in that they dove into the sea. Salmon, dolphins, and sturgeons consumed the corpses of the dead: that is why the sailors are said to have been fish. [2688–2714] emendations that would lead us to translate “so that death will never kill him or ever have any dominion or power over him” or “so that he will never die again” (“Ce vers pose un problème de transcription. C. de Boer écrit: james ne te morra, ce qui n’a aucun sens. [… N]ous pouvons peut-être lire le, en plaçant une virgule et non un point à la fin du vers, et en considérant que le mot mors du vers suivant est sujet à la fois du verbe morra et du verbe porra. Une autre solution consiste peut-être à lire james ne remorra.”) Her second option is more plausible. 109 Lit. “vassal”. See Matthew 20:28, Mark 10:45, John 13:1-17. In OF, the word also has chivalric connotations, and may also include here the idea of “champion” or “warrior.” 110 Reading et harront, v. 2674, as the 3pl future of haïr. Compare Ainsi seront bons et loyaulx / Qui harront les pechiez mortaulx, vv. 6256l–m in Guillaume de Degullville’s Pélerinage de l’âme. 111 Si tendra le monde pour yvre, v. 2679. Notwithstanding tendroit in v. 2749, the verb is probably tendre and not tenir. We understand it in the specific sense of setting traps or laying snares, and pour in the specific sense of “to the point of.”



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Acoetes was a bit wiser: he knew the power of drink, so he respected and appreciated it, and fully abstained from drinking too much. He landed in Chios with his wine and sold it gainfully there, then kept a tavern his whole life long for profit. The Thebans followed him, those who are said in the story to have112 worshipped Bacchus. Pentheus had Acoetes, who had brought wine to sell, taken prisoner, and wanted to have him put to death. But Acoetes got the soldiers who were to tie him up drunk, so that they did not know where they were, and left him unbound when they should have bound him, and they left the doors of the shadowy dungeon closed but unlocked. In this way, he escaped from the drunkards and went free and unimpeded. Pentheus, who chased after him to kill him, died in great suffering as a result, being dismembered limb from limb, as the tale remembers it. [2715–2740] Now I would like to let you know what other meaning can be found in all these tales together, so I will tell you what I think. The seer Tiresias – who “prophesied that the god of wine would come to earth and be acknowledged as a god, and whoever did not acknowledge him as such would suffer the great misfortune of seeing his blood shed” – can be understood as the prophets, who prophesied long ago about the Son of the King of paradise, Jesus Christ, in whom all goodness abounds, who, in order to deliver the whole world, and redeem and save it, would come to earth and become a true man. And he would establish new offices,113 a new law, and new rites to be practiced by Holy Church, who would render him divine honor, and all those who didn’t believe in him would incur everlasting death. Long before it happened that Jesus came to earth, this was prophesied and foretold by these men, who beheld it in the spirit through holy revelation, not by mortal vision. But those who believed in other gods114 and refused to believe in the sovereign Lord – the Jews, the Pharisees, the Saracens, and the pagans – like fools and idiots, scorned the prophets who said this and treated them vilely. Then God came for the salvation of the people, as had been said by those who had known it from God, and there was great joy at his coming for all people, great and small. [2741–2782] This was the child full of purity, grace, and goodness. He is the beautiful, the gracious, the gentle, the delightful one whom his God,115 his Father, 112 “Those

who are said in the story to have” added for clarity. the Church. 114 Divers dieus, v. 2771, could also have been “many gods,” but the OM doesn’t typically treat the Jews and Pharisees as polytheistic: our translation is meant to preserve the possibility of seeing them as misguided monotheists. To say that all the listed groups worship “different gods (than Jesus)” doesn’t necessarily imply that each group worships multiple gods. 115 “His God” in ses Dieus, ses peres, v. 2787, could be identifying God as revealed by the New Testament (of whom Jesus is the incarnation and revelation) as opposed to the God revealed by the Old Testament. 113 In

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consecrates over all kings, anoints over all others. He is the one with myrrh, frankincense, and unguents in his clothes that delight the daughters of Holy Church in his worship. He is the one who dresses in a crimson robe stained with drops of blood. He is the one whose hair was anointed with the holy ointment that the Magdalene poured out, which angered the thief who sold him – the treacherous Judas – who got angry and grumbled about it like an envious person. He is the one who initiated the holy rite of bread and wine, which everyone must uphold, for without him no soul can gain heavenly life or everlasting joy. He is the God to whom great and small must offer up divine worship. To him, the whole of Holy Church must make offerings and hold services with incense and votive candles. No one should cease or fall silent from extolling his praises, and in praising, one must sing to him with a jubilant voice, with trumpet and psaltery, with horn, harp, and organ, with clarion and tympanum. [2783–2818] He is “Liber,” the liberal Deliverer,116 the true Salvation and the Savior, who delivered the imprisoned and inebriated his friends with the wine of joy and happiness. He is the one who draws his friends up out of all sadness and anguish, but who plunges his enemies into the deep chasms of the sea, that is, the tumult and bitterness of hell. And he made the poor fisherman the prince and master pilot of his “ship,” that is, of Holy Church. He was the one to whom the tavern of paradise was entrusted. He and the other saints long ago, who longed to come there to drink and replenish themselves with this celestial vintage, set their minds and hearts on serving and honoring God, on believing in God, on worshipping God, and on keeping his rites. So they left all delights and all earthly riches and suffered many hardships for the sake of God, whose servants they were. Some dressed themselves in fabric, others in the skins of goats or camels, or in old sheepskins or hairshirts instead of cloth. And they wished to have crowns of salvation and patience, hardy pilgrim staffs of harsh penance. This is how the saints lived long ago, in order to gain paradise: they disdained the world and their own family117 for God, in whose service they were, and the world disdained them and persecuted them harshly. For the love of God, they graciously endured all threats, all torments, all ignominies, all afflictions, all grievous injuries. And, as though drunk and inebriated with frans deliverres, v. 2819: the adnominatio in the translation is not in the French, but “liberal” seemed like the best way to express the idea of the freedom-granter who is also free himself (i.e., death holds no bond over him), which follows on the moralization of the name “Liber,” while also conveying some of the other meanings of frans: “noble,” “generous,” “bountiful,” etc. 117 The translation “their own [family],” versus “their own [people],” is from the biblical basis for this behavior in Luke 14:26, which specifies giving up one’s earthly family: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters – yes, even their own life – such a person cannot be my disciple.” 116 Li



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the sweet wine they had consumed, they did not fear death or imprisonment, insult or scorn, nor any wrong that anyone might try to do to them. Rather, like peaceful and meek souls, they accepted it all joyfully, the good with the bad, without a murmur. And God, who was able to save them, kept their souls from perishing, and, like a true friend, delivered them from the hands of their enemies and led the souls in his company to joyous life, no matter what illtreatment might be inflicted on their bodies. [2819–2877] Because of that, I can say, according to scripture, that God, to deliver St. Peter – who was captive in a stone prison behind strong doors, closed and locked, supervised by fifteen guards who were supposed to guard the prison and were holding St. Peter in thick chains – God118 performed an obvious miracle (I can invoke St. Luke as witness), because the prison doors opened, the heavy chains fell off, and the guards slept like drunkards. Thus St. Peter was delivered from the hands of Herod, the wicked king, who had rashly had him seized and wanted to make a harsh example of him for the ill of God and the Church. But God at that moment saved him from death and returned him to his own people. But if anyone should ask what happened to the evil men who persecuted the saint, I say that they are, without hope for redemption, in deadly perdition in the fires of hell. And there, they moan and repent (as if they could), filled with anguish and woe (as if their repentance meant anything). There, the devils, racing to attack them,119 tear them to pieces and devour them. There, they are in grief and torment, and they pay the price for divine wrath, which they foolishly scorned while they were alive. Now they are in grief and sorrow: their pride, their vain happiness, their vain joy has failed like a shadow or a withered leaf. [2878–2914]

118 “God”

occurs twice in this sentence in the French as well (Dieus, vv. 2879 and 2885), arguably for rhetorical effect as though in a sermon. 119 Qui sus lor corent, v. 2906. The verb is not curer, with the meaning “who have watch over them” or similar; and in any case the analogy to Pentheus makes it clear that this is a violent assault.

Book 4

The Daughters of Minyas (I): Dercetis and Nais [miniature, fol. 89v: people with censers worshipping the golden idol of bacchus]1

{A}bove, you heard in the story how Pentheus suffered because of Bacchus, whom he held in contempt. Everyone who knew this was moved by the matter to perform new rites. All of the Ismenides and the Theban women honored Bacchus with rites and worshipped him as a god; they burned incense on the altars in his temples and sang, “Euhoe! Euhoe!” [1–13] [miniature, fol. 89v: the minyades hard at work, weaving]

But this was not at all the case with Alcithoë or her sisters, the daughters of Minyas. Not even on account of the death of Pentheus, who had been slaughtered, nor of the tragic submersion of the sailors Bacchus had caused to drown,2 did they deign to mend their ways of holding the god and his power in contempt. They showed no honor, no reverence to him or his rites. Rather, they went on naively despising his feast and considered him low-born, saying that he had never been Jupiter’s son, as those who performed his rites were claiming. They had confidantes and chambermaids who were just as arrogant and proud as they were, and who shared their opinion. [14–31]

Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 2 This remark about Pentheus and the sailors is not in Ovid: when it says that Bacchus made the sailors drown and not that he turned them into fish, it apparently follows the historical moralization in Book 3, vv. 2688–2714. Noier, v. 19, seems required by the rhyme with chastoier, v. 20. Otherwise we could have read noer, i.e. he made the sailors “swim” (as fish). 1

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The priests were celebrating with great devotion the feast of Bacchus and commanded the people to celebrate it solemnly, and that all of the women together, whether ladies or maidens, serving wenches or maidservants, refrain from laboring and come to the temple to pray during this solemn feast; that each one let her hair down, wear on her head wreaths made of vine leaves, and that each one cover her breasts with animal skins and carry in her hands a green and leafy wand – and that anyone who disobeyed would anger the new god and incur ill-fortune for it. [32–49] The women performed rites for the new god with great reverence and named him by many names: Liber, Bromius, Lyaeus, Son of Two Mothers, Nyctelius, Nyseus, the Unshorn, Thyoneus, Born of Fire, Planter of the Vine, Euhan, Iacchus, Eleleus and father and Bacchus, and by so many other different names that I cannot put them all in verse.3 And they said assiduously: “God of eternal youth, always child and youth, the most handsome to be found in the heavens – and you would always have the face of a virgin if you didn’t appear with horns. You are full of strength and pride. You have conquered the whole Orient. Through you, the whole world gives itself over to pleasure. By your hand perished Lycurgus, with the double-headed ax, and Pentheus the defiant. You drowned the sailors of Maeonia. You ride with a great retinue. After you, in great throngs, run the satyrs and the priestesses and Silenus on his ass, who thinks of nothing but drinking and stuffing his belly with wine, and leans on his crutch. You have these beautiful tables dressed and serve this delicious food. You incite singing and dancing. You make the festivities begin and lead the dancing. You are the cause of these dances and make these female voices sing. You make horns and trumpets sound and the drums echo in our hands. You make the poor glad and make them forget all their worries. You cause generous spending. In brief: every feast is inferior, and no gathering is complete, when you are not present. We pray devoutly to you that you will be of aid to us, kind and merciful one.” [50–98] In this way, all those of the city of Thebes made great solemnities and went about reciting the god’s merits, except, no doubt, for the three sisters mentioned above, the daughters of Minyas. Each of them labored and worked: one spun, another twisted the threads with her fingers, another wove or laid the warp for her cloth. While the other people prayed, and these three sisters labored and did their handiwork in their home, one of them4 spoke to the other two and said: “To make the time go by more quickly and lighten our labors, let 3 Kline’s translation glosses many of these names: Bromius means “the noisy one”; Lyaeus “deliverer from care”; Nyctelius “the nightcomer”; Nyseus references Mount Nysa, where he was raised; Thyoneus references his mother Semele under the name Thyone; Euhan “of the cries,” Iacchus “of the shouts,” and Eleleus “of the howls” are based on the sounds of his worshippers. 4 Not named in Ovid: Kline uses Arsippe for Met. 4.36 and 167 as in Antoninus Liberalis.



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us each tell some story that is pleasing and delightful, the kind that is worthy of being heard, that will cheer us all up.” The others approved of this as long as she went first. [99–118] She thought about what she would say and which tale she would pick, and didn’t know whether she would tell them, instead of a tale, instead of a story, a marvelous event that she knew of, how in Babylon there once was a powerful maiden, Dercetis. The people of Palestine later saw her “turn into a fish,” that is, she was cold and had been stripped of all her belongings, so that she had nothing left that was worth a damn.5 Or she wondered if she should tell how her daughter6 became a pigeon, that is, it seems to me, whorish, foolish, gross, and foul. The pigeon is a bird full of filth and given over to lust. It defecates on its nest and shelter; and so it is with he who shelters a whore full of filth and sin – one can quickly find oneself tainted. Or she thought about telling yet another tale: how Nais, the deceitful, with her incantation and her potions, transformed the men into fish7 and was then, if the tale doesn’t lie, transformed into a fish as well. [119–144] [miniature, fol. 90v: nais with a lover, then turned into a fish]

Moralization {T}hrough her deception, Nais “transformed the men into fish.” Nais represents a false-hearted whore, deceitful and malicious, who by her cheating lies deceives a man until she has stripped him of all clothing and goods. Then she has turned him “into a fish” – more cold and more naked than a fish. Such fools are in great supply, who, when they have wasted all their money, live in shame and suffering on account of their foolish wantonness. They have learned debauchery, wantonness, and sin, in which they are so ensnared and entranced that they cannot restrain themselves, and to have what they desire, they often commit murder or larceny. They steal palfreys and service horses and become fleecers of people, thieves, and robbers in order to appease their wantonness – and they don’t know how to mend their ways. The devil draws them in, and seduces them so much, that he hooks them, and causes them to be seized in the midst of their sin, and hanged by the throat from the gallows, just like the fisherman who fishes is used to catch fish on the hook. In the same way, Nais, the fool, transformed the fools who followed her schooling, until she, too, was transformed, being stripped of all goods, for such ill-gotten gains cannot last. She did not know how to endure her poverty, rather she tried by force and wrongful act to take from others and, as it happened, her body was 5 6 7

Lit. “a wooden marble.” Of Dercetis. Nais, in Ovid (Met. 4.49–50), is “a Naiad” instead of a proper name.

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burned and set on fire like a broiled fish. It is bad to carry on such a lifestyle, from which one might come to such an end, and a bad thing to believe in such a woman for whom one loses both body and soul! [145–188] [miniature, fol. 91r: men worshipping a golden idol]8

{I} might interpret Dercetis, and Nais too, in another way: as the whore of the Apocalypse, in whom all good things fail and are eclipsed, who makes the false commit adultery and turn away from the right way. She makes them dart like fish in water in the sea of the world, where the devil seduces and deceives them until he hooks them and carries them off to burn and fry in the fire of hell, in great torment. This whore is idolatry, through which a great many people have perished in the vainglory of the world, in which all evil abounds. [189–204] [miniature, fol. 91r: people worshipping before a crucifix on the altar]9

{A}nd for anyone who really wants to pay heed to it, I can understand the “pigeon”10 – that dwells in these high towers and is incredibly modest and meek, without any love of wickedness – to signify the holy soul, the holy lover, the holy spouse of the Creator, that dwells religiously in the highest tower of the heavens, flying by contemplation. This is the dove of modesty, of prudence and wisdom, of innocence, humility, and all blessedness. [205–218] [miniature, fol. 91r: the minyades hard at work and telling tales]

The Daughters of Minyas (II): Piramus and Thisbe11 {T}he daughter of Minyas knew another tale, more lovely, pleasing, and novel, about how the mulberry tree, which had been white, later became dark on the branch. This one was agreeable to her and she told it to them. Now I will tell you

Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 9 Fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v show comparable scenes of Christian prayer, which have similar composition to the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r. 10 The OF clearly reads “pigeon,” however the allegorical connection here is to the dove, symbol of the Holy Spirit. 11 This section of the OM incorporates the freestanding twelfth-century Piramus et Tisbé (ed. and trans. Eley 2001), but parts ways with Eley’s text after v. 1149. 8



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the story and the tale without adding, changing, or leaving out anything, just as another has told it, then I will provide the truth to go with it. [219–228] [miniature, fol. 91r: piramus and thisbe as their parents look on] {I}n the city of Babylon there were two men of great fame, two citizens of high standing, good family, and power. These powerful men had two children who were similar in beauty and appearance, one a boy and the other a girl; none more handsome belonged to any king or queen. The powerful men had two children, and in his book, Ovid names them, saying that one was called Piramus, the other Thisbe. Before they were seven years old, love struck the two children, and in this respect it wounded them more deeply than their age called for. Their equal age, noble disposition, great beauty, high birth, conversation, laughter, games, the convenience of location, and seeing each other often awakened their love. [229–250] O love, before your eyes neither young nor old can endure. Neither youth nor age can avoid the wound from your shaft. Against your shaft neither a double hauberk nor a double byrnie affords any protection. Your arrow cannot miss its mark. No one can avail against it. It causes a wound that has no aperture and against which no herb or potion is effective. Without causing any pain, it elicits sighs, and without shedding any blood, it makes one pale. Your arrowhead brings fire, the shaft in its middle brings sighing, the feathers brings ruses and entreaty, the notch at the rear brings sweet love. The head wounds through the gaze, the shaft penetrates the mind, the feathers cause schemes, and the notch unites lovers’ thoughts. [251–270] With such an arrow and such a barb, love wounded the boy and the girl in their childhood, until death was upon them. As yet they knew nothing of love, and it caused them great fear. Rising in the morning and thinking about one another already brought them pleasure, and they fasted more than they should, or than their age called for. In the morning, they would each slip away and spend the day playing together, enjoying themselves with the other children12 of their own age and size. They passed the day gazing at one another and could not get their fill of this. They would return home late, for parting was painful for them. They delighted in doing many things for which they were threatened and scolded. [271–290] Just as a gem surpasses glass, gold silver, and the rose the primrose, so the two of them surpassed in beauty all those in the city. Nature created them with great deliberation, great care, and great intelligence, and said: “My power will be on display here, so let my skills be seen.” Both the children were very much alike. Their nature was already marvelous. [291–298]

12

“Other” added for clarity.

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As long as their age was opposed to what love called them to do and they were under ten years old, they had great freedom to be together and to talk, amuse themselves, and play together. Their tender glances, innocent minds, and inappropriate age, together with the certainty that nothing that is good fails to stimulate envy and no servant is free of treachery, caused them to be separated and kept under surveillance so that they were not able to talk to each other. A servant noticed their behavior and said: “Now I have no doubt that these children love each other very much, and if they were a little older and had such freedom, it would be very difficult to keep them apart. Indeed, they might make such a fuss that great misfortune would come of it.” The servant took this news to the girl’s mother and she said to him: “Now say no more about this, for they won’t be together again. I scorn their courtship. They commit their foolishness prematurely.” Then she said to a chambermaid: “Take care, if you have any regard for me, that Thisbe doesn’t go outside and that Piramus doesn’t see her.” [299–330] Thereupon, some serious disagreement arose between the children’s fathers, a quarrel and rivalry that lasted their entire life. This situation prevented the children from being together, from being united in marriage, and from sending messages to one another. The two children were distraught, as they could not hear or see one another. The separation their parents had imposed on them seemed very harsh to them, but the fact that they were now watched over more closely, that Thisbe did not dare go outside the house, and that Piramus could not set eyes on her, fueled their love. In due course they both grew up: their age increased, their intelligence increased, their burning desire and their wound increased, and the fire that nothing can quench increased. Their love increased, their age increased, and they were soon over fifteen years old. And as soon as they reached adolescence and could freely choose for themselves, having reached the age when it was natural to experience love, it no longer let them stave off long periods of reverie, grievous sighs, great pains, and loud laments. Harsh torments settled in their hearts. Night and day they lamented, and their whole lives were lived in sorrow. They sobbed and groaned to themselves. They didn’t know how to protect themselves, nor could they find relief through medicine or a physician. A fire burned within them that gave them no rest. Rather, it tormented them day and night and roasted them with mortal ardor. This fire and this flame alone tugged at their sinews and ignited their very core. It sapped their strength, altered their beauty, and put an end to all enjoyment. [331–374] [miniature, fol. 92r: sad piramus] {P}iramus was full of sadness, full of sighing and weeping, full of melancholy and care. He lamented to himself in this way: “Time and time again, wretch, you are sad and sorrowful! Am I going to suffer this torment much



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longer? I experience grief all the time, never joy, and the more I grieve, the more love inflames me. Is love its name? Rather it’s ardor, which comes thus day after day. My face and my complexion are drained of color, just as the frost does to a tender flower. O wretch! O Piramus, what are you going to do now? In what way are you going to behave? Ah, father who begot me, why do you not take pity on me now? If you don’t change your mind, beautiful Thisbe, then either through some stratagem or some reckless act, I’ll find some way to see you. Know that, if I can’t have you through love, I’ll abduct you forcibly. Or if not, I’ll die because of you. Death will be my refuge and my comfort, if this affliction, which is so powerful and has wronged me for so long, holds me much longer. Wronged me? O god,13 why has there been no accord that our parents might live in peace? Then we would not have so many guards. Guarding? Can I not even manage, through promises or bribery, to find a messenger to send to her? Who cares? The more I lament, the less it matters to me. O father who dwells above, quench the fire that assails me so, the fire that has deprived me of laughter and fun. Nowhere can I find a cure. Beloved, because of you I’m drained of color, my heart has been wounded, my flesh transfixed. Thisbe, because of you, I spend my life weeping. May the god of love allow me to hold her once more, whether by day or by night, in joy or in sorrow! Now I’m about to faint, I can speak no more. One moment I’m cheerful, the next I feel like weeping, one moment I’m flushed, the next I feel shivery.” [375–431] Before he could finish his lamentation, his face began to turn pale. Weeping and moaning, he fell to the floor in a faint. Some time later, he rose, and pale, troubled, and drained of color, went to the temple of Venus and lay down on the dark-colored marble. He said a prayer and made a vow, a promise, and a sacrifice to the goddess, asking that she should grant him the opportunity to speak to his beloved Thisbe. [miniature, fol. 92v: sad thisbe, confined to her home] {T}hisbe was confined within the palace and dared not leave it. She often recalled her love, often changed color throughout the day, often lamented and often wept: “Wretch,” she said, “at what an inauspicious hour I was born! O god, how wretched is my destiny, how harsh the life that has been given to me! There has never been such a sorely afflicted woman alive, who could not through deliberation or folly hatch some plan, except for me. But the more I think about it, the less I see how I could manage, sweet friend, to speak to you. Speak? Thisbe, foolish girl, are you losing your mind? Do This is the perennial problem of classical figures addressing “god,” clearly understood to be the Christian God. As per our convention, we use lower case when classical figures are speaking: see our introductory lexicon, s.v. diex, p. 74. 13

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you want to violate your chastity and bring shame on your lineage? Don’t do it! Pay heed to reason, which is against you! Don’t you dare harbor any feelings in your heart that would make you commit such an outrageous act, for no woman of your lineage has ever been accused of whoring. Accused? I won’t be, in any shape or form. I’d rather be killed a hundred times. Thisbe, where did you come up with this idea? You’ve soon forgotten Piramus. Wretch, why did I name him? Beloved, I never meant to say it. Now you can rightly say, it seems to me, that there is no faith to be had in a woman’s love. Dear, sweet beloved, now receive my pledge by right. Here, my lord, because of this outrage, I promise you my virginity. Just now I was too proud-hearted. Proud? I must bow down before you. I’d cherish the blame greatly if I heard myself being vilified because of this. [432–504] “On the contrary, it seems and appears to me, no one should be able to criticize me if Piramus made contact with me. Crazy woman! Thisbe, foolish, shameless girl, why this change of heart? You’re now totally demented. I’ll immediately abandon these thoughts I’m having. With my father’s influence I’ll get an equally noble lover, I’m well aware. As noble? I’m in trouble if Piramus hears me. Yes, I’m trembling, he can tell. If I misspoke, I now repent. O handsome one, tender rose and newly opened lily, flower of all other youths, mercy! Pay no heed to what I’m saying. My heart is darkened with fear. I’ll never have any other beloved than you. But your parents are hostile, and mine guard me jealously. Who cares? It amounts to nothing, so help me god. I’m so close to taking the plunge for you. Wretch, what have I said now? Nothing heals the sickness that so often troubles me. Woeful one! May the god of love grant me this, whether I like it or regret it, that I may feel him in my arms again some time. Here my lament ends in tears. I’m about to faint; now is the time. [miniature, fol. 93r: piramus and thisbe speak through the chink in the wall] “{T}his is what I must do every single day. This is the loyalty14 I owe my beloved.” The maiden fainted three times, and when she got back up, she stretched forth both her hands toward heaven and prayed most humbly to the gods that they would help her find a way to talk to her beloved. [505–542] The two palaces were adjacent to each other and built in such a way that one partition and one wall alone was constructed between them. In the inner bedchamber, which fewer people frequented and where the maiden was confined, the wall was slightly cracked. The crack was not very large, and it had remained hidden for many years, until love, from which nothing can be hidden, caused it to be discovered. What is there that love does not sense? The two lovers were the first to notice this aperture, first Thisbe, then 14

Lit. “fief.”



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Piramus. Thisbe found the crack and took the hanging end of her belt and managed to push it through, so that her beloved could see it. Piramus came back from the exercise he had been taking in order to get some comfort from his sorrows. He went into the bedchamber, lay down, and turned his eyes toward the wall. He looked and noticed the sign that showed him the crack. He went over to it, took the end of the belt, saw the aperture, and immediately said: “Thisbe, dear sweet creature, the work of Nature herself, through the sign made by this belt I have come here to make amends for not discovering this crack myself. The good fortune of making such a find is yours. If you truly care for me, a lock15 won’t stop you from coming here with confidence, without a go-between, without a pretext. In a low voice and whispering, we’ll be able to talk of our plight. Then you will know how love has set me on fire, without my having committed any offence. O god, how harsh life is for anyone who suffers such hardship for long!” [543–587] {O}n the other side, the maiden was listening and looking intently. She heard the anxiety in his speech, drew closer to the wall, put her eye to the crack. She recognized her beloved’s face. She tried to speak, but could not; all of a sudden love unsettled her. At first sight of him, she shivered and sighed and burned with passion16 and quivered and trembled and sweated profusely, blanched and went on changing her complexion, thought carefully about what she should say to him, and lost her train of thought. In these many ways, love, which conquers all, oppressed her. In the end, after she had mulled things over and regained a bit of confidence, she placed her mouth to the hole and spoke to him in this way: “Beloved – for so I dare name you; those who’ve put me under guard because of you cannot deny me this – I can’t hide my feelings17 from you any longer: I feel like mocking your idleness. I managed to find a way for us to be together here first, for the one who loves more sees more clearly. I hear you lamenting grievously, but you hardly know what it is to love. You can still take it lightly: leave the grief to me, since nothing can bring comfort. I’ve exchanged joy for weeping and uttering sorrowful laments, and exchanged happiness for wailing, joy and delight for sighing, peaceful sleep for sorrowful thoughts. Beloved, I cannot remain here any longer. Tears make me lose the ability to see, sighs make me lose the power of speech. Remember to come back to me,18 then we can speak at greater leisure and comfort one another.” Now she could no longer speak to him, and thus the two of them separated. [588–633]

15 16 17 18

I.e., “your being locked up.” “With passion” added for clarity. “My feelings” added for clarity. Pensez de mei del retorner, v. 629. Lit. “think to come back to me.”

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{T}he day passed and the night came to an end. They both returned in the morning and came back to their aperture. Piramus spoke first: “Beloved, I’m filled with anguish, for I’m mortally wounded because of you whom I love. From now on I will heed the call, like a goshawk when it is hungry. Love has caught me on its hook. I’m caught because of you, it seems to me. I don’t know what joy or laughter is. If it keeps hold of me any longer, I won’t escape alive. I’m dying! The god of love doesn’t keep faith, for his law has defeated us. We’re both ensnared in one net. I don’t know whom to entreat, you or him. Beauty, it’s with you I seek refuge. If I die because of you, how unfortunate I have been. Beloved, you’d be acting very wickedly if I were to lose my life because of you, when through you I can get help. Woe is me! I, who have loved so long, am suffering a great deal of grief and torment and can’t satisfy my desire. [634–663] “Wretch that I am! O beauty, what a sorry plight I’m in. How I have been overcome because of my love for you. Grief never leaves me night or day. One moment I’m deep in thought, the next I sigh, the next I weep. I’ve lost all my color. I’ve had to give up sleeping, drinking, and eating. I can’t speak without sighing. I’ve certainly learned to endure suffering. Delight and everything I desire escape me. O god, what a companion I struggle with. I’ll never recover unless he deserts me. Desert? Love refuses to let me go; from love I must die. Die? If it pleases god and you, I won’t. Instead, I’ll entreat you so much that, I believe, I won’t beg you in vain. Rather, I’ll stretch my hand so straight that you can cure me of this malady and assure me of your love. O wall, you’re so thick and hard! But if I felt a little more confident, the crack would be made so wide by my hands that, without your being spotted by the guard, I’d have drawn you through it. Partition, have mercy on these sufferers! Aperture, you’re so narrow. Stones, if you’d just open up enough for us to enjoy a conversation. Beloved, if we could get together, I’d have a cure for my great sorrow. But everything is against us. House, we ought to cherish you dearly for allowing us to talk in your midst. Crack, conceal yourself well, so that none of those who threaten us knows about you, and mind they don’t catch a glimpse through you of the face of the one who has taken to herself my heart and my emotions. Rampart, you are so cruel and harsh! Why upon my entreaty don’t you open wide enough for me to kiss the face and mouth of the one whose sweetness stirs my heart? O noble Thisbe,19 do this for me without delay, nothing more. Let us pray henceforth to the heavens above that Lady Venus will help us, so that no one finds this opening.” [664–728]

19 The OF is ambiguous. He could also be addressing the “noble wall,” or perhaps the ambiguity and double meaning is intentional here.



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The youth lamented and sighed. Then he trembled and could say no more. And when his account broke off, Thisbe began her lament: [miniature, fol. 94r: thisbe reaches through the chink in the wall] “{B}eloved, you grieve very deeply, and no wonder, because you love me so much. I know well that you have been wounded because of me – because of me, and I because of you, on my faith. I don’t know how to conduct my life, and I’m no less distraught than you are. You are very sad and tearful, and my heart is filled with anguish. Grievously you complain of this torment, but I lament, perhaps, even more grievously. Beloved, who say that you are overcome in this way, my heart burns even more with love; without a doubt it burns more than a fire in straw. Love is killing and torturing me. Great god, what anger is this, what ill-will is it that you’ve had towards me for such a long time? Father god, who created me before I was born, see my grief, my misery, my pain. See how love rules me! What a wretched life and what misfortune I’ve had, beloved, since I first got to know you. Henceforth, day or night, I have never been without a wound, which gets worse the longer it lasts. It’s no wonder this girl is disturbed, who is in such anguish through you, because nothing can bring me cheer. [729–769] “Wrongly have I lost joy and pleasure. Nothing can give me comfort. By day, I’m in tears and distraught, in anguish and suffering, in great martyrdom and sadness. At night, as I lie in my bed, thinking that sleep will be my delight, in faith, instead I am in pain and agitation. Then it seems to me that I can see you and you can touch me. I shudder, shuddering with anguish and torment, then I stretch out the hands that I give to you. But just as I’m about to grasp you, I fail. Beloved, when I go back to sleep, it seems to me that you’re there before my eyes, completely unhappy and downcast. God grant that some good comes to us from this dream! Then it seems to me that some kind20 of voice or lamentation is often hailing me, telling me this openly, as follows: ‘Thisbe, do you recognize your beloved? Wake up, let us get away from here. Thisbe, the gods have encouraged us to leave the city so that we can be together.’ Beloved, tell me what you think of this. I want you to trust me completely. In truth, I’ll steal away in the early part of the night. At midnight I’ll go and see if I can find you outside in the flesh. Beloved, your life is my treasure. Mind you do not tarry or forget it. Get up from your first sleep, look for me at the spring beneath the mulberry tree in the meadows, in the place where Ninus was buried.” [770–819] [miniature, fol. 94v: thisbe hides in an almond tree while the lion picks up her wimple] 20

Lit. “I don’t know what kind.”

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{T}hus they sealed their covenant, and then the two lovers parted. But first, they kissed the wall as they left, each on their own side, and bid farewell to the opening to which they would never return. [820–825] The two lovers were very preoccupied. The day seemed overly long to them and they reproached the sun greatly, repeatedly calling it “faithless,” since it took such a long time to set and delayed nightfall so long. They said it was doing this on purpose in order to thwart their plan. The day departed, night returned, and it was time for their undertaking. The watchmen climbed onto the wall; those who felt secure fell asleep, but neither of the two lovers could rest; rather, they were preoccupied with something else. Internally, each one was thinking about how to play their part well. Now their hearts were filled with hope, and yet they were undecided about whether they should do this or not. But will removes reason. They were delighted at the thought that they were to be together, while discerning in their hearts their suffering, death, and loss. They both experienced joy and pain, but love conquers at all times. Neither sense nor reason could restrain them from what they had undertaken to do. Everyone was already fast asleep when Thisbe set off. She rose from the bed where she was lying and left the chamber very quietly. Neither door nor lock held her back. She left the chamber with utter confidence, alone in the night and without fear, such was the boldness love gave her. When she had left the hall and was going down the stairs, she put her left foot forward and heard thunder to her right; she felt the whole palace shudder and saw the moon grow dim. She saw the screech-owl and the barn-owl, but not one of these portents made her concerned, whatever her fate was to be, that she would not accomplish her aim. [826–871] She had just reached the wall when a watchman spotted her. But since he was seeing her at such an hour, he thought she was a goddess; he stepped back and did not challenge her. Thus the maiden continued on her way under the watchman’s very eyes. She went down through a gap in the wall21 and without delay reached the place where the rendezvous had been arranged. She was soon sitting on the marble slab by the spring under the tree where they were to meet, and she was beginning to think about how she would tease the youth who wasn’t coming, when a mountain lion, which had killed a flock of beasts, came through the meadows, still covered in entrails and wool and seeking water at the spring. The maiden ducked her head when she saw the ferocious beast approaching, and the blood and color drained from her; it was no wonder she was scared. She fled down a path, and was afraid the lion might see her, but she was so panicked and innocent that she left her wimple on the grass. She swiftly went to hide in the shade of an almond tree. The lion approached, roaring loudly. It quenched its thirst at the spring, and when it 21

“In the wall” added for clarity.



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had drunk its fill, it went to roam in the meadows. It found the wimple on a path, trampled on it, and stained it with blood. [872–909] And when it had left the meadows, and Piramus had arrived there, O god, what great misfortune! What a painful discovery! For in the moonlight, as fortune would have it, he searched in the shade of the mulberry tree and saw the gleam of the wimple. He searched in the dust all around, recognized the lion’s tracks, saw the sand scattered about and the water of the spring murky, and found the wimple trampled and freshly bloodstained: he thought it was with the blood of his beloved. He searched all around and couldn’t see her at all. Alas! What an unfortunate delay! If only she had come back right then! She was so afraid of that ferocious beast that she did not dare come back yet. [910–929] [miniature, fol. 95r: piramus runs himself through with his sword] {W}hen Piramus saw such clear evidence that his beloved had perished, he turned greener than an ivy-leaf and became as cold as stone. His blood curdled22 and he was overcome with emotion23 and then caught on fire with anger and rage. After that, he spoke such words as anger and outrage allowed him to utter: “Night of sorrow, night of torment, mulberry, tree of weeping, meadow dripping with blood, spring, you who have not kept safe for me the woman whose blood lies in the sand! How suddenly my efforts, my hopes, my love, my expectations have been made vain. O god, what sorrow this wimple, which I see stained in blood, represents for me. Beloved, how was the beast so bold as to make this attack on you? What misfortune, what sorrow, what wickedness that you should have perished in such a manner. My dearest, it’s a great pity that the one who gave you the confidence to come – alone, to such a place, in the dark of night – goes on living. Alone! Ah, what accursed jaws are sated by your flesh. Alas! I see blood here, I see clothing. Lion, you who devoured her, I marvel that you didn’t leave more of her here. Cruel moon, who watched it all, you didn’t grow dark at that time. [930–966] “It’s wrong that she’s dead and I’m not dead: I don’t know which grief affects me more strongly. Death is the better option for me. Wretched me, since she’s dead and I’m still alive! Earth, for god’s sake, swallow me up right now. Or you, lion, who killed her, come back. I’m entirely ready and I’ll put up no resistance. You can do whatever you like with me. Come back, you who devoured the sweet little thing. You drank her blood, so now drink mine. Woe is me! My sweet beloved, I have been all too slow, because I wasn’t present at your death. Death, why do you tarry? Take me 22 23

Lit. “transformed.” Lit. “changed heart.”

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now. O death, to what end do you tarry? It’s a great wrong that I’m not dead yet. Sword, if I’d remembered you, my life would already have been over. Fleeing death is cowardice. Beautiful one – dear, sweet beloved – because of me, a sinner you’ve died.24 Dear sister, I’ve killed you by being late for my appointed time, while you were here first. Now I beg my right hand to strike well. I’ll avenge you in this way. Avenge? But first, I wish to entreat the gods to display in this mulberry tree a sign of death and distress, of tears: may they make the fruit of a color that befits sorrow.” [967–1006] He mourned and prayed in this way, then, in great anger, he drew his sword and, with its tip, picked up the wimple: he kissed the wimple and then the blood. He ran himself through the side, until he made the sword come out on the other side of his body. As he died, he kissed the wimple. And thus love killed the simpleton. The blood spurted onto the branches; it darkened the fruit, which had been white. The mulberry had always been white until that time. Then it took on a dark color as a testament to sorrow. [1007–1022] [miniature, fol. 95v: thisbe mourns piramus and holds his dead body] {M}eanwhile, Thisbe returned so as not to disappoint her lover. She was very eager to tell him about the danger from which she had escaped. She felt sure she would accomplish her will as regards what she had desired for so long. Now the time was rapidly approaching when they would bring their love to completion. It already seemed to her that she was with him, and that the two of them were embracing and speaking of their love. But now she was about to suffer sorrow. As she approached the mulberry tree and saw the mulberries darkening, she thought she had lost her way because of the color she saw transformed. For she had first seen the fruit as white, that was now dark with blood. While she was wondering whether she had gone the right way, she looked ahead of her along the path and saw the blood-stained grass all around. She heard the youth sobbing, lamenting, moaning, uttering sighs; she saw the wimple, and how he was touching it repeatedly to his mouth. And when she saw the wound, it was no wonder she was horrified. When she saw the sword through his body, her blood drained away and she fainted. [1023–1052] She got back up, formidable and fierce. She tore her hair, scratched her face, tore her clothes, wept and cried out: she loves death more than she does life. Then she leaned over the body and pulled out the sword. She held it upright. Then she spoke like a wrathful woman: “Sword that I’ve taken hold of, now prove how bold you are. Sword, that has put an end to our love, may you become warm again in my breast, and bloodied by blood from the two of us. Bloodied! O god, what an end, and what anticipation! How soon our youth 24 Par moi pechierre estes perie, v. 994. She died without confession and he is about to commit suicide. They’re also both guilty of despair (losing hope).



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has perished! Dear lord, wrath was scarcely able to spare you when your hand desired to kill you. Poor me, how can I speak of wrath where I see him gasping for breath? I see that he is in the throes of death because of me. What feeble love, what poor loyalty I would be showing, beloved, if I didn’t follow you and didn’t kill myself shortly. Dear one, what great sorrow, what distress! How proud your heart was! Moon, spring, meadow, mulberry tree, pale night who showed me a dire omen when I left the hall, hear me! I pray you to bear witness to my death. Thisbe, wicked one, why do you delay? Wicked one, now you lack neither the place nor the leisure, provided you’re willing to die! Die? I desire nothing so much as to put an end to my sorrows. Wrongly do I stay my hand. Wrongly! Love, make my hand strong enough that with a single blow I receive death, and his soul will gain great comfort if we both die a single death. Beloved, grief and love have killed you. As we can’t be together in life, death will unite us, it seems to me. Parents, you who planned to keep us locked up, you’ll shortly be woeful. What woeful embraces you will see when you find us both, dead and hugging, together. I entreat you to give us this gift: since in joy we were held apart, and dead, we are separated, at least may a single tomb contain us and one vessel receive us both.” [1053–1119] Then the maiden bent down, kissed the wound, and spoke to him: “Piramus, behold your beloved. Just look at her, and she will be saved.” The youth, where he lay dying, half-opened his eyes and saw that it was Thisbe, his beloved, who was calling to him, completely distraught. He wanted to speak with her, but could not, for death, which held him in its grip, would not let him. But he said this much: “Thisbe, beloved, for god’s sake, who brought you back to life?” Then he fell silent, could say no more, then looked at her and gasped. His heart shattered and he lost his life: he left her completely distraught. He was dead, and she had fainted. God, what a love has ended here! The maiden got back up, she grasped the sword with two hands. Right in the chest, beneath her breast, the damsel ran herself through with it. Blood spurted out on both sides, and she fell on top of the body. She hugged the body and embraced it. She kissed its eyes and mouth and face. She kissed the mouth with great caring.25 For as long as she still had her rational capacity and life, she demonstrated herself to be a true lover. He has come to his end; she has come to her end. [1120–1149] In this way, the two lovers came to their end in an act of loyalty. Thus they showed themselves to be true lovers, for they were lovers of pure heart, since neither of them wished to be in the paradise of the heavenly King while the other remained here, if the one was not with the other. [1150–1157] [miniature, fol. 96v: thisbe runs herself through with piramus’s sword] 25 Baise la bouche par grant cure, v. 1146. This detail is not in Ovid, where she just falls on the sword (Met. 4.162–163).

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Moralization {T}hus, as the tale recounts – and it corresponds to true history – the two lovers loved each other. Their parting was such that each one killed themself for the other, and when they were both dead, their parents, who found them dead, laid them in a single tomb, and the mulberry, which was white at that time, became dark on the branch, and took on a bloody color as a representation of this sorrow.26 [1158–1169] [miniature, fol. 96v: the burial of piramus and thisbe in one tomb, mourned by their families, now united in sorrow]

{N}ow I want to provide you with the explanation for the transformation of the mulberry, which was white and then turned dark on the branch. When the mulberry is green it whitens, and when it becomes ripe it darkens. [1170–1175] Now I will tell you the allegory that this tale represents. [1176–1177] [miniature, fol. 96v: saintly martyrs being put to the sword]27

{I}n this world full of baseness, full of filth and iniquity, vice, and confusion, God resolved to become incarnate for the love of humanity. The deity humbled himself so much that he came to dwell among us, and in order to save the human race, the deity was stretched and hanged along with humanity28 on the holy and glorious tree, which was stained with a bloody stain by his holy, precious blood. Then he lived “in one tomb,” true God and true man in one. He showed us well, it seems to me, the example of how we should do penance for him, bear hardship, and mortify our flesh. He allowed himself to be crucified out of love for us, and suffered death. He himself, the good Lord, suffered death, through his mercy, and we must, out of friendship for him, suffer discomfort and penitence and accept with true patience whatever pain we suffer for him. It is right that for love of him we offer ourselves up to bear any form of pain. This is how the holy martyrs used to act long ago, who despised the world and for God subjected themselves to enduring all forms of martyrdom. Some of them were walled in, kept in prison, bound in chains, and others were stoned, some beaten and injured, scorned in the world and reviled, some exposed to temptation, others killed, and they gladly accepted death and the martyrdoms they were suffering, and they bore witness to God with love and dilection.29 [1178–1220] 26 Mulberries do, of course, change color. The twelfth-century version gives this as an historical explanation and the OM takes it further. Note that the mulberry (more) is a homophone with death (mort). As explained in Murray (2008), ch. 2, purpureus in Virgil and Ovid signifies the deep, vibrant, dark red hue of blood, rather than English “purple.” 27 Fols 78r, 87v, 96v, and 354r have comparable miniatures depicting martyrdom. 28 Not referring to the thieves, but to the humanity of Jesus. For context, see Anselm’s “Meditation on Human Redemption” (trans. Ward 1979). 29 See our introductory lexicon, s.v. dilection, p. 74.



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By many persecutions, the martyrs were tested and found firm in the faith. In this way, these holy men used to reach paradise long ago. But now there is no one willing to suffer death or endure martyrdom for Jesus Christ or for his name. No one seeks anything anymore, other than the body’s comfort and the delights of the world. Where are the pure, where are the spotless, who, for dilection of God and in recompense for his love, are willing to suffer death or offer up their bodies to martyrdom? But when the Son of God, the judge who will lawfully render to each person their deserts, returns, how do they expect to be acquitted? How will those who want to spend their time living a life of pleasure be able to excuse themselves, for they truly know that God resolved to render himself up to death in order to redeem them, and deliver them from death and from the hands of the devil? The devil is the fearsome lion, the cruel, rabid beast which had consumed the entrails of the beasts it had disemboweled. He had devoured the souls of all the men who had died. He is the “lion” who will never tire of being on the lookout every hour, to see if he can find anything he can devour. [1221–1255] He is the one who used to swallow up every soul, and who “trampled on and held fast to the life and the wimple of the beautiful, innocent young girl,” that is, of the Creator’s beloved. That is the reason why without hesitation the Son of God resolved to suffer death and Passion in order to rescue her from the “lion,” who had to abandon the field of this world when the Son of God came to it. The devil is the “lion,” the worst of the evil ones. May our Lord protect us from this one! [1256–1267] [miniature, fol. 97r: mars and venus in bed together and caught by the gods]

The Daughters of Minyas (III): The Sun, Leucothoë, and Clytie {J}ust as the story recounts, one of the sisters30 told the tale. Leuconoe came forward and started telling hers and the others listened to her. She told them the following tale: [1268–1273] Since we have entered into the subject of love, I too must speak of a love, involving the god in whom all goodness abounds, who spreads his rays over the world and heats and illuminates everything. He was so overwhelmed and beguiled by the love of a maiden that he was completely blinded by it. Now I will tell you how. [1274–1282] This god, who sees first whatever is in the world before anyone else, noticed that Mars and Venus were committing adultery together. He was 30

“Of the sisters” added for clarity.

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saddened by this, and went to tell Vulcan, who was Venus’s husband, how his wife had shamed him, and how she had had intimate relations with the god of battle. He showed Vulcan the bed where they had lain when they committed their adultery. When Vulcan heard about his wife’s adultery, he was incredibly angry and utterly stunned. The work he was forging dropped from his hands. He had such grief in his heart that he came very close to going mad. [1283–1299] When he regained his right mind, a truly cunning idea occurred to him: he wanted to catch them in the act. Without further ado, he forged from bronze some very well-made chain-links, so fine and so slender that no spiderweb ever was of such subtle workmanship, nor was silk thread as refined. The links were full of snares and traps on every side. He who knew how to create such a work was incredibly subtle and of great intellect. No one would have been able to find or spot such snares no matter how sharp his eye might be, nor could anyone break them. He covered the bed with them. When Mars, who was overcome with love, and Venus got into this bed to commit their carnal transgression and they embraced one another, they were immediately captured and ensnared so that they could not extricate themselves. The more they moved, the more they were tied up in knots. The more the lovers went on struggling, the more the snares restricted them. [1300–1325] Now Vulcan had the doors flung open to reveal the adultery that, for a long time, had been concealed. He called the gods and showed them the adultery. The gods began to laugh. When those who had been caught guilty in the transgression saw themselves naked and trapped, they were ashamed and dismayed. The gods told a lot of stories, jokes, and gossip about Venus and her lover. They mocked and derided, although there were those among them who would have deserved to be caught and trapped in the lovers’ place and reproved for similar action. [1326–1341] {E}verywhere it was known that Vulcan had caught his wife naked, lying with Mars, and that he had caught them both in the act. [1342–1345] Venus was very upset by all this, but since the events had unfolded in such a way that everyone knew about their debauchery, she didn’t care anymore what anyone said. Having dealt once with being shamed, rather, from that moment on she did not let shame or fear of her husband, who was incredibly heartsick about it, keep her from doing everything she wanted. From then on, Vulcan was forced to suffer greatly for having dishonored her in this way, and openly revealing her shame, because the lady hated him so much for it that she left him all betrayed, for she left him and indulged her lust publicly with her lovers. [1346–1362] Venus had not forgotten that the sun god had denounced her: because he had revealed her love, for which she had incurred such contempt, she inflamed him with a similar love and made him experience how loyal



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lovers suffer when their loves are revealed, and how much secret loves are worth. [1363–1371] The sun was overcome by love. He fell in love with a maiden of great worth, innocent, wise, and of great renown. Her name was Leucothoë, daughter of Orchamos, king of Persia,31 a wicked tyrant full of arrogance – but she did not resemble him at all. The god thought so much about his beloved that he could no longer think of anything else; he applied all his focus and his wit to loving the maiden, who was so pleasing and beautiful. For love of her, he cast aside all others, but he could not have his way with the girl. He loved her in vain for a very long time. In the end, he thought of how he might have the beauty with whom his thoughts were preoccupied. He was cunning and very savvy. At night, when it was dark and his horses were resting, he entered the girl’s chambers in the semblance of the queen, who had given birth to her. Leucothoë was part of a group of thirteen women winding thread on their spindles. The god told the beauty that he wanted to speak to her in private. She made her companions go away and leave the room, so that they might be more free and at ease. The god spoke to the beauty: “Maiden,” he said, “born beautiful, I am the one who illuminates everything. I am the one who begins and ends the year. I am the ruler and god of the sun. The whole world sees by my single eye. I entreat you, be my lover.” [1372–1410] The beautiful maiden was terrified on hearing these words. She dropped the distaff and the spindle she was holding. She was ashamed, but it suited her well:32 she was beautiful, and became even more beautiful because of it. The god returned to his own form; he ran to take and grab the beauty; by force he had his pleasure of her. She had no choice but to comply.33 This thing did not remain secret for long, rather, it soon became known. Clytie, a woman whom the god had loved for a long time, noticed it34 and became incredibly distressed and jealous over it. She enviously reported it to the king, Lit. “of sand.” I.e., she blushed becomingly. 33 Cele a la force en gré soufferte, v. 1420: this seems to mean “she willingly endured the rape,” or “she submitted to the rape of her own free will.” The problem with this would be that, theologically, free will cannot exist in such a situation. In Ovid (Met. 4.232–233), the event is unambiguously rape. The OM has a problem, however, in that the moralization of this episode (vv. 1784–1821 below) in terms of the relationship between God and the saintly life does require a consensual relationship in which free will exists. So en gré should probably be read as anticipating the moralization rather than justifying or excusing the rape in the story itself (or could be adopting the god’s point of view when he does not see her fighting back). 34 I.e., her pregnancy (see the next sentence: her accusation is apparently true). In Ovid (the corresponding passage is Met. 4.256–273) she is not pregnant; Ovid doesn’t say how Clytie found out about the relationship. While the idea of Leucothoë “bearing good fruit” might be a good fit for the moralization below, her pregnancy isn’t actually mentioned there. 31 32

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the father of the beauty, and told him how his daughter had shamed herself and how the sun had had intimate relations with her, and had recently got her pregnant. The king was so angry when he heard this that he buried his daughter alive, for he didn’t wish to show her any mercy for what she had done. [1411–1434] The god saw that the maiden had been made to suffer because of his love. With his beams, he made the tomb where she had been placed break and split open, so that she might well have been able to get up and walk out of it, but already only the body remained: the soul had flown away from it. The sun was heartbroken. He would have willingly brought her back to life,35 had he been able, but he could not. He sprinkled the body with spiced balm of enticing and refined fragrance, which the earth immediately absorbed, and there did a slender branch of frankincense take root and grow, poking up from the body. In this way, the woman whom the god had loved was transformed into frankincense. [1435–1453] [miniature, fol. 98v: the lovers discovered in bed] {N}ever again did the god ever love the foolish woman who had delivered the news that had led to Leucothoë being put to death; rather, he completely rejected her and never again associated with her. Clytie was so upset that the god despised her, she felt such grief and bitterness about it, that from then on she did not eat or drink. She estranged herself from all the nymphs. She eschewed all comfort, all company, and lay naked and disheveled on the hard ground, day and night, in the open, completely without any cover. For nine days, she grieved like this, living only on dew and the tears she shed. She could think of nothing else, and always she turned her face towards the sun, whichever way he went. The girl, who had been full of folly, carried on with this grieving to such an extent that she lost her life and her mind. Her body adhered to the soil. Its coloring, pale and wan, gave rise to a plant of the complementary36 hue: it became a flower both blood-colored and red.37 Its name, it seems to me, is “flower of love,” and, even though it is rooted, it always has its face turned towards the sun, no matter where he goes. Without a doubt, it is called “flower of love” and also “flower of sorrow,” on account of the sun that it loves and follows. [1454–1487]

Lit. “given her life back.” Lit. “opposite.” 37 In Ovid (Met. 4.266–269), there are two separate colors involved, one for the plant and one for the flower: “They say that her limbs clung to the soil, and that her ghastly pallor changed part of her appearance to that of a bloodless plant: but part was reddened, and a flower like a violet hid her face” (Kline). The flower is the heliotrope. 35 36



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Moralization {N}ow I wish to explain these tales to you. Mars is an errant planet, full of choleric nature, that is, of dryness and heat. For this reason, without a doubt, the story depicts him as the master god of battle, harmful and detrimental, and he prevails over the courageous, quarrelsome, and rash. Venus is a peaceful planet, moist, warm, and even-tempered, full of grace and goodwill. The sanguine, who are moist and warm, on account of their reeking humors and their natural heat, desire acts of lust, for they are prone to love by nature, and kind and gracious. Insofar as the lustful are similar to Venus in morals, we call her the goddess of love. When Mars makes his way through the sky at the lowest point of his orbit, and Venus is at the height of hers – so that there is nothing at all between them to divide or separate them – Venus becomes wicked and unruly and, due to the proximity of Mars, she loses her kindness and the temperament she is accustomed to have. [1488–1516] We can see all of this by the sun, which “discovers” them. “Vulcan catches them in the act”: Vulcan is the excessive ardor that doubles and grows due to the joining together of these two heavenly bodies38 – a joining that removes and steals away from Venus her love and her even-temperedness, and her grace and her goodwill, so that she “commits adultery” and goes astray when she is in a direct line beneath Mars, without any intervening body: astronomers know this. But when Venus is separated from Mars and has reverted to her kind nature, then she has no more use for excessive love and varies, it seems to me, according to the natural qualities of the heavenly bodies with which she joins. [1517–1537] {T}o tell the truth, according to the historical matter, Venus was a beautiful and noble lady, who put all her care and attention into living amorously; and because she completely surpassed all other women in mirth, love, gaiety and beauty, people called her the goddess and lady of love. She had an ignoble, contemptible, and vile husband, it seems to me, whom she didn’t value in the least. Among a thousand lovers, the beauty had a worthy and chivalrous man, proud and bellicose above all others, and because he was that way, without a doubt, they called him “the god of war.” This “god,” who used to hold the beauty, would come to make love to her at night. When her husband was up and about – for he was starting up the forge, and was a master of metalwork – that’s when they conducted their affair with great ease and leisure, whenever they were so inclined. One day, after the sun had risen, when they were sleeping, tired and worn out from the fun they had had during the night, Vulcan found them lying in each other’s arms naked, and he caught them. But, like a fool, he made the mistake of publicly revealing their adultery, which made the beauty so angry at him, just as the tale recounts it, that she magnified his grief and 38

Lit. “stars.”

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shame and cheated on him indiscriminately. Vulcan then felt bitterly sorry for having caught them. [1538–1576] Lovers are often found out in the act of committing adultery, for falling asleep in a strange bed after they have carried out their transgression. Cuckolded husbands are very angry about it, and go around denouncing their wives and making public their adultery and whoring. And a woman is so proud-hearted that she doesn’t want to be governed by anyone. And after she has been openly found out for whoring, no matter what anyone says, she will do nothing less than her will, and so she lets people’s criticism and gossip run rampant without caring. The husband who goes about spying on his wife, and seeks knowingly that which he would prefer not to find, is truly ignorant. If anyone can put his wife to the test and catch her in the act of adultery, then he should never start talking about it, because those who hear him say so will take him to be a fool and a cuckold. Rather, if it is at all possible, he should pretend not to see it, even if he has seen it clearly. And he should never reproach her with it in her presence, provided that he never gives his consent to the adultery she commits. Let him not be an accomplice to the wrongdoing! [1577–1609] He who condones such a thing is incredibly wicked, and he who spies on her in the act is foolish, because, once he reprimands her, he will not be able to control her,39 and she will no longer fear him. But as long as she believes her husband does not see it, in order to better deceive him, she will do his bidding and command, and she will behave discreetly and conceal her adultery, so that he will not hear any ill spoken of her, and she will pretend to love him, not out of love, but out of fear. But let him take heed, for all the pretense she is putting on towards him, that she not have his love nor his favor, nor should he wish to trust her since she thinks to cuckold40 him and doesn’t love him or hold him dear. If she cheats him, he must cheat her! [1610–1629] Now I will tell you the allegory that this tale represents. Venus had intimate relations with the god of war. “Venus,” that is, lust, the wife of “Vulcan,” that is, the burning that makes hearts burn and sizzle, committed adultery in secret. “Mars was her partner in adultery”: Mars means the same thing as “destroyer.” Terrible death and terrible destruction arise from fornication. Most people involved with lust and adultery are tormented and stripped of good morals. Some say that is love, but I say that it is not love at all, rather it is sin and vileness that no prudent person should love. And if anyone wants to call it love, then from love come evil, suffering, and poverty, anger, anguish, death, and terrible loss. Such love is laid on shoddy foundations and is damaging above all else: it’s a hidden fire that burns without going out, a heat that no one can restrain, an unquenchable and scorching burning, an 39 40

Lit. “will not be able to get good service out of her.” Lit. “soil.”



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abominable and stinking act, a goad inside and out, destruction of the soul and body, a pleasing evil and an agreeable form of suffering, entryway to eternal death, the attraction of infernal burning. Love is madness without measure: a fish trap, a snare, a net of falsehood, and a fishing net that ensnares everything. It’s a serpent that no one can destroy, a burning pain that roasts hearts, a thirst that will never be satisfied, a fever that will never be appeased. It incites and encourages all evil, and destroys and aborts all good. Love causes rapes to be committed. Love incites hatreds. Love causes battles and incites many people to undertake many wicked tricks. Love does not know how to stay settled in one place. Now it burns, now it roasts, now it licks, now it pricks. In love there is grief, fear, hope, joy, and fright. [1630–1679] Who can suffer the pursuit of love? Now the lover is cold, now hot, now sad and then cheerful, now well and then cheerless, now he thinks he has all he wants, then he is further away from that than he usually is. A person who is overcome by love is as good as dead. Love treats good and evil as equivalent, nor is it able to choose its own best interest: it gives up the best of itself and holds on to the worst.41 It lays the body waste and lays waste to wealth. Against love, neither the rich nor the wise nor the powerful can avail. Foolish love is incredibly harrowing. It tries to strike down and conquer those who try to oppose it, and if someone wishes to obey it, then love strives to betray them. It harrows hearts, makes bodies suffer, and leads souls to torment. Love tramples on kings and so perverts rights and laws. If someone wishes to love with moderation, love opposes them and has no regard for good sense or counsel. Love hates any correction. If someone has what they wish from love, for one single benefit they must suffer a thousand times and endure a thousand sufferings, and, no lie, grief for the joy that has been lost torments them more than desire for the one they aspire to.42 In this world, there is nothing as harmful, or anything that tends to reduce the honor or the renown of a prudent man more than foolish love does – that’s the gist of it. Love traps and adheres and ensnares. Love effaces all virtue. Love does not undertake anything that it does not achieve. It lays low the exalted and raises up the lowly, against reason and against what is right. [1680–1720] Anyone who might want to speak to you about love would have an incredible amount to say about it and would have an incredible amount of material on the topic.43 No one can tally the dangers or the evils that come from loving. No man loves without losing his time, his good sense, his good 41 An alternative reading would be that love can’t choose in the lover’s best interest, and causes him to give up the best of himself and hold on to the worst. 42 The moralization also applies in general, and by extension, to previous stories including Piramus and Thisbe. It offers here a sort of cautionary summary. 43 We read martire, v. 1723, as a scribal error for matire. Martire would yield a translation like “would suffer profoundly in the telling.”

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name. One loses land and wealth and more besides, i.e., the soul and body. All those whom such mad love binds find themselves in dark madness. It is an altogether bad affair. [1721–1732] The sun, god of wisdom, “discovers this affair”44 because Wisdom45 truly makes the wise see,46 so that they don’t allow themselves to be deceived by such love, by such lust. Vulcan, the husband – that is, burning passion – “forged from bronze and adamant”47 the hidden snares by which lovers are often trapped and restrained. The snares are so slender and thin that no one can see them. The man48 who knows how to defend himself from such snares is savvy indeed; and foolish is he who allows himself to be caught in them, because, once he has allowed himself to be trapped in them, there is little chance he can escape from them anymore. The bronze squeezes and the adamant draws in and attracts the lovers, so that by the wicked burning they are subjected to shame and contempt, death and perdition, and damnable mockery. [1733–1755] {A}s for Leucothoë, daughter of Orchamos: due to the love of her lover, and because of the tattling of the slut49 who so wantonly accused her, she was buried alive – that is the historical meaning. As for the truth about Clytie, she was held in contempt by her lover due to her tattling, because of which Leucothoë had died. Due to that contempt, due to that rejection, the wretched woman was in such despair, so out of her mind, so maddened, that she could not stand to go on living, but ran about aimlessly, as though she were mad or drunk, without judgment or composure, wherever she thought she might find him, to solicit and implore his love. For that reason, people made up the tale that she was transformed into a flower of love.50 The other girl became frankincense because frankincense came from her land; they say that it is from the kingdom of Orchamos the wicked that frankincense comes, which is used in divine worship.51 “Phoebus loved her,” because that spice is very warm and ardent by nature and takes its sustenance from the sun. [1756–1783] Between Mars and Venus. Here, Wisdom equated with the Sun and Phoebus (m) would appear to be a synonym for God, especially the Word, Jesus Christ, “by [and through] whom grace and truth” are revealed to the wise. See Aquinas ST I-II q. 112 and John 1:17. 46 See Proverbs 20:12–15, Matthew 13:15–17, and Isaiah 6:9–10. 47 Adamant is a legendary rock or mineral to which many properties were attributed: hardness and magnetism are the two most relevant to the OM. It is sometimes associated with the diamond or lodestone. 48 Our sense is that this moralization, following on prodome, v. 1714, prioritizes the male perspective: see our introductory lexicon, s.v. home, p. 76. 49 Clytie. 50 The violet. 51 Aquinas discusses incense as devotion in his Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard (IV. Sent., d. 1, q. 2, art. 5., qa, 1., obj. 3.). In Chapter 12 of the Mirror of the Blessed Virgin, Bonaventure goes into a detailed discussion comparing Mary to a rod smoking with incense, citing Song of Songs 3:6, complete with allegorical commentary. See also Psalm 140:2 (Vulgate 139:2). 44 45



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{T}he tale can have another meaning. Leucothoë possessed great wisdom, led a saintly life, and had good morals. “The sun was in love with her” – meaning God, the true Sun of justice. She was wise and well educated and so she loved peace, charity, reason, righteousness, and truth, and she hated all wickedness; on that account, God made her his beloved. This is the good creature, the saint of whom Scripture speaks. Anyone who can find a strong woman52 will find much comfort in it: he must cherish her very dearly. Her wealth must come from afar.53 She trusts her husband’s heart, nor will she ever deceive him. He will have no need for secondhand clothing. Leucothoë held the spindle and distaff to work the flax and wool. She was full of strength and valor. She toiled at difficult tasks. She is the one who stayed up at night to spin with her maidens and who dined with her maidservants. She was clothed with strength and virtue.54 At night, her lamp was never put out.55 She opened her hand to the suffering and clothed the naked poor.56 She was full of good sense and compassionate. She did not eat her bread idly.57 She had no care for vainglory, nor beauty that endures a short time.58 She feared God, and she was praised, and was renowned for her good deeds.59 Such a person was well-suited to be God’s beloved: Leucothoë, the wellinstructed.60 [1784–1821] {C}lytie the envious fool, disdainful and contemptuous, who used to be God’s beloved – now he has abandoned her for her transgressions – can signify Judaism, which is stewing and simmering at the preferment of Holy Church, who is cherished and loved and appreciated by God, and so she makes accusations of her guilt. [1822–1830] Clytie, as the tale tells, was very angry and very envious about the good works and the good life Leucothoë always practiced. She considered the wise girl’s good works shameful and degrading. Foolish people, full of immoderation, often show disrespect and hostility towards the good deeds they see good people doing, and so they go about reproaching the good people and defaming them out of envy. They accuse and denigrate the good, and drag them in front of tyrants through false accusations, and they go about looking for opportunities to destroy them and subject them to torment. The tyrants, full Compare Proverbs 31:10–31. Compare Proverbs 31:14. 54 Compare Proverbs 31:25. 55 Compare Proverbs 31:18. Note that Proverbs 31:19 refers to the spindle and weaving, and no doubt the OM has this in mind when these references are integrated into the tales told by the Minyades. 56 Compare Proverbs 31:20. 57 Compare Proverbs 31:27. 58 Compare Proverbs 31:30. 59 Compare Proverbs 31:31. 60 Thus, she embodies the teachings of Proverbs 31: she was well brought-up in her formative years and has a strong moral foundation. 52 53

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of rage and anger, subject the good people to dishonor, and punish them out of wickedness, for loving our Lord. Many a saintly soul has been punished, and many another will yet be punished, who surrenders their body to receive death and abuse for God’s sake. But God, who guards and cares for his own, will never forget his good soul, his good beloved,61 because no matter what end the body meets, it will never be the case that God won’t remember the soul, or that it perishes; rather, he carries her away in full bloom to the heavens in everlasting glory.62 Then, as the tale recounts, “the sun turned his beloved into frankincense”: frankincense signifies the odor of good reputation, with which the soul is anointed in the heavens. [1831–1867] “{C}lytie was held in contempt by the god.” God loathes the wicked illspoken people, full of pride and folly and envious wickedness, for he loathes all the envious, all the wicked, and all the malicious. Clytie was “transformed into a flower” because the vainglory and wickedness of the foolish, filled with disloyalty, is soon extinguished and gone, like the flower that blooms in the morning, and at night withers, droops, and dies. One sees the immoderate, wicked men in great nobility, and, in their games, exalted all the way to the atmosphere; these earthly honors fall to them according to their want, and so they become masters and lords and have amassed great possessions, lands, mansions, and great riches. Then, in a short time, they are gone, so that no one hears or sees a thing about them, and no one has any news about them. It is impossible to search or seek enough to find where in the world they are. No one ought to be envious of the disloyal or their life, for often those who sin perish more quickly than it takes bundles of hay to dry, and all of a sudden they fall more quickly than a frail flower withers. [1868–1899] {H}oly Church was the branch of incense, dainty and slender, soaring from the barren mountain to heaven as the Psalms recount; and Judea was the wretched, foolish, unbelieving girl, who had once been the most elect, and is now rejected and held in contempt by God, true Sun of justice. For the wicked covetousness of her heart, that she fixes and roots in the vain delights of earth, she was changed into a flower of worry,63 for the woeful woman worries and watches and waits for him to come back, receive her, and take her back into his grace and friendship – the God she had mercilessly caused to be beaten and spit upon and killed.64 But the wretched girl can expect to wait indefinitely, dreaming in foolish hope, if she does not abandon her wrongdoing, her foolish error and her arrogance, and turn to the Christian faith. [1900–1923] [miniature, fol. 101r: the minyades hard at work, weaving] Compare Psalm 1. Compare to the allegory for the Hyacinth in Book 10 (vv. 3426ff.). 63 Flor de soussie, v. 1912: while this is the French for the marigold or heliotrope, we give a word-for-word equivalent to show the connection with what follows. 64 Lit. “hanged.” 61 62



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The Daughters of Minyas (IV): Hermaphroditus {A}bove, you heard the story, as Leuconoë tells it, of how Leucothoë, daughter of Orchamos, was buried alive and then was transformed into frankincense for the love of her beloved, the sun; and you also heard how Clytie, through treason and envy, accused her to her father, and how the sun rejected Clytie, who was then transformed by love into a flower of love that is also called the “flower of worry.” They, who heard the tale, considered it a great marvel. Each one spoke and marveled at it. One said it could not be; the other said the heavenly gods are all-powerful in all things, but that Bacchus could not accomplish any good – he could not harm or help because he was not a god, in their opinion. [1924–1945] When Leuconoë had finished her tale, then it was the turn of Alcithoë, who was not slow or negligent in making progress on her cloth, rather she was virtuous and truly diligent. When the noise had died down and her companions had been appeased, Alcithoë said: [1946–1954] I would tell of Daphnis, the shepherd of Troy, a poor man of low birth, that a highborn woman loved so much – and who, unbeknownst to her, had several other women with whom he dallied. The lady was so angered by this that she turned him into hard stone; that is to say, she had the false lover walled up in prison. Through him, we can clearly appreciate how ladies are afflicted when their affections are betrayed. But the tale is too well-known, and so I might well tell you one about how Sithon varied his bodily form contrary to nature, so that one moment he was man, and the next, woman. He engaged in acts of great shame, great ill-repute, and foulness, for he was at times active, and at times passive.65 [1954–1975] Or I might tell you how Celmis, in his youth, enjoyed the love and goodwill of the infant Jupiter,66 then became so gross that he was transformed into adamant; and I could easily tell of how the Curetes once sprang from great rains that fell, that is, the willow plantations that once sprang from great rains that fell;67 or how Crocus and Smilax together were changed into two little flowers, fragrant and pleasant. They were children full of goodness, innocent, and of pure will, and they lived their whole life without excess or wickedness. They were delightful, pleasant, and of good renown – hence the tale claims they were turned into flowers. [1976–1996]

Referring to the part he played, as both a man and then as a woman, in sex. Ovid (Met. 4.281) adds that Celmis was “now changed to steel” (Kline), for offending Rhea. Celmis was one of the Dactyls (Daktyloi Idaioi, “Idaean Fingers”) who supposedly resulted from the goddess Anchiale digging her fingers into the ground when in labor; they were credited with inventing metalworking. 67 Note that v. 1987 repeats v. 1985 almost to the letter. 65 66

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[miniature, fol. 101v: hermaphroditus bathing in salmacis’s fountain] {I} know other tales better,68 but I will leave all those to you69 and tell you a different one, which is more beautiful and pleasing and new. Now hear the tale of the perilous spring, which is so dangerous and marvelous that no mortal man may enter into it, not even a hundred men, without becoming half-woman. And, if a woman goes there and bathes in it, she immediately becomes half-male. No one knows why this happens, but I know it well – I am certain of it. Salmacis is the name of the spring, whose power is well-attested, but the cause is not known. But I know the truth about it better than anyone. [1997–2014] The god of eloquence70 and Venus once had a baby, very beautiful and of noble appearance. His body and face were such that one could distinguish, it seems to me, his father’s form and his mother’s appearance. He resembled each of them and neither of them at once: he was named Hermaphroditus.71 His name is greatly renowned. He was born and raised in the Orient.72 When he was fifteen, he left his homeland for pleasure, and devoted his effort and care to wandering through foreign lands to learn about and discover the customs of foreign folk, hence he spent time along the rivers there. He was innocent and without malice. [2015–2034] One day, he came to Caria in Lycia. As he strolled along relaxing there, he saw a bright and shining pool that was very cavernous and deep, full of water that was clear all the way to the bottom, without any sedge, reeds, or rushes,73 but with fresh grass bordering it all around. There dwelt a girl,74 who did not look like a pauper. She was lovely and noble and had not yet learned to do anything. She was extremely well groomed. She knew nothing of hunting. She had never learned to shoot a bow and carried no pike or spear, having never learned to hunt wild beasts in the surrounding woods. She did not know how to card or spin wool, but only how to bathe in the spring, and how to make her hair lustrous and comb it out, and how to paint and rouge her face. She would often look at, and admire, herself, and dress and attire herself Than the ones she has just listed. Mes toutes cestes vous lairai, v. 1998. Since the other sisters have already told their stories, this could mean “give those up for your sake.” 70 Mercury. (In Ovid, Hermes.) Using “god of eloquence” as his primary identifier may owe something to The Marriage of Mercury and Philology by Martianus Capella; compare the moralization of him in Book 2, vv. 4200ff. 71 Derived from Hermes + Aphrodite. Their names are given as such in Ovid, but not here. 72 En Ynde, v. 2026. On Mount Ida, in Ovid (Met. 4.289, 293). Ynde is not necessarily India, but the East in general. 73 For sans resche, v. 2040, there is a variant roiche, i.e., “without rocks.” 74 In Ovid (Met. 4.304), a Naiad (water nymph). 68 69



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with great care, in scarlet or in green;75 then she would lie on the green grass, picking little flowers – roses, lilies, and violets. And she was picking flowers, as it happened, when she saw the young man coming along, strolling through the thick grass. She was immediately smitten with love because of his great beauty. She fell in love with him as soon as she saw him. She wanted to seek his love at once, but first she wanted to groom herself, making up and rouging her face in order to be more attractive, it seemed to her. [2035–2071] Then she came towards him and spoke to him: “Young man, the most beautiful person to be found in the world! Young man, in whom such beauty abounds that you might well be believed to be a god, if ever such a beautiful god were seen! If you are a god, I believe you must be the god who rules lovers. You had a fortunate father, and the mother who conceived you and gave birth to you was blessed, as was the wet-nurse who nursed you. Fortunate are those who are related to you and belong to your lineage, but even luckier is she who is your beloved or your spouse, or she who will be, and will lay hands on you in the flesh. If you have a blessed wife,76 I implore you, by courtesy, to come in secret, so that we can play the game of love, as lovers, in private. I will be your loyal beloved and serve you well. If you haven’t publicly taken a wife, take me by the sacrament77 of marriage. I am a woman of high birth. You will be well promoted, honored, and exalted through me.” [2072–2101] At that Salmacis fell silent and awaited his response. Hermaphroditus, who knew nothing of courtship or what such love might amount to, heard himself being implored, and blushed with embarrassment and shame. But the blush was very becoming to him: he had been handsome, and became more handsome. The blush, fresh and delicate, illuminated the white of his face. The nymph, seeing him blush from the embarrassment he felt, embraced him, begging him to do her the favor of at least kissing her without further ado. He did not appreciate her advances and assured her and swore to her that if she did not leave him alone, he would run away and surrender the place to her. Salmacis saw that she was bothering him. She greatly feared that he would run away, and said to him, “I will leave you. And I will cede this place to you so that you can have your fun here with more privacy.” [2102–2125] Et veste d’escarlate ou de vert, v. 2059. There is a variant et, which has her wearing both. In Dante, the theological virtues are clothed in red, white, and green (and Beatrice is dressed in all three). This is a common color motif in medieval art. See for example Duccio’s Maestà (1308) with its three multi-colored steps: fides (white), spes (green), and caritas (red). 76 This could mean a wife who would be blessed to have him as a husband, but seems more likely to refer to the sacramental nature of marriage: this would be a wife married with religious sanction. It could perhaps be rendered “covenanted wife” (for “the wife of your marriage covenant,” etc.) per Malachi 2:14. 77 Lit. “law.” 75

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Salmacis pretended to leave but, without a doubt, had neither the heart nor the intention of taking herself far from the youth; she hid behind a bush to watch what he was doing and see if he would bathe in the clear, temperate water. And the youth, without further ado, believing himself alone and unsuspecting of being spied on, relaxed on the grass. He plunged his feet into the shining water. It was such a nice temperature that, in order to bathe naked, he took off his clothing. When the maiden saw him naked, she was even more inflamed and consumed by the great beauty she beheld. She was even more consumed with love for him. She could delay no longer. It seemed to her that she was already embracing him and having her way with him; she completely lost her composure. The youth played and dove and went surging through the water, thrusting his arms out as he swam. His body was visible under the water and looked especially white.78 She cried out, “As god is my witness, now I have what I desire! Now you’ll do everything I please.” [2126–2155] Then she stripped completely naked. She came through the water to the young man. She kissed and held him despite himself. She enveloped and entwined him on all sides, touching and feeling him, running her hands up and down, despite the youth and to his displeasure. He had no thought for her enjoyment,79 and tried hard to escape. But she, to better restrain him, held him tight and squeezed him against her. She entwined and held him captive more strongly than a serpent holds its prey. She clung more tightly to his neck, belly, and lower back than an ivy vine to long branches. [2156–2171] {W}hen she saw that in no way, whether by pressure or begging, could she move the young man so that she might have from him the delight she expected of him, and that he, loathing her company, was putting up such a strong defense, she said to him viciously, “Wicked boy, certainly, we’ll see now! Defending yourself won’t protect you! Truly you’ll never escape me, nor will you be free of me! Powerful gods, who can do everything, I pray you to give me a gift80 – that I might never in my life be parted from this young man, and may he never be separated from me: let us be forever joined together!” [2172–2189] The gods then granted her prayer. They joined their bodies in such a way that, between the two of them, they had only one face. Just as one sees, it seems to me, two branches grow and arrange themselves and bear fruit Lit. “whitened.” Compare Ovid (Met. 4.352–355): “He, clapping his open palms to his side, dives into the pool, and leading with one arm and then the other, he gleams through the pure water, as if one sheathed an ivory statue, or bright lilies behind clear glass” (Kline). 79 Reading son deduit, v. 2163, as “her enjoyment.” It could also be “his,” i.e., he is not interested in his own sexual gratification. 80 I.e., “grant me a boon.” 78



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next to each other, and the one branch fuses with the other, so the young man and the maiden were merged together. Each was male and female: they were together, and neither was complete without the other.81 When Hermaphroditus saw himself half-male, and that he had a double form, both male and female, so that he seemed to be both “he” and “she,” he stretched out both hands and cried out in a feminine, high-pitched voice, “Father and mother, who engendered me and named me with your two names,82 a gift I pray you to give me: just as I was changed here, and have become half-male where I came as a straightforward man, so whoever comes to bathe in this water from now on, if ever any man bathes here, let him become half-male in it.” [2190–2216] His orison was well heeded, and that is the cause and the reason for which the spring has the power to soften and remold the members of the body,83 and all those who come to bathe in it immediately become halfmale. [2217–2223]

81 Echoing Plato’s discussion in the Symposium that the soul, separated at birth from its other half, relentlessly searches for it. See also Aristotle’s discussion in De anima 1254b13–14, and his idea that a female is a “misbegotten male” (De Generatione II 3). In ST I q. 92, art. 1, Aquinas himself declares women are “defective and misbegotten” (deficiens et occasionatus), and goes on to explain that women are naturally subject to men, because in men, the discretion of reason predominates. Like his fellow scholastics, Bonaventure advances a rather low opinion of women since the Fall. However, the seminal book by Healy (1956) further explores how Bonaventure views Woman’s soul as equally important to Man’s, and receiving grace and glory (see esp. 79ff.). 82 In Et de vos deus nons me nomastes, v. 2209, deus may be deliberately emphasized: in medieval numerology, two is the number of division. 83 Pooir / Des members fere amolooir, vv. 2220–2221. This use of amolooir, translated here as “soften and remold,” corresponds to what, in Ovid, comes before the prayer Hermaphroditus makes (Met. 4.380–383): “When he saw now that the clear waters which he had penetrated as a man, had made him a creature of both sexes, and his limbs had been softened there, Hermaphroditus, stretching out his hands, said, but not in a man’s voice …” (Kline). In the OM it becomes a general property of the fountain, which would apply even to a woman becoming half-male. In that case the “softening” of the limbs would not be due to becoming more feminine, which would have been the point in Ovid (see Williams 2013, 244, and compare Edwards 2009, 63–97, and Ormand 2022), just as Isidore of Seville etymologizes mulier “woman” in terms of softness: “Effeminate (mollis, lit. ‘soft’), because such a one disgraces the vigor of his sex with his enervated body, and is softened (emollire) like a woman (mulier)” (Etymologies X.M.179, trans. Barney, Lewis, Beach, and Berghof 2006, 224); “the word woman (mulier) comes from softness (mollities), as if mollier (cf. mollior, ‘softer’), after a letter has been cut and a letter changed, is now called mulier” (XI.ii.18, trans. 242). By that logic, the spring in this case would make women harder. Rather, in the context of Aristotle’s hylomorphic theories (see again Henry 2019), the OM’s description of the spring seems to evoke the malleability of the wax in the metaphor of the wax seal, the point of which is that, unlike Plato, Aristotle believes that form can exist only when instantiated: a particular wax seal is a unity made up of its form

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Moralization {I} will tell you about Hermaphroditus and explicate this tale which the spring represents, but don’t consider it84 vulgar. The spring is, it seems to me, the place where the semen that comes from carnal mixture gathers for generation.85 This place is called the “matrix”86 which must be so long and wide that there can be seven chambers in it: three on the right and three on the left, and the seventh in the middle. When the seed enters the middle place and forms and solidifies there, as the art of physical science87 affirms, then “Hermaphroditus” – that is, the half-male – should be born. On the left, the females are conceived, and the males, in the chambers on the right. Those of the middle chamber have the form of both male and female, thus they have the nature of one and the other, but as regards the act of lust, the female member is more functional whereas the male member is impotent. [2224–2249] {I} can supply another interpretation for this, and gloss the tale in another way. Salmacis can be understood as a woman who puts all her attention into doing her makeup, rouging herself, grooming herself, combing out her hair, and decking herself in ornaments, jewels, and garments to make the gawkers gawk,88 and so she wishes to waste her whole life in vain delight, in vain filth. He who does not avoid such a woman is a fool, for if anyone ever associates with one, it’s a marvel if he profits from it. Such a woman leads a man to death. Too foolish is he who forms an attachment with one, and sullies himself in the spring which is most perilous and full of corruption and ruin. There is no man in the world so wise – though he be of firm will, full of virtue, full of goodness – who, if he sullies himself in her little fountain whose surrounding reeds are the pubic region, would not become soft and flaccid and would not develop a wicked heart, for a man who is entrapped by a foolish woman can scarcely escape from her without losing the virtue of his soul. It is bad to attach oneself to such a lady, for she is far more dangerous than a wicked, devious serpent. [2250–2281] {T}here can be another interpretation, which is well in accord with truth. Salmacis can represent the world, in which all vanity abounds: all pride, all adornment, vain delight, vain debauchery, vain pleasure, vain joy, beauty falsified contrary to nature through art and adornment. She is rightly that whore in whom all goodness is eclipsed, she of whom the Apocalypse speaks, and its matter. Hermaphroditus is distraught at his physical change, because he used to have unity between his form and his matter and now he doesn’t. 84 I.e., this explanation. 85 I.e., procreation. 86 The uterus. 87 L’art de phisique, v. 2239. This is “the art of physic,” i.e., physics, physic, or knowledge of nature, whence “physician” as a term for the medical profession. There may a targeted reference to the discourse on matter and form in Aristotle’s Physics. 88 See muser in our introductory lexicon, p. 77, and compare Brayer (1958, 36).



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who makes fools commit adultery and turn away from the right way. She is the wellspring89 of confusion, which has intoxicated many a foolish dreamer, inebriated many, deceived many. No man who gets drunk on this wine will ever see himself free from it unless God intervenes through his grace. She is the whore who captures and entwines in such a way that nothing she can entrap is able to twist away or escape, because she sticks and restrains and clings more than quicklime, serpent, or burr. The water in which this whore bathes represents the multitude and company of people who are subject to her, upon whom she sits and rides. Or, if anyone prefers, the water signifies the multitude and abundance of vain and changeable worldly goods, which are more fleeting, more ephemeral than water – no matter how fast it flows – because, if the world gives its false delights to one, it takes them away from another, and whoever has gone after these goods the most, enjoys himself the least in the end and regrets it eternally. It is the perilous spring that corrupts the bathers and leads in the end to shame and desecration of the soul and the body. [2282–2325] The young man who was manly and perfect before he went into the water90 where the harlot grabbed him, seizing and entrapping him such that he lost his perfection and through shameful corruption became soft, feminine, and degraded, can represent, it seems to me, those who once used to live, pure and innocent, in holiness and perfection in religious orders, who then through dissolution of heart, which leads them astray, decide to experiment with the world by leaving their proper hermitage, their cloister, or their prayer house to take a break. Such is their excuse, and they wander merrily through the world, “through foreign lands,” until they come to “Caria in Lycia,” that is, into the idle delight of the world, that so draws them, so attracts them, and so seizes them in vain pleasure, that it makes them “strip off” the proper guidance of religion,91 and, denuded of good sense, immerse themselves in the pool of vain delight. Then the flesh invites and entices them by vain agitation, and they willingly rush to it. Then the world constrains, embraces, restrains, and entwines them. It tempts them until they give their consent to it in body and heart, it seems to me. [2326–2362] Thus they make a foul, vile mixture of the world and themselves, for they try both to live religiously and to pursue the delights and ease of the world, but I do not believe that such religiosity pleases God. It is only false vanity. I can call St. James as a guarantor of this. They plow with an ox and an ass together,92 but God prohibits such plowing. Against God’s wishes, they make cloth woven together from wool and linen.93 These half-male and half-feminine Lit. “head.” Lit. “river.” 91 Hermaphrodite’s clothing. 92 Compare Deuteronomy 22:10. For the reference to St. James, see James 1:27, 2:14, 2:26. and 4:6. 93 Compare Deuteronomy 22:11. 89 90

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beings, whose hearts are conflicted and double, making an unseemly couple, are the conflicting callings of the world and of religion. And they think both to serve God freely and to deserve the world, to possess both God’s grace and the world. They must surely know that God considers such a blend to be foul and monstrous, and in my opinion, the feminine love of the world shames them and drags them down all the more, and leads them to damnation more than their good deeds lead them to salvation. [2363–2389] [miniature, fol. 103v: the revelries of the feast of bacchus interrupt the minyades]

The Daughters of Minyas (V): Changed into Bats {J}ust as the tale about the Minyades tells it, the sisters had given out their tales, but they had not yet given up94 laboring on their handiwork and dishonoring Bacchus. They disparaged him and his power and held his festival in contempt. [2390–2396] Bacchus became grievously angry over this, and all of a sudden he sent them drums and sounding trumpets and sonorous brass kettle drums that, without being visible, created a din throughout the house, and the whole place smelled nicely of saffron and myrrh. The woven fabrics were transformed into verdant leaves of ivy and grapevine. One part of it turned into a vine. The weft turned into buds, and the combed wool,95 which formed spiral tendrils, became shoots, that is, tendrils. The sanguine scarlet dye gave the grapes a crimson color. [2397–2413] The sun had set some time ago and evening had come on to the extent that day and night were indistinguishable. The house where the three sisters lived began to tremble. Great lamps burned within, giving off a great glow. As for the sisters, filled with terror, it seemed to them that they could hear wild beasts howling, intent on devouring them. Without further ado, they fled through the house, distressed, scattered in various places, and they avoided the bright light and hid themselves in the darkness under the rafters of the house. [2414–2430] Immediately, I do not know for what reason, they were covered with some coats of sparse fur, and they had little wings without feathers, which bound their arms and their feet. When they moved their arms, they rose up, flying through the air. They were incredibly heartsick and whined feebly. They could not make another sound, nor did they have the power to answer in words. 94 Lor fables retraites, v. 2392, and ne se sont encor retraites, v. 2393, involves a play on the meanings of retraire: in v. 2392, they have recounted their stories, while in v. 2393 they have not yet held back from their work. 95 Destined to become the warp.



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They were accustomed to hide during the day and only fly at vespers96 and at night time. From vespers they took their name: they are called “vespartilles.”97 They are little, naked mice, which common usage is accustomed to call “bald mice.”98 [2431–2447] Moralization {A}ccording to what the tale describes, it seems to me that one “disparages Bacchus” by drinking wine excessively or by having no interest in the beverage at all. These three sisters “disparaged him” because they drank it to excess. They sold and pawned everything, spent and squandered everything. As soon as they had worked some hempen cloth, some thread, some tow, or some linen, they pawned it all to keep themselves in wine. All they cared about was drinking well of it. The finished cloth and the weaving, the lathes, receptacles, and shuttles they had sold for a couple of cakes, along with all the apparatus of the looms.99 They drank more than was necessary. They sold their own property and that of others. They squandered and spent everything, so that they were denuded of all possessions, hence the tale claims that they were then changed into “bald-mice.” [2448–2470] Ah, how so many gluttons have perished through excessive drinking-bouts and for their foolish debaucheries! These outrageous spendthrifts, these gluttons, drunken debauchees, who have no other god than their belly – everything is lost as soon as it enters there – and the only works that they accomplish are to waste their money. In order to satisfy their gluttonous bellies, they sell their furnishings and inheritances, their fields, lands, and dwellings. They hide themselves in these taverns. They guzzle and gulp down those wines just like a bottomless vessel. The wine ruins and destroys their bodies, their souls, and their wealth. Anyone who loses so much through his gluttony has no great intelligence at all. [2471–2488] These gluttons, full of debauchery, when they have spent all their money, pawned and sold everything, travel round the countryside in rags, all naked and stripped bare, so they sleep for many seasons under the rafters of houses. And many, around crossroads, spend the night hiding in the forks of trees, while others, for money, become murderers or robbers of people, so that some In the evening or at dusk. In Ovid (Met. 4.415), tenent a vespere nomen, i.e. Latin vespertiliones, “bats.” 98 Bats: chauve-souris is of course the standard French, but the moralization relies on identifying them as bald. 99 … Orent despendus a deus subles / Et tout les hostis des mestiers, vv. 2463–2464. Or tout les hostis des mestiers could be “all the tools of their profession” (following de Boer’s note) but des instead of lor makes that less likely. As for deus subles, Rouen (fol. 104r) clearly has a .ii. subles, so the reading is not in question. While soble can mean “a weaver’s beam,” which seems like relevant vocabulary, Godefroy equates suble with simble, “pain ou gateau de fleur de farine,” and “a couple cakes” is a better fit for the grammatical context. 96 97

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of them are hanged for it, and made to “flap around completely naked through the air.” Much evil and much harm come to those who are constantly drunk. Drunkenness is wicked excess that destroys human nature. It corrupts the blood, shortens life, weakens and damages a person’s body, for it deprives them of thought and entirely confuses their ability to reason. It clouds the senses, binds the tongue, and moves a person to whoring. And it makes the wise behave foolishly, disbelieve in, and renounce, God, and it makes them reveal secrets and say things that must be hidden. It leads people into error and clouds all their good thoughts. And it draws them into the defilement of bad company, for it causes people to be loud and quarrelsome, and starts brawls, thus it ruins earthly goods and spoils physical ones. Thus it removes everlasting joy, which is so sweet and delightful, and leads souls into hell, to suffer eternal torment. It is wicked to maintain such a practice, which can lead to such an end. [2489–2529] {I} can give another interpretation to this. These “three sisters” rightly signify three different types of sin, with which I see the whole world stained, and their “chambermaids” represent those who willingly submit uniformly to these three different types of sin. These three sisters cause God to be scorned and his commandments to be broken, without fear of his anger and his vengeance. One is concupiscence of the flesh, the second, which is worth no better, is concupiscence of the eyes, and the third is pride of life.100 These three sisters have “a great household,” because everyone is obedient to them. The three of them “spin and weave cloth which cannot be finished off,” because nothing can suffice to fully complete their undertaking. He who strives to serve them can have neither peace nor rest. No matter how much he has, he will always lack all the more for what he wants. Concupiscence of the flesh seeks the comfort of the flesh and the delight of wine, foods, and bed, and, to cut a long story short, whatever can delight the body of man. Concupiscence of the eyes inflames men and women to every greed and to the covetousness of all riches and all wealth, all jewels, all adornments, fine garments, precious accessories, beautiful horses, beautiful tableware, and it puts all its effort and attention into having whatever delights the eyes, whosoever it distracts or benefits. [2530–2569] The third sister, that is, pride of life, wants to be honored and served, feared, and exalted on earth, to acquire honors and dignities, and so wants to diminish, enslave, and trample everyone else underfoot, and to have dominion over everyone. The soul that serves such a mistress is truly sorrowful and 100 Compare 1 John 2:16. See Bonaventure’s distinction between the lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, and pride of life in Brev. III.9, also discussed by Aquinas in ST I–II q. 77. Concupiscence of the flesh reveals itself as gluttony and unchastity; concupiscence of the eyes as avarice and envy; and pride of life, as conceit of anger.



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wretched, and it deserves a truly deadly reward.101 Anyone who has to serve these three sisters has to profoundly enslave his soul, and those who choose to do all their bidding have many reasons to grieve. For however much a person delights in pride, which tramples them underfoot, in avarice or in a passion of gluttony or lust, they will never delight in it so much, and never truly find as much sweetness or solace in it, as they will find bitterness in it, for no earthly joy will ever be great enough for anyone to rejoice in it completely without regretting it. A sinner cannot fully achieve what they want without feeling that something more is missing. [2570–2597] For this reason, without a doubt, I can compare the person who has fixed their heart upon and subjugated it to mortal sin, to the winged creature one calls a bat, that is a hairless mouse, bald and tiny, which flies around at night in circles. They “fly around in circles and at night” who fly around in the shadows of iniquity, performing works of vanity, without directing their effort to a work of perfection.102 Such people, who unite in doing evil, go into hiding and flee the brightness and the true Sun of justice. But when their service comes to an end they will have due payment for such work: they will receive eternal death for it. And they will hear howling around them the vile and stinking devils, more full of wickedness and rage than any wild beast, who will drive them before them. Those sinners, who will be bewildered, will then go off in sadness and grief, flying like bats, denuded of virtues, in the darkness of error and misfortune, in the great dwelling filled with misery. There they will have no light, because from now on they have no interest in it. Rather, in dark night, they will pay the price in sorrow and moaning, in damnation in the fire of hell. [2597–2632]

101 Compare Revelation 22:12, Job 34:11, Psalm 28:4 (Vulgate 27:4), Isaiah 40:10, and Matthew 16:27. 102 See the moralization at vv. 2633ff. Aquinas details the three ways to perfection in chapters 7–10 of On the Perfection of the Spiritual Life. The first way to perfection is the renunciation of temporal things. The second, the renunciation of fleshly affection and marriage. And the third, the denial of our own will. Bonaventure is also intently preoccupied with the path to spiritual perfection. In the Prologue to his Commentary on Ecclesiastes (ed. and trans. Karris and Murray 2005), he notes that temporal goods and vanity cannot appease man’s desire since he is made for the eternal. Spiritual perfection is the main topic of the Journey of the Mind Towards God, and also of the Triple Way (or Love Enkindled), an extended commentary on chapter 4 of the Journey. The Prologue to the Triple Way discusses the three ways in which humanity comes to know God. Then, Bonaventure highlights the three principal modes of explicating Scripture: the moral, allegorical, and mystical (or anagogical). For Bonaventure, the three levels of interpretation correspond to a threefold hierarchical action: purgation, illumination, and perfective union. Purgation leads to peace, illumination to truth, and perfective union to love. Once it has mastered all three the soul becomes holy (i.e., perfected). The three approaches to Bonaventure’s triple way are: reading with meditation, prayer, and contemplation.

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{T}he tale can have another meaning. These three sisters signify, without a doubt, three states of perfection. They put all their effort into serving Jesus Christ and do not deign to become slaves to the vile vanities of this world. But with a simple, pure, and blameless heart, they work in the service of God, in the house of Holy Church. And while the others waste their time – those who abuse the wine of delight, which gets them drunk and mindless so that they each stumble and totter along the path of iniquity, away from the path of truth – each of the three sisters, with her conscience as her guide, dedicates herself to how she might be able, by the candlelight of faith, to weave the cloth of virtues to adorn her soul, to embellish and equip herself with a beautiful and pleasing robe to meet the judge, who is coming to render to each one his due. [2633–2656] The warp of this weaving consists of doing good, the weft comes from honest living, and the crimson dye, which illuminates the whole cloth, was that of perfect charity. [2657–2662] Now I will tell you the truth about the three sisters. One is continence: she is the one who keeps the conscience and the body pure, without being foolishly complicit in any vile filth of gluttony and lust. The man and woman who, for God’s sake, keep themselves pure and unadorned in a state of virginity or of chaste widowhood, without any carnal company, belong to her household.103 The second is the state of marriage, which God created to increase the human race and to populate the earth. There are men and women who, in order to acquire a lineage and to bear fruit, are moved to get married, and behave loyally in their marriage, and fully uphold the sacraments of Holy Church, and fear God and his justice. They give generously to the poor, all for God’s sake, in charity, if they are rich and have means. Or they are the peaceful and silent poor, who willingly accept their poverty without complaining too much about worldly loss and without having too much affection for worldly profit, so that what they have satisfies them, and they give thanks to God for everything. Such people, to my knowledge, belong to the number and the company of the sisters who have woven the cloth that will become a delightful vine, pleasing and acceptable to God in the domain of paradise. [2663–2700] The third sister, in my opinion, is the state of ecclesiastical authority. She has the dispensation to govern the entire household and organize the weaving work that she and the others are doing. All the others obey her, and fittingly so because God has made her complete mistress, prelate, and commander of his spiritual house. She must set an example for the sisters of how to work, how to do well, and how to continue the work. And if she knows anyone who does wrong, she must correct and admonish them, so that they refrain from doing wrong. If there are those who, in spite of entreaties, accusations, or admonishments, do 103 For v. 2675, C has Dieux lez tient de sa maisnie, “God makes them part of his household.”



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not take to correction after they have been castigated, she must punish those who transgress, since they refuse to heed her warning. For this reason, God has elected and preferred her over the common people. [2701–2725] The ministers of Holy Church, who have the responsibility and the learning required to teach the common people and illuminate the world, are placed in their authority, and if, with devout commitment, they deliver what they have promised to God, and multiply the bezant104 entrusted to them as they should, if they receive mercifully those who come to penitence, and if they are pure and full of innocence, without pride and without avarice, without gluttony and without malice: such people keep watch over the earth and diligently apply themselves to weaving the enduring cloth that leads to eternal life. [2726–2743] These three sisters and their maidservants, these three states, these three forms of grace and perfection, with diligent attention strive to serve God, in the house of Holy Church, in peace and safety, without disruption or disturbance, as long as the “day” of peace lasts. But the “dark night” of unbelief and heresy must come, by which the faith will be obscured, and Holy Church will be raptured, and the wicked one will rage against the saints, who will disdain him and venerate God in their hearts. He, wanting to enslave everything and have himself venerated as God, will dispatch his wicked messengers, crueler than wild beasts, in order to search out and test the good. And those he discovers to be good, he will have destroyed. But some, quaking, will flee, sad and moaning, one here, another there, hiding in the porches of Holy Church, for fear of the death sentence which they will be frightened of – like bats,105 without “fur,” without excess of worldly prosperity. They will have wings of perfect belief and of firm hope, without fraud or guile, attached to the four feet of the Gospel. And never as a result of persecution or grievous tribulation will they abandon their steadfast heart, but until death they will fly about, with good deeds and firm hope, in the state of perseverance. [2744–2785] [miniature, fol. 106r: death of the minyades and their transformation into bats]

104 This is the French term corresponding to the talent in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30 and Luke 19:11–27). 105 Lit. “bald mice” as noted above, so “without ‘fur’” follows naturally; compare v. 2470 above.

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Phrixus and Helle106 {A}bove, I told and recounted to you about the three sisters, the daughters of Minyas, who scorned Bacchus; for this, Bacchus took such harsh vengeance that he turned them into bats because their contempt bothered him. Now all the people of the land feared Bacchus, and served him and stood in awe of him. This made his aunt Ino very happy. She put all her care and attention into recounting his miracles. Her nephew, who was so mighty, made her become very prideful. She became very arrogant on account of her children, on account of her own power, but even more on account of the valor and honor of the powerful Athamas, her husband. [2786–2803] [miniature, fol. 106r: phrixus and helle riding across the sea on the marvelous ram]

{A}thamas was a powerful king of Thebes, full of great hubris. He had two sons by Ino, his wife, and two children by another woman, named Nephele. One of them was Phrixus, and the other Helle. One was a youth, the other a maiden: no king or queen had children so beautiful, or more courteous or better made. To see them was a great joy. They were so noble and compassionate, gentle, peaceful, and modest that all the world wished them well. Their stepmother lamented greatly the good qualities the children possessed – so much that her heart almost broke. In her focused hostility and her envy, she thought that, if the children lived much longer, they would be masters of the land. She readily wanted to find some ruse through which they would be thrown out of the realm and her sons would become heirs.107 She put all her thought into this. With great malice, the disloyal woman set her mind to doing harm. She showed well what a woman can accomplish when she applies herself to doing harm. [2804–2833] She put all her care and zeal into disinheriting the two children and expelling them from the land. Everywhere, she secretly forbade the peasants of the region from sowing anything other than boiled grain. The peasants all followed the queen’s command because she was so misbegotten, and of such wicked descent, that she would have put to death all those who disobeyed her command. Due to the cooked grain they sowed, the land could never bear fruit. All the people grew incredibly distressed because of the famine. By request of the queen, who had given them much wealth, the preachers and priests said and preached everywhere, and made the lower classes believe, that they were 106 The

story of Phrixus and Helle, beginning at v. 2804, is not in the Metamorphoses, although it is referenced in Heroides 19 (Hero to Leander), the source material for the next tale. It is included in Hyginus’s Fables (number 3) and the Vatican Mythographers (see Pepin 2008, 22–23, 163–165, 330–331). 107 In Phrixus and Helle’s place.



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persecuted throughout the region in this way on account of Phrixus and the maiden, and that they would always endure such famine so long as those two were in the kingdom, for so it had been ordered by the gods, who no longer wished them to reside there, and that because of their negative influence, all the country’s grain would perish. [2834–2860] The news spread everywhere and everyone held it to be true, just as the priests led them to believe. They didn’t want to let the kingdom perish on account of two people, no matter how virtuous or good they might be. They decided to execute or exile Phrixus and Helle, since it was by their presence that the people had to suffer such affliction, pain, and famine. Thus, they drove the youth and the maiden out of the country. [2861–2872] Sad, sorrowful, and terrified, the children set out wherever Fortune guided them. They traveled to and fro for so long, and kept going day after day, by night and by day, without taking a break and without a pause, that they came to the sea. They wanted to cross, but at the time there was no ship on which they could cross. They did not know what they should do, and they did not know which way to turn, for they dared not retreat backwards, nor could they continue forward because the sea obstructed their way – unless God guided them. But God, who is always thinking and watching for those who need help, came to their aid at this time, because “Jupiter,” without any delay, sent and gave to them a ram, whose fleece was all golden. They will cross the sea with little effort on the ram Jupiter sends them, without looking for another path! I do believe the ram will carry both of them to safe harbor, if it doesn’t disappoint them, in any case. [2873–2900] This present brought them great joy, and they said to each other, “Let’s get on, and cross on this sheep, since god sent it to us.” At once the two children set out on their journey on the back of the sheep.108 The sheep swiftly plowed through the sea, swimming valiantly. Helle, who was more weak and feminine, could not bear the waves and tempests of the sea. The great waves frightened her. She was thrown into the sea and drowned. The sea where Helle perished, in memory of her death, is called the sea of Helle109 after her. The sheep, carrying the youth easily, swam with great strokes, swifter than a bird. The boy was grieving for the maiden, but he swam so far through the sea on the sheep’s back that he came to shore. He landed right on the island of Colchis. There, according to history and the story both, the sheep was sacrificed as a sign of victory: Phrixus devoutly offered up his sheep in the temple of Mars. [2901–2928]

108 “The 109 Or,

back of” added for clarity. Hellespont.

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Moralization Now it is right that we tell you the historical and then the allegorical readings this tale signifies. [2929–2930] [miniature, fol. 107r: ino, phrixus, and the golden ram]

Ino had the cooked grain sown in the earth, I believe, and she corrupted the sowers, the farmers, the laborers by entreaties and threats, promises and falsehoods, and she gave so much of her wealth to deceive the false priests that the gluttons, full of avarice, consented to her wickedness, and in exchange for her money, they made the foolish people everywhere believe that the earth was in such famine because of Phrixus and the maiden, for the powerful gods hated them. The foolish people, who believed them, to save themselves from dying had the children exiled without any guilt or wrongdoing on their part. Thus the false priests subjected to harm those who had no guilt – and they knew it well. It is no new thing,110 in my opinion, that false priests, being consumed with avarice, have done and consented to many a wicked deed. It was through covetousness that Jesus Christ was sold and captured and crucified, and the false priests slandered him by bearing false witness against him. The children crossed the sea on a small galley. Helle, who had a weak and soft heart, was afraid of the waves of the sea, and so she fell and perished in the sea, the wretched girl. When Phrixus reached the shore, he reverently made an offering of a sheep to the god Mars. [2931–2969] {I}no can be understood as evil and dissolute desire, which harmonizes with a prideful heart,111 with which many men are afflicted. From “her” come pillagings, murders and wrongs, adultery and whoring, larceny and false witness, all blasphemy and all tort. It lays a person low. It consigns the body to destruction and the soul to perdition. From “her” come all wickedness, all ignominy, all mortal vice. It is this very “Ino,” I believe, who had the “cooked grain” scattered—that is, deadly deeds, that bring people to perdition.112 But God, in whom all good things abound, Father and Savior of the world, who 110 Lit.

“neither of today nor yesterday.” Ino’s husband. 112 Because mortel operacion, which we translate “deadly deeds,” is also singular, the antecedent of qui met gens a perdicion, v. 2987, could be considered ambiguous, or a double entendre. According to v. 2981, “Ino,” moralized as the wicked will, brings the soul to perdition; if we assume a progression and not a restatement, with the context of Romans 2:6-11 – that people will be judged by their deeds – mortel operacion seems more likely to be the antecedent for v. 2987 and we translate accordingly. The alternative would be: “It is this very ‘Ino,’ I believe – who had the ‘cooked grain’ scattered, that is, deadly deeds – that brings people to perdition.” In any case, the more or less direct association of the cooked and hence unfruitful grain with perdition also resonates with the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:1–23, Mark 4:1–20, Luke 8:4–15). 111



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does not want to let us perish, gave us the “golden sheep” to deliver and save us, and commanded that we climb onto it in order to safely pass over the waves of the sea and the tempest. The “sheep”, to my understanding, stands for virtue, discretion, and rational understanding: it is the “sheep” of which the story speaks, that had the golden fleece, for reason with discretion is worth far more than fine, purified gold. The “golden sheep” had a head: charity, which is the head and lady over all the soul’s virtues. It had “two horns”, because charity must have two extremities if she is perfect and whole, each of which is inclined towards the other. First, one is oriented towards God; then the other is oriented toward one’s neighbor. The “feet of the sheep” are prudence, fortitude, justice, and temperance,113 which rule the rational faculty. Those who have “climbed on the back of this sheep” live well and safely, they pass through the dangers of the world that plunge and swallow up the worldly under the waves of confusion, and they vanquish the temptation of dissolute desire. Those who know how to “hold on to the sheep” can easily struggle against the world and avoid its tempests, and arrive at the port of salvation. Through it, “Phrixus was saved.” Phrixus is the good spirit that wisely struggles against the world, avoids worldly delights and lives in contemplation, and passes through the grievous perils of the world without any defilement. But “Helle perished under the water.” Helle can be understood as the fragile and dissolute flesh that falls through vain temptation, and gives itself over without discernment to deadly evils, allowing itself to be drowned and overwhelmed by worldly delights that are vain and fleeting, harmful and perilous. [2970–3042] Afterwards, the text goes on to tell how, following the tribulations and harsh persecutions Phrixus endured at sea, he came to Colchis, and there, the sheep was offered up to the god of war. Whoever traverses the perils of the world without being drowned or destroyed is, without a doubt, a mighty warrior indeed, and is worthy of honor and glory and achieves a distinguished victory. [3043–3053] {I} might alternatively take Ino to mean Eve – who, at the instigation of the devil, who deceived her, plucked the deadly fruit, took possession of it and, against God’s will, bit into it – by way of whom the seeds of death were scattered and sown in the earth, and all people were starved. Eve, the first mother, was the wicked, bitter stepmother who, by the fruit of the apple that she bit and made the man bite,114 caused the whole human race to be exiled and placed in bondage in this world. And when they had lived in this world in captivity for as long as they were forced to dwell here, they came to the “deep sea.” It was turbulent and storm-tossed, full of tempests, and dark; its nature was to seize and swallow everything, so that no one could escape it. That is, 113 The 114 The

four cardinal virtues. original sin of Adam (and Eve), who bit into the forbidden fruit.

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they came to hell, full of darkness, turbulence, and woe. And so everyone was forced to go that way, and no matter how long they delayed, they were all doomed to drown, for no one had the power to avoid that crossing or make it through to the port of salvation.115 [3054–3084] But God, in order to rescue the human race from this danger, from this crossing, and pull us out of that sea, sent no ship other than his dearly beloved Son – that is, the pure and clean and spotless Lamb that wore the golden fleece of the honored Virgin’s womb, into which God, to take on human flesh, came down like dew on wool.116 He is the sheep that, without saying a word, suffered death and martyrdom and butchery and pain. He is the ram of great valor, full of strength and great power, that fought using his horns for the deliverance of his ewes against the cruel wolf and struck it down. He is the sheep; he is the Lamb; he is the valiant and fast-moving ram that, according to Scripture, carried on his back the dual nature of captive humanity – that is, the soul and the flesh – and passed through the waves of the sea, that is, the world turbulent and bitter, full of tempests, full of dangers. Phrixus can represent the spirit that, without doubt and with certainty, bravely and virtuously suffered all temptations and all tribulations, and always had steadfast hope in the Father and in his deliverance. Helle, who drowned in the sea, represents the flesh, which was terrified by death that she realized was so close, and so was swallowed up by the tempest, just as David stipulated.117 Phrixus means “grated,” because the Son of God was grated and completely torn and broken like when we use a grater to take the crust off bread, and he passed through the bitter sea to the port of eternal life and rescued his followers – those who were waiting for his coming – from hell. And those who didn’t believe in him remained dead and destroyed in the waves of the infernal perils; those who had steadfast hope in his blessed birth, in his death, in his Passion, and in his Resurrection, reached the port of true salvation. The wicked, the heretics, and the heathens, who refused to believe in God, perished at the bottom of the infernal swamp. Neither his glorious victory, nor the death and sacrifice of the innocent and sinless Lamb he offered to “the god of war,” ever did them any good, or ever will. [3085–3149] [miniature, fol. 108r: hero in the tower and leander undressing to swim]

115 Lit.

“of salvific [i.e., eternal] life.” “rain,” but likely a reference to Gideon’s fleece in Judges 6:36–40, for which “dew” would be more appropriate than “rain.” 117 In the Psalms. See for example Psalms 69:1–19 (Vulgate 68:1–19), 83:15 (Vulgate 82:15); but also a general reference to David being “swallowed up” by sinfulness. 116 Lit.



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Hero and Leander118 {A}bove, you heard the tale of how Helle was drowned at sea, hence the sea was given the name of Hellespont. I’ll set aside telling you about the stepmother, for I wish to tell of another tale, in order to include more material. [3150–3155] On the shores of this sea that is named Helle, there was, in the city of Abydos, a rich and powerful man of high birth. He had a handsome and noble son, well-mannered and well-educated: this was Leander, who gave his love to the beautiful Hero, a maiden born in Sestos. Both loved each other very much but the sea, which divided the lovers, frustrated them greatly. Hero lived on one side, in Sestos, right on the seafront, and the maiden’s beloved was on the other side, in Abydos. All there was between them was the strait of Hellespont, that ran between them and separated the beloved and her lover. [3156–3173] At night, when people were asleep, the youth went swimming over the sea to his beloved, without a ship or bark, even though it was quite a distance. He did not dare visit the beauty with the lovely body in a way that might be public knowledge, so that their love might not be found out. For a long time, the whole thing stayed secret. Every evening – after dark, so no one would see him – the youth set out en route to the beauty, to take his pleasure. He wasn’t afraid that anything could harm him while he was on such a journey. He took all his satisfaction and pleasure with the bright-faced girl, as long as the night gave him leisure. The next morning, before daybreak, he left; and in the evening, he came back again. Every evening, the beauty, who watched from the windows until he came, kept watch in a tower. She signaled the right way with a burning torch that she had, which directly guided him there. He followed the light of the torch, and thus, he had his satisfaction with her freely, just as he had done the night before. [3174–3200] They kept up this practice for a long time before it became known or was noticed by any man: no one knew, except for them and a little old woman, who had raised the girl. He and she had a good time, and they would have been happy indeed if it had lasted longer, and if they had not encountered an obstacle; but the sea keeping the lovers apart made them suffer and opposed them. One day, it was all stirred up and mean, full of storms and winds that stirred it up very much and raised enormous waves. The sea was now greatly to be feared: no man could cross it in any ship or bark he might have, and no one dared to put to sea. The storm lasted for a long time – so says the text – without letting up. The dreadful storm that vexed the lovers made them incredibly upset. Each one cried and lamented, day and night. Every hour seemed to them a day. Leander was stuck in Abydos with little pleasure, since 118 Not in the Metamorphoses, but in Heroides 18 (Leander to Hero) and 19 (Hero to Leander).

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he hadn’t been to bed for seven nights and had forgotten comfort and joy. He could not wait to see her with whom his heart and thoughts resided. He was very sad and anxious. He went to sit on a rock by the edge of the sea, so as to behold the city where the bright-faced beauty dwelt. Many times it seemed to him that he could see the burning torch she held out of the tower window, looking for him. It displeased him very much that he could not be there. He greatly lamented and bewailed the sea, the storm, and the winds that were against him. This managed to most terribly distress his heart. [3201–3245] “Woe is me,” he said, “what a failure I am. Who holds me back from going to the most beautiful woman in this world?” Love – that burned and tormented him very much – distressed and aroused him so much that he took off the clothing he had put on, then jumped into the sea. He was so distressed by love that he thrust himself into peril of death. The sea slammed into him and knocked him back as the waves rolled in. The young man went under three times; he came very close to drowning. When he got to his feet again, he was incredibly frustrated: he realized he could not go on like this, could not endure the waves at sea. It weighed on him, but nonetheless he was forced to abandon his plan.119 [3246–3263] {H}e greatly wailed and lamented and cried. [3264] “Woe is me,” he said. “Will the hour ever come when this sea is appeased? It’s making an incredibly wicked attack on me when it tampers with and disturbs my purpose. It wasn’t any wilder and rougher when that girl drowned, who baptized it with her name so that it is called Hellespont. Beautiful girl, loved above all else – my heart, my joy – when will the storm cease? When will I be able to see you again? Why couldn’t it have worked out so well for you and me that we could have been born in one city and the same kingdom – then I would be with you and you with me? I am incredibly distraught and upset because of this sea that separates our bodies, while our hearts are joined. It’s impossible for the sea not to frustrate me, since it opposes us and stands in our way. The obstacle is very narrow, and yet I am no less vanquished than if it were the wide ocean, when I cannot have my pleasure with the woman I love so much. [3265–3290] “Truly, it would less trying for me to be at the furthest end of this world. The closer I am, the more I am called to seek the love of the beauty; and this sea confines us so much that I cannot go to her, although I can almost reach out my finger and touch her. I resemble the wretched man who, dying of hunger, holds an apple to his mouth and yet cannot consume it. If I couldn’t actually see my beloved, I could stand here daydreaming, for as long as it takes until the sea calms down. This weather may well last a long time. I won’t be able to stand it that long. Whether wrong or right, whatever then happens 119 Lit.

“the route.”



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to me as a result, I must go to the beauty in whom I have placed my love. I’ll cross the sea somehow and have my satisfaction and pleasure with her whom I desire so much, if love deigns to allow it; or, if love wishes for this to go badly for me and for me to drown in the sea for her sake,120 then I will be free of this vexation. I will drown at sea if that’s what happens. I pray to god, if that should happen to me, that I make it across dead, so that the wretched woman finds me and weeps for her dead lover. She will know she was the cause of my death.” [3291–3321] With that, the fool threw himself into the sea. He was foolish to love so much that he loved another more than himself. He did not die of thirst at sea: he swallowed so much seawater that he couldn’t help drowning. At no other time did such misfortune come of a young man so brave and so wise. Love killed them both121 due to their immoderation. [3322–3329] [miniature, fol. 109r: hero in the tower and leander swimming]

{H}ero the beautiful was in the tower, very much longing for the return of her lover who had delayed for too long. She greatly lamented such a delay: [3330–3338] “Poor me, he is very greatly delayed! Dear sweet beloved, please come and comfort your beloved. I have no doubt that if you delay longer, you’ll find me dead, without fail. Love torments and distresses me so much that I cannot bear it. I cannot endure so much. How can you cause such terrible suffering? I know your love for me is strong,122 but you can do without fulfilling your desire more easily because you have a stronger heart, and so you can find many comforts when you aren’t with your beloved that I won’t find at all. You find plenty to distract you and comfort your pains, like hunting in the fields and rivers or in the large and dense forest with the young men of your own age. I am the one who waits here alone, without company or comfort, for I have no one to relieve me of the ills I feel from being in love. Woe is me, cursed be this sea that tampers so with my desire! My lover’s delay afflicts me and makes me suffer greatly. I desire him desperately, god help me. Why does he hold back from coming? Perhaps he has an excuse. An excuse? What excuse? Why, the wind that blows or the sea and storm that don’t let him come here. Perhaps he doesn’t deign to come. He doesn’t deign to? Woe is me! Does he not deign to? Does he despise me? Certainly not, but the sea is overwhelmingly against him. Yesterday it was peaceful and tame; he could lui, v. 3314: for Hero or for love? The OF is perhaps intentionally ambiguous, to provide a double meaning: Hero is interchangeable with love itself. 121 Mort l’ont amours par lor outrage, v. 3329. The love in both of them killed them both. 122 Lit. “I know you love me strongly.” 120 Por

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very well have come then. Oh god, why has he held back from coming here at nightfall? Many times he came, to my mind, in less time and sooner. Now the sea is rough. If that’s all it was, if I were him, I wouldn’t care if this weather never subsided, if I could hold in my arms my love, my joy, and my comfort; upon my life,123 I would never even have asked for this storm to subside. He would never have been daunted by the sea or the wind. I would have been a great lady,124 and well before now. [3339–3387] “Oh, god, it’s so terrible of him not to come. I remember well that he came many a time when the sea was even stormier. I was very gullible when I took him to be so bold as to fear neither wind nor journey. Where is this great fear of his coming from? If he were as tormented by love for me as he used to be, I have no doubt at all that he would have come back to his beloved. He wouldn’t ever have caused her so much suffering. Nevertheless, I would be fine with him suffering this to continue until the sea gets calm, as long as he keeps to his purpose and doesn’t take another beloved – I wouldn’t want that at all! God help me, I would rather be dead than lose my lover or have him become intimate with another woman; indeed, I think he would hurry to come here more if that weren’t the case. In that case, he would be harder of heart than timber and more false than any man there is! If he betrayed me in that way, he would have well deceived me up to now! I never noticed that he ever held me in contempt, nor did I ever reprove him for anything, nor did I find anything that suggested it to me, and for that reason, I’m not saying that at all – but I love him with such great love that I can’t be without fear. That’s why I fear that I love him, nor do I have any fear, except because he is so long delayed and I don’t know the cause of such delay; and so I’m justified in having some doubts, because I don’t know the truth. Beloved, may god bring you back joyously, so that I might see you again safe and sound, soon and without delay, so that you might kiss me with great love and hold me in your arms; indeed, I think you are staying away because of the roughness of the sea, and not to love another woman. Certainly, if I lost my lover, I know well that I would die of suffering. But, if it please god, that will never be. My lover will never be false; he will never trick me; rather, he would have come, no matter what I say – but the storm holds him back. Woe is me, how this foul weather holds! How the waves rush forth across the sea! My whole 123 Lit.

“my head.” dame fusse, v. 3387. She seems sure he would have married her: here the OM removes an anxiety that Ovid’s Hero has about the possibility of their marriage, while keeping her fear that Leander might have found another woman. See Ovid’s Heroides 19, from Hero to Leander: “At times I’m afraid lest my race harms me, and a Thracian girl / be considered unfit for marriage to Abydos. / Still, I could bear all things patiently, so long as I knew / you didn’t spend your time with a rival, captive, in idleness, / and no other’s arms came about your neck, / and no new love was ending our love” (Kline). 124 Grant



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heart skips a beat on account of the gloomy weather that I see. I’m incredibly sad and woeful! And you, Neptune, god of the sea, you were once in love; but now you wage war against my lover. Would you have been happy, if likewise someone had waged war against you when you were in love? What praise and glory will you get from killing such a young man? His death would be a great loss. He is greatly noble of heart and body.” [3388–3454] The maiden went on lamenting like this, and even more so, morning and night. She could not find peace or joy. Always her heart and words were of the one who was nearest and dearest to her. A hundred times a day, she went to the shore to see if she could find a messenger there that she might see coming from Abydos and who might give her news of him, but she couldn’t hear any news of him at all. Every night, the beautiful maiden watched up in the tower, where she waited for him, and she held her burning lantern to show him the right way. But Fortune, who waged war against them, and the wind, which interfered with them, extinguished and put out her lantern, with which she was supposed to guide the young man. That caused the youth to drown because he overwhelmingly lost heart, since he had lost his guide, who showed him the right way. The beautiful maiden kept watch nonetheless. For seven nights, she did not sleep and her eyes were never shut so much as a single moment. Every day, she saw him when she slept, and it seemed to her that she embraced him, had all her way with him and that they both lay in one bed: then she had a little bit of pleasure, but it was lost to her in very little time. On waking, she sighed and wept; she prayed that it might come about that she might hold him again as she had seen him in her dream. [3455–3490] “Dear, sweet beloved, this lie can be transformed into great joy for us. Think, beloved, to return to your beloved out of love. Don’t be anxious or afraid anymore. If it please god, you will cross and accomplish your desire. If you don’t have the heart to come all the way to shore, then at least come halfway, and I, if god guides me, will come meet you to comfort you: at least, if I can’t manage any more than that, we will hold each other’s hand and kiss each other on the mouth, but that would be little or nothing. We would both desire to pursue our affair in the midst of the sea. It would be better for us to come to shore, then we could have our satisfaction and pleasure together at leisure. Woe is me, why am I so ashamed? If I were not so embarrassed, I would never have been so afraid or in such distress over love: I would have gone to him openly and I would be neither hungry nor thirsty, nor afflicted by anything that might happen to me, if he could keep me with him. I would never have been without him. But I’ve been too afraid of getting a bad reputation. Love and shame don’t go well together, it seems to me. One is too contrary to the other, because love is used to doing all it wishes, no matter what happens, good or bad, and shame doesn’t go along with anything that isn’t reasonable. When love wants something and shame doesn’t dare, anyone who submits to shame is an utter fool. Anyone who submits to shame

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is an utter fool. Nevertheless, there are many who won’t allow their will to come to fruition because of shame. That’s what we should have done; then there wouldn’t be this awful trouble. My lover would not be crossing the sea every night to seek me out, nor would we be so fearful of the assaults of the sea that confines us. Beloved, be safe and sound, and may god keep you from misfortune, as far as it lies in his power to do.” [3491–3541] Thus the suffering and grieving girl lamented and wailed, but the unfortunate maiden did not know what had happened to the youth: he was floating about the sea, dead. No one ever saw a maiden come to such a tragic death as when she found out the news of it; but she had no word of it yet and lived in dread. In the midst of the great grief she felt, the maiden fell asleep, but she hadn’t been sleeping for long when, in her sleep, she had a dream that scared her very much. [3542–3555] [miniature, fol. 110v: hero pulls leander’s corpse out of the sea and embraces him]

The dream was that she saw a large dolphin that, dead, was coming across the sea straight towards the shore, and when it arrived at the port of Sestos, she mourned it greatly, it seemed to her. She cried so much that she wet her whole face and her whole countenance. At once the beauty awoke and got up. She came down from the tower without delay. She hastened to the sea and saw the man she loved so much floating, dead, in the ocean, and how the waves were pushing him around. When the beauty saw this loss, she felt so much grief that she almost lost her mind. I do not want to give an account of her grief: no grief compares to hers in any way. She jumped into the sea with her lover. She embraced him extremely tightly. Her heart was greatly distressed over him. She kissed his dead body and held him tight. Arm in arm, she died beside him: she drowned in grief and in the waves. She clearly gave him a sign of her love, when she was willing to die for him at sea. Never in death, or in life was their love divided. Then the lovers arrived straight in the port of Sestos, out of the terrible sea. [3556–3586] Moralization {N}ow I will explain this tale to you and tell you the allegory and the meaning it represents. Leander, that is, the dissolution of someone who puts all their attention in foolish love and foolish burning, loved Hero, that is, lust, who was “born in Sestos by the sea,” because all the power of love, all its cause and nature, and all feminine lust, originates in the sexual organ125 of the woman. 125 In the French, the spelling of the name of Sestos (Sexte, v. 3594) seems to be tweaked

to be the same as the word for the sexual organ (sexte, v. 3598), as the basis for connecting them.



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Hero “holds the flaming torch” with which she sets her lover on fire, for love burns and inflames the heart that gives itself over to love, and causes the lover to hasten through the perils of the sea, completely naked, in the dark of night, for whoever suffers the attacks of love has more misfortune, perils and tribulations, torments and persecutions than if they were swimming naked in the sea. “The bitter sea” is another name for love affairs:126 there is nothing but bitterness in them. [3587–3611] Leander was swimming naked in the dark of night because foolish love strips, despoils, and denudes the lustful and the dissolute. It tricks, darkens, and blinds them, for it takes away all their understanding and knowledge, and all goods that a person might have. That is the origin of “the storm and wind that stir up the ocean and put out the flame of the torch,” because love reduces a man or woman to such a wretched state, to such abject poverty – having nothing to sell, surrender, give, or spend, and having expended all their wealth – that the men or women who once loved them, and called them beloved, would wish to have killed them. No one deigns to love them anymore. That is the storm of the sea, because of which the firebrand or torch, which dies out faster than a fire of straw, is soon extinguished and put out. That is the deceitful and false love of those who, to get what belongs to them, once used to deceive them, but, since they can get no more out of them, have no more use for being in love with them. They all drive them off and toss them out, more so than the endangered swimmer is tossed around by the sea. Everyone tosses out an indigent love. No one has any interest in being in love with someone poor. [3612–3646] Now, the lust is snuffed out in someone who is not loved and has no beloved, and who has no desire for love at all. They apply themselves more to worrying than to fornicating. A poor person has no inclination to love. Their heart is so sad and sorrowful, full of heaviness and anguish because of the discomfort and anguish of poverty, that they hate all levity, and if they wanted to cultivate the pleasures of love while in poverty, they would not be able to sustain them on account of the suffering that grips them. Whoever cultivates foolish love is a fool: it robs and despoils men and women of honor, wealth, body, and soul. [3647–3663] {I} can explicate all this another way. I can take Hero to mean and gloss that Divine Wisdom that refines everything, begins everything, and sweetly orders everything. By Leander, I can rightly understand man or the human race; by Sestos, the high seat of heaven;127 and by Abydos, the world. I can interpret the narrow and deep sea as this mortal life, in which we have no 126 De mer amere ont amours non, v. 3610, reading non as nom “name” altered by the rhyme: the alternative would be “from the bitter sea they [= lovers] have no love.” 127 Here the text is establishing a difference between Augustine’s City of God and City of Man. Sestos was the home of priestesses tending to the sacred fire, hence a holy place.

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other vessel than our bodies to aspire to the joy of the heavenly hill,128 where Divine Wisdom awaits us, guiding and directing us through the sea of the world, provided we follow the right way that his lamp129 shows us, if we live according to the example of his deeds and doctrine. That is the brightness that illuminates every person in this bitter sea. That Divine Wisdom is the one who loved the human race so much, in my opinion, that in the beginning he placed it in paradise, to live with him joyously. There, the human race was very happy and humankind had great comfort and delight in the sweet, in the delightful, bed of paradise, with its beloved; but his enjoyment of this good did not last, for their love was divided, and thus humankind dwelt off by itself in the world, in sorrow and sadness, full of anguish, full of distress. And, to double its troubles, it could not reach by day or night – in other words, dead or alive – the port of paradise, for the storm of sin blocked his passage, and the wind of temptation, which is the evil sway of the devil, who blinded, deceived, and tricked it. Insofar as he corrupted it, the devil extinguished the brightness in humankind, the grace and teaching of divine exhortation that humankind must follow and adhere to, if it wants to come straight to the port of salvific joy. At that time, humankind lost the right way,130 and sin made it go astray. That caused it to perish and drown in the waters of hell, without relief. But Divine Wisdom, who had placed his friendship131 in it, resolved through his grace and pity, in order to pay the ransom for humankind and seek after it, to come down from heaven to earth and take on human flesh through a woman, and hand himself over to a sentence of death for humankind, whom he loved so much, and so he dragged it from the bitter sea of hell to the salvific port full of eternal delight. [3664–3731] [miniature, fol. 111v: juno approaches the hellmouth and confronts cerberus (?) within]132

128 La joie / De la celestrial monjoie, vv. 3676–3677. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. Montjoie, p. 77. See Hebrews 12:22, Isaiah 2:2, Psalms 24:3 and 43:3 (Vulgate 23:3 and 42:3). 129 Compare Psalm 119:105 (Vulgate Psalm 118:105), Psalm 43:3 (Vulgate 42:3), John 1:5 and 1:7, John 3:19, James 1:6, Isaiah 57:20, Revelation 21–23. 130 Compare the straight and narrow path of Matthew 7:14 and the opening of Dante’s Inferno 1.1–7. 131 On the relationship between human beings and God as “friendship,” see our introductory lexicon, s.v. ami, amistie, p. 71. 132 We see a man’s body with three apparently canine heads: the illuminator may have taken the text’s reference to “the gatekeeper” (li portiers, v. 3801) too literally, as one who has to be able to open and close the gate he guards (the doggy Cerberus on fol. 191r notwithstanding). Less likely, this is a representation of the three Furies.



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Juno Sends the Fury Tisiphone to Torture Athamas and Ino {I}no treacherously forced her two stepchildren into exile for no reason, as you have heard, but in the end it turned out badly for her, for no one can commit treachery without paying for it sooner or later. The gods took very cruel revenge on her for this transgression, which she committed with them as a pretext. This brought her great loss and great sorrow, for all of them bore animosity towards her for it. Above all the other gods, Juno bore her the most hatred, and hated her whole lineage. She had great disdain in her heart for the prideful way Ino acted. She felt very angry and heavy-hearted over it. She wouldn’t have much self-esteem if she did not cut Ino down to size and humble her great pride, and so, inevitably, she thought and decided: “Already my rival’s son, Bacchus, whom I cannot love, was able to plunge the sailors into the sea and to cause a mother, like a wild beast, to cut off her son’s head and tear the limbs off his body. He showed me what I must do to those who will anger me and those who will transgress against me. I can learn from my enemy. Ino is all too accustomed to transgressing against me, indeed she scorns and disrespects me. I will find out quite soon133 whether I have any might or power, and she will experience my malevolence.” [3732–3765] Juno came down from heaven. She went to hell without delay, in order to cause sorrow and harm to her proud-hearted enemy. The path was twisted and dark, filthy, slippery, and muddy. All along the way were large thickets of deadly trees and shrubbery. The path was at once barren and quiet, disagreeable and displeasing. There, the Styx gives off vapors, full of hateful rancor. The path is neither smooth nor level: it is full of thorns and thistles, thick with cold and pallor. There, the souls go about in a great throng, and seek the infernal way that guides them to the home of the dark god. In truth, the city has a thousand entries and a thousand gates, ready to take and keep all those who are wont to come there. Indeed, hell will never be full nor will it refuse anyone. Souls make their way down there. Some become traders. Most buy and sell or ply some craft, as they did in life. All of them are paying for the foolishness and the evil deeds they committed in the world, and are punished according to their transgressions.134 [3766–3797] By that abominable path, Juno came there, sad and woeful. She entered into hell, and when the gatekeeper saw her, he reared up his three heads and gave three barks simultaneously. The gate of hell shook and trembled, sensing the goddess coming. The lady now called the three goddesses, the three Furies, the three ladies of madness, who were sitting in front of the gate, combing

133 Lit.

“without much delay.” distorts Ovid (Met. 4.443–446), who says that some of the souls do as they did in life, while others are punished. 134 This

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their serpent locks. These three, when they saw the lady, got up from where they were and came to meet her. [3798–3812] Juno looked and saw the punishments of those in hell, who were constantly suffering, and will suffer, without any relief; and, if the story tells us the truth, there was one there who daily presented his innards to be eaten by vultures – he is named Tityus.135 Tantalus continued to receive poor hospitality, because he was dying there of hunger and thirst, for he had water and the apple136 next to him, from which he could have no relief. Ixion remained there in great discomfort, lying face down on a wheel, full of flaming gear-wheels,137 that never stopped turning.138 Sisyphus labored at pushing a great boulder up a hill. The Belides139 tried their best to draw in a vessel without a bottom the fleeting water and accomplished nothing. [3813–3833] Juno saw all of these in damnation, then she looked mainly at Ixion and Sisyphus, and said: “Why does Sisyphus, alone of his line, suffer such torment without proud-hearted Athamas, his brother full of arrogance, pride, impertinence, and pomp? He and his wife hold themselves in such high regard that they disrespect and disparage me, and don’t want to obey me. Their pride truly calls for hatred. I’m complaining to you about their impertinence, and I want you to drive them mad.” In this way, the lady complained and made her plea to the gods of hell. She entreated and flattered them greatly, then, as a queen and a powerful woman, commanded them without flattery, and wanted Athamas and his wife to be punished without further delay. Tisiphone lifted her head that was unkempt and gray. The commotion had disturbed her greatly, and, without any tedious contention, she said that whatever Juno had asked them would be done without delay, but that Juno must leave right away. It wasn’t right for her to remain there, where she felt so much grief and anger, in a place so painful and sad. Juno happily went back, and the three sisters, without further delay, set their minds to accomplishing the request. [3834–3867] Tisiphone prepared herself. She grabbed a bloody torch. She entwined herself with serpents. Her dress was stained and soiled with loathsome and vile blood. She left hell, and carried with her, in her countenance, tears and fear and dreadful terror and frightening madness. She sat down on Athamas’s threshold and took 135 Tityus

is there because of Juno: he tried to rape Leto at Juno’s behest. Ovid (Met. 6.459), “the tree you grasp at, eludes you” (Kline): Tantalus is suspended from a tree that keeps its fruit forever out of reach, over a pool that withdraws from his grasp. 137 Plaine de roes tous ardens, v. 3827, perhaps to be explained by reference to Ezekiel 10:9–10. Otherwise, for the meaning “gears,” see FEW, s.v. rota. Meanwhile, B has broches, “spikes.” 138 His punishment for trying to seduce Juno. See Fulgentius, Mythologies 2.14. 139 Lit. “granddaughters of Belus”: the daughters of Danaus who killed their husbands. Their story is told in Book 2, vv. 4567ff. 136 In



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up the whole entrance, and she made the whole hall shake and the door grow pale. The sun fled the whole palace. Ino was terrified by the wondrous and marvelous sight. Athamas, who felt the madness, panicked and marveled. He wanted to run away but could not, for the Fury that had stopped at the entrance opposed him. She stretched her arms, covered in snakes, around the whole entrance and flailed her dreadful head around. Around her the snakes, which coiled around her shoulders on both sides, and were stinking and full of filth and spat out rottenness, then hissed loudly. Tisiphone pulled two of them, large and hideous, out of her head. She threw them on the breast of Athamas and his wife and they filled their hearts with stinking flame and venom, but they never caused harm to their body or limbs: it was their mind and heart that they wounded. From fruitless error, dark forgetting, sadness and wickedness, tears and cries, contention and fury, homicide and evil fury, she had cooked up and prepared a drink, mixed with bitter hemlock and blood, and she poured it over them and threw it over their chests and hearts, and completely filled their bowels. Then she circled around them, whirling a flaming fiery torch, to cause them even more hardship. The wicked one had successfully accomplished what Juno had enjoined her to do! She grabbed her snakes and reattached them, then returned without delay to the shadowy realm. [3868–3921] [miniature, fol. 112v: ino, holding melicerta, throws herself into the sea]

{A}thamas was filled with madness. He completely lost his memory and reason. He went running about like a beast at bay. In the middle of the great hall, he encountered Ino, who was carrying her140 two sons, Learchus and Melicerta. His perception was so troubled by madness and rage that he did not recognize his wife: he thought she was a wild beast. He chased her throughout the palace, threatening to inflict a painful death on her and her two sons. He thought they were two lions, led by a lioness. It certainly seemed he was losing his mind, for he chased his sons to kill them! Learchus started to laugh at him. He reached his arms out to him lovingly. The father, consumed by madness, knew neither love nor pity. He grabbed Learchus by the arms; he pulled him very angrily; he tore him away from his mother’s neck, and the madman struck him against a pillar so hard that he died. In incredible distress, Ino bore her son Melicerta away. She fled, with hair streaming, shouting like a madwoman: “Euhoe! Bacchus,” she went on crying. Juno was laughing at her, enjoying the harm that was coming to her. Ino fled, full of frenzy. In the sea, quite close to shore, there was a natural cliff, hollowed out at its base. It was high and steep. The madwoman climbed up there without great difficulty, 140 The expression, repeated numerous times, is ambiguous and can be both “her” and “his” two sons. This creates a dramatic effect, emphasizing both points of view.

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for her frenzy led her. From there, she threw herself into the deep sea. The surf engulfed the two of them.141 [3922–3963] Moralization {N}ow I want to explain to you these tales, the meaning of which is very profitable. Juno signifies the lower atmosphere,142 from which copiousness of all fertility comes into the world, and famine and sterility, because the various climate zones cause variations in weather, hence abundance or famine. She is “lady and queen of the world”; she is “goddess of power, pride, and nobility”: “Juno” is indeed the lady of the world, for down through the air comes that which produces in abundance the plenitude of temporal goods and corporal delights by which the world is sustained. And whoever has a greater abundance of them is considered more powerful, and all show him reverence, all honor him and all fear him, all dread him and all love him, all hasten to serve him so as to deserve his love. And this is the origin of nobility, because, when a man abounds in riches, he is feared and exalted, he advances above all others and is considered a noble man, no matter what station he might have come from. From power143 come the vices: pride, envy, avarice, sadness, gluttony, and abject and shameful lust, that is, the vice that brings shame to everything.144 [3964–3998] Pride emerges from it first,145 for as soon as a man notices that he is powerful, he does not have any regard for God or man. Rather, in his opinion, he is greater than King and Lord of paradise, or should be. Then he acts as lord and master and wants to bring everything under his control, and wants no one to doubt him, rather he wants to enslave the whole world and make himself feared and served, and, should anyone disdain to serve him, an envious discontent is born of this, that dries up his heart, makes it sizzle and seethe. He is obsessed with the goods of others; when he sees them increasing in worth, then he strives to surpass them and if he cannot, he becomes very bitter over it. Pain and anger are born of this, that cause his heart great distress. Then grief and distress are born, which deprive him of all joy of the heart, and then, to obtain some outward comfort, it so happens he goes astray. Then he has to 141 Ino

and her child. “the low air.” 143 Interesting and evolving meaning of richesce throughout this passage, from “riches” to “power.” 144 As Dante points out in his organization of the Divine Comedy, where lust represents the first circle of hell and the final terrace of purgatory before the garden of earthly delights, lust, a sin of incontinence, is one of the easiest to slip into. However, for Aquinas, lust is more grievous than theft and less grievous than direct sins against God, and sins against those already born, such as murder (see ST II–II qq. 153–154, esp. q. 154, art. 3). Here, the OM and Dante share the view of Gregory (Moral. xxxii, 12), that sins of the flesh are less grievous than spiritual sins. 145 On pride as the root of all sin, see the note to Book 1, v. 984. 142 Lit.



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hunt and track in order to acquire, accumulate, and pile up riches. The more he has, the more he accumulates and the more he heaps and stacks up. Then greedy covetousness is born, that so inflames and goads him that, the more he has, the more he covets. He expends great effort and achieves nothing, for nothing he has suffices to him, and he has neither ease nor profit from it. Ah, God, what a wicked and treacherous sin he has found in avarice, which can never be satisfied! Of avarice is born gluttony, which demands carnal delights – good wines, good food, and great excess. Then is born the filth and abjection of lust, which soils everything. The soul that sullies itself in these two springs, which are incredibly foul and vile, is very foul and rancid: these are the springs of hell. From these same two springs arise, with great outpouring, the rivers of confusion from which all iniquity abounds, and they spill out through the whole world and flow down at great speed into the lake of hell full of stench. Every land is sullied by them. Juno, who is the lady and mistress of the world, has power over them. The goddess came down from the heavens and came to the vile and terrifying place, that is, to dreadful hell, because she wanted to cause shame to Ino, just as the tale recounts. [3999–4061] The foolish angel from paradise long ago fell into hell because of his pride, pomp, and foolish presumption. God had formed him with great care, beautiful above all other creatures, and had him partake of the joy of heaven, but pride, that leads the foolish astray, deceived and betrayed him, so that he fell to the depth of hell, to the place full of misfortune, darkness, pain, and filth, and because of vain, deceitful pride, he lost eternal joy. Then God made man, who would still have had it, and who, by humility, would have been able to ascend to the place from which the wicked one had fallen, due to his pride, but the devil, who, on account of his folly, had lost the glory he was supposed to have had, strove out of envy to deceive, betray, tempt man, in order to take away and supplant the joy, good fortune, and glory, which endures without end, that had been prepared for him. Thus it is, that the soul is sullied in the deadly rivers and drinks from them; and so that he could deceive it even better and engulf it even more easily, he presents and puts before it all the vain delights of this world, which are in his custody and in his gift, to have its pleasures freely. Thus he seduces and deceives it, so that the woeful soul chooses the ease and delight of the world, and the goods that are deceiving, transitory, and fleeting, and thus separates itself from its creator. At that moment it took such a damaging turn! It left the heavens, where its throne was, and fell into the place full of misery, that is, hell, horrid and vile. That is where, in my opinion, those who seek after worldly riches, honors and graces, vainglories and transitory delights go down. Those who spend their life in pleasure and abuse temporal goods, the devil sends to hell. [4062–4112] {N}ow I will tell you what the way there is like. The path is twisted and shadowy, thorny and full of thistles, pallor, and cold. The madness and tort,

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treachery, trickery, falseness, and robbery of thieves, robbers, and wicked troublemakers who wrongly cause harm to their neighbors, make the road to hell tortuous. He who strays from loyalty goes by this twisted path. The path is made dark – and fraught and dirty and pale and shadowy – by error and false belief, heresy and unbelief, and the darkness of sin. These things stain the hearts of many people, whose unbelief puts them outside the faith of Holy Church, and who do not want to worship, serve, fear, or honor God, nor believe in the Incarnation, his death nor his Resurrection, nor the Second Coming, nor baptism or sacrament. He who goes astray from truth goes by this dark path. There are trees, full of sadness, woe, and deadly sloth. The woeful, the angry, the sad, the slothful, the ignorant and weak-willed wretches who fall asleep in their wickedness and never want to do good, take shelter under these deadly sins. Avarice and covetousness, which stab and goad weak hearts, and wicked sharp envy render the path harsh and thorny. He who goes astray from charity goes along this thorny path. Worldly goods, vain and changing, make the path slippery, so that one cannot hold to it. By this path are accustomed to come to hell those who give into pleasure, the arrogant, the vainglorious, who go seeking vain glories and transitory delights. To hell come by this path those who forsake twofold moderation. Wickedness, abjection, and the abominations, the great stench and filth of gluttony and lust, make the way foul and muddy. The gluttons, the lustful, who are beyond chaste abstinence and strive to fill their belly, go along this stinking path. Just as the world, which divides them from the true path, leads them astray, the souls go along this way to eternal suffering and death. [4113–4180] God, how dreadful such paths are, and how unfortunate it is to follow them! No soul can return from hell, once it has entered. The entrance is always open to receive new arrivals, but I don’t see anyone coming out. The city has a thousand entrances, for the world causes more than a thousand forms of sin to be committed to draw souls to hell. And there is such a throng of new arrivals that the crowd is always thick. Hell is always ready to take, but does not have the inclination to give anything back, rather it holds the sinners captive. Oh, God, what a woeful lodging! All those who will be lodged there are taken and fettered in bonds harsher than iron. [4181–4200] The torments of hell, to which they are condemned, are varied, and everyone is tormented differently according to his merit. Thus, as the tale tells, Tityus was imprisoned in hell. Since he transgressed in the world and lived dissolutely, he is subject to such condemnation, martyrdom, and punishment that he has his heart eaten out by vultures and his whole face gnawed every day of the week, until, on the seventh day, he feels it be reborn to feed the vultures.146 Thus, his dreadful misfortune is renewed and starts over every day, and his suffering is 146 In

Ovid (Met. 4.457–458), his guts are spread “over nine fields” (Kline).



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eternal. Tityus, as the story says, was a man full of trickery, who lecherously propositioned147 Latona148 and wanted to defile her. [4201–4422] Tityus can represent those who want to corrupt and damage holy religion by false pretense and who, through the false semblance of loving, betray God and their neighbors, and go about barking defamation and disparagement, slander and gossip, like dogs, by means of which they go railing at, and defaming, good people behind their backs. Such are the envious of the world, the wicked flatterers – may God confound them! – the cheaters and the harmful, the traitors and deceivers, and those who befoul the world, who think one thing and say another, false deniers, false hypocrites, who have scorned and violated and defiled religion. They are false and wicked beneath the surface, and play the outwardly innocent, compassionate, holy, and meek, so as to achieve vain glory and deceive the world. Do they think God does not see them? Outwardly, in public, they perform their hypocrisy, and, on the inside, the cunning and guile with which they are filled lie hidden. They do not dare to show this openly, lest their fraud be apparent and their treachery revealed – for they might yet deceive many people who would otherwise be able to see through them. These kinds of people are eternally damned to hell alongside Tityus, who serves up his entrails to the vultures daily. [4223–4259] Tantalus remains there with him. He languishes with hunger and thirst, in water up to his neck, and with his teeth and mouth touching the apple: when he wants to eat, the fruit escapes him. When he wants to drink, the water, running right in front of his face, flees. Thus, he suffers and goes mad from eternal hunger and thirst. Tantalus was, according to the tale, a very powerful and very rich man, but he was so miserly and stingy that, instead of any other food, he had the gods eat one of his own children.149 He had an evil and garrulous tongue, slanderous and scornful, because of which he suffers such punishment in hell that his base and vile tongue, with which he sneered at God and the world, covets water and can drink none – indeed, he always has it right in front of him but cannot quench his thirst with it; and he sees the apple that touches his mouth from time to time, and always hopes to 147 Compare

Titus 3:2. the mother of Apollo and Diana. 149 The usual explanation for why Tantalus served his son, Pelops, as food for the gods, was to test their omniscience. Here the OM says he was too miserly and avaricious to serve them any other food; but in v. 4302 below it still recognizes him as “Tantalus, who tempted the gods,” which clearly resonates with biblical passages like Exodus 17:2, Deuteronomy 6:16, Matthew 4:7, and Luke 4:12 (“Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God”). Aquinas, ST II–II q. 97 specifically addresses what it means to “tempt God,” and concludes that it consists of relying on God’s help “without any useful or urgent motive.” The OM’s focus here on rich misers as “those who tempt God” (v. 4304) makes sense inasmuch as they are leaving God to care for the poor when they have more than ample resources to do it themselves. 148 Leto,

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eat it, but he cannot alleviate his hunger with the elusive and deceitful fruit. This suffering, or something like it, is borne by the covetous who are miserly and stingy, who are rich with temporal goods and can never get enough of them; rather, the more possessions they have, the more they covet and amass, the more they gather together and pile up, and the more they burn to obtain riches. And they will never have so much that they wish to be generous with it. Rather, they lose God on account of their wealth, just as Tantalus did, who tempted the gods, for no matter how much he had, it was never enough. Such will be the torment of those who tempt God, who disparage him, and who hold God’s poor in contempt and crush them against all reason, as well as those who, with their filthy and foolish tongues, speak idle words in God’s house and disturb the divine office. They will suffer eternally in hell for their wickedness – if Scripture does not lie to me – such a punishment as Tantalus suffers, and they will be drenched in sulfur, fire, storm, hail, ice, and snow all mixed together. Oh, God, what a painful drink those who will drink from their cup will have! Anyone who serves the devil is foolish, since they merit such a wicked beverage and consign their soul to perdition. [4260–4322] Next to Tantalus was Ixion, laid face down on a wheel, full of flaming spikes more trenchant than a well-honed scythe.150 The sharp wheel turns constantly, rending and tearing and ripping him apart, bit by bit, but he will never be so torn apart that he cannot be put back together in an instant, to be maimed all over again. In great suffering and hardship, he is delivered to eternal death. Ixion was, according to the tale, a man who, in his madness, indecently propositioned Juno: he wanted to make her his mistress and his lover. Juno did not consent to it at all. When he could not have her by entreating her, he tried to force her, and very soon he would have defiled her, but Juno hid herself under a dark cloud; he pressed against it and made it pregnant with his seed. From the seed and the cloud together, it seems to me, monsters full of filth and vice, wickedness and malice were engendered: they had features of both men and horses and were named “centaur” or “cloud-born,” or “sagittarius.” And, for this, Juno has Ixion endure such a death in hell eternally. [4323–4354] You will briefly hear the meaning and interpretation of this tale. We can take Ixion to represent those who have chosen earthly delights and the comfort of the world, and neglect God in order to do their will in the world. And they certainly do not think at all that this world will ever fail them, nor the honors, titles, delights, or riches of which they make wicked use. Rather, they think that they will live prosperously in the world forever. But that is not the truth at all: the world fools and deceives them. Anyone is very foolish who does not realize how the world is deceitful, and its goods, vain and changing. It is no 150 These spikes are plus tranchans que folz esmolue, v. 4326, and the comparison suggests they are rather like blades, slashing as well as piercing.



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more than a dark cloud that troubles the sight, sense, and understanding of the worldly, so that they cannot clearly discern what is right, what is moderation, what is loyalty or insult, where their advantage and disadvantage lie, what they should take or reject; rather, they value everything the same. Their hearts are so bound and captivated by the vain love of this world that from them is born, grows, and overflows all the filth, vileness, vice, iniquity, wrong, and wickedness that they commit in this mortal life, and for which they are damned on the wheel along with Ixion. [4355–4391] Sisyphus is nearby in hell, without a doubt, where he takes pains on account of the transgressions he committed in the world: he carries uphill on his shoulders a large, round rock, from the low valley to the top of the mountain. The ascent is very steep and grueling. When he has carried the rock to the top, he lets it fall151 back down to the bottom, and he runs after it to the low valley, then picks it up again and carries it back up. Every day, his suffering and death begin like that, never ending. The tale leads us to believe that Sisyphus was a trickster, a traitor, a defiler, son of the god of the winds, Aeolus, and the brother of Athamas, on account of whom Juno became so angry and went down to hell. He certainly acted in keeping with his lineage: he was prideful and full of rage, a murderer and robber of people. He killed many of them for their money. He killed and struck down many of them, and, for that, he is tormented in this way, and will be, eternally. A similar torment awaits the thieves, the robbers, and the wicked fleecers who dupe, betray, rob, despoil, and murder people, and cause great harm to the poor out of desire for money. They will be damned alongside Sisyphus, and will carry the rock on their shoulders. [4392–4428] Very close to him in hell are the false granddaughters of Belus,152 who murdered their sleeping husbands, and, on account of the transgression they committed, are in hell in such great suffering that they forever hope to fill bottomless vessels at a fountain, and take pains to drain the fountain, but they accomplish nothing, for they will never be able to draw water from the fountain with the bottomless vessels. They exhaust themselves forever without accomplishing anything, and they are eternally damned without end. This is the sentence meted out in hell for false, demented women. The disloyal ones with false hearts, who corrupt their marriages and murder their loyal spouses, or poison or betray them, draw water with bottomless vessels, and so do the false husbands who do this, and those who, for reasons of greed or to gain an inheritance, seek the death of their neighbors, relatives, and cousins.

151 Originally,

it rolls back down on its own. fifty daughters of Danaus, named for their grandfather Belus (see Book 2, v. 4567ff. and Book 10, v. 115). 152 The

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Such torments, similar ones, and others so much more grievous153 that the mind cannot grasp them, nor the heart conceive of them, nor the tongue recount them, exist in hell to punish those who were wont to lead a wicked and unlawful life in the world. The torments are very painful and dreadful – alas for the souls that are damned there, that they were ever born! [4429–4463] In front of the entrance there are three Furies, three goddesses of madness, sitting on three separate seats, and all they do, or aspire to do, is braid their serpent hair, and guide and direct the souls along the road to hell. They do not want any of them to go astray and not arrive at the city of hell. No one passes without receiving a mark from one or two of these, it seems to me, or all three together. These three ladies of madness drive man and woman into such frenzy, madness, and anger that they can no longer think, or speak well, nor does it please them to do anything good. [4464–4480] The first, Allecto, seats herself in the heart, which she spurs and goads so that she leaves no peace in it, nor concord or rest, rather she troubles all its good intention and fills it with heavy hatred, anger, envy and animosity, wickedness and sadness, villainy and sloth, treachery and filth, and every other iniquity that occurs to the heart and mind or that can possibly be thought up. Such a guest is harmful to lodge. [4481–4494] We are accustomed to call the second sister Tisiphone, the scold, who sits on the treacherous tongue. She induces slander and scolding, and so she makes quarrels start. In brief, she causes the saying and speaking of all evil and all filth, all treachery, all insult, all scorn, all baseness, all harm, all wickedness, all offense, and all reproach that can be on the tongue and in the mouth and that might provoke defiance. [4495–4507] Megaera, the third, resides in deeds. She is the one who loathes every good deed and aborts every good work. She stirs up and exhorts every transgression: acts of theft, violence, murder and robbery, larceny and tort, adultery, usury – in brief, any way a person can sin by their actions or by harming others. Besides thought and spoken word, it all comes from this Fury and her influence. For that reason, the tale claims that these three sisters indicate the road to the city of hell, for without any iniquity one might have done or said or thought, through deed or mouth or thinking, no one is condemned to dwell in this woeful abode, nor should they be, nor could anyone find the path unless one of the sisters guided him. But whoever bears their mark passes through the gate without question. [4508–4531]

153 Reading greables, v. 4455, as grevables. This appears to be in keeping with the prose OM in British Library MS Royal 17, fol. 68v, where we read plus griefs. The alternative – “so much more incredibly delightful” – would have to be ironic, which would not be typical of the OM.



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However, the way forward is extremely dangerous: they have to pay a toll to the horrible and hideous gatekeeper, whose heads, one plus two in number,154 make him seem to be a rabid dog. He eats passers-by. No one passes through there without leaving his skin, and so a great band of people passes through, who are all skinned on their way by. Cerberus is the name of the one who plucks and scalds those who pass through more harshly than hot oil. He takes the wealth, eats the body, and tosses the souls into hell, as soon as they arrive at this pass. For that reason, some claim he has three heads, that make him look like a rabid dog: for just as a mad dog does not spare either beast or person, and rather bites and harms everything, so too this gatekeeper does not spare anyone who arrives at that gate: he takes, devours, and bites everything. This gatekeeper can be understood as death, which devours men and women three times: in possessions, body, and soul. [4532–4557] Juno, goddess of political power, witnessed the suffering of the damned, for the powerful are imprisoned in hell because of the power and the crimes which they embraced in the world: many murders and betrayals, many battles and wars, and many other types of harm on earth. She leads the prideful; she made Ino – that is, the will devoid of all goodness, that becomes over-proud from having power – go mad. [4558–4569] “Athamas” – a heart full of pomp, pride, and arrogance, the husband of the wicked will, as I’ve just explained – “was filled with rage and madness.” It seems to me that anyone who becomes prideful on account of their wealth, knowledge, and magnificence, loses their mind. “Athamas saw his wife, Ino” – the dissolute will – “carrying and embracing her two sons” – that is, transgression and slander, which are “sons” of the wicked will. Athamas confronted one of them that seemed to him to be a lion, that is, wicked action, which a prideful heart urges and impels to commit every disloyalty; but wicked action also condemns the heart to perdition, for it, in its turn, stumbles and is overthrown. Then “Ino,” the perverse will, runs away, woeful and distraught. Although she has lost the ability to harm or do ill to another, she still cannot hold herself back from speaking ill, deriding, inciting, and goading people by means of her “son,” slander, whom “she carries with her,” and who admonishes and urges on all ills, and runs so rampant through this mortal world that he tumbles into the lake of bitterness. [4570–4601] {I} can give the tale another meaning. Through the deadly consent of the dissolute will, the abundance and plenitude of grace in the heart of men and women fails: that is what starves a sinner and causes every good in him to diminish, and so he exiles the will and the heart and causes them to leave the 154 Here,

the OM takes care not to provide the numerology for the Trinity. In medieval numerology, one is the number of unity, and two, of division. Thus here, the numerologies associated with the heads are in conflict and further exacerbate the disharmony of Cerberus.

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place of their rightful dwelling and wander through a foreign land, in order to acquire foreign comfort in the fallible delights of the world; that is what submerges the wretched soul and puts it in danger on the waves of sin. When he saw the soul in such woe, God – our Salvation, our Savior, our merciful helper, in whom all pity abounds, who so hates the wickedness of sin that he cut off the human race from their inheritance – resolved to come down humbly from heaven, take on human and mortal flesh, suffer death and Passion, and descend into the realm of hell, which he went to visit in order to rescue and free his friends from the darkness and misery, to the point that he confounded, subdued, stuck down, and leveled the pride of the mad, wicked one who used to reign over every soul. [4602–4634] In accordance with the hidden meaning, I can say that hell is the heart of a sinner, which receives and is accustomed to lodge pride, envy, wrath and sadness, hatred, rancor and sloth, all avarice, all filth of gluttony and lechery and all the other types of sin. The more the heart is stained with such vices, such vile things, and such iniquities, the more it is subject to torment and suffering, that inflict endless torment, suffering, and agony on it in various ways. Divine mercy spiritually travels down into it when the sinner remembers and considers the transgressions whereby he has transgressed against God, the foolish thoughts, the foolish slanders that the wretch has thought and spoken. And he realizes he will die, although he does not know when, incurring divine judgment and wrath, along with the torment and martyrdom of the fires of hell in damnation, that he can expect in eternity, if he does not come to true confession before death besets and kills him. [4635–4663] Sometimes the sinner succeeds, by means of grace or fear or intimidation, in compelling the conscience to cause quarrel and strife between the heart and the will to do evil. Then he bears, “writhing about the head,”155 profuse contrition for his deadly sin, with which he wounds the mind and body and inflicts suffering and sadness, weeping and groaning. Then every impulse and inclination towards malice, that inflames and incites the foolish heart to contemplate all sorts of wickedness, harm, and base conduct, flees. And so that nothing might enter or leave the heart that has the potential to befoul or degrade the soul, he must block and suspend its progress by spreading his arms wide, and brandishes the dread of God’s dissatisfaction, so that the sinner realizes that his wicked lifestyle has earned him suffering in hell and cost him the peace of heaven. Then his heart becomes distraught and he is inevitably overwhelmed with grief. The indignant soul, filled with the affliction of anguish and contrition, must lay hold of all wicked thoughts, all wicked desires, all wicked cravings for sin, that are used to mocking the sinner 155 The OM offers a remarkably positive (and somewhat puzzling) interpretation of the Fury at the door.



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and encouraging his heart to contemplate wickedness. Without a scrap of pity or compassion, it must dash and brutally strike them on Jesus, the rock of offense,156 and so kill the appetite to commit any sin, great or small. And it must drive out and expel from the hall, like a wild beast, a wild sow full of rage,157 the perverse and wicked will that has, to the detriment of the suffering soul, too long been mistress of it. [4664–4707] The will “flees with her child” – that is, her harmful appetite – as one who suffers and is in dismay. Do not think God does not smile when he sees the heart of a sinner in such anguish, fear, suffering, sorrow, along with sad repentance, for God is thrilled and delighted when a sinner repents of the sins that burden his soul, and when the will, changed from vain joy to pleading, weeping, and groaning, comes to him through true repentance to ask for indulgence and forgiveness for its wickedness. God has pity on such souls that weep and bemoan their sins, and bathe in their tears, in bitterness and anguish. If any soul is unable to weep or wash its sins in tears, let it place its thought and care in God, who allowed his side, feet, and hands to be nailed and pierced when he was hung on the Cross and stabbed by the nails and the tip of the lance, for the sake of the soul and its deliverance – and then it will weep, if it isn’t too hardened. Anyone who might pay heed to the pain of the shameful and vile death to which the Son of God resolved to subject himself in order to deliver the whole world, would melt into bitter tears. He was the rock, strong and firm, who suffered well and patiently the waves of denigration and heavy tribulations, and offered himself up to a bitter death, allowing himself to be crucified to bring the world back to life. No heart that ever thought seriously about this would, I believe, ever be so hardened as not to experience a great abundance of sorrow and bitter affliction, or melt into bitter tears so that sins are confounded. [4708–4755] [miniature, fol 117v: juno beseeches neptune]

Ino and Melicerta {A}bove, you heard the story of how Athamas, in his madness, cracked the skull of one of his sons, and how the mother, with the other son, climbed up the rocky cliff and jumped into the sea. As the tale attests, Venus, the goddess 156 Compare

1 Peter 2:6–8. Taking lee in v. 4703 as laie. From v. 3936, we might have expected the comparison to be to a lioness (Ovid’s leaena, Met. 4.514), but, following Isidore of Seville, Etmyologies XII.i.27, in the bestiary tradition the boar exemplifies ferocity (cf. ferae, Met. 4.515). For v. 4703, C has De hardy cuer de fier corage, “With a bold heart, with a fierce heart,” perhaps describing the beast that is the wicked will, or perhaps the way the soul should expel it. 157

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of love, was upset about this affair. She was their grandmother, and she took pity on them and beseeched Neptune out of love to, through his grace, make the two drowned ones into gods of the sea. Truly by reason of her lineage, she was entitled to have such privilege in the sea, for she was the sea-god’s niece. Truly Neptune had to love her: she was born from the sea foam and is named after the sea. Neptune granted her request. He dragged up all the mortal flesh of the two submerged in the sea, and gave them divine form and renewed their appearance. He called the mother Leucothoë and to the son, he gave these two names: Portumnus and Palaemon. Portumnus had power over the ports. He led and guided the sailors and brought them to joy and delight, for he was god and master of the ports. [4756–4785] Moralization {V}enus, the goddess and lady of love, who inflames lovers’ hearts and makes them dissolute with aimless rumination,158 made Ino, who dove into the sea – that is, the vain desire to love, which all on its own dives and sinks deeply into vain thoughts of love – a goddess. She renewed her form and named her Leucothoë, which, according to the gloss, means “white goddess” or “without filth.” The vain thoughts that come from love are so pleasing and agreeable, and seem so sweet and delightful to those who persist in foolish love and to whom it is so pleasing, that it seems to them there is no other paradise. “Venus remade Melicerta” – that is, slander, full of assurances and reproaches – “into a sea-god,” since after a person abandons themselves to love, no matter what a mocker, slanderer, or foolish blabberer they are, love will humble them. Love makes them soften their chattering and foolish tongue. Love teaches all the disciples of its school to supplicate, to make elegant petitions and elegant pleas. Otherwise they will never obtain what they wish from love, nor will they reach the state of love to which lovers aspire if they seek love’s delights. For one can hardly expect to win over one’s lover or beloved159 with promises. By elegant pleas and elegant petitions, the students of love regularly achieve many an exalted love, and gain their share of love. An elegant plea guides a person to their “proper port.” Anyone who cannot allow an elegant plea to soften their heart is overly hard. [4786–4827]

158 Reading cagitation, v. 4789, as cogitation rather than agitation. C has vaine for vague: “vain rumination.” 159 Son ami ne s’amie, v. 4821. See ami(e) in our introductory lexicon (p. 71): these are the masculine and feminine versions of the word, so “male or female beloved” would be equally appropriate. “Lover or beloved” reflects a medieval norm of men courting women and also tries to capture the extensive adnominatio in this passage.



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{T}here can be another interpretation. When God makes the soul realize and appreciate its folly, the sinner160 abandons folly and humbles himself before God through true repentance and bitter penance. Then comes Charity, who is lady over love, who inflames the heart of man and incites it to good friendship.161 She is one who made God, in his mercy, come down from heaven, take on human and mortal flesh, and join himself to the human race. She is the one who soothes and appeases the divine vengeance and wrath towards the one who weeps and sighs for his sins and repents of the transgressions he has committed, and recommits to doing good and guarding himself from evil. Indeed, God, who greatly loves the heart’s repentance through harsh penance, regards him with mercy. He renews and reforms him and “gives him a new form,” so that he might follow well and do good, so that he regains life and salvation in glory eternally. There are two things that guide the sinful soul straight to the port of life and joyous delight: those are bitter contrition of the heart, and satisfaction via good life and good works.162 That is the process through which the soul recovers its innocence and true purity and reaches the happiness of heaven, in eternal joy. [4828–4864] [miniature, fol. 118r: the theban ladies who followed ino turning into stones and birds]

The Theban Ladies Who Followed Ino {A}bove, you heard the tale about how Ino jumped into the sea. Those who had loved her the most – the women of Thebes – lamented her loss. They followed her as best they could. They tore their clothes and hair. They considered Juno to be very cruel and derided her viciously. Juno did not find it pleasant or seemly to have these women railing about her. She could not endure their mischief any longer and knew how to avenge herself very harshly for it. She caused them unbelievable misfortune: she transformed some of them into hard stone and others into little birds that go about beating their wings over the sea.163 [4865–4881] 160 Not the ame, because Si qu’il la lesse, v. 4832, requires a masculine subject. The man who has the soul is the one who does the penance. Il anticipates the celui of v. 4843. 161 On the question of Charity as friendship, see Aquinas, ST II–II q. 23. Bonaventure explores charity in Brev. V.8, and while he does not explicitly borrow Aquinas’s definition of “friendship” (adapted from Aristotle), he does define charity as the force of properly ordered attraction and the bond of perfect union. For Bonaventure, four things only are to be properly loved with charity: God, our self, our neighbor, and our body. 162 This clarifies the good works in v. 4852 and echoes James 2:26. 163 Ovid distinguishes between Ino’s Sidonian attendants, who were turned to stone, and the Theban women who were turned into birds. In both cases, Juno denies them the

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Moralization {N}ow I would like you to know what meaning this tale can have, and what company, crowd, and retinue this was, that followed and escorted to the sea the wicked will, which “drowns itself and dives into the deep sea waters,” that is, into the deadly sins of the world. Madness and cruelty, covetousness and disloyalty, theft, murder, and robbery, fraud, deceit, and trickery, and many other vices in abundance: these are the ones that follow the wicked will. And they do not leave her company until the soul has perished, unless God in his mercy manages to cause her to have remorse and hold back from her wicked deeds, and to bring her from the depth of the vices to true repentance, and maintain her in a state of purity by having her do penance. [4882–4904] I might compare hearts full of wickedness, treachery, and every vice, hearts hardened by evil that don’t care about penitence, to hard stone. Such a hard heart would not be able to pay heed to doing good or learning well, for the great hardness confines it, so that it can’t hold itself to any good. [4905–4913] Inconstant and changing hearts, fickle, vain, and fallible, that do not know how to be at peace or to keep their word – rather, their desires fluctuate according to the temptations they experience – are similar to flying birds. Now they are happy, now they will be sad, now they will be tempted to do good, now they get annoyed and couldn’t care less about good, rather they sin and transgress. It is possible that such people might undertake penance and suffering, but they immediately want to withdraw from it for a bit of temptation, without carrying to completion that good purpose they had. Such hearts, it seems to me, set out on the same path as the soul that weeps and repents, the soul that suffers in anguish, and that hopes through true repentance and the harshness of penance to achieve a state of purity and aspire to the blessed happiness that the holy souls will reach. But the hard hearts, the fickle hearts, will never reach that place. [4914–4940] {I} can give the tale another meaning. By the rocks, I can rightly understand those who firmly suffer all temptations, all burdensome tribulations, without being troubled or rattled; rather, they fortify themselves on the rock of patience and goodness, that is, God, who favors, comforts, and strengthens goodwill. Thus, he makes it patient and firm against all temptations, against the persecutions of the world and worldly dangers. Whoever anchors himself on this rock will never be drowned or perish on account of any misfortune that he might experience in the world. [4941–4957] And, it seems to me, I can compare to the birds those who lift their heart’s meditation high up to heaven on the wings of true contemplation, and apply themselves to serving and loving God alone. And they vanquish by good ability to dive into the sea with their mistress; thus v. 4870, “They followed her as best they could,” could be read as foreshadowing.



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patience the waves of the worldly sea, that is, all the temptations, the sufferings, tribulations, causes of anguish and distress, miseries and hardships. And they don’t anchor their hope on these worldly vanities, on the honors, prosperities, riches, delights, vain goods, or acts of vain wickedness, but instead they dismiss all these well-nigh worthless goods as fickle and transitory, and direct their course straight to the glory where there is eternal joy and peace. [4958–4980] [miniature, fol. 118v: juno concealed in a cloud]

Further Moralizations about Juno’s Descent into Hell and Iris Above, you heard the tale about how, and for what reason, Juno came to that enclosure full of misfortune, shadows, and darkness, and how she went about her business there. Then Juno came back out without further delay, and she wished to go up to heaven. Iris, otherwise known as the rainbow, who is so painted and colored, sprinkled and moistened her with water. Iris can be described in this way: as a reflection of the sun in a watery mist. Iris is bowed and curved in the form of a half circle. She drinks and draws water not to retain it, but to spread it about. To anyone who pays close attention, Iris is held in common and placed at the disposal of every man and woman, the poor and the rich alike, and, as Scripture states, Iris is a sign and demonstration of love, peace, and the covenant between man and divine vengeance. Now you will hear the explanation. [4981–5007] {T}his tale164 informs us that it is possible to acquire paradise through power and wealth. The other tale, in my opinion, shows and affirms to us how one acquires the torment of hell through the riches of this world, until God, in whom all good abounds – true sun and true doctrine – illuminates the heart of a rich man and makes him realize how little power, wealth, and worldly prosperity are worth. It is all empty vanity that might run away more than a watery mist, so he does not give them any attention or place firm trust in them at all. Rather, he endures both poverty and wealth with equanimity. And if he sees a poor man in distress, let him have compassion for him and give him a share of the goods God has given to him, and thus may his property be placed at the disposal of everyone in true charity, and may he live in simple humility, meek and subdued, compassionate and merciful. And for the goods he has, let him give thanks to God, who put him in such a position, and may he serve and honor him with those goods, and may he use them to give aid to God’s poor. And may he be full of good virtues, like the rainbow, which is dressed 164 The contrast between “this story” and “the other story” apparently starts with the superficial observation that Juno is a person of power and wealth, and in “this story” we see her go to heaven, and in “the other” one, we saw her go to hell. The moralization that follows straightens all this out: it all depends on how you view your wealth and what you do with it.

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and painted in different colors. On account of that, the rich man who will do this can be assured that God will never get angry over how much wealth he accrues; rather, through the vain goods of this world, that are changing and fleeting, he will achieve eternal glory. [5008–5048] I can add another meaning to this. When God has descended spiritually into a sinner’s heart, so that, by means of his holy fear, he has cleansed him of all vice and purged him of all malice through bitter contrition, along with fitting satisfaction through penance and good works, whereby the sinner recovers the state of renewed innocence, then, after carrying out penance, he must lift his thoughts to heaven through contemplation, and think of acquiring the joy that surpasses all goods on earth. And he must be moved to that by God, who is accustomed to spreading and raining down a great abundance of his grace into a heart of good conscience. The soul well sprinkled with such rain and such dew can go up to heaven easily. I might compare the rainbow to perfect and pure charity, that is to say, divine love, which, to fill165 the heart of man, causes the moisture, dew, and rain of grace to descend and come down into him, whereby the soul ascends and rises joyously to heaven, to think on God directly.166 [5049–5081] [miniature, fol. 119r: the annunciation by the angel gabriel to the virgin mary]167

{A}bove, you heard, it seems to me, how Juno, wife of Jupiter, lady of the highest station, resolved to go down into the infernal prison, into the fearful and perilous place, to confound the prideful. Afterwards, the tale recounted how the goddess went up to heaven when she had completed her business. And I have recounted to you the allegorical interpretation, which is well in accord with this text. [5082–5092] {W}e can give another meaning to it: Juno, lady and queen of the heavens, is Jesus, divine substance, who lives with God the Father and reigns in heaven, in his glorious kingdom, equal to the Father in divinity. Through his very great humility, to help us and save us when we had been condemned to perish by the biting of the bitter apple into which the first mother bit, he came down from the royal throne and heavenly seat. And to subdue the prideful, he resolved to submit and lower himself to take on our mortality and to go down into the realm of hell, in order to rescue and free his people. Then he resolved to resurrect

v. 5076: often defined as “defend, redeem, guarantee,” but etymologically it can signify “to fill” or “fulfill.” 166 Compare Bonaventure, Journey of the Mind to God, Chapter 1, section 7. 167 Fols 35r, 119r, 179r, 227v (where Gabriel has no wings), and 287v have comparable miniatures of this. 165 Replevir,



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from death and go back up joyously to heaven, into his high dwelling, where he reigns and will reign without end: his reign will never end. [5093–5115] [miniature, fol. 119v: cadmus falling down and transforming in front of his wife]

Cadmus and His Wife {A}bove, you heard the story about how Ino, in madness, tried to drown herself and her son; how Venus resolved to entreat Neptune for them, and she entreated him so much that he deified both of them. Cadmus knew nothing of the deification, but tearfully bemoaned the loss of his daughter and the destruction of his line. He grieved and lamented them greatly. To himself, he complained about Fortune, who was against him. Henceforth, he lacked all joy. He truly felt great misfortune in his heart. Now his loss and his past griefs were renewed once again. Now he had overwhelming woe and anguish. Never again was there a day when his joy was not exceeded by his pain and sadness. He was woeful and disconcerted. He left his land and fled in exile to a foreign country. He took his wife with him and they stayed on the road until they came to Illyria. They lived there in great poverty. Often Cadmus, consumed with grief, regretted his great loss. He was poor, naked, and scorned. He was forced to earn his living and work, if he wanted to live. He spent his woeful life in great poverty and great suffering. He often reflected on the pain he had suffered and on the loss of his line, and said: “By my great misfortune, I pierced the serpent with the point of my lance, nailing it to the trunk of the tree where I pinned it, and from its teeth, being sown, the armed knights were born. But since I did kill the serpent, I say now: I wish that hadn’t happened to me. I repent of it and wish to carry out my penance for it. If god wishes to take vengeance for this, I am willing to abide his judgment, and if it must happen to me, as the voice said, that I should be a serpent, I am very willing to become one, on account of the serpent that was killed.”168 [5116–5166] [miniature, fol. 120r: cadmus’s wife embraces him in his serpent (or dragon) form while onlookers are amazed]

{H}e stretched out on his belly. He became a serpent, indeed his scaly skin hardened and darkened. He writhed on the ground and leaned on his belly and chest. His thighs molded into one. Cadmus wept and cried out for his wife, and stretched his two arms towards her. And as he focused on his wife, calling 168 Qui fu pendus, v. 5166: “killed,” but also “hanged,” setting this up to be moralized as the Crucifixion.

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out to her, he lost the power of speech, and his tongue was suddenly cleft in two. Thus he hissed, for he couldn’t make any other sound. His wife, seeing him transformed, wept, howled, and beat her chest, and she lay down on top of the serpent and prayed to god that he turn her into a serpent just like the one she was embracing. Those who saw this marvel were marvelously amazed, for both became serpents. They slithered off to a wood. There, they hid and concealed themselves. Never again did they hurt anyone and they did not desire to do evil, rather they are peaceful and meek and steer clear of people. Liber was a comfort to them and a source of exaltation: he was descended from their line and honored throughout the world, served and worshipped as a god. [5167–5199] [miniature, fol. 120r: peasants cutting crops with scythes]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you according to the historical interpretation, what the story has us believe about Cadmus, who became a serpent. Cadmus was reduced to such poverty that in order to make his wretched living, he was forced to work the land, and so the prophecy of the voice he had heard, the day he killed the serpent, came true. Now he was forced to “become a serpent.” Chest to the ground, like a serpent, he pruned the vines, dug in the vineyard, and did the second plowing, and thus he earned his money. “Liber” – that is, the one who taught us the art and manner of arranging the vines – “lightened his worry, poverty, and misery,” for he took to cultivating vines in order to feed himself and his household. [5200–5219] {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation. Cadmus, to my understanding, represents the tribe of Judah, who, if Scripture does not lie to me, originally left Egypt in exile, terrified and distraught about having a steadfast home; but God, Sun of Wisdom, wanted to guide and help them, and he guided the “ox”169 to deliver them and guide them straight to where they would dwell. The ox that never veered off course represents Moses, who was born noble and not enslaved. He is the ox, which had two horns on its head, just as those who looked Moses in the face said about him: he had two resplendent rays of light that were manifest about his head. He is the ox that led the tribe of Judah, and guided them straight to the Promised Land where Judah made their dwelling place. He is the one who devoted his attention and care to divine worship, who fixed the snake to the tree in the desert, pinning it to the wood, and drew water from the holy spring – that is, from God, the life-giving and healthy water of salvific wisdom. And he sowed the holy belief and the law of the Old Testament,

169 As

noted above (p. 263), the OM revises Ovid’s “heifer” (Met. 3.15) to an ox.



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and then Judah was in high estate and ruled in prosperity. But because of the iniquity of those who descended from them and lived dissolutely, their reign came to an end and their line declined, and through their dissolution they lost the Promised Land and their rightful heritage and fell into bondage to others170 and were errant and exiled and scattered throughout the world, poor and full of discomfort. [5220–5266] But “Liber, who planted the vine,” who was descended from their line, gave them great comfort – that is, God the Son,171 thanks to whom the people of Judah were set free from the hands of their persecutors: the Deliverer, the protector of Judah, who loved them so much that they safely crossed the sea, and then he tested them in the desert.172 And they gave him such reward that they crucified him out of envy! He is the grape that was hung and pressed and stretched out on the winepress of glorious wood, and redeemed and delivered us all with his holy, precious blood.173 He is the one who inebriated the earth with joyous fertility and abundant prosperity. He washed his clothing in wine and stained his cloak with blood. He is “Liber,” the true Deliverer, the true Salvation and Redeemer, through whom the people of Judah, so accustomed to making assaults on him, must be saved. [5267–5291] The Gospels bear witness that the people of Judah, with the point of their lance, out of envy and ignorance, pierced the body of Jesus Christ, the one who is all-powerful and all-seeing – the “serpent,” which had three heads, just as God is one and Trinity, and triple in his simple unity. He is the “serpent” that was hung and stretched on the wood of the tree, and “from whose teeth sown in the earth” – that is to say, by his doctrine and his holy teaching – sprang up the “armed knights,” who were witnesses and heralds of his holy Passion and his Resurrection. These are the strong fighters, armed with the arms of justice and the faith of Holy Church, the holy martyrs, the holy disciples, who subjected their bodies to punishment, to grow and proclaim the faith of God and to advance Holy Church. They are the ones who died for God and scorned the honors of the world. [5292–5317] The people of Judah are paying for their sin with great shame and great misfortune: they spend their life in woe. But, as the prophecy states, there will 170 Referencing

God.

171 C’est

the Babylonian captivity, a punishment for idolatry and disobedience to

Diex, v. 5269: “the Son” added for clarity. Deuteronomy 29:4–5. “The people of Judah” translates singular Juda(s) in

172 Compare

the French. 173 The popular image of the Mystical Winepress, an allegory of Christ on the Cross. Compare Isaiah 63:3 and Revelation 19:15 (and 14:19–20). See also Genesis 49:11–12. For helpful context, we recommend Sawyer (1996): “According to this, Christ, the True Vine, is imagined as ‘the first cluster pressed in the winepress’ (primus botrus in torculari pressus). In art Christ is then depicted as being crushed in the winepress, his blood flowing out” (96).

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come a time when they will draw back from their wickedness and come to penitence and mercy, and their hearts will be greatly darkened on account of how they transgressed against God. They will confess themselves guilty and repentant before God for this transgression, and will beat their chests on their knees, leaning toward the ground, and to seek mercy they will go towards God with their arms stretched out and shedding warm tears. Then, their tongues will be “split,” so that they will turn all their attention to confessing their folly and celebrating the belief in Jesus Christ and in his name. They won’t want to believe in anything but him. Then, the lineage of Judah will become a “subtle and wise serpent,” a serpent that will shed its old skin of all malice, subject to the rigor of repentance, through the bitterness of penance. And they will do this so as to turn a deaf ear to the misbegotten enchanter who will enchant the deluded, that is, the Antichrist, who will have himself believed and worshiped in the world. In order to be served and honored as God, he will promise gifts and riches, honors and worldly titles to those who are willing to believe in him. And he will subject to dreadful martyrdom the good people who will not believe in him. [5318–5356] Judah the serpent, in order to scorn the voice of his enchantment, his gifts, and his threats, will fill one ear with mud and in the other it will put its tail. For the people of Judah will see the honors and riches, goods and titles, and promises of gold and silver, which he will use to enchant people, as only so much mud and excrement. And in order to keep the soul, that endures forever, from eternal suffering, they will want to oppose the devil and give their whole bodies over to him, for no promise or gift or loss or profit will induce them to bow before him. Rather, they will joyfully undergo worldly death and torture in order to have eternal life. If they must suffer death, then Liber will comfort them, that is, God, who will save them from all harm and opposition, and confound their adversary. [5357–5381] [miniature, fol. 121r: mounted knights in melee]174

Danaë {A}s the story goes, Cadmus left Thebes, his noble city, in great shame. Acrisius, who was born of this stock, inherited it: the whole realm was in his control. He was Cadmus’s uncle, Agenor’s brother. He held all the feudal rights of Argos. He was the only one on earth who dared to wage war against Bacchus. Bacchus was of great renown. Liber Dionysus was his name. He

174 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat.



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went to India to fight and wage war against the Indians. He led women175 in his army. Through his effort, without a doubt, the Indians were subjugated. Then he caused a city to be founded in India, and from his own name Dionysus, he had the city called Nysa. Meanwhile, Acrisius took Argos in Greece out of malice. When Bacchus wished to return, he had the gates held shut against him, and did not wish to receive the god; rather, he wished to wrongfully take his land and denied him his heritage. [5382–5408] Proud-hearted Acrisius had a beautiful and courtly daughter: they named the maiden Danaë. Nature, by design, made her so beautiful of body and face, so flushed and crimson, that her equal could not be found in Greece or the vicinity. [5409–5416] [miniature, fol. 121v: acrisius has danaë taken away and locked in a tower]

{A}crisius, who was very anxious about her, had her locked up in a tower: he greatly feared and worried that, should he leave her unrestrained, someone would take her away by entreaty, gift, or force.176 And so that no man might force her, the father put her in prison: but his enclosure will not be worth much. Anyone who strives to keep a woman locked up wastes his effort and trouble: whoever keeps her locked up loses her more quickly than whoever leaves her unattended. Acrisius locked up his daughter, but I don’t think all his enclosure or protection amount to much at all. If she does not protect herself, his protection won’t be worth much. Never, for all her confinement, would the beauty give up on having her pleasure, if she had the ease and opportunity. [5417–5437] Jupiter fell in love with the maiden. Love struck him with a spark that greatly gripped and ruled him. If he could not have the beauty as he desired, he would set at nought his wealth, his divinity, and his knowledge. He prepared his plan and how he would appear: as golden rain he entered into the tower where the maiden was locked up. He never unlocked any doors or opened any windows there. The god revealed himself to her, and he joined himself to her carnally. From this union, Danaë conceived a son full of prowess, valor, and nobility – that was the renowned Perseus, who was named Aurigena.177 When he noticed his daughter was pregnant by the god who had enchanted her, Acrisius realized that he had been deceived. He did not know the truth and did not believe at all that she was

175 This

moralizes the Maenads, his crazed followers who kill Pentheus in Book 3 and Orpheus in Book 11. 176 There is no mention here or in Ovid of the prophecy that Acrisius would be killed by his daughter’s son. 177 Antigena, v. 5455. The correct reading is Aurigena (“born from gold”) from v. 5602 below and from Ovid: Hactenus aurigenae comitem Tritonia fratri / se dedit (Met. 5.251– 252). There is apparently no other attestation of Antigena.

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the beloved of the god of gods, or that he had made her pregnant with his seed. After the birth of the child of good stock, the wicked scoundrel drove the girl from his realm and consigned her and his grandson Perseus, as though he could never love them, to a sealed chest – truly! – at sea. They sailed and wandered around so much that they arrived where it pleased God, but it was not long at all before Perseus had such renown, was so strong, worthy, and wise, and his heroic achievement was so great, that he went away flying through the air. Now Acrisius, who, in anger, did not recognize Perseus, denied him, and sent him away from his presence, might well have had a heavy heart, full of disgrace and shame. And he would also soon repent of the wrong and violence, the contempt, the impropriety he had committed towards the god who had come and in whose face he had had his gates shut, in order to bar him entry and shut him out – that is, Liber, who was deified in heaven and glorified.178 [5438–5489] [miniature, fol. 122r: a nativity scene – mary lies in bed with joseph standing at her feet; jesus lies beside the bed next to two animals (a calf and a rabbit?)]179

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you, according to the historical interpretation, what the tale would have us believe about “the god who came down as golden rain” to the stone tower where beautiful Danaë was imprisoned. In order to accomplish his desire with the maiden, this king made a gift of his rich treasure in great plenty, generously, as if it were raining, so that it might please those who had the keys to the tower and were supposed to guard it. And so, in return for his riches, they gave him leave to have the girl, and they made it easy and convenient for him to speak to her at his pleasure. Then, he made such great gifts to the maiden that he took his pleasure with the beauty. Thus he deceived her. The maiden conceived by the king and then the matter was revealed, since it could not be concealed for long. When the man who had locked her up saw her pregnant and with child, he knew that in this instance his vigilance had failed him. By this tale, whoever is willing to pay heed to it can learn that it is nothing but wasted effort to lock a woman up and put her in a coop, and that there is nothing so locked up, or so dear and so desired, that a rich man cannot have, if he is lavish with his wealth. [5490–5523] 178 Compare Ovid (Met. 4.612–14): “Though later (such is truth’s power) Acrisius repented of outraging the god, and of not acknowledging his grandson” (Kline). This sentence in the OM seems to be mentioning both offenses in reverse order to Ovid. 179 Compare and contrast the Nativity scene on fol. 53r. If the animals are indeed a calf and a rabbit, they might represent sacrifice and chastity, respectively (compare the miniatures on fols 29r and 300r for the latter).



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{N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation that this tale points to. “Liber” – that is, our Deliverer, our Salvation, our Savior, our hope, and our foundation – came to “India,” that is, this world, to confound and subjugate pride and oust and subdue the sins that rule over the world. “An army of women” followed him because he chose for his retinue and took into his company the poor, weak people without power, and he made them strong and powerful against all adversities. He took the base people, dismissed by the world, and appointed them preachers, and he accepted sinners to penitence and concord through his great mercy. And women likewise followed him devoutly as servants and attendants, as the Evangelists attest. He is the one who founded Holy Church, the city fortified and established and standing mightily on Jesus, the living and strong rock. I can take Acrisius to represent the wicked race of the Jews, who, when the Redeemer of the world and the Deliverer came to his rightful domain, that is, to this world, in human form, did not want to recognize him as Lord or receive him or do him honor; rather, they shamefully shut him out and basely repelled him and shut the gates of the city – that is, of the heart full of iniquity – to him, while turning a deaf ear to him. But the time is coming, I have no doubt, when all those who have scorned and will have scorned him will repent of it, for he is God and reigns at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory, and so he will take very bitter vengeance on those who now hold him in contempt and turn a deaf ear to him. [5524–5572] {N}ow I will reveal to you the marvel of the god who entered into the locked tower as golden rain, without breaking it open or unroofing it, without opening door or window. “Jupiter” – God, our helper, our Father, our Savior, our King, our Creator – came down into the “noble tower” where “the beautiful Danaë” was cooped up. Danaë can be understood as virginity, which is loved by God. The tower where she was locked up leads us to understand the chamber of the womb of the Virgin Maiden, where God resolved to come down like rain on wool180 and take on human form and join himself to our nature. He is the one who, according to Scripture, rained on the earth, freely gave of his grace, and gave us salvation without opening or unlocking a door and without broaching the maiden. Preserving the honor of virginity intact, the Deity came and passed through the “gilded” (auree) door into the body of the honored Virgin, just like a sunbeam through stained glass, and he filled her with divine power.181 From this, Aurigena was born: Perseus, the valiant, the sage, whom the tale names Aurigena, is Jesus, true God and true man. For anyone who understands it well, “Aurigena” and auree are to be understood in two ways: the first as “ear,” and the second as “gold.” It was through the ear that the man, 180 The

dew on Gideon’s fleece: see the moralization of Phrixus and Helle earlier in vv. 3085–3149 above. 181 Our translation of vertu as “power” is based on Luke 1:35.

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Jesus, acceded to the treasury of the Virgin when she who conceived God’s Son, through whom all salvation abounds to us, knew the word through it and received the angel’s voice. This man crossed the sea of the world as a stranger and an exile, without being in danger of sin, by means of the vessel of carnal nature more unblemished and purer than ivory. Acrisius, who expelled, drove off, and sent away Perseus, can represent the Jewish people, who, in their pride and stupidity,182 reject, drive out and expel Jesus, their grandson and firstborn. But there will come a time when the Jewish people, if they can, will repent that they did not believe in God, and scorned and failed to recognize him, when he will come in majesty and descend through the clouds to earth to judge the dead and the living, and give paradise to the good, that is, an eternal glory, and to the wicked, who did not want to believe in the Son of God, eternal shame. [5573–5636] [miniature, fol. 122v: perseus steals the single eye from the three gorgons]

Perseus and the Gorgons; Pegasus183 I have told you the tale and the historical interpretation184 about the god who came down into the locked tower in the form of golden rain, and how he impregnated the maiden. The god and the beauty had a son. Conceived through divine power and born in that stone tower, Perseus, who flew about the world seeking adventure, went everywhere showing his marvels that were like nothing else. It would take too much space to describe word for word all the deeds he accomplished and the great renown he won – through what cleverness and skill he stole and took for himself the eye of King Phorcys’s three daughters; through what cleverness and strength he cut off Medusa’s head that caused may fools to give up earthly pleasures – and thus I will tell you about it briefly. These three girls I am telling you about had only one eye. One was named Euryale; the second, Sthenno; and the third, more famous, was called Gorgon or Medusa; she was the one who delighted many through the great beauty of her face, and then Pallas, in my opinion, changed her chestnut locks, that shone brighter than fine gold, into serpents. She took very vicious vengeance on her because Neptune had deflowered her in the 182 Ausi come orgueilleuse et sote, v. 5625, is feminine to match Judaïme, v. 5622, which would normally be a singular feminine personification of the Jews except that it is Acrisius, a man, being moralized. 183 In Ovid (Met. 4.765–803), Perseus himself tells this story at the feast to celebrate his rescue of Andromeda. The OM moves it to where it belongs in the sequence of events. 184 Or, “history.”



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goddess’s temple. Thereafter no woman or man saw her – so terrifying was she to behold – without being turned to stone right away at the mere sight of her. [5637–5676] When Perseus arrived in the land where the three sisters dwelled. They had only one eye that each of them used in turn, and when one held the eye, the other two were blind. That was how the three sisters separately made use of the eye. When two of them were passing the eye one to the other, Perseus took it, without Sthenno or Euryale being aware of it. He left that place with the eye and went to the home of Medusa, the third sister, but no one would believe at any cost, without seeing it, the great marvel that made Perseus amazed and full of wonder, for all those who saw Medusa were transformed into stone. He saw the path full of those who had been transformed. He didn’t dare look at her directly, lest he end up like those who had seen her face to face; rather, he looked at her in the reflection of his shining golden shield. As she slept, he cut off her head, and from the blood was born, without delay, Pegasus, the flying horse. Flying through the air, Perseus fled the horse full of fierceness. The horse stamped his feet in great anger and scorn on Mount Helicon: under his hoof sprang the beautiful and clear, pleasant and healthy fountain of wisdom, learning, and lively philosophy. [5677–5713] [miniature, fol. 123r: the three gorgons laboring and cutting wheat with scythes]

Moralization {N}ow I want to explicate the tale according to the historical interpretation, and gloss the meaning. The single eye that the three sisters had, which they shared in turn, signifies a kingdom they had in common, of which each made use in turn, for their land was not divided. Perseus took this kingdom away from them and usurped it for himself. The three sisters had applied themselves to cultivating the land: on account of the land they cultivated, they were named “Gorgons,” that is to say, “tillers” and “cultivators of land.”185 185 This

interpretation seems to originate with Remigius. Chance (1994) cites and translates the relevant passage: “Fuerunt autem locupletissimae, unde et Gorgones dictae quasi georges, id est terrae cultrices, enim [GE] Grece terra, orgia cultura dicitur,” “They were also very rich, when they are called Gorgons, meaning georges, that is, farmers, for Ge in Greek means earth, and origia means cultivation” (579n75, citing Remigius, In Mart. 50.16). The Third Vatican Mythographer gives the same etymology (Pepin 2008, 327–328) before moving on to the separate “fear” etymology below. However, the historical interpretation of Medusa as a whore is not in the Third Vatican Mythographer, who sticks with the three corulers and explains the reflective shield and the decapitation of Medusa as Perseus’s use of spies to launch surprise attacks on her and take away her fortune. Incidentally, the First and Third Vatican Mythographers (Pepin 2008, 61 and 327–328), like the OM, conflate the two sets of daughters of Phorcys, the Graeae (who shared one eye) and the Gorgons, whereas in Hyginus (trans. Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, 25), for example, they were distinct.

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Medusa’s hair was curly: because of this, it looked snake-like, and was braided in three tresses like intertwined snakes; either that, or Minerva happened to cut her hair off when she found her in her temple, and then Medusa had the idea to place serpent-like things on her head that women nowadays call bourrelets.186 Medusa was very beautiful and knew all too much about immoral behavior. She was a savvy and scheming whore, deceitful and cunning. All who saw her beauty were overwhelmed at the mere sight of it. Everyone coveted her favors and she, in her deceit, knew how to draw them in, flatter them, and strip them of all goods, so that she would leave them naked and scorned, and these men were enraptured just like speechless images: in this way, she “transformed them into statues.” Perseus was very savvy: he knew how to confront her without fearing her deception: Perseus placed the shield of wise prudence, which is worth more than pure gold, it seems to me, in front of his face, thus he saw her “by reflection,” for he held his heart back from her so that, for all her wiles, she would not be able to deceive him. Perseus “cut her head off,” because he put Medusa to a shameful and ill-fortuned death – and her sisters along with her – when he took their kingdom. Snakes sprang forth from Medusa’s blood187 because from her line were born savvy and scheming whores, more cunning than serpents, who spread throughout the land and filled the whole realm. There are even more of such serpents today, it seems to me, than in the olden days! [5714–5775] Now I will tell you the allegorical meaning. The horrible Gorgon represents fear, which causes a person to grow lifeless in thought and become numb, and causes them terrible fright. There are three types of fear: one weakens the heart, the second drowns it, and the third clouds it, so that they cannot tell the difference between what is a lie and what is true.188 These three have a realm 186 Bourrelets

are padded rolls: see Owen-Crocker et al. (2012), s.v. bourrelet. detail, not in Ovid, was not previously mentioned. It is covered only by the interpolation noted by de Boer at v. 6220: “While he came and went, and was hovering in the air over Libya, drops of blood fell from the sky and germinated in the soil. Each drop became a serpent. Still today, the earth in Libya is covered and populated with them, more than any other region.” 188 This interpretation is attributed to Fulgentius by the Third Vatican Mythographer, who presents it as follows: Fulgentius seems to offer more subtle interpretations of the slaying of the Gorgons, for, he says, gorgo means “fear.” Men called them the three Gorgons because there are three kinds of fear and three effects of fear. This is even indicated by the names of these three, for Stheno means “weakness,” the beginning of fear, which only weakens the mind; Euryale means “vast depth,” that is, stupor or madness, which scatters the mind through a certain profound fear; Medusa means “forgetfulness,” which not only throws the mind’s considerations into confusion, but even brings on an actual dullness of sight. Indeed, this fear operates in all people. Perseus is seen as a figure of virtue. With Minerva helping him, he killed the Gorgon, since virtue conquers all fears with the help of wisdom. Thus he flies backward because one who 187 This



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to rule over: that is, the heart, where these three types of fear are accustomed to come, putting fright into a person’s heart and making them grow entirely reckless, overwhelmed, anxious, and harder than adamant. Perseus is the elevation of virtuous wisdom, which gives a person the prudence to avoid all worldly perils. The virtuous and prudent person is well protected and saved from these three fearful sisters, thus they take away their holding, for no wicked power can exist in a heart full of great boldness, prudence, and knowledge. Virtue and good sense comfort them, so that all fear is dead in the heart of a sensible person. [5776–5806] “Pegasus was born from Medusa”: [5807] {P}egasus is understood as good reputation, spread about any man on account of his prowess, good sense, or nobility. Reputation spreads quickly: this is how to understand the story about the swift and flying horse, for renown is very winged and spreads all too quickly. “From Medusa sprang snakes,” that is, sharp and bitter thoughts that distress wicked hearts. “Pegasus established the spring,” for he who labors and toils to study and gain knowledge does so to have a good reputation. [5808–5823] {A}nother interpretation may lie within this story. When the Son of God, according to his pleasure, came down from heaven to earth and came into the stone tower – that is, into the Virgin Maiden, who was a tower of virtue and a chamber into whom God, to free us, resolved to come down and become incarnate and, without any carnal joining, take on our human nature – became a true man, and went preaching throughout the world, and there, made open signs and wonders such that no one had ever done anything like it. He is the one who forcefully “stripped Phorcys’s three daughters of their realm” – that is, the daughters of the devil, the cruel king, the terrifying king, who had given them the whole world as a realm. The first was pride, the second greed, and the third, carnal delight. These three had as a kingdom the whole world, where they reigned jointly according to their pleasure, when God came to dispossess them of it. [5824–5849] These three sisters were “agricultural,”189 for they placed all their attention and care in earthly things. These three had “in their tresses, biting and harmful serpents,” that is, the grievous and painful worries with which they stab and prick the foolish hearts that give themselves to them. These three sisters, who did with the world as they please, deluded all those who had devoted their hearts to them. And “the sight of them transformed all their lovers to stone,” because before God came to earth, charity was dead and gone in the is turned away has no regard for fear anywhere. Perseus carries a reflecting shield because all fear passes away not only in the heart, but also in outward appearance. (Pepin 2008, 328) 189 Gorgonienes, v. 5850. This brings back the Remigius etymology introduced at the historical level.

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heart of human beings,190 and had grown so cold that all were full of vices and incredibly hardened in malice. God defeated this horrible and harmful “monster” that corrupted everyone in this way, and “cut its head off,” for in order to destroy all sin, he suffered mortal torment on the Cross. He “slew this monster as it slept,” for the blood of his holy death killed all vice and sin. From the blood that was spilled at that time from his holy body, which was crucified, sprang the fountain of life. [5850–5878] {N}ow you will hear what it means that bloody drops fell from Medusa’s head and germinated in the earth, and from these, the serpents that are now in Libya originated, multiplied, and grew. Despite the fact that God, at that time, through his victorious death, might have vanquished and killed the troublesome monster, there still remains in the world some of its bloodstained brood, which now abounds throughout the world, and sin is overtaking everything. [5879–5891] [miniature, fol. 124r: bellerophon and his stepmother]

Bellerophon191 {A}s I told you in the tale, the wondrous fountain that is full of philosophy sprang up under the hoof of the flying horse. Bellerophon the wise subdued Pegasus, that flying horse, around the time he killed the Chimera, as the tale recounts. A long time ago in Libya there was a prince, who had great holdings, great wealth, and lots of land. He was powerful, and wise in war. This mighty man’s name was Proetus. Unjustly and without cause he disinherited Acrisius and expelled him from his realm. He had a son192 who, according to the history through which we preserve him in memory, was so handsome in body and face that Nature, to my mind, never formed a more handsome man than he. God endowed him well with a combination of wisdom, goodness, prowess, and beauty so that there was no man under the sun to equal him. In intelligence he surpassed Solomon. Surpassed? 190 The text gives the singular, “man,” but the sense here is general, thus we prefer (as we do elsewhere in similar instances) the un-gendered forms of “human beings,” or “people.” 191 The first sentence of this section is in Ovid (Met. 5.262) but the rest of the story of Bellerophon is not. Pegasus is the obvious connection; but for the First Vatican Mythographer, who tells the story, Perseus is to be equated with Bellerophon (see “The Story of Bellerophon, Who Is Also Perseus” in Pepin 2008, 41–42; compare 161–162 for the Second Mythographer and 329–330 for the Third). 192 In Homer (Iliad VI.155–203) and others, Bellerophon’s mother was Eurynome and his father was Glaucus son of Sisyphus, or Poseidon. He went to Proetus to be cleansed of the murder of his brother Deliades or of a Corinthian named Belleros (apparently invented on the basis of the name Bellerophon).



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Truly, he did indeed, and in might, the mighty Samson: I will prove this logically. He had so much intelligence and knowledge that love, which befouled the wise Solomon, was never able to deceive him, and he had such might and valor that love, which blinded the mighty Samson, could not trick him. He knew well how to resist love, hence there were more good morals in him alone, as it seems to me, than in the other two combined. Indeed he was more handsome than Absalom. They called him Bellerophon. [5892–5933] “Bellerophon” means “fountain of beauty” or “of the beautiful,” according to the nature of compound nouns.193 The glossator194 supplies another meaning, explaining the name as “wise counselor.” In the whole world, there was no other man so wise. [5934–5940] The boy’s mother was dead and Proetus had taken another wife, foolish, wicked, and uncultured, full of madness and frenzy. She loved her stepson whorishly and blatantly propositioned him. He rejected her outright, and the wicked woman felt great spite for the youth who had scorned her: she nearly lost her mind. She thought a lot about how she might to her satisfaction take revenge on the youth and his insult. She wanted him to pay dearly for angering her. Then the false, misbegotten woman tore her clothing and hair; she scratched her face and cheeks; all covered in blood and disheveled, she went to her husband and complained about the youth: “Lord, I decry the shame and harm your son did to me.” And she made him believe entirely that the youth had violated her by force. [5941–5964] [miniature, fol. 124v: bellerophon’s stepmother convinces proetus that his son has violated her]

{H}er husband saw her upset, her face covered in blood, and her hair torn: he was so enraged and angered that he almost went mad. He was not the first man that a woman managed to trick and deceive! He truly believed she spoke the truth. He was more angered by this transgression than he would have been if a stranger had committed it. He wanted to avenge such wickedness. He thought greatly of evil in his heart: he thought he would kill his son or send him into exile. His heart was divided. In the end, he thought about how in Sicily195 there was a marvel: no one had ever seen one as fierce or as hideous. It was a three-formed monster that dwelled in a wasteland and had laid waste the 193 The

actual Greek etymology seems to have to do with spearing. The supposed etymology here is Latin: bellorum fons. There is no sign of it in Ovid. Perhaps the translator is lifting from interlinear glosses or a commentary on the Metamorphoses. 194 Probably Fulgentius, Mythologies 3.1, but the Third Vatican Mythographer says so too (Pepin 2008, 329, who translates “consultant of wisdom”). Fulgentius also associates the Chimera with lust, as does the Third Vatican Mythographer (Pepin 2008, 329–330), and the OM below. 195 It would originally have been in Lycia or Cilicia: see the note to v. 5998 below. The motif of false accusation of rape, as an act of revenge for a knight refusing to respond to seduction, also appears in Marie de France’s Lanval.

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whole realm and brought about its dreadful undoing. It had the head and chest of a lion, the belly of a vile shrieking goat, and the hideous tail of a serpent. To endanger his son and cause his death, Proetus wanted to send him there. Bellerophon was valiant, he slew the adversary, and he won the good steed Pegasus, the flying horse, who carried him flying through the air. [5965–5995] [miniature, fol. 125r: bellerophon, dressed as a knight, slaying the lions, goats, and (flying) serpents of mount chimera]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you, according to the historical interpretation, what the tale leads us to believe. In Sicily,196 in olden days, there was a mountain, the most horrid place in the world. On the highest peak of the mountain, there was a huge crowd and large assembly of great and marvelous lions, fierce and wicked and famished. In the middle, there were various levels full of vile, smelly, and savage goats that contaminated the mountain. And, at the base of the mountain, lived evil and fearful serpents, very vicious and venomous.197 All those who came to the mountain were devoured by the fierce lions: none could ever escape, and even if there happened to be one who could by evasion escape from the lions, he would never escape from the rage of the vile goats at the middle level. The stench would kill him immediately or, if he could cross the goats’ stench without dying, then he would fall right away into the brood of snakes, which would poison, bite, and devour him. On the advice of Stheneboea,198 who was very sad and distressed on account of the youth who had scorned her, just as the tale recounts, Proetus sent his son to the mountain out of rage and spite. He tried to make him perish there, but no one can do harm to anyone God wishes to protect. Bellerophon, full of prowess, vanquished the evil pass: through his strength and wisdom, he killed the lions, it seems to me, then the stinking and vile goats, and finally the fearful, biting, and sharp-toothed serpents, and thus, he made the mountain habitable. Then 196 En Sicyle ot jadis un mont, v. 5998. The First Vatican Mythographer has Mount Chimera in Lycia (Pepin 2008, 41–42); the Third, citing Servius, has it in Cilicia (Pepin 2008, 330). Unless the OM’s Sicyle developed from a misreading of “Cilicia,” the shift to Sicily might be explained by the comparison in Isidore of Seville, Etymologies XIV.iii.46: “There [= in Lycia] lies Mount Chimera, which exhales fire in nightly surges, like Etna in Sicily and Vesuvius in Campania” (Barney, Lewis, Beach, and Berghof 2006, 289). 197 Again, this is consistent with the historical interpretation by the First and Third Vatican Mythographers (Pepin 2008, 41–42 and 330), which the Third attributes to Servius. 198 Stheneboea, also called Anteia, was Bellerophon’s stepmother, but wasn’t named above in vv. 5941–5964; both her names are given by the First and Second Vatican Mythographers (Pepin 2008, 41 and 161), while the Third (Pepin 2008, 329) uses only Anteia.



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he “subdued the flying horse Pegasus,” that is, the good renown of his prowess and of his name that very soon had spread everywhere. [5996–6044] {T}here is another meaning to be understood from it. Proetus can denote the world, in which all baseness abounds, and all filth and shame, which everyone should shun. Proetus was the husband of Stheneboea, who was also called Anteia. “Stheneboea” signifies filth of gluttony and lechery and vile excess. “Anteia” is contrariness that wishes to turn wise counselors into adulterers and lecherous scoundrels, but a wise person does not consent to lust and lechery, rather they reject it and hold it in contempt. Bellerophon, in my opinion, overcame that prideful beast, that is, the marvelous “Chimera”: Chimera represents a prideful woman of base life who embarks on the game of love, for the foolish woman has three habits, which correspond to the Chimera. At first approach, woman is more prideful than a lion when a man solicits her love, but anyone who is willing to engage with her, as long as he can subdue her pride and soften her arrogance with fine gifts or elegant pleas, “vanquishes the lion,” it seems to me. Then comes “the vile and stinking goat,” that is, the vile filth that resides in the sin of lust, from which a stench arises and abounds, that stinks to God and throughout the world. Afterwards comes “the subtle serpent,” for now the woman is ready and intent to spur and goad the man, and if he is the kind who wishes to give, she will never tire of taking. She sucks and seizes without giving back.199 She gets her claws in and takes with two hands, and thus makes fools go from having more to having less. She robs the body, the soul, and all possessions. He who wishes to be intimate with such a beast is not at all full of wisdom. Throughout his whole life, Bellerophon knew wisely how to guard himself so that he never became intimate with such a lover, nor could any whore mislead him. [6045–6096] {T}here can be another meaning to this. The mountain denotes the world, in which all malice abounds: all pride, all iniquity, all filth and all baseness, all treachery, all envy, all fraud, all deceit and all guile. On the foremost peak200 are the lions, fierce and wicked and famished. The “lions” are the prideful, who want to be master and lord and have control over everything. They want vain riches, honors, and titles. They ravish, devour, destroy, and trample everything, and cause the people hardship. These lions are on the highest peak. Afterwards, in the middle, it seems to me, are the “vile and stinking goats” that foul up the whole world. The goats are those who shame themselves in the stench and filth of gluttony and lust that abound in middle 199 Reading

El suce et hape sans riens rendre for v. 6087, as opposed to de Boer’s punctuation. 200 Contrast with Dante’s mountain of Purgatory with humility/pride at the base, in the first terrace (Purgatory 10–12). Ou premier chief, v. 6105, refers to Mount Chimera, but also could be translated “at the top of the list.”

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age.201 Afterwards, on the last level, are the sharp-fanged serpents, very biting and venomous. The “serpents” are the deceivers, the calumniators, the liars, the envious, the slanderers, who endlessly defame, insult, abuse, and goad. And with their venomous mouths, full of hostile reproaches, they dupe, lie and sully, cheat, defame and slander, gossip and insult and betray the simple people. That is how the world is, it seems to me: prideful and stinking and vile, foolish, envious and contaminating, sycophantic, and deceiving. Multiform Chimera dwells there. No person who lives in the world can escape it safely without being painfully caught in one of these predicaments: either they will be caught and gobbled by the “lions” on the first level; or, if they squeak through that predicament, the “vile goats” will pollute them, or the “serpents” will shame them; or perhaps all three will be their undoing, sending them to death and perdition in hell without redemption. There they will be set upon by the devils: the fierce lions that devour them; the stinking goats full of filth, shame, and ill fortune; the stinking goats full of baseness and abomination; the horned goats, full of stench; and the venomous brood of snakes that put them to death. Whosoever commits themselves to following this deadly path is lost. Long ago, all were accustomed to go that way, and all died there, for devils devoured them. [6097–6169] On account of “the sin of Stheneboea,” that is, the sin of the vile and foolish flesh, sinful and full of filth, that through its great misfortune committed infidelity towards God and became corrupt, “Bellerophon, full of beauty,” was sent by God the Father to fight against “the Chimera” – the world, where there is so much cruelty. “Bellerophon” is Jesus, wise Counselor, the valiant, the mighty, the Deliverer, who delivered the world from all vices and gave himself up to die in order to give peace and joy in the world to those who have good and pure hearts. He fought against the Chimera, that is, the devil, and struck him down in his turn, and then rose from the dead, rescuing his people from the snares of the vile, stinking devil. Then, flying through the air, he rose to heaven, to reign in eternal glory, and through this victory he won such fame and renown that his name is known and exalted above all others, and the name of Jesus, our Lord, is everywhere called to mind. Out of reverence and honor for that name, which is so worthy of honor, angels and men and devils bow and genuflect, and all things obey him. He is the fountain of knowledge, the wellspring of living wisdom and true philosophy. From him come joy, peace, and life. From him comes the living fountain of grace, which fills the earth. [6170–6209] [miniature, fol. 126r: perseus slaying the serpent guarding the golden apple-tree]

201 This is a gesture to the Chimera as a figure for the ages of man – lion for youth, goat for middle age, and serpent for old age – from Isidore’s Etymologies I.xl.4 and Fulgentius.



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Perseus and Atlas {A}bove, you heard in the tale about Medusa the terrifying, whose head Perseus cut off. Now I will tell you another story, about the deeds that Perseus performed and the great fame he won. Perseus whizzed through the air with his spoil, to and fro, swifter than the wind – he was marvelously joyful to possess the head. Why would I dwell on this? He then traveled so far, by night and by day, now up, now down, that there was no land in the whole world he had not entirely visited. [6210–6224] He stopped in the west, in the kingdom where King Atlas reigned, for he feared the coming night, seeing the sun go down and the day inexorably declining.202 He no longer dared to continue his path at night: he altered course and flew towards the home of Atlas, who reigned in the furthermost realm. No mother’s son had ever seen his equal in magnificence, grandeur, or prowess. He was marvelously powerful and strong. He had more than a thousand sheepfolds, and countless oxen and cows. Around him, there was no king, count, or prince who was not under his sway. He had a tree, not made of wood, but rather of fine, pure gold. Its branches were all golden, as were the twigs, leaves, and whatever it produced. The fruit that grew on it was made of gold. He held the tree so dear that he would let no mortal person near it except himself alone, for he feared very greatly that he might lose it by trickery, on account of a prophecy that Themis told him once: that there would come a time when the son of Jove would come there and steal the golden tree from him, no matter how well he protected it. For this reason, he had his garden enclosed, so that no one could set foot there, whether they came by land or by sea, if it were not by his leave. He placed a serpent there to guard it. Atlas took additional precautions, in that – in short – he never let any foreigner enter his land without driving him away forthwith. [6225–6264] Perseus asked Atlas, out of the goodness of his heart, to let him stay until morning. Atlas told him in his own language203 to leave quickly or something bad would happen to him. Perseus heard him. He was not pleased that Atlas was denying him and using his authority to repel him. It was night, and Atlas wanted to drive him away. Perseus did not know how to find a place to stay. It would displease him greatly if Atlas drove him off. He wished on no account 202 V.

6221 seems to be an expansion: in Ovid (Met. 4.621–628) this apparently happens all in one day: “He was driven from there [= Libya] by conflicting winds, carried this way and that, through vast spaces, like a raincloud. He flew over the whole world, looking down, through the air, from a great height, at remote countries. Three times he saw the frozen constellations of the Bears, three times the Crab’s pincers. Often he was forced below the west, often into the east, and now as the light died, afraid to trust to night, he put down in the western regions of Hesperus, in the kingdom of Atlas” (Kline). 203 En son latin, v. 6267. Lit. “in his Latin/language.” Ovid mentions no language barrier, hence we translate “in his own language.”

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to budge from there, rather he tried to overcome Atlas. When he saw that it was no use to plead with him, he tried force, but he struggled in vain. Who can resist Atlas? When Perseus realized that force was useless, he held up Medusa’s head and turned around so that he could not see it. Atlas, who had rudely and without compassion turned Perseus away, saw it, and the sight of it immediately transformed him into a great mountain that reaches all the way up to heaven. The mountain is named “Atlas.” It is still very famous. It is the mountain that holds up the sky and everything associated with it. [6265–6291] Then Perseus came to the orchard. The tree was there for the taking, unless it had someone besides Atlas to guard it. But then the serpent raised its head, striking at him savagely. Perseus thwarted the attack so well that he overcame the fierce serpent. Through strength and skill he conquered the golden tree, in which there was so much goodness, so that he was able to possess the fruit. [6292–6301] [miniature, fol. 126v: atlas, at the magister’s lectern, teaching students with open books]204

Moralization {A}tlas was a king of great nobility and overwhelming riches. He was a master of philosophy. He knew so much of the art of astronomy that he knew the ordering and movement of the whole firmament and the nature of the celestial bodies,205 and whether they were hot or cold and what caused it: for this reason, it was said that he “held up the firmament above his head.” He had a vast and plentiful orchard, that is, his heart or his books, in which all of the art of philosophy, which is what the golden tree represents, was planted in abundance.206 The fruit the tree bore, as well as the flowers, leaves, and whatever it produced, was better and more profitable than pure gold, and more desirable. Perseus, the son of Jove, and Hercules, it seems to me, were disciples of Atlas;207 they were very attentive as to how they might “steal the tree,” that is to say, how they might grow to resemble Atlas in understanding and discernment. They intently focused their attention on learning philosophy, and they vanquished “the serpent,” which signifies study, and has the tree to guard; and then, without delay, the tree that Atlas had planted in the heart was theirs to command. The tale teaches us that Atlas was transformed into a mountain that was named after him, that is to say, 204 Fols 61r, 73v, 126v, and 391r have comparable miniatures of a philosopher or theologian teaching students. 205 Des estoiles, v. 6308, applied to et la chalour et la froidure, v. 6309, as well as la nature. 206 A likely spin on the tree of knowledge in Genesis. 207 Desciple d’Alantis, v. 6324. According to genitive of Atlas, Atlantis.



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that in his country there was a mountain where Atlas climbed when he devoted himself to studying that art. [6302–6341] {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation that this tale points to.208 Jesus, in whom all goodness abounds, had preached throughout the whole world to exalt his holy law. He saw the Jews, full of treachery; truth be told, they hated him, and all they yearned for was to hunt him down and spy him out, to seize and crucify him, if only they could take him captive. And he saw dusk coming, and the night was overtaking him; he saw that the time had come when the sun must set and the day would subside. He himself was the true light and the true Sun of justice illuminating all the world. Thus he saw that the time had come for him to suffer death and Passion for our redemption. This was despite the fact that he had, in one essence, a nature of double substance:209 He was God just as his father was, and was a mortal man thanks to his Mother, in whom, through great humility, he resolved to take on flesh and human form so as to exalt us in his kingdom, and to die so as to redeem us and rescue us from death’s bonds. He was the true God. He alone was all-powerful, all wise, and all-knowing. He was an immortal God, a God unchanging, everlasting, and invisible.210 [6342–6377] Through his divine power he controlled and ordered the governance of the whole world. He made it rain and snow. He made it bright day and dark night. He had the whole world in his care. He controlled the power of life and death, the power to slay and to give life. Despite all that, he let himself be crucified and subjected to condemnation for the salvation of humanity. And according to the frailty of the flesh, his humanity endured such torment, such agony, that he himself, as a true man, was able to say that it was not his will to have to suffer so much and receive a death so bitter. That is why he said to God the Father: “Why, God, have you forgotten, or abandoned, or rejected me? Why have you dismissed me so? Receive me, God, in your dwelling place and lodge me in your holy abode!” [6378–6402] 208 From v. 6344 to v. 6402 is all one sentence. The main clause starts at v. 6387, Il se lessa crucefier. 209 The hypostatic union, both fully God and fully man. See Aquinas, ST III q. 2, and Bonaventure, Brev. IV.2. On the questions the hypostatic union raises for Christ’s divine Knowledge in Bonaventure, see III Sent. d. 14, art. 1, q. 2. See also the Athanasian Creed: “He is God from the essence of the Father, begotten before time; and he is man from the essence of his mother, born in time; completely God, completely man, with a rational soul and human flesh; equal to the Father as regards divinity, less than the Father as regards humanity. Although he is God and human, yet Christ is not two, but one. He is one, however, not by his divinity being turned into flesh, but by God’s taking humanity to himself. He is one, certainly not by the blending of his essence, but by the unity of his person. For just as one man is both rational soul and flesh, so too the one Christ is both God and human.” 210 This might seem an error for indivisible, but compare 1 Timothy 1:17 and also Exodus 33:20, John 1:18, John 5:37, Colossians 1:15, Romans 1:20.

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Atlas can denote God the Father, the King in whom all goodness abounds, the King who reigns “at the end of the world,” for after this mortal life, those whom God loves and sanctifies are in his spiritual realm where they have everlasting joy in the company of angels. No stranger can enter there unless led by God himself: he is the one who, according to the text, is so full of great majesty, lordship, and nobility, who is so rich, so powerful, so wise, and so knowing, that all serve and honor him, all fear and worship him, and no one can force him or prevail over or dominate him, nor does he fear attack from anyone. He created the sky, sea, and earth; he made the sun, moon, and stars. He knew the number and power of each and called them by their name. He is the one who “holds up the whole firmament” and gives support to all by the power of his word. He is the master of all good learning, who encompasses all knowledge (science) in himself: the text and the gloss. He knows all philosophy, all art, and all learning (clergie), and he spreads it through the world and apportions to each person a share, more to one and less to another. He holds everything in his hands and has lordship over everything. All the herds of cows are his, and all the beasts of the world, horses and sheep. He is the sweet and delightful mountain, rich like good flavorful milk. [6403–6445] Or, if someone should wish to gloss it in another way, it is quite possible, I think, to explain it as Scripture teaches it: Mary is the high mountain in which God resolved to conceal, humble, and impoverish himself, beneath the shadowy fragility of our poor humanity. This is the mountain that “upheld the sky and everything associated with it,” for in her womb, God, who formed the whole world, took form. He had the tree and fruit of life and true philosophy, the holy tree, the glorious tree, which is more costly and precious than pure gold and precious stones: that is, the holy and glorious Cross that supported on its precious branches the Son of God, flesh and life that feeds and gives life to the soul. That is the tree on which the sovereign King, that is, God, lavished his love and care. That is the tree that Scripture says the Son of God was meant to have. It is the tree where God resolved to receive suffering and torment and to render himself up to death, to deliver man from death and the devil’s snares. He thus vanquished the sinuous serpent that enviously guards the fruit of eternal life – that is, the devil, who stands in his way, and now is racked with pain and envy – for no person can win back the fruit of life through good deeds. Jesus, the valiant, the vigorous, the powerful, the warrior,211 conquered the tree and the fruit of life, which nourishes and gives life to the saints. Through him, the serpent was destroyed. He himself is flower and fruit of the tree that raises the dead to life. [6446–6488] The Mother of the King of Paradise, the saint, the Virgin Maiden, Mary, Mother and handmaiden of God, was the branch, and Jesse, the root, from 211 Compare

Revelation 19:11–16.



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which Jesus, through divine power, resolved to come and be born into the world, to nourish and redeem us with the fruit of eternal life. Mary is the delightful branch that bore the precious fruit. She is the delight-filled garden that bears very sweet little flowers, roses, lilies, and violets. She is the garden full of delights, trees, and good spices, full of, and inundated by, grace, abounding in all virtues, where God took on our humanity to give us eternity of life, glory, and joy, and so he saved us through his victory. [6489–6509] In this delight-filled garden, God planted the glorious tree of virtues, at the root of which is steadfast and pure faith and belief. Without it,212 all trees are dead and stained by mortal sin, and so they can neither bear nor make any good fruit that might please God. Let anyone who wishes to advance well take heed, in the beginning, to establish good roots and hold fast to this strong and steadfast root of faith and true belief. [6510–6522] The trunk is of steadfast hope. This trunk makes the tree strong. It has all its comfort in God. It rises up to heaven. It does not consider itself aggrieved by any worldly wrong it suffers, but, for God’s sake, it surrenders and offers itself up to endure vigorously all harm and affliction that might befall it in the world. We can consider the tree that has lost steadfast hope to be dead, for, since the trunk is broken, what fruit can the root bear? [6523–6536] The bark is made of pure charity, of mercy and love. This keeps the tree’s sap healthy and makes the tree grow and mature, bear flowers and fructify. The tree which lacks this bark, or from which it has hypocritically been cut and girdled, loses its worth and strength; but if the bark is kept healthy and firm, even if the rest of the tree213 is weak and sickly, still it can be expected to improve and slowly grow. In this same way, the person who holds fast to charity, no matter how much they feel themselves stained by the sickliness of sin, must not despair of the great grace of God, for charity erases many sins. It is the good bark that sustains and strengthens the soul, no matter how feeble and weak it might be. [6537–6558] This beautiful, delightful tree has four main branches, that is, the four cardinal virtues. The first two are justice and prudence, and the other two, fortitude and continence; and each one bears many pure, precious, and spotless little branches. It is the beautiful, pleasing tree that bears golden leaves, flowers, and fruit. It is the tree of life that revives the dead soul. Without this tree, no soul lives spiritually in holiness, for the plentitude of all good things grows on it. God the Father planted it in the body of the Virgin Maiden, who was a garden and a temple, and the one in whom the Son of God became 212 Sans ceste, v. 6514, is feminine and must have as an antecedent fois ferme et fine / Et creance, treated as one thing, not l’arbre glorieus from vv. 6511–6512. 213 “The rest of the tree” makes sense of the manuscript reading l’autre vs. de Boer’s emendation l’arbre in v. 6547.

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incarnate so that he redeemed and extricated us from the snares and clutches of the devil. He is the one who vanquished the sinuous serpent. He is the one who took possession of the tree and offered it up to the world and gave it to whoever deigned to take it. Everyone must work and strive to acquire and possess this tree, the tree of life and knowledge.214 [6559–6585] [miniature, fol. 128v: perseus arrives to rescue andromeda, tied up on the rock]

Perseus and Andromeda (I) {T}hrough his skill and prowess, Perseus conquered such wealth as the fruit of the golden tree.215 He remained there no longer; rather he prepared and equipped himself. The next morning, at daybreak, seeing that the morning star had risen and illuminated the earth, he tied his two swift and speedy wings to his feet. He girded his sword, known as a falchion, on his left side. He left the western land and came to the east, to India.216 There was a king there, decent, peaceful, and even-tempered; he held the realm of India in his power. His wife did an extremely foolish thing and was very prideful and presumptuous when, as the gloss tells, she boasted that she was more beautiful than Juno, on account of which Amun,217 full of cruelty, scorning what she said, wanted to seriously punish the slander. The king and queen had a daughter, whom they loved very much – and well they should love her, for none could find throughout the land218 a more courtly maiden, more wise, innocent, or beautiful. Amun resolved to take vengeance on the queen’s pride through this maiden. He had her tied up naked in the sea, to sacrifice her to the Belua.219 [6586–6619] “Belua” is a sea monster. When Perseus came over the sea to the place where the maiden was tied to the rocks, tender and helpless, he saw her skin 214 This

conflates the two trees of Genesis 2:9. 6588 is followed in one manuscript by the following variant lines in de Boer’s footnote: “At that point the son of Hippotas, Aeolus who was god of the winds, had locked them up in his dungeon. When Perseus saw that it was daybreak [or, that the time was right], the next morning at daybreak, he had no desire to remain there any longer.” 216 In Ovid (Met. 4.669), Ethiopia. 217 The Egyptian and North African god Amun(-Ra), represented by the Greeks as having ram’s horns, and considered to be equivalent to Jupiter. Ovid (Met. 4.671) calls him Ammon here. In Hyginus (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, 118), Neptune sends the sea monster because Cassiopeia compared Andromeda to the Nereids. 218 De ça la mer, v. 6613, lit. “on that side of the sea.” 219 La belue, v. 6619. Ovid calls it belua ponti, “sea monster.” It is also known as Cetus, which is the name of the constellation in the cycle of Perseus and Andromeda. En la mer, v. 6618, has to mean on the shore facing the sea, not out in the middle of the sea, since (as in Ovid) her parents are nearby and able to touch her (vv. 6686–6687 below). 215 V.



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shining brighter than ice. Her face was more illuminated than any scarlet rose. The youth marveled greatly at the maiden’s beauty. He would have thought she was a marble statue that someone had painted and decorated and made into a woman’s likeness, had he not seen her crying and her hair buffeted around in the wind. He saw clearly that it was a beautiful and graceful woman. He set his mind to admiring her. Love took hold of him at the sight. The more he looked, the more he was set afire, and the more beautiful he thought she was. Her body was beautiful. Her face was beautiful. He could see her without any covering. Never had a more beautiful creature been found or seen. It grieved him deeply to see her completely naked, bound and in such dire straits. His heart was saddened and distraught over it. [6620–6645] [miniature, fol. 128v: andromeda, naked and tied up, with the king and queen and other ladies gathered around]

He greeted her and asked her name, where she came from, who she was, and why she was tied up there. The maiden was not happy that the youth had seen her completely naked and uncovered: she was so ashamed that she did not dare to speak a word nor give the young man an answer to what he had asked, and for a while it pleased her to keep silent; she would have covered her face with her hands if she could have, it seems to me, but she was tightly bound. From her eyes she wept most tenderly. She decided to tell him, lest he think she was tied up deservedly. [6546–6662] She revealed the situation to him. “Lord,” she said, “they call me Andromeda, and I am a maiden and even a king’s daughter, no matter how wretched I am. I am the daughter of King Cepheus. I am bound on account of my mother’s rashness and sin, thus I am condemned to bitter death for her tongue and her presumption.” Before the bright-faced beauty had finished her explanation, the beast came charging through the sea to devour her. She screamed and started crying, seeing her death looming. Her parents, who must have loved her very much, gathered around. They wept and lamented greatly there on the shore. The woeful mother cursed her tongue full of folly, and her father could be seen standing there in anguish. Each of them embraced and kissed her, as long as they had leisure and ease. There was no other way, to my mind, for the two of them to help her. [6663–6689] Perseus said: “Leave it be, for you can achieve nothing by weeping and wailing. Instead, try to find a way to free the maiden. If I manage to deliver her from the monster that wants to eat her, will you give me her hand in marriage, without opposition or hindrance? The young lady would be well and nobly married to me, for I am the son of beautiful Danaë, whom Jupiter tricked with gold. The beauty conceived me with the god. I am the one who won Medusa’s head and, through my skill and prowess, carried to term many deeds of great nobility, about which I don’t care to speak at length. I am the one who flies

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through the air. If you want to reward me for my trouble and give me the hand of the beauty who has attracted my care and concern, to deserve such a reward I will undertake, at great risk, to deliver her right away, if god consents to grant me success.” [6690–6716] They promised him, without lying, that they would keep this covenant and give him the maiden’s hand in marriage when she was delivered, and they would hand over the land, and the kingship with it, as a dowry. They gave him their oath and solemn pledge. [6717–6723] [miniature, fol. 129r: perseus kills the sea monster and frees andromeda]

{F}aster than a crossbow’s feathered bolt shoots, or faster than a ship careens down the face of a wave, the monster came, forging a path through the sea with its chest. There would be little respite for the maiden and her life if she did not have help soon, for the beast was now within range of a crossbow or slingstone.220 Perseus took to the air, higher and faster than a lark. The monster, swimming through the sea, saw on the sea the shadow of the youth, for he had climbed high in the sky. It thought the shadow was a man and immediately rushed upon him to devour him. Faster than eagle flies after its prey, Perseus dove, and mightily stabbed the monster with his sharp steel falchion. He made the sword slide into the body: he pushed it in up to the hilt. The monster shook with anguish and pain, feeling itself wounded. It now wanted to kill and harm the one who was harming it. At one moment it launched itself up high in the air, then dove back into the deep sea, then turned around in the waves: it churned the waters up. [6724–6756] Never did a wild boar, worked up into a maddened frenzy and assailing the hounds that surround it, turn like that prideful and fierce beast went turning through the air to assail the youth; but it could not reach him, for he dodged and moved more quickly that a swallow in flight. He repeatedly brought woe to the beast. He cut up its sides with his steel falchion; he carved apart its spine and flanks with the steel falchion that sliced well. Blood gushed out its throat. It vomited blood and swallowed seawater. It wildly flailed and writhed. Perseus fiercely attacked it. He conducted himself like a hero, but when the monster leapt up, it sprayed water and soaked the youth’s wings so thoroughly that he no longer dared depend on them. He saw a rock in the sea, whose top projected above the waves when the sea was calm. He settled himself there and leaned on it; holding the rock with his right hand, he struck the monster with his left. He struck and assailed the beast so much that he killed it. Then those on the shore celebrated greatly. The mother and father rejoiced for Andromeda, whom they

220 Reading

fronde for fonde, v. 6734.



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could see freely, safe and sound. They could be seen reaching out their arms to embrace their new son-in-law. They took their daughter away with great joy: each one of them kissed and rejoiced with her. [6757–6793] Perseus won great praise for killing the monster. He went to wash off his hands in the water. He strewed and covered the shore with leaves and green grass to set down the Gorgon’s head and protect it from damage.221 The text says that the twigs hardened into rock everywhere the head touched them. Seeing this, the sea nymphs were marvelously amazed. They tested it themselves and once again confirmed the head’s power. They were greatly amazed and greatly rejoiced at the marvel they saw, for the twigs became hard wherever they touched the head. Whatever was covered by seawater remained a green and tender branch, and whatever appeared above the water was hard rock. That manifested itself in the nature of coral: the rock is still hard and the hardness lasts as long as the coral is above water, whereas in the deep sea, it is a soft and green branch. [6794–6819] Perseus did not linger on the beach. He prepared three fires on three altars, to make sacrifices to three gods: for Pallas, he had a heifer sacrificed on the altar to the right; Mercury, on the left, had the sacrifice of a calf; and Jupiter had the sacrifice of a large bull on the altar in the middle. [6820–6828] [miniature, fol. 129v: the wedding of perseus and andromeda]

{T}hen Perseus led his new bride to the temple. He married her amid joy and merrymaking. There was a great feast and great amusement: everyone played and had fun. The drums sounded, the trumpets resounded, all the roads were covered with golden flags and crimson banners; all the doors were unlocked and opened without danger; everyone could come eat at the nuptial feast; all the lords from all across the kingdom gathered there. There was a great party and nuptial feast. I do not wish to speak to you at length about the food, but they had plenty of wine and meat as they desired. When they had eaten at their leisure and drunk to their satisfaction, Perseus began to inquire about the land’s customs and usages, and the manners of the people. One of the lords answered his request well and graciously. Afterwards, he inquired and asked him how he had come by Medusa’s head. Perseus told him word for word, just as the tale recounts it. But before he had finished his story, the celebration turned to anger: a great clamor began, and they wanted to strip him of his spouse and wife. [6829–6861] le chief garder de mal metre, v. 6800, translated according to the sense in Ovid (Met. 4.740–743): “He washes his hands, after the victory, in seawater drawn for him, and, so that Medusa’s head, covered with its snakes, is not bruised by the harsh sand, he makes the ground soft with leaves, and spreads out plants from below the waves, and places the head of that daughter of Phorcys on them” (Kline). 221 Pour

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[miniature, fol. 130r: sailors lighting a fire and cooking on the back of a whale]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation that this tale points to. When the morning star was born and illuminated the earth and chased away the darkness of night, that is Jesus Christ, true light, bright star, and shining sun. He banishes the oppressive darkness of benighted folly, wickedness, and ignorance, and gives light to the world and joy to those who have pure hearts. He came down from his Father’s bosom into the womb of his holy Mother, the Glorious Maiden who was the Mother and handmaiden of God. At birth, a nature of double substance entered into one essence: he was true God and true man at the same time. Those are “the wings,” it seems to me, with which it is written that God “flies.” He had the sword of the Holy Word with which God defeats his enemies and comforts his friends.222 Andromeda, who paid for her mother’s wicked tongue, can denote human nature that was overcome and tightly bound, adjudged to mortal damnation for the biting of the bitter apple that the first mother ate against God’s will, it seems to me; but God, the King of Paradise, our Father and Lord, when he saw the suffering and the misfortunes to which the woeful soul was condemned on account of having eaten the deadly apple, took great pity and compassion on it, and for the deliverance of human nature, sent his beloved Son, who freed it from the snares of death and sin, with which it was all stained. [6862–6905] Jesus, the glorious Son of God, concerned for the soul, let himself be hung and raised on the Cross for the soul’s sake: that is what Perseus, who denotes “elevated,”223 leads us to understand. Through him alone ended the torments to which the soul was given over; by him it was saved and set free from the jaws “of the terrifying monster,” that is, of death or the devil, who held it captive in hell, bound more tightly than in iron chains. The Belua is a kind of saltwater fish, commonly known as a whale, and its size is no joke. When it sees the sky becoming unsettled and stormy, and the sea becoming violent and restless, stirred up in part by the various undulating movements of its own body – sometimes it dives down deep into the sea, other times it breaches onto the waves – it stops and stands firm in the sea, which is all disturbed and unsettled by its crashing about. The beast is so large and wide, and it is

222 Compare

Revelation 19:11–16. Lit. “holy speech.” not clear that this is meant to be an etymology of the name. If it’s not, there are two ways he could represent elevation: the fact that he flies, and his transformation into a constellation (per Hyginus). 223 It’s



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so encrusted with sand, that it looks like a large field or an island, firm and stable.224 [6906–6934] Those out at sea, fearing the perils of the storm, when they see this beast on the sea, think it to be solid ground: to take rest and comfort and avoid the storm, they come and land on the beast, but they commit great folly for they put themselves in greater danger. To their misfortune, they think they will be safe on the whale, and thus they wish to do as they please on the whale, as if they were on solid ground: they make great fires to warm themselves. When the whale feels itself heated by the fire the sailors make, it dives into the sea, to the deepest part, from which they will never be able to come back: thus it causes them a woeful death. This “whale” represents the devil, and whoever trusts in him is profoundly betrayed and deceived. By this “whale,”225 the world is shaken and stirred up in many ways. He who puts his hope, love, care, and faith in it, no matter what worldly peril he faces, is shamed, killed, and swindled, for the joy he gets from the devil lasts him only a short time, and from it he can expect eternal death. [6935–6965] A soul is condemned to death if it is ever offered up to such a whale, such a monster, such a Belua, to be gulped down and eaten. For it is the devil; it is Satan; it is the fish, Leviathan, on which the false, deluded Jews must be fed in the end.226 The shooting of the bow and the sling denote death, which engulfs everything and shoots more quickly than a crossbow. The devil is the wicked beast that devoured man and woman as soon as death struck them down. [6966–6979] When the Son of God, to win us back, had come down from heaven to earth and been born of the intact Virgin, and when the devil – who had dominion over human nature and reasonably or justifiably was accustomed to bite and seize everything, for no one could escape him – saw the mortality of the flesh with which the Godhead was secretly covered, he thought the one who was true God and true man, was purely man. The fierce beast, which did not think it had anything to fear, rushed upon him; indeed, it wanted to bite and swallow him up, but the concealed Godhead bit it back and confounded it with the morsel. [6980–6997] The devil, as I find it written, made many attacks on Jesus Christ. At first, he thought to have him condemned through Herod, and then afterwards by the Jews, who assailed him closely. To damn Jesus, he himself came to tempt him

224 A motif popular in bestiaries (e.g., the Physiologus) and since the Irish and AngloNorman Voyage of St Brendan (but in Brendan, the whale is God’s servant). 225 Par ceste, v. 6957, is feminine, so can’t refer directly to the devil. 226 This seems to be mocking a Jewish belief that the female counterpart of Leviathan will be served to the righteous in the world to come. See the Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Bava Batra 74b.

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three times227 but never had any power over him, rather he was tripped up by his own deception. [6998–7007] David said that Jesus had the fear of the Lord228 when he saw the sea heaving and the waters flooding and entering all the way into his soul. Because of his fear of the seawaters, he wished to hold fast to the rock, so that he placed his hope, all his care and faith in the Father. God is this natural rock, the strong rock, the living rock that appears above the calm sea – that is, the peaceful heart, without bitterness. As I find it written, he held the right hand of Jesus Christ when the seawaters oppressed him, for the Father never abandoned him in any tribulation of death or Passion. Through him, Jesus Christ was saved and delivered from all perils. [7008–7027] To rescue the soul, Jesus deigned to render his body up to suffer Passion and death on the Cross. “He slew the monster with his sword,” for this death that God experienced delivered and protected the soul, and released it from the devil’s bonds, thus destroying eternal death. Then, the feast was grand and lovely and Perseus took the maiden, for God is the husband of a clean, pure soul, according to Scripture. The soul is very blessed to be married to such a husband – Jesus Christ, the true Deliverer, true Salvation, and true Redeemer, by whom the soul was delivered when it had been given over to the devil on account of the slander and the transgression that the first mother committed. [7028–7047] As for the twigs that hardened when they touched the Gorgon’s head, and likewise the coral that hardened by touching the Gorgon, when fully out of the water, in the open, they signify that those who are filled with the fear of God, which touches them, are so steadfast of heart and mouth and they persevere to the point that they do not bend on account of the waves, turbulence, or wind of any worldly disturbance. Rather, they are so strong in their will that they are as though elevated into the air through true contemplation. [7048–7064] Those who have placed their thought in loving worldly goods that are more perilous than the sea, are so inconstant, fickle, tender, weak, and pliable to empty dissolution, that they have no firm intention to know or fear God; rather, they allow themselves to run and float according to the motions of the world that plunges and engulfs them beneath itself. [7065–7073] 227 Lit. “with three things,” but “three times” is more appropriately biblical: see Matthew 4:1–11. 228 David dist que Jhesus dota, v. 7008, seems to mean literally “David said that Jesus was afraid,” but it seems inconceivable in this context and time period that the OM is referring to anything other than the fear of God. About this, which is a gift of the Holy Spirit, compare Isaiah 11:1–3, Psalm 69 (Vulgate 68), Luke 22:43–44, John 19:28–30. Jhesus dota would correspond to John 12:27: “Now my soul is troubled.” See also Aquinas, ST II–II q. 19, and Schrader (2021). On the fear of the Lord and the other gifts of the spirit in Bonaventure, see Brev. V.5 and the Collations on the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. II (trans. Hayes and Karris 2008).



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The bull, calf, and heifer, which Perseus sacrificed to the three gods, can signify that Jesus resolved to sacrifice his body and flesh to the triune Deity, when he willingly fed the apostles with his body at the Last Supper. And when he, to set us free, resolved to render himself up to death on the Cross, he was the brave and valiant bull, the bold, the battle-worthy, who with his body battled the wolf, struck it down, and valiantly reclaimed the prey that it had taken, leaving it defeated and wretched. He is the gentle and compassionate calf, taken to sacrifice for our love; he is the heifer that fed, suckled, and imbued us with its milk. He is the one who, along with the Deity, married our humanity. [7074–7097] The soul must be very happy and joyous, that marries such a husband, and for whom God wishes to hold a feast so rich and lovely, where all find wine and meat to eat, without refusal. Everyone is invited to come. Now, anyone who wishes to come to this joy must comport themselves wisely. Anyone who comes there must have new shoes, white leather gloves, a large alms purse, beautiful clothing, and a circlet of flowers,229 and you should know that they must sing joyously to the harp or another instrument. The harp and its sounds signify the sweet chant and the melody, the good jubilation of well-ordered confession, of prayers, and of praises that anyone who wishes to come to such delight must speak to the King of angels. They wear the circlet of good virtues; they have the alms purse of charity and the belt of truth, the shoes of clear conscience, and the gloves of good continence. They wear the clothes of holy life: it is fitting for the soul thus attired to come to this court, where each man and each woman hasten so as to live eternally. [7098–7129] It is good to be at the nuptials where the soul sits in dignity in the presence of her husband.230 The wine is of the good vine of which God was the progenitor, cultivator, and farmer, as it is written in the Gospel. The wine is Jesus Christ’s blood, that the husband serves at his table. He gives white bread of eternal life without avarice or scorn, and the flavorful flesh of the innocent and pure Lamb that purged the sins of the world and gave up his body to be sacrificed, to sanctify us. This great feast, it seems to me, is the one that God – the King of Paradise, Jesus, who weds the holy soul – holds at Easter, in his wife’s chamber, and thus it is fitting to adorn the chamber, and to clean it and make it ready, and to fill with good fragrance the soul that wants to honorably receive the husband full of grace, so that he finds nothing to displease him or offend his sight. Anyone who comes to the wedding, let them be sure to have a fine-looking garment to wear, for whoever does not 229 Compare

31:25.

Ezekiel 16:10, Revelation 19:8, Isaiah 61:10. Also consider Proverbs

l’ame o son espous se digne, v. 7132. Godefroy, s.v. digner, gives “réfl., se comporter dignement.” The reflexive would seem to prohibit “where the soul dines with her husband.” 230 Ou

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have clothes fit for a wedding may pay dearly for it: they would be thrown into a dark and fearful dungeon – into hell – eternally. [7130–7163] The soul that will receive the husband purely will have a beautiful feast in the husband’s home, at his high table in heaven, in eternal life. There are some who receive him handsomely but in a very short time betray him and try to vilely expel him from his dwelling and take away by force his wife – that is, the holy, glorious soul, for whom he resolved to render himself up to torment in order to redeem it and set it free. These conspirators include the world and its friends, those who have placed their heart in the world, who scorn the soul and God’s love and choose worldly delights: those strive through their impertinence to break apart the marriage of the soul and of God, her lover. The flesh, the world, the enemy,231 and those who subscribe to their faction, are those that wage war on the soul and God. [7164–7185] [miniature, fol. 132r: perseus and andromeda enthroned, reigning together]

Perseus and Andromeda (II) {A}s the tale recounts it, Perseus had taken Andromeda as his wife, when through his effort he had slain the fierce and mighty monster. There was great joy at this wedding. Perseus inquired about the laws and customs of the people of this land, then told them how he had won the eye of King Phorcys’s three daughters, by what ingenuity and strength he cut off the head of Medusa, who brought people to harm and turned them into stones, and how he saw Pegasus, the flying horse, be born and emerge from the frightful monster’s blood, as you heard it in the story. [7186–7202]

231 The

devil.

Book 5

Perseus Fights Phineus (I) [miniature, fol. 132r: fight scene]

{A}s the valiant hero, the son of Danaë, was telling this story in the midst of the folk of this kingdom, chaos broke out in the hall. There was a great tumult, but it was not the sound of joy or celebration: joy had turned into its opposite. There was a loud call to arms, and there you would have seen the crowd rushing for their weapons in great haste. Suddenly Phineus, the king’s brother, full of folly and rashness, stormed through the palace, ready to do battle. He brandished his ash-wood spear. Seeing Perseus, he berated him and lashed out at him in anger: “Vassal, soon you will find out what reward you will earn for stealing my beloved. There is nothing that could rescue or preserve you from death. Soon, I shall make you repent for the foolish thing that you have done – stealing my wife from me!” So saying, he drew back his arm to launch the spear, when King Cepheus shouted: [1–28] “Brother, what madness, arrogance, or frenzy is making you want to instigate this outrage and this strife? Is this how you intend to pay back and reward him for the pains he endured to save your beloved’s life and return her safely after Jupiter1 had sent her to be devoured by the sea monster? For it is not he who took her away from you but Jupiter, who condemned her to the beast, and if he hadn’t been there, the beast would have already killed and eaten her. You lost her as soon as she was condemned to death. It is indeed true that you were meant to marry her: I myself promised her to you in front of my people and my friends. But the agreement was broken when Jupiter, in his anger, rendered her up to death. This man promised to free her on the understanding that if he did, she would be his wife. We assured him of this: oaths were sworn to that effect. You were there: you saw it, and you didn’t raise a single objection. Now that he’s saved her by his might, you want to be master of both the beauty and the kingdom? There is no reason, as it seems to me, why we shouldn’t hold up our end of the deal. It would be wrong and unseemly, and we would be blamed and reproached for it. When she was tied to the rock, you should In Ovid (Met. 5.17; cf. 4.671), “Neptune, the stern god of the Nereids, and horned Jupiter Ammon” (Kline, who supplies the names Neptune and Jupiter). For Jupiter as the ram-god Amun, see vv. 1799–1832 below. 1

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have rescued her, and, having won her, you could have claimed both her and the kingship at your pleasure, without opposition. But you never volunteered to free her, rather you let the oaths be sworn. I tell you clearly that you are wrong to pick a fight with him. Did you think he would be so friendly and well-disposed to you that he would put himself at risk of death so that you could marry her? Not at all! That was never his intention; rather, he did it for his own benefit. Now that he has defeated the monster and freed the maiden, you want to take possession of her? Is that right? Don’t you dare!” [29–84] Phineus didn’t say a word, but stared angrily at one and then the other, and his anger swelled toward the one and the other, and he wanted, if he could, to kill them both. He didn’t know which one he should aim for. He drew back his arm and hurled the spear at Perseus, but the cast was entirely in vain, for it did not strike or touch him. The spear stuck fast in a couch next to him. Perseus jumped up, seized the shaft, and indignantly flung it back. If Phineus had not started running, the spear would have run him through and killed him, but he didn’t wait for the blow to land: he went to hide behind an altar. Thus the altar wrongly saved the one it should have confounded! Nonetheless, the cast was not without effect: Rhoetus, a man greatly respected for his advice and his deeds, was struck in the head so that it completely impaled him, puncturing skin and bone and brain. Full of pain and agony, he pulled out the spear that so afflicted him, and fell to the ground, dead and pale. Then you would have seen steel arrows and spears being shot throughout the halls. Everyone started threatening King Cepheus and his son-in-law, but the king didn’t want to stick around. He retired to his chamber without delay. He didn’t want to fall into the hands of Phineus or his men. He was none too pleased about the unwarranted strife that had arisen in his house. [85–125] [miniature, fol. 132v: people attacking a church with pickaxes]

Moralization {P}hineus and his followers can represent the evil intentions of those who have chosen the world and worldly delights. And to gratify the flesh, they want to turn their souls away from God, who allowed himself to be captured and to suffer pain and death on the Cross in order to redeem and free them. They are the ones who, in their folly, try to fight God and “strip him of the reward he gained by his prowess,” that is, the soul, which is joined in marriage to God through the Spirit.2 They say that God created all temporal delights to comfort men and women, and not for anything else.3 God created man and

2 3

Compare 1 Corinthians 6:17 and 3:16–19, Romans 8:26. Et non por el, v. 142. El2 in DMF is also glossed as “Dieu,” from Hebrew.



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woman in the spirit4 so that they could have comfort and delight and joy for all eternity, if, for all that, they had not lost it through disobedience. Hence God pronounced the sentence whereby the soul was sentenced to death, because of the apple that was eaten against the will of the Creator. After that, everything changed, for the soul was sentenced to be rendered up eternally to the terrifying “sea monster,” and had lost all joy, had it not recovered it through Jesus, who delivered it and maimed the sea monster, and so conquered the soul and took it for himself and joined it to himself through marriage. But there are many who, in their presumptuousness, try to sever and undo this marriage and challenge God. The gluttonous and the lustful; those who revel in the flesh; those who delight in earthly pleasures; the avaricious full of covetousness, which goads and inflames them to commit every disloyalty; the malfeasant hateful ones; the evil and the lazy; the woeful ones, dejected and angry; the envious ones devoid of goodness; the arrogant proud: they are the ones who waged war on the Son of God, as they would have on God the Father, if that were possible. But God is in his lofty tower in heaven, where he has little fear of their attacks, and the wicked ones continue fighting against God’s friends on earth, and many of them are determined to harm and wrong God, and all of them are intent on wrongfully destroying Holy Church. [126–185] [miniature, fol. 133r: fight scene with casualties]

Perseus Fights Phineus (II) {W}arlike Pallas rushed to help and protect her brother and covered him with her shield, so that his enemies, who had fiercely assailed and attacked him from every side, would not find him bare or unprotected. Perseus defended himself very well, giving and handing out mighty blows. He sliced open many chests and bellies. He cut up his enemies and hacked them apart. It was a great marvel how many feet, hands, and heads he cut off. [186–198] There was an Indian named Athis, a young man of fifteen,5 who was handsome, attractive, and marvelously stylish. He wore a mantle of fine crimson silk,6 hemmed with a golden hem, and clasped at his neck with a golden clasp.

Home et feme spiritelment / Fist Diex, vv. 144–145. Spiritelment could refer to the creation of the soul per Aquinas, ST I q. 90, and Bonaventure, Brev. II.9, or to the idea that humans are “wondrously and perfectly made” in God’s image. See also Bonaventure, 2 Sent. dd. 17–18. 5 In Ovid (Met. 5.51), Athis is sixteen (bis adhuc octonis integer annis). 6 In Ovid (Met. 5.52), “of Tyrian purple,” the royal or imperial purple. In OF, porpre (v. 203) refers to a fine silk of Middle Eastern origin. 4

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He looked so graceful and elegant. He wore a sumptuous coronet7 on his head. He knew well how to wound his enemies from afar with bow and crossbow. He had one handy, and nocked the bowstring to shoot an arrow at Perseus. When Perseus saw him, he was not pleased. He rushed toward him. He wielded a burning log8 and gave him such a blow on the back of the head that he knocked out blood and brains. Athis fell to the ground and thrashed, feeling the anguish of death. [199–220] When Lycabas, a young Assyrian man who loved Athis more than anything, saw him dead, he was very sad and heavy-hearted. I shall not dwell too much on the grief that he felt for Athis’s death, but he did love him dearly and mourned him greatly and lamented him. After the grief and the lamentation, he didn’t wait long. He grabbed the dead man’s bow, nocked the arrow, and said: “The hand that killed this young man knew no honor. You deserve more disgrace than praise for his death, and there is no amount of riches that could dissuade me from taking vengeance for it. You will not rejoice for long over what has brought me pain and anger!” Then, without another word, he loosed the arrow to strike him. Nothing could have saved Perseus from death if he had scored a direct hit. But when Perseus saw him, he ducked to save his life and into a fold of his clothing, without harming him, went the arrow. Perseus had his sword out. He assailed the Assyrian. He struck him in the chest with such fury that he fell dead next to Athis, to become his companion in death. [221–253] Phorbas, son of Methion, and bold-hearted Amphimedon from Libya, were eager to wage battle and were running around the hall, looking for a fight. But that turned out badly for them, because the blood from the bodies, lying pale and dead, that was running across the floor made them slip and fall. The one who could never have his fill of butchering his enemies – that is, Perseus – harried them hard and struck them vigorously with his sharp steel sword. Before they could get up, he made a harsh example of them. Perseus struck Amphimedon on the spine so hard that he killed him. He hit Phorbas in turn, striking him between his chin and his chest. The rest of his life was short: since his throat was cut, he could not help but die a painful death. [miniature, fol. 133v: fight scene with perseus wielding the golden cup]

{N}ext Eurytus, son of Actor, joined the fray: he had a double-edged ax, wellsharpened and well-honed. He headed for Perseus, aiming to kill or wound him. As Perseus sensed his approach, he sprang up to confront him. On a table, he saw a golden cup that was worth a fortune – it was beautifully engraved Riche chapel, v. 208. Translated according to Ovid (Met. 5.53), who specifies “a curved coronet [ornamented] his myrrh-drenched hair” (Kline). 8 In Ovid (Met. 5.58), from the altar. 7



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and ridiculously heavy: it weighed at least fifteen marks.9 Perseus lifted it with both hands and struck him in the face so hard that he knocked him to the ground, dead. Blood gushed from his face. After that he killed, it seems to me, Polydegmon of Babylon. He exerted himself and strove mightily to put his enemies to death. In a very short time, he killed five of them, that is, Abaris and Lycetus, Helices, Phlegyas, and Clytus. He slew the living and trampled the dead. [254–302] When Phineus saw the great crowd of his followers and friends that his enemy – that is, Perseus the bold-hearted – had killed, he almost went mad with rage and grief. He felt very sad and heavy-hearted over it. He would have gladly taken revenge, but did not dare attack Perseus at close range. He threw a long spear of cypress wood at him, but the spear did not fly straight. It unfortunately struck Idas, who was not in the wrong or in the right, and had taken no side in this fight, and had not involved himself in any way in the dispute that was taking place. Idas pulled out the spear without delay and said, “Phineus, you’ve lumped me in with your enemies, and it’s entirely fitting that I should become one.” [303–322] Idas wanted to cast at Phineus, but he had lost so much blood from his wound that he dropped dead on the ground. Clymenus struck Hodites, the master and lord of the land and commander of the whole realm after the king, so violently with a sharp steel sword that he made him fall dead to the ground. Hypseus exerted himself and strove mightily in this battle for his lord, Phineus: with his steel sword he hit Prothoenor, and Lyncides struck back at him, smiting him dead next to Prothoenor. [323–331] There was a wise old gentleman who served the gods with a steadfast heart, and loved peace. His name was Emathion, and he condemned the ones who had started this fight. He had lived so long, had seen so much, that he was not fit for combat. He was clinging to an altar where he had come for safety. Chromis committed great perfidy by striking him at the altar. The altar to which he had fled for rescue could not protect him, for the intemperate Chromis came with great disdain to behead him on the altar. He sent his head flying into the fire where the sacrifice had been burned – he committed an act of cruelty and great malice! [332–354] Then Ammon and his brother Broteas attacked Phineus’s men with steel maces weighted with lead. When Phineus saw his followers being massacred and maimed, he was very heavy-hearted over it, and very angry. He would have very little self-respect if he did not avenge them. With his smooth-cutting steel blade, he beheaded one and then the other. Then he attacked Ampycus,

9 Quinze mars au mains, v. 290: about seven pounds. The eight-ounce marc is a unit of measurement for precious metals.

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the priest of the goddess Ceres. He would never again say vespers or mass!10 Lampetides was in that hall, where the battle was bitter and grim. He knew little of military matters, being much better versed in minstrelsy, and could entertain people better than he could bear arms. He had come not to fight but to entertain the wedding-goers, which was part of his profession. He held a harp in his hand. He sang a sweet song while playing it. Pedasus said to him at once: “Sir minstrel, we condemn you and your fables to the vile devils! Singing is not appropriate for what we have undertaken. You’d better sing in hell!” [355–384] So saying, he marched up to him. He attacked him with great fury. He hit him such a blow in the temple with his steel blade that he struck him dead. As Lampetides was writhing in his death throes, he touched the strings of the harp, and, harping, he gave up the ghost. But his death dearly cost the one who had killed him. When Lycormas saw him killed, his heart was filled with wrath. Visibly indignant, Lycormas ripped the bar from the door, brought it down on Pedasus’s head, so that he sprawled dead on the ground: he spilled out all his brains. Pelates tried to rip the bar from another door.11 As he was tugging on it, Corythus pinned his hand to the wood with a sharp spear. He was stuck there by the hand. Abas came and disemboweled him with a sharp ax. He left him sticking to the door, dead. [385–409] The fight was harsh and deadly. You would have seen there a battle much to be feared. You would have seen steel blades and sharp spears bathed in blood. Brains were spilled. You would have seen heads fly off and many knights maimed. Perseus gave a good account of himself with the sharp blade he wielded, yet suffered major losses.12 He lost two of his best supporters in this fight. One was Melaneus the brave, the other Dorylas the rich. Halcyoneus speared him sideways through the vitals and made him topple over backwards, dead. When he saw him dead, he taunted him: “Take that, Dorylas. I’ll let you keep as much land as you have under you – you, who had so much of it before this conflict.” [410–431] Perseus was none too pleased to see his people killed in this way: he was very sad and heavy-hearted over it. He was intent on having his revenge. He yanked the spear from the corpse and threw it at Halcyoneus, hitting him so well between the eyes that it pierced his brain right through and the tip stuck out behind. Having dealt his blow, he bowled him over dead, then with the This anachronism is a literal translation of the French: Ne dira mais vespres ne messe, v. 367. 11 Esrachier vault d’un huis l’estache / Pelates, vv. 402–403. In Ovid (Met. 5.124–125), this is explicitly the bar from a different door (the one on the left as opposed to the one on the right), and the variation of estache from barre in v. 397 could be explained by the rhyme, rather than by concluding that Pelates is trying to tear off a doorpost. 12 This line doesn’t correspond to anything in Ovid. 10



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same spear he killed Clanis and his brother Clytius, Celadon the Mendesian and then Astreus the bastard, and Aethion who was too late in realizing his misfortune. Then he laid low Thoactes, the king’s squire, and Agyrtes, who had infamously slain his father, like a criminal. Perseus had strewn the hall with the wounded and the dead: their bodies lay cold and pale, and there were so many that there was no counting them. But it deeply grieved and encumbered his heart that there were more than ten times as many enemies alive as dead. They all had their hearts set on killing him. If you had seen the brave warrior doing his utmost to defend himself, cutting off hands here, thrusting through chests there, killing and tearing apart so many men, you would surely have remembered him as a man of courage and heroism. King Cepheus, had he been able, would gladly have come to his aid, but such was the unruliness of these proud and fierce people that he could not sway his opponents by command or plea, nor by promise or love, nor by threat or fear, for their differences were irreconcilable. [432–475] Perseus’s new wife – that noble creature, that innocent young girl – was lamenting greatly. She had fear and great dread in her heart: she was afraid of losing her husband, seeing him among so many enemies, alone, without help and without friends. The young woman went to pray for him, and so did the king and the queen. The lamentation and the noise that the three of them made out of love for him was great. The hall echoed and rang with it, but it echoed even more with the clang of the weapons and the swordplay, for the fighting was overwhelming. The outcry of the dying was great. The whole hall was stained with their blood. The fighting broke out anew. Phineus rallied his men for combat, of whom there were a great number: never had such a force been seen to gather to fight against one man alone. They made the ground shake beneath them. They attacked him from all sides. One never saw hail in the month of March fall thicker than the bolts and arrows that flew in an attempt to wound the noble hero. They launched them all in one volley. Perseus set his back against a pillar to protect his rear. Oh God, what a valiant knight! How dauntless, brave, and wise he was – and how great his valor! How rugged and alert he was: in such a plight he was neither anxious nor terrified, and was no more frightened than if he had been in a castle on a motte. If he had had more warriors like himself beside him, he would have repelled the whole attack, but he was alone and without help. Nevertheless, he did not spare them at all; rather, he killed them, and set about cutting down with his sharp steel sword those who pressed him closest. [476–520] Ethemon from the East and Molpeus of Chaonia advanced ahead of the others and got right up in his face. But this advance did not advance them, for it became a setback. Ethemon assailed Perseus from the right, and Molpeus, from the left. Like a hungry tiger that can hear cattle lowing in different parts

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of a branching thicket and does not know which to attack first but wants to assail them all at once, so Perseus, it seems to me, hesitated about whom to strike first in order to protect himself. He turned to the left. With his steel blade he struck Molpeus in such a way that, with a single blow, he amputated one of his legs. When Ethemon saw his legless companion amputated, he went completely mad with rage and anger. He almost lost his mind from grief. He raised his steel blade with both hands. He would have been better off not raising it so high! He wanted to strike Perseus in the head, but it backfired on him: as he brought the sword down, it struck a sturdy rafter. The impact was vigorous, and the wood was tough: it broke the steel blade and shattered it to pieces. A shard flew toward Ethemon, hitting him directly in the throat. Blood poured down and stained his chest. He fell to the ground and begged for mercy with clasped hands, in vain. But the one he had pressed so closely did not leave off for all that, and ran him through with his steel blade. [521–562] Perseus exerted himself and strove mightily, but what good was his strength when the horde of his enemies kept growing and pressing on? They would already have captured and mistreated him, or perhaps killed him, when he remembered the Gorgon’s head. Then he said very fiercely: “Since my mortal enemies are pressing me so sorely, and I don’t find myself strong enough to prevail against them, I’m forced by necessity to seek my enemy’s help.” Then, he raised the head and shouted: “My friends, take heed that none of you look towards this head, if there happen to be any of you left.” [563–580] [miniature, fol. 135v: fight scene with perseus holding up the gorgon’s head]

{T}hesculus13 said: “Find someone else who will fear your marvel and your words! I couldn’t care less what you’re telling us. You’ll never escape me like that.” Then he tried to throw the spear that would kill Perseus, but as soon as he looked at the Gorgon’s head, he quickly lost consciousness and, if the tale does not lie to me, he was turned into solid rock, with the same appearance and posture as before the transformation. Then Ampyx advanced on the descendant of Lynceus14 and would have viciously injured him, but he turned harder than solid marble as soon as he saw the head that imperiled everyone who saw it. [581–597] Suddenly, Nileus came rushing through the palace in all haste. In his great pride, he claimed that he was a son of the Nile. In no way did he belong to that lineage; nevertheless he was named after it. He was armed with sumptuous arms. He held his shield by the straps, and it suited him handsomely and well. There were seven rivers depicted on his shield with gold 13 14

Rouen has Thessalus instead of Thesculus, v. 581. Perseus.



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and silver paint, suggesting that he descended from the Nile. He shouted, proudly: “Look, Perseus, what house can claim such an illustrious origin? Your death beckons in my steel blade that cuts so well, and in the strength of my arms. And you will find great consolation and relief in dying at the hands of such a noble man.” As he spoke, his tongue began to stiffen. Then it stopped, unable to say any more. [598–620] Eryx saw him and became enraged. He berated and reprimanded them greatly: “You are all becoming stiff not because of any magic or because of what this young man is doing or saying but only because of your own cowardice, it seems to me. Let us all rush him together!” He tried to rush at Perseus but did not have the power to move from that spot. [621–629] Those I have just mentioned came to perdition because of their sins and their crimes, and that was entirely right, for if anyone commits a crime or wrongly attempts to harm another, it is entirely fitting for the harm to come back to them. [630–636] One of Perseus’s noble companions and friends, Aconteus, was fighting on to defend righteousness and loyalty. As soon as he saw Medusa’s head, which petrified those who looked at it, the same thing happened to him. Astyages charged at him: he thought he was alive and struck him, but the blow clanged and bounced back, as if he were striking solid rock. Astyages marveled greatly. He was astounded by the marvel. While he marveled, he carelessly looked at the head of Medusa and he, too, by similar misfortune, was instantly transformed. [637–653] It would take too long to name all those Perseus put to death that day, and so I want to state it briefly. There must have been at least two hundred killed, and two hundred transformed by the Gorgon, and at least two hundred were still in condition to fight. When Phineus saw his men confounded, he felt great woe and anger over it. He didn’t know what to do or say. He greatly regretted his folly and his having started such a war. He saw his men turned to stone. He knew their faces well, called them by name and begged them to help him, but he could not find one able to speak a word to him. And so he stood in awe and marveled, and he ran his hands over the marvel. He felt great anguish and great fear. He saw clearly that he was getting the worst of it and that the tables had turned. Sad and shaking, he turned away so that he didn’t see Medusa’s head. [654–678] [miniature, fol. 136r: perseus holding up the gorgon’s head in front of phineus]

{H}e came towards Perseus, and, with a heart that was anguished and darkened with sorrow, with clasped hands begged him for him pardon and mercy, and said: “My lord, I surrender to you. I know I have transgressed against you, and it has brought me to great misfortune. Please, my lord, put away that horrible

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and hideous head. The two of us are not at war because of hatred or envy, or desire for wealth, but solely for the love of a lady whom we each wanted to take as wife. Each of us had good cause and good reason, but in truth you’ve done more to deserve her than I have. I no longer envy you for that because, although she was promised to me first, you conquered her by your prowess when I had already lost her. You have made me pay all too dearly for daring to oppose you. Now, I beg you, forgive me your anger and please let it end there: you have defeated me and I do not resent it, for you are incredibly full of great prowess. My body, my land, and my wealth, and everything I have, I give you as a gift and freely turn over to you, without opposition or envy, the lady and all: spare my life.” [679–709] When Perseus saw his adversary beg and plead for mercy, he felt great joy in his heart, and spoke to him fiercely: “You wretched coward and faint-hearted man, you would have killed me and torn me to shreds if you’d had the power, and now you give me all your possessions and ask for mercy and forgiveness. It is in my power to grant you everything you ask of me, but it is far too great a gift for such a wicked man. Nevertheless, you can rest assured that you will not die by a sword-stroke from me or my men, but know that you will remain in this palace for future remembrance. My wife will often see your likeness and will take comfort in seeing her betrothed defeated.” [710–729] Then he raised the head into Phineus’s line of sight, and when he had seen the Gorgon, his eyesight was blurred and he became stiffer than pure marble. He remained frozen there, in short, in the very semblance and posture he was in at that moment. His face looked fearful and supplicating; he humbled himself with clasped hands. When those who fought for him saw their lord defeated, they couldn’t hold out any more and were forced to surrender. No one threw any more spears or shot any more arrows at him. It has often been recounted that, once a lord is killed or captured, his men are soon overcome. Perseus did as he pleased with them: he took vengeance as he saw fit on those who had grieved him, and inflicted harsh justice on them. To those who had defended him, he extended grace and a generous reward. [730–753] Moralization {A}nyone who so wishes might understand the Phineans, who attacked and unjustly tried to crush the Perseans, as the wickedness and the acts of malice, the mortal sins and the vices which have been unleashed on the world, and which eagerly rush to assail the virtues in order to confound them.15 I can explain this another way. The proud, full of arrogance, in whom there is no truth or faith, have started a war against the Son of God. They wage war against him on earth and they trample his poor people and afflict Holy 15

Putting a period at the end of v. 762 instead of de Boer’s comma.



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Church. They are the ones whom the covetousness and the pride of the world inflame to do every cruelty, every wrong, every disloyalty, every treasure, every offense and fraud and falsity and perfidy, defamations and denigrations, slanders and mockeries. They do evil, think evil, and speak evil. Such people, who apply themselves to such things, now want, in their presumptuousness, to assail God in his domain. These malicious wretches have all conspired to do the worst they can. They no longer have any regard for God’s love, and refuse to abandon their evil undertaking no matter how he forbids, threatens, or pleads with them. They are all striving to confound, undermine, and shame Holy Church. I see the whole world growing ever more vicious towards Jesus Christ and his people. Now the treacherous minds of sinners are showing themselves openly, for they all, each and every one of them, want to rob Jesus Christ of the soul that is rightfully his16 and soil the holy temple with sin. Now Holy Church would be in danger if God in his mercy did not think of her. She can do no more to defend herself unless her spouse defends her. Now the Church Triumphant appears on behalf of his daughter and his supporters, who are in great need of help.17 There are so many tribulations, assaults, and temptations that she is, to be sure, very afraid of losing her spouse and his love, and that God has forgotten her. On the contrary, he is fighting for her: he is defending her, and will defend her. There is no way it would please him to let her be widowed and bereaved, no matter how much she might be afflicted by the foolish, who will in the end be subjected to great damnation if they do not come to repentance. [754–818] The prideful people full of arrogance who always look for worldly delights and are not preoccupied with any other concern than worldly elegance, vain pastimes, embellishments – having beautiful clothes and rich adornments, golden silk dresses and hats made of fine fur with which they dress up and embellish themselves: these are the people who “make war on” the Son of God by adorning themselves outrageously. God confounds such people openly, for anyone who really thinks about it. The Son of the King of Paradise resolved to humble himself so much that he allowed himself to be captured and bound to the stake, abused, and beaten. And to beat down the pride of the world, he was hanged naked, poor, and cold on the beam of the Holy Cross, and instead of with a crown of fine gemstones, he was crowned with sharp thorns. The world,

Despouiller / Jhesucrist de s’ame, vv. 796–797. Compare Ezekiel 18:4. Referring to the three states of the Church, according to Catholic doctrine. The Church Militant (Ecclesia militans), or Church Pilgrim, comprises the Christians on earth, struggling as soldiers of Christ against sin and darkness. The Church Penitent (Ecclesia poenitens), or Church Suffering or Expectant, includes those souls currently in Purgatory. And the Church Triumphant (Ecclesia triumphans) includes those in the presence of the beatific vision in paradise. 16 17

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and worldly vanities full of excess, should give no pleasure to anyone who wishes to follow his example well. It would all be worthless to them. [819–847] Lechers and gluttons who have devoted their attention and care to gluttony and lust, guzzle down strong wines, “stumble and slide off” like blind and misguided people, tumbling from one sin into another: these are the sons of disobedience, upon whom the wrath and vengeance of the Son of God descends, for he has definitively condemned them to damnation. [848–857] Bad-mouthers, liars, slanderers, gossips, and flatterers – may God confound them – who sow quarrels in the world and discord among people: they aggravate all conflicts with their double-edged slanders that cut like a two-bladed ax, from both angles, for they flatteringly cajole you on the one hand, and on the other, they stab and gnaw at you with calumnies.18 God defeated these stinging scorpions, full of slanders, full of malice, with “the weighty chalice” from which he drank the bitter drink composed of vinegar and gall. [858–873] Lazy and puny folk who waste time in vain idleness instead of doing work that will please God: even if it’s not the case that they commit mortal sin, what they do worsens the state of the world and leads to mortal damnation, for everyone should know with certainty that it is not enough for those who do not want to do good to refrain from evil, for sloth leads men and women to the eternal damnation of their souls. Those who foolishly delight in the recitation of vain stories and take their pleasure in the sweet song of psaltery, viol, or lyre, they too will be slain and will weep woefully in hell for all eternity. [874–893] {T}here can be another interpretation which is well in accord with truth. The “minstrels and harpists,” that is to say, the preachers who in the olden days sang and preached the holy doctrine and the faith throughout the world – the holy apostles and the disciples and the martyrs of long ago – were put to death by tyrants full of hubris. And there were many of them who died on the altars to which they fled, and the tyrants killed them there, without reverence for the altars, the holy temples and churches. Those who have great estates and ample earthly possessions tend to ruin the world in its entirety,19 for it is a hard thing to save someone who has a great accumulation of riches.20 And, during their lifetime, no matter how much they possess great wealth and great estates, great possessions and great houses, great lands and great domains, what can they take with them when their soul leaves their body? Then their share will be a simple shroud, and their body’s length of ground in which they are entombed and buried. Those who have put all their care and faith, their love and their hope in worldly delights, when they contemplate their malice and the This is moralizing Eurytus, who fights with the double ax and is struck down by Perseus with a massive chalice. 19 A reminder of the importance of one’s role in community (communitas), as one’s actions have repercussions not only for themselves but for everyone. 20 Compare Matthew 19:21–30. 18



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sins they feel themselves to be filled with, they are so distressed, so terrified, and so afraid of God’s wrath and vengeance that, in their despair, they become hardened in their obstinacy. And they reject God’s merciful grace to the point that they lose all good sense, and all power to restrain themselves, and all desire to do good. And because malice abounds, grows, and multiplies in this world while charity grows cold, people become hardened, not doing good, and in every land people are harder than stone. [894–943] Those who, in their charitable love, are full of the fear of God, have such strong and firm hearts, and the love and fear of God have so toughened and solidified them, so tested and sharpened them, that they do not fear temptation, pain, or persecution, nor any discomfort or anguish that might befall them in the world. Rather, they are strong like solid rock when it comes to enduring all pain, all injury, and they take everything patiently, the good with the bad. Long ago, without a doubt, God’s friends were found to be steadfast and equal to the strain. [944–959] But nowadays, patience is absent from the world, and all iniquity abounds, and the whole world is hardened, and darkened, and clouded in the shadows of ignorance, malice, and unbelief. Now it has become arrogant and irreverent toward the Son of God, attacking him and striving to deprive him of his spouse, of his wife. But the Son of God, without delay, will take very harsh vengeance for it, and confound his opponents, enemies, and adversaries. He may endure these attacks for now, but he will reign, and will mightily assail his assailants with an iron rod. Long ago, he came very humbly into the world, among his enemies, and found very few friends. He suffered through so much harm and insult, so much scorn and abuse, and, in the end, a shameful death, for those whom he loved with a pure heart. Through patience, mercy, charitable friendship, and humility, he was victorious over the arrogance and iniquity of the world. And, in order to commit this victory to memory forever, he resolved to leave an open demonstration of his great patience21 in his palace, that is, in church. The Blessed Sacrament of the Altar is in Holy Church, and will be for as long as this world lasts. Together with the sign of the cross, God bequeathed us in truth and in faith this eternal sacrifice, this grace and this gift, to offer solace and comfort to his spouse and so that she may be strong enough to endure all worldly perils. Since, De sa grant pascience, v. 990: no reason to translate “passion.” See, for example, 2 Peter 3, 1 Timothy 1:16, and Romans 2:4. Aquinas expounds upon the virtue of patience in ST II–II q. 136 and Bonaventure discusses patience within the context of the virtues and gifts of the spirit in Brev. V.5, and again in the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. 3. He further expands on the virtue of patience at length in chapter 4 of The Virtues of a Religious Superior (trans. Mollitor 1921), a work of considerable interest to those reading the OM in that it outlines the predispositions and characteristics of good preachers and Franciscan leaders, as opposed to those who have strayed from their duties and are derided and condemned in the OM. 21

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for her sake, God resolved to offer himself up to receive shame and humiliation, pain, suffering, death, and torment, just as it appears in this symbol,22 she must scorn all worldly goods and the attacks of the enemy, for the love of God, her beloved. For those who will scorn this world and shun the devil, who will have perverted many souls, thus taking God’s side, God will, truth be told, grant them a reward for it in eternal glory, and the wicked will ultimately be subjected to mortal damnation. [960–1017] [miniature, fol. 138r: perseus and andromeda and their retinue on horseback]

Perseus Takes Andromeda Home {T}hrough wickedness and cunning, Phineus and his companions tried to wage war against Perseus and despoil him of his land and his blessed beloved. But Perseus would not stand for it; rather, he rescued her valiantly, vigorously defeating those who had started the war. After achieving victory and ending the war, he returned to his own land with a large household and a splendid retinue, bringing with him his voluptuous wife. There, he exalted her and held her dear; his people welcomed her warmly, and she was a lady of great authority. [1018–1034] [miniature, fol. 138r: the trinity enthroned: god the father, with the holy spirit dove in his beard, holding up jesus on the cross]23

Moralization {N}ow I shall explain this matter. Those who have chosen the world and the delights of the flesh as their goal,24 and do not apply themselves to any good work, they wage war on God and plot to deprive him of his beloved and his wife, that is, of the soul, holy and glorious, for whose salvation and rescue God deigned to experience death on the Cross. But the Son of God does not consent in the least to lose his wife and his beloved; rather, like a good friend, he defends her against all her mortal enemies, that is, against the world and against the flesh, and against the scornful enemy, the avaricious and gluttonous This seems to refer back to the aperte demoustrence of v. 991 and the signe dou crucefi, v. 998, which are theologically interchangeable. 23 This image is similar to the various images of God enthroned: fol. 160r shows him with images of the Evangelists; fols 193r, 278v, and 315v show him holding an orb; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384v have similar depictions of human kings, and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia. 24 Reading eulz as oelz, vs. “for themselves.” 22



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beast who devours and swallows everything that he can seize and cling to. The soul that cherishes her spouse and does a good job of keeping herself among his beloved, the soul full of good morals, virtuous, and of good life, that has no desire to do any evil but rather loves and fears her Savior: such a soul will pass through the perils of the world safely and fearlessly. For God, in whom all good things abound, will never let those who latch onto him perish or be lost; rather, he will protect them beneath his shield. Those who fear him righteously and without deception will never be defeated or vanquished, but will be victorious over their opponents. The soul that has such a helper, the soul that has steadfast hope in Divine Wisdom, vanquishes, with the help of her friend, the flesh, the world, and the enemy, leaving them confounded and defeated, stunned and routed, and, through that victory, wins a crown in eternal glory, now that her opponents have been vanquished. [1035–1078] Now I shall tell you about the shield that the Savior carries with him, that is, the shield of holy faith, with which God protects his friends against enemy attacks. It is now right that I tell you about the craftsmanship and the appearance of this shield that Divine Wisdom wielded for our deliverance.25 The shield looks like a triangle and so must have three equidistant vertices that do not touch each other and are equally close to the point from which the triangle can be circumscribe.26 Although one might perceive distinction and distance between these three vertices, they are but one single triangle. Likewise, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – I hold this to be true – are three distinct persons: the Father is the sole source,27 while the Son is his only-begotten,28 and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the two of them. But, although they are distinct, they are of one essence: one single God, and sim-

25 On the shield of faith, see Psalm 28:7 (Vulgate 27:7), Ephesians 6:10–17. This became a trope in the Middle Ages. Compare Aquinas’s discussion on the armor of God in ST II–II q. 184, art. 1. Citing Ephesians, Bonaventure discusses the armor of God in his Sermon for the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost. For him, the armor of God is the Passion of Christ, and affectionately evoking its memory causes every demon to flee. Bonaventure also takes up the theme of spiritual weaponry in 4 Sent. d. 2, art. 1. 26 The idea is that all equilateral triangles are inscribed within a circle drawn from the point called the center, so the points of the triangle are all at an equal radius from the center: the circumcenter of the circle and the triangle are the same. 27 The Father alone is the principle without principle (arch anarchos), the sole source (pege) of the Son and the Holy Spirit. Thus the Athanasian Creed (ca. 400): “The Holy Spirit is from the Father and the Son, not made nor created, nor begotten, but proceeding.” The question of the filioque is much discussed by the early Church Fathers. See, for example, Augustine, On the Trinity 5.14,15 and 15:17,27; Tertullian, Against Praxeas 4.1 and 8.1; Origen, Commentary on John 2.6; Marius Victorinus, Against Arium 1.12; Hilary of Poitiers, On the Trinity 2.29 and 12.56; etc. Aquinas and Bonaventure pick up this discussion in ST I q. 36, art. 2, and Brev. I. 5–6. See also 1 Sent. dd. 4–7. 28 Compare John 3:16.

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ple unity in their perfect Trinity.29 The three persons are three vertices, and the three constitute a single triangle. And whoever removed a single vertex would destroy the triangle and, to my knowledge, would make it deficient. And so the shield may also be round in form, to demonstrate that God is without beginning and without end for all eternity: he is the triangular Alpha and the simple and singular Omega who begins and ends and encompasses everything in his divine power. [1079–1119] Now that we know about the shape of the shield, I will describe to you, without fail, the construction, craftsmanship, and materials of the shield, if I can find the words for it, and then the description of the shield will be complete. Every shield, if it is well constructed, is made out of hide, wood, glue, and a strap with which the shield is hung around the neck. And it must be painted and gilded on its face, and so colored that one may know from the figures who must be bearing the arms. These elements, it seems to me, can all be found on this shield. It is the best that ever was. It includes hide, and glue, and wood. The wood is very precious: it is the holy glorious tree of the Cross where God was hung and on which his hide was stretched, held in place with the glue of friendship. The good Lord full of mercy, out of love for us, let himself be hung and stretched on the wood of the Cross and, to better affix the shield, had himself pierced with three sharp nails to reinforce the sinews. [1120–1146] The shield that I am describing to you has very noble ornamentation: its field is white, it seems to me, in places filled with the color of blood, which stains and illuminates the white. The field is God’s delicate flesh, whiter than fresh snow. The scarlet with which the white is painted is the blood that gushed out from his hands, side, head, and feet that he had pierced for our sake. Six “brushes” were used to paint this shield: three nails with which the Cross was attached to the body of God, through his feet and hands, then the lance by which he was pierced, and the rough and sharp crown that made his head bleed; the sixth was the harsh whip with which God’s flesh was scourged at the stake where he was scourged before he was crucified. The shield was buffed and polished with the lime of yearning thirst that God had to bring us towards himself, which was quenched with gall and strong and bitter vinegar. [1147–1172] And to embellish the shield even more, there was a label with seven pendants of attractive appearance, the seven sacraments of Holy Church. The seven pendants of great worth represent the seven holy sacraments. They are portrayed most artfully. [1173–1178] The first pendant signifies baptism, which purifies everything and cleanses the baptized of all original sin with which they were stained and of other sins, if any, that they may have committed prior to receiving baptism. Baptism 29 This discussion is of great importance to Aquinas in ST I qq. 3 and 11. For an overview, see Lamont (1997). See also Bonaventure, Brev. I. 5–6 and 1 Sent. d. 7, pt. 2.



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assures us of paradise, which the bite30 took from us long ago. Then comes confirmation: this is the second of the sacraments and it confirms our belief in the faith. Then come holy orders, to which one must be promoted if he is appointed and chosen to conduct the divine office. [1179–1194] The fourth pendant denotes the rite that the priest celebrates and consecrates when, by the power of the holy sacrament on the altar, the bread and wine become divine flesh and blood, in the same way that it was consecrated by God, who consecrated his own flesh and blood when he resolved to feed his apostles with his noble blood at the Last Supper. They represent the body of God that was hung on the Cross and the blood that was spilled when the Son of God endured the Passion for our redemption. This is the flesh, the life that nourishes and gives life to the soul; God has said of it that whoever does not reverently eat and drink his flesh and blood will never have eternal life. [1195–1212] The fifth pendant is the union of man and woman through marriage, which God created so as to multiply the human race, and commanded us to practice to prevent adultery.31 Anyone who lies with a woman outside marriage damns himself and sins mortally. The sixth pendant, to my mind, denotes confession. This reconciles and reunites us with God, full of mercy. This is the instrument32 and the purgative that washes, cleans, purges, and discharges all true confessors of the wicked deed of sin, if they make satisfaction for it. After that comes extreme unction, with which the sick are anointed: it is the medicine and the ointment that purifies and cleanses the children of the muck and filth of all the venial sins with which they were stained and which they hadn’t confessed because they hadn’t thought to do so. [1213–1237] The seven pendants I am describing were incredibly well crafted, and on them were painted with great skill seven noble doves, more precious than gold or topaz, which represent the seven gifts of grace, the seven gifts of the Holy Paraclete or the divine Holy Spirit. The doves were painted on the shield most artfully, it seems to me, and each of the doves carried a little flower, most precious, pure, and spotless, which was beneficial and very effective against debilitating pain. The seven flowers are humility, happiness and kindness, mercy and patience, chastity and true abstinence.33 Each of these seven flowers cures a most foul disease. Humility pierces and deflates the abscess of swollen pride, and gives the kingdom of heaven that God promises to those who exercise true humility. The flower of kindness cures and heals Of the forbidden fruit. Compare 1 Corinthians 7:9 32 De Boer suggests li lavoir must be interpreted as “instrument oratoire,” hence our adoption of “instrument.” Compare Aquinas on confession in ST Suppl. q. 9. Bonaventure, Brev. VI.10, furnishes important background for this passage. 33 Compare Galatians 5:22–23. Here misericorde stands in for gentleness. Abstinence is distinct from chastity, and is used here in the sense of “continence.” 30 31

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the jaundice of envy, in which there is too much malice, and thus it gives one possession of land in the realm of everlasting life. Patience relieves the pain and numbness of anger, which makes us forget God, and comforts the heart of the angry man, causing him to endure peaceably the penance and torment, the trials and tribulations, the anguish and confusion that we suffer because of the transgressions we have committed through thought or deed, and gives pleasant comfort and joy in eternal glory. Happiness cures slothful paralysis, sets men and women straight, and makes one eager to possess the holy precious bread that strengthens and lightens the soul, no matter how thin the body becomes. Happiness gives full sufficiency of glory for eternity.34 Praiseworthy mercy cures avaricious hypocrisy. It makes people give generously and forgive all quarrels. It reconciles and reunites us with God, full of mercy. Through pure abstinence is healed the disease of gluttony, that is, the greedy and rapacious wolf, the ravenous and devouring wolf. Abstinence causes body, heart, and soul to be cleansed and us to see God. Chastity cures, chases away, and kills the burning and continuous fever of disordering lust.35 Chastity brings true peace to a heart that wishes to live chastely. It frees a person and delivers them from the vile servitude of sin with which the lustful are burdened. God holds as his heir and son anyone who loves peace and maintains it. [1238–1309] On the shield were also painted the sun and the moon, in the place where God set them in order to give light to a world in shadow and to teach people how to behave and conduct themselves. The sun, which illuminates everything, is the science36 and doctrine and faith of the New Testament. The moon, which changes so often – now it wanes, now it waxes and shines in the dark night – represents the Old Testament, which changes and transforms itself, and casts its light in the night, that is to say, amid the darkness of benighted heathendom. 34 Compare Aquinas, ST I–II q. 1, esp. “since it is part of the nature of happiness that it is self-sufficient, as is clear in Ethics I, it must be the case that once happiness has been attained, no good thing necessary for human beings is missing.” Bonaventure’s Journey, ch. 1, also echoes Aristotle and defines happiness as nothing other than the enjoyment of the highest good; since that highest good is above us, no one can attain it without rising above themselves. In the Mystery of the Trinity I.1 (trans. Hayes 1980), Bonaventure notes that the human desire for happiness can only be realized when we possess the supreme Good, that is, God. This desire for happiness presupposes we have knowledge in our soul that the Supreme Good exists. 35 It may be tempting to translate “disordered lust,” but see Aquinas, ST I–II q. 77 and II–II q. 153, esp. art. 5. For Bonaventure, too, sin is a “disordering”: see Brev. III.9 and 2 Sent. d. 35. 36 On theology as science (scientia), see Aquinas, ST I q. 1, and Bonaventure, Brev. I.1. See also Bonaventure, 3 Sent. dd. 23 and 35, and Journey ch. 1; his Reduction of the Arts to Theology (trans. Hayes 1996) also takes up this question in depth, and is recognized as one of the most significant medieval contributions to the classification of the fields of human knowledge.



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And it is from the faith of Holy Church, which is more precious and valuable, that it receives such light as it has. [1310–1329] There are also four beautiful and clever animals, it seems to me, painted on the shield: a man, an ox, and a lion, and a flying eagle. The man is the one who wrote the Gospel about the birth of Jesus Christ, who took on flesh like us; that is, Matthew, who denotes the humanity and Incarnation of God. The ox denotes the Passion and pain that God suffered, when he rendered himself up to receive death and torment for the love of us; it stands for Saint Luke. Saint Mark resembles the lion: he speaks specifically about the Resurrection of God and describes it the most clearly. God is like the lion that resurrects his cubs that are born dead;37 similarly, God resuscitated his Son from the dead, as Saint Mark tells. Saint John appears as an eagle, soaring higher than all other birds; he is the one who spoke most profoundly about the divinity and the eternal nature of the Son and about his Ascension, and who applied himself the most to recounting the divine works38 that the Son of God did and resolved to do. There was more painting after that. [1330–1362] All around the bordure,39 to better reinforce the shield, the craftsman who painted the shield set twelve stout rivets. Each rivet had a cap, and each of these caps attached and connected each rivet to the shield.40 The twelve rivets can be the twelve Apostles, the holy masters, the companions of Jesus Christ. They are the ones about whom it is written, “You are the light of the world.”41 God, in whom all goodness abounds, said to them: “Each of you should strengthen and enlighten faith through your good teaching.”42 The rivet-caps represent, I believe, the twelve articles of faith that the twelve Apostles jointly crafted and agreed to, one for each apostle.43 [1363–1381] The first article says that I must firmly believe in only one God, the Father, the almighty Creator, who created heaven and earth. In the second article, it is 37 The belief that lion cubs were born dead and brought to life by their father’s breath was a commonplace of the bestiary tradition, which interpreted this in terms of Christ and the resurrection. 38 On the miracles worked by Christ, see also Aquinas, ST III q. 43. 39 The bordure of a shield is represented in heraldry as a band of contrasting tincture around the outer edge. 40 For historical methods of shield construction, see Monnich (1994). Thanks to Clifford Rogers (U.S. Military Academy at West Point) for this recommendation and additional advice. 41 Compare Matthew 5:14. 42 Compare Matthew 28:16–20. 43 See Aquinas, ST II–II q. 1, art. 8, and Bonaventure, Brev. V.7 and On the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. 4, where Bonaventure notes that theological knowledge is founded upon faith, and just as the philosophical sciences are founded upon their first principles, so the knowledge of Scripture is founded upon the articles of faith, which are the twelve foundations of the heavenly city.

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written that I must believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, to whom I must show equal honor. The third article tells us that Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit, through divine power, in the body of the intact Virgin, Mary, and took on our humanity without losing his divinity. The fourth article says that, in order to save us, he endured suffering and resolved to die on the cross, under Pontius Pilate, who first had him tied up and beaten, and he suffered much other abuse. Afterwards, he was entombed by Joseph, the one who took him down from the Cross. [1382–1402] The fifth article says that Christ descended into hell – only his soul – from which he mightily extracted his friends who had been imprisoned there and had waited a long time; he redeemed and ransomed them. The sixth article says that he rose from the dead on the third day, soul and body together. The seventh says, it seems to me, that he ascended into heavenly glory and is seated at the right hand of his Father. The eighth says that he will come to judge the living and the dead and will render unto each according to their merit. [1403–1416] I must believe in the Holy Spirit, as the ninth article teaches me. Anyone who doesn’t, commits a sin and transgresses and pays most dearly for it. The Holy Spirit is equal to the Son and the Father and proceeds from both. We must worship and believe in these three persons equally, and we must firmly believe that they form a simple unity44 in their perfect Trinity. The tenth article says and explains that I must believe in Holy Church and her institutions, and take part in the sacraments to be forgiven for the sins in which we are all entangled. I believe in the resurrection of the dead, which is mentioned in the eleventh article, that we shall come bodily before God on Judgment Day, to account for, and acknowledge to him, all the deeds that we do, in action, word, and thought. We must therefore think carefully how we must answer him, for no one will be able to hide from it. The twelfth article assures us that those who will have victory on earth over the devil will live in eternal glory. [1417–1447] The shield is thus bordered very nicely. Saint Paul adorned it with a great many flowers to decorate these twelve rivets. He and his companion Barnabas came too late to contribute to the articles of faith, but they put much effort and great care into painting and perfecting the shield, and expanding the illumination, and Saint Paul in particular applied himself diligently to this. [1448–1457] Now I have to talk about the shoulder-strap. Those who would care to examine it would find that it is made up of ten cords or laces, should anyone count them. The shoulder-strap is good, without a doubt: it is the virtue of obedience. The laces are the Commandments that God issued in the Old Testament. Whoever truly wishes to don his shield should obey them thoroughly. The first commandment is that we love the Lord our God and fear him in our heart, soul, and will, and that we do his pleasure. The second is that we must 44

See Aquinas, ST I q. 39, art. 3, and Bonaventure, Brev. I.5–6 and 1 Sent. dd. 2 and 19.



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not take the name of God in vain. The third is that we honor our father and mother and help them with whatever they need in their life, if they need our help with food, clothes, or shoes. The fourth is that we must keep the Sabbath45 with devout attention. The fifth says that we avoid stealing; the next, killing; and the next, fornication. The eighth says that no one must covet anything their neighbor has. The next one says that we must abstain from loving and carrying off another man’s wife. The last one says that one must not bear false witness for profit or for material gain, or for fear of any harm. These are the Ten Commandments that God firmly commanded all of us to obey, without breaking any of them. [1458–1494] These are the shoulder-strap and the arms that must adorn the shield of anyone who truly wishes to maintain the faith. It is the shield of the holy faith. Whoever bears this shield and wants to believe steadfastly in the faith dwells in the high aid of God,46 the almighty Father. Their enemies, their opponents will never so distress them or oppose them that they need fear their assaults: with this good shield they will be safe. This shield is borne by the soldiers of Jesus Christ, who expect a great reward in his high glory, after their temporal victory. [1495–1511] Faith is a most gracious virtue, most profitable and precious. Faith is the foundation of most holy religion, the support of pure friendship, patience, and mercy, and the bond of true charity. Faith embellishes every dignity. Faith fortifies chastity and strengthens spotlessness. In children it is resplendent. Faith blossoms in young folk and reveals itself in the mature, the wise, and the prudent. It guards, directs, and guides men and women so that they don’t go astray: it elevates them in great dignity and maintains them in prosperity. Faith is pleasing in the poor, a source of happiness and joy in those of average means, and sincere and attractive in the rich. Faith is the guardian and the keeper of love and relationships. Faith is people’s constant companion. It rules, fosters, and praises the arts. It does not scorn or disdain anyone and no one finds it lacking, except, no doubt, some wicked person whom it finds lacking. Faith is law-abiding and keeps the commandments and does what it has promised. Faith makes those who adhere to it into friends and intimates of God. Faith is good. Many good things derive from it. Faith promises eternal joy, but I do not believe that anyone can benefit from it who does not do good works. And anyone who does not keep the faith that they will have promised to keep cannot attain the reward of the joy which will be received by those who will have lived in truly consummate faith. Rather, they will be most woefully punished for their oath-breaking. [1512–1555]

45 46

Lit. “celebrate feast-days.” Compare Psalm 91 (Vulgate 90).

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[miniature, fol. 141r: perseus transforming proetus (or polydectes)]

Proetus and Polydectes {A}bove, you heard the story of how Perseus gained victory over Phineus, who, through envy, tried to take his beloved away from him. When the battle was over, Perseus arrived in his native region. He found that his grandfather had been expelled from his kingship and disinherited. He had been forcibly driven out by Proetus, his stronger brother. This caused Perseus sorrow in his heart. He disregarded the great wrong that Acrisius had committed against him in the past, when he cast him and his mother out on a boat,47 in truth, on the open sea. Perseus should never have loved him again, but he discounted the transgression this cruel man had committed against him. He was deeply aggrieved by Acrisius’s loss and took very bitter vengeance for it. No castle or tower, no battle or skirmish let Proetus escape Perseus. For, when he managed to catch up to him, he showed him without delay the power of Medusa’s head and turned him into hard stone, then freely returned his grandfather’s land and patrimony. [1556–1584] [miniature, fol. 141r: christ in majesty at the last judgment, flanked by saints and angels, with the dead arising from their tombs]48

{I}n his arrogance, Polydectes, the king of Seriphos, scorned the brave Perseus and said that he had never killed any Gorgon. Perseus felt anger and disdain for the wicked king who scorned him. He proved it to him through action: he made him transform into hard stone, which was only reasonable and just. [1585–1593] Moralization {I} can interpret Acrisius, whom Proetus expelled from his kingship and disinherited, as the foolish race of the Jews. Proetus can denote scorn, that is, the sin of their having scorned God and denied him in their ignorance and in their foolish presumption. For that, God sent them into exile and scattered them around the world in shame and wretchedness. But when God in his majesty will come to judge the dead and the living, they will recognize Jesus, our God, our Judge, whom they now despise, as their Savior, and will repent. And they will devoutly wish to seek forgiveness and indulgence for having previously despised him, and will recognize their guilt towards him. And Jesus, gentle and merciful, will see their contrition and their sincere intention to come to the truth, and abandon their iniquity, and renounce the devil who, until then, led 47 48

En nef, v. 1570. But originally this was a sealed chest. Fols 49v, 141r, 192r, 305r, and 333r have comparable miniatures of this.



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them so badly astray, and he will forgive them his grievance and will restore to them their heavenly inheritance. He will disregard the presumption and scorn that they committed towards him long ago, when they killed him like a thief and, in their great iniquity, threw him out of the city. [1594–1629] {P}olydectes, for anyone who knows how to find the meaning, can be taken as the multitude or the various types of villainy and baseness, wickedness and sin, that are seen to stain the heart of someone who scorns God and his miracles, and turns deaf ears to his divine admonishments, and scorns his commandments. Those who do this are foolish and ignorant, and too hardened in malice. Such people have indeed been “turned into stone,” for no one can find or discover in them any goodness or humility, nor any works of charity. They will be eternally given over to mortal damnation. [1630–1647] [miniature, fol. 141v: pallas meeting the muses]

Pallas at the Spring of Wisdom {A}bove, in the story, you heard about Perseus’s exploits. He stole the eye of the three sisters, then stealthily killed Medusa and carried off her head. He turned Atlas into stone and took his golden tree, and then freed Andromeda, the noble lady, and rescued her from mortal danger. He then took her as his wife and lady, after he had defeated the sea monster. Then they would have taken her away from him, had it not been for his great prowess. Then, he thoroughly avenged the great outrage that Proetus had committed against his grandfather. His prowess and his deeds brought him great fame all over the world. He acquired great praise and renown and honor and status for his skill and prowess. [1648–1667] Up to this point, Pallas, who had good cause to love him, had kept him company in fulfilling the demands of knighthood. From there, she flew across the sea. She came to Thebes through the air, covered in a hollow cloud, to the Spring of Learning (clergie), to attend to philosophy. Pallas found the nine muses there and spoke to them: “A widespread rumor about the spring that shoots forth here, created by the hoof of Pegasus, has just been told to me. That is the reason for my coming: I have come here to see it, and to look into the marvel at which the whole world marvels.” Urania, who was one of the Muses of this academy, spoke up and replied graciously: “My lady, your arrival pleases us very much. You are most welcome, whatever the reason for your arrival may be.” [1668–1692] She immediately took her to see the woods and the spring. Pallas looked at the marvelous spring and marveled at how Pegasus could have made it. She gazed around at the area, at the haven of the pleasant and agreeable woods and the delightful spring. She commented that the Muses were fortunate to have

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been chosen to live in such a place, where the Spring of Wisdom flowed forth. One of the sisters said to her without delay: [1692–1703] “Noble and honored Lady, if you had not been destined to receive a greater honor, you could have joined us in tending to the spring, but virtue, with which you are filled, has raised you to a higher calling. It is true that we would have been well situated and would have been blessed if we had only had peace and safety. But nowadays, everyone is so intent on wickedness and harm that no one has any interest in doing good, and everyone keeps threatening us. I am terrified when, all too often, people come to distress us, to throw us off the right path. [1704–1720] “I still feel like I can see Pyreneus, the wicked tyrant. My heart is still reeling from the fright he caused us. I am still afraid that he is spying on us – as though he were peering at us right now, in order to betray and defile us. Through violence and treason he possessed a kingdom that he had usurped and stolen, for he would not have received it rightfully. He was our sworn enemy! Some time ago, when we were going to the temple of Themis to pray, we passed by his house. Deceitfully, he came to pay us honor and asked us to stay over until the rain stopped, for it was raining that day and the sky was overcast and dark. Because of the weather and of his insistence, we came into his foyer. We waited there until the clouds cleared up and the darkness scattered. When we saw the sky clear up and the dark rainy weather dissipating, we wanted to be on our way. But, regardless, Pyreneus had his house locked and barred, and tried to shut us up inside and have his way with us by force, but we fled. We escaped by flying through the air. He tried to fly through the air after us, for pride had driven him mad. The madman climbed atop a high tower, but he tumbled from the top of the tower to the ground, and, in due course, landed headfirst, on his face, and so he killed himself in his presumption and smashed his head open.” [1721–1762] The Pierides: Typhoeus Before the Muse could finish speaking, they heard a commotion in the branches – it was birds flying through the air and bringing greetings. They were magpies, nine in all, who had once been maidens and had recently had their bodies transformed into magpies. When Pallas heard their voices, each of them saying “May god preserve you,” she turned and looked up to see who she had to thank for it, for she thought she heard human voices. The Muse told her that it was magpies that were carrying on so: “Some maidens who were once defeated in a contest became as they are now. They were from a faraway land and had come here to pick a fight. They started arguing with us and insulting and abusing us, and they lashed out at us saying, ‘Why do you deceive people with your beguiling songs? Take us on now, if you dare. You can see we are ready. We are just like you, just as wise and eloquent. If we



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defeat you, you will surrender to us the tending of study and the spring, and stop your silly songs. And if we lose, we will flee to another land and leave your dwelling. We’re prepared to abide by the verdict.’ [1763–1798] “It seemed utterly beneath us to compete with them, but even worse to concede defeat. The nymphs were chosen as judges, and they swore to judge justly, based on what they were going to hear. Then they sat down on exposed rock, and one of the nine maidens, the most hasty, without being appointed or designated, started the contest. And she mentioned the giants who made war on the gods; she constantly sought to ridicule the gods and their deeds, so as to increase the fame of the giants, and she told how Typhoeus came out of the earth to drive away the gods. The gods were afraid to fight and, fearing Typhoeus, fled from him to Egypt and hid there. Typhoeus pursued them all the way to Egypt to capture them, but, before his arrival, the gods had transformed themselves in various ways. Jupiter, she said, had turned into a ram, and that is the origin of the horned Libyan ram that was considered a god (i.e. Ammon) for a long time. Phoebus took the shape of a raven. Bacchus disguised himself as a goat, and Diana became a wild deer. According to what she said, Juno turned into a white cow, Mercury became a stork, and Venus was transformed into a fish.” [1799–1832] Calliope (I): The Abduction of Proserpine “That is how she who scorned the great gods finished her side of the competition. Then, without hesitation, we chose a Muse to speak on our behalf and represent us in the contest. Her name was Calliope. She was wise and very eloquent. She had her hair braided with ivy. She stood up, took hold of her harp and her bow. She began to sing aloud this tune, a beautiful and melodious tune, and her head was a little bowed. [1833–1845] Ceres was the first to plow the earth, and introduced agriculture and caused crops to be sown. She is someone we all should love. It is Ceres who makes seeds grow. She is the source of the great abundance that sustains the world. All good things originated from her. Ceres established the first rules and laws that everyone must follow and believe. I would like to begin my song in her honor and to her glory, and to exalt the goddess. Of course, I would hope to deliver a song that might please her and that she might deign to receive with good will, because she is worthy to be praised. [1846–1863] I will tell you about the giant who tried to make himself king of the heavens and to install the giants in heaven and depose the gods. For this crime he was buried and imprisoned under four mountains. Trinacris49 was 49

In Ovid (Met. 5.347–349), another name for Sicily.

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laid on top of him, which has three mountains in its vicinity: he had a mountain over his right hand, and another over his left; another mountain over his feet, and the fourth one on top of his head. The great mountains that covered him compressed him violently. He spewed out burning fire through his mouth. He made the mountains shake and tremble as he strove to stand, and he made the mountains tremble so hard that the earth and the world shook. Feeling the quake, those who were confined in hell, especially the king, feared that hell would be destroyed, and so much light would pierce through the vastly gaping earth that the denizens of hell would be terrified. Dreading such a disaster, the king of hell came out of his shadowy vale, carried by three horses blacker than pitch or ink. He inspected all around his domain to prevent it from collapsing and in case he saw any defects. As he was rushing madly around, making a circuit of his realm, Venus saw him; she was sitting on her mountain, frolicking with her son who ensnares the foolish in the snares of love. Venus embraced him, kissed him, and entreated him softly: [1864–1904] “Dear sweet son, in you alone reside all my honor and my glory, my dominion and my triumph. You are my lance and my shield, with which I have vanquished many lovers and against which no armor can hold out. I pray that you carry out without delay what I’m going to tell you: take your arrow and strike the king of hell, whom I can see rushing madly around down there. Try your power out on him, son, and make him fall in love. The gods of heaven and the sea have truly experienced your power. Now let Pluto, whom I see down there, know it without delay. Why are those of hell exempt and free from your dominion? You have authority everywhere, except over the depths of hell. You have overcome the gods through your power, even Jupiter himself, who imposes his will on everyone. Phoebus, too, has known our power. However, I have noticed that some of the gods hold our strength and power in contempt. In spite of us, Pallas, and Diana likewise, live virginally. Proserpine wants to do the same, if we allow it. Make the maiden unite with your uncle and become his wife, so that she may be queen and lady of hell.” [1905–1937] At his mother’s command, the god promptly took his bow and nocked the string to shoot an arrow at the god of hell – the best and the fastest, the sharpest and the most beautiful arrow that he could pick out of a thousand. He drew the bow, took a direct shot at him,50 and, without fail, struck the god of hell so that he pierced his vitals with the barbed arrow. [1938–1948] Near hell, in a valley, there was a great deep lake. There were swans there that sang noisily. Around the lake a forest had been planted, with many beautiful trees that stay green in every season, which enclosed and 50

Reading trait droit l’avire for v. 1945.



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overshadowed the lake, so as to keep away the sun’s rays so that it didn’t heat up. The branches kept it cool. The ground was covered with greenery. There was plenty of grass, and flowers of different colors. Spring reigned eternal there. It was a beautiful and delightful place. The surrounding area and the lake itself were named Pergus, it seems to me. That is where Proserpine would play with her companions and pluck violets, roses, and lilies. It was her main concern and her delight. While the maiden was distracted picking flowers in Pergus, gathering them in her bosom and her lap, Pluto, who was in the area, happened to come there and saw her. He fell in love with her immediately and ravished her: he wrapped her up and carried her away by force. The girl was incredibly frightened and distressed as he carried her off. She cried out for her mother at the top of her lungs – also her companions, but most especially her mother.51 The maiden was very woeful and bewildered. Her dress was torn and ripped apart, and the flowers that she had picked had fallen out of her lap. The virgin was so innocent and foolish that she was sadder and more sorrowful over the flowers than over her abduction. The king carried away Proserpine, and he urged on his horses and gave them free rein. He passed by the sulfurous pools52 and plenty of other obstacles. [1949–1993] The king drove his chariot straight to Cyane’s pool.53 That is where he wanted to descend into hell, but Cyane, who was the mistress and lady of that place, tried to prevent him. When she saw the goddess whom the infernal king was carrying off, she rose in the midst of her spring and said: [1994–2002] “By my faith, you will stay where you are. You will never pass with my permission. King of hell, do you want Proserpine to become your wife by abducting her, and to become the son-in-law of Ceres against her will? It will be no fun and games,54 I have no doubt, when she finds out about this villainy, this violence, and this offense. You shouldn’t have done this. You should have wooed her with words, not violence.” [2002–2013] Then she spread her arms to bar his way. Seeing that she was obstructing him, Pluto grew furious and full of anger. He goaded his horses and, without saying a word, he struck the water with his trident. The earth cracked and parted, and Dis made his entry that way, descending into his realm: he passed through at great speed. There, the maiden, carried away by Dis, fortuitously dropped her belt into the spring. It remained in the spring, Ending sentence at the end of v. 1981. In Ovid (Met. 5.405–406): “the sulphurous reeking swamps of the Palici” (Kline). 53 Ovid specifies (Met. 5.409–412): “Between Cyane and Pisaean Arethusa, there is a bay enclosed by narrow arms. Here lived Cyane best known of the Sicilian nymphs, from whom the name of the spring was also taken” (Kline). 54 Lit. “no game or laughter” (De jeu ne de ris, v. 2007). 51 52

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and went on to have serious repercussions. Cyane cried and lamented the destruction of the spring and the maiden’s abduction. Never again on any day of her life could she forget this sorrow. This sorrow overwhelmed and destroyed her. She wept so much that she died weeping. She dissolved into pure tears and was transformed into her own spring. [2014–2036]

Calliope (II): Stellio Ceres fell into great suffering for the daughter she had lost. She was very woeful and bewildered. She looked for her by land and sea. She never stopped pressing on and searching. Without resting or pausing, she looked for her day and night. She lit two torches, shining in the dark of night, for greater safety. When day came and night ended, the goddess set out once again, looking here and there for her daughter. Ceres looked for her so much and traveled so far, never stopping, that she grew tired. The heat and the exertion overcame her. The goddess had nothing with her to quench her thirst. She came upon a house that was low to the ground and modest-looking. She went to it and knocked at the hut. A little old lady who was the mistress of the hut came out. Ceres asked her for a drink. The good woman had made porridge with which to feed her household. The good woman gave some of this to Ceres as a drink. While Ceres was drinking the sweet beverage she held, a harsh and misbegotten child mocked her and said, out of hostility, that Ceres was spiteful and gluttonous for drinking all their porridge. Ceres, seeing herself insulted for drinking that beverage, splashed it in his face, and, by the power of the beverage, he turned completely green and speckled on his chest, stomach, and sides. His arms turned into thighs. He became a thin and tiny creeping thing: he was about the size of a lizard, but green in color, without a doubt. This creature is called verdine or stellio, for it is spangled with variegated spots that look like stars. The mother wept and marveled and was stunned by the marvel. He ran from his mother and the light and hid in the darkness of recesses and woods. [2037–2088]

Calliope (III): Ceres, Arethusa, and Ascalaphus Ceres didn’t consider the loss and abduction of her dear daughter Proserpine a joke or a game. She searched and looked for her everywhere; she roved and scoured all over the place but could not hear any news of her. The whole world couldn’t satisfy her search and quest for her daughter. When she had traveled through every land and seen that she hadn’t found her, she went back through Sicily. She stopped by Cyane, who, if she hadn’t been transformed, would have told her and let her know the whole truth about the abduction, but she didn’t have the power to speak a word. She still want-



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ed to give her a clear sign that Ceres would recognize and through which she would notice what had happened. She showed her her daughter’s belt, which had happened to fall off her there as Dis took her away. Ceres felt very angry and heavy-hearted over it, for she realized from the sign that she had seen that Proserpine had been abducted. But she didn’t yet realize from the token she had seen where she was or who had abducted her. The mother was sad and bereaved. Disheveled as she was, she tore her hair and rent her clothes. She beat her breast with her hands and bewailed the loss of Proserpine. She cursed all lands, and Sicily above all, because that was where she had seen the token of the daughter she had lost. She destroyed and tore apart plows, destroyed the oxen and drivers and made them die horrible deaths, and blighted the seeds in the fields. The fields were all burnt and barren. The labor and harvest of farmers perished. Crops were rotting in the earth because flood waters had drowned the seeds. The seeds often perished from drought or blazing heat, from heavy snow or cold, from pouring rain or unrelenting wind, or blight or thistles choked them, or birds devoured them. [2089–2143] Arethusa saw the poverty, misery, and loss of the whole world and the famine that Ceres brought about for Proserpine, which was causing harm to all people. She lifted her head from her spring55 and called to the goddess: “O Ceres, mother and lady of grain, who have so exhausted yourself on the earth in searching and looking for your daughter, rest, set aside your pain, and I will give you such clarity about your daughter that you will know where she is and so you will have her back. Do not take out your anger on the earth, for it does not deserve the torment, the misfortune and the hostility and the harms which you are forcing it to endure. It allowed the abduction and loss of Proserpine to take place against its will. I’m not making this plea for Sicily as one who was born and bred here, for I am only a guest. Pisa is where I was born, in Elis is my native land. But I flowed stealthily underground, invisible to anyone, and then I came back up and raised my head, which is full of moisture, and have remained here, and go flowing through Ortygia. This is my seat, this is my home. I would love to stay here, so please, gracious lady, spare this place of mine your hostility. If you want to know and find out why I dwell in this land and why I love this country more than the land where I was born, I can tell you another time, when you are no longer heavy-hearted and angry. Then, when you have found your daughter, you will know how I came here, travelling by The story of Arethusa is told in Book 5, vv. 3505–3647 below. She turns into a stream as she flees from the river-god Alpheus. He isn’t mentioned in this current episode, but is mentioned in the moralization of it (vv. 3273–3365). Dante (before he is purged of pride, which happens in Purgatory 10–12) references Arthusa’s transformation in Inferno 25 as an example of how he surpasses the pagan poets. 55

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unfamiliar roads and through underground depths. I passed through hell. I saw your daughter there, I know it full well. I knew very well that it was Proserpine, who is the lady and queen of hell and the wife of the infernal tyrant, but she still is sighing and fearful and afflicted. I splashed her with my waters.” [2144–2197] Ceres was stupefied when she heard the news, and froze like a rock. When she recovered consciousness, she went up to the heavens without the slightest delay, very furious and sorrowful. Sad and grieving, hair disheveled, she stopped before Jupiter and said: “Dear lord and father, dear sweet friend and dear sweet brother, I have come here, sorrowful and without joy, for the sake of your daughter and mine, and I humbly seek your help. You should be stirred on account of your blood and your lineage, regardless, if you don’t want to do it for my sake. Don’t let my having given birth to your flesh cause you to spite her. It has been a long time since I lost my daughter, but now, in any case, I have found her – insofar as confirming that someone is lost for good, or getting news of who has them or what has become of them, can be called “finding.” The king of hell has taken and carried her away from me most unjustly, and he holds her captive in his confines. Now I entreat you, make him give her back to me. Must we have a son-in-law who would take Proserpine as his wife by affront and abduction?” [2198–2227] Jupiter said, “My sweet friend, my sweet sister, I do not deny that she is your daughter and mine. It is not right for me to deny her, for truly I conceived her of my blood. I will give her back to you as you wish, on one condition. If she has maintained her fast without breaking it, and has not eaten any of the fruit of that place since she went there, you will have her back without hindrance. But you should know for a fact that it is so fated that, should she have broken her fast with the fruit of hell or any other food, she must never leave, for no one who breaks their fast there is ever allowed to come back.” [2228–2245] Ceres was convinced that she could have her daughter back without great difficulty or any more trouble. But things turned out very differently. Fate ran counter to her plans: the beauty had broken her fast with the fruit of hell in her ignorance, as she was misled by fortune and mischance, which confound many people. Ascalaphus had seen her eat seven seeds from a pomegranate that she had picked in the infernal orchard. He denounced the goddess and prevented her from going back. The queen of hell groaned when she saw that she was prevented from returning home by her enemy’s pronouncement. She doused his head with water and turned him into a base and foul bird that, it seems to me, flies only at night. It is called an owl or screech-owl. People do not like this bird, for it bears an ill omen: anyone who hears it is not safe. [2246–2269]



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Now the mother had even more to do to get her daughter out of hell, unless Arethusa, the water that flows through hell, could help her. She was the one who had splashed Proserpine. The mother lamented so much before Jupiter, she wailed and cried and begged him so devoutly to have her daughter given back to her, that if he could have, he would surely have given her back to her free and clear. But Pluto argued the other side, standing on the privilege and the right of the infernal throne, and said that, for anyone who might give him justice, Proserpine would still belong to him, as stipulated by fate, since she had broken her fast there. But Jupiter, taking pity on his daughter, and out of friendship for Ceres and to do her will, wanted very much to remove her from hell. So he divided the time equally and, by common consent, he found a middle ground, so that the beauty spent one part of her time with her husband, and during the other she is with her mother in the heavens. Thus Proserpine has dominion over two kingdoms. [2270–2299] [miniature, fol. 145r: prayer and vigil before an empty altar]56

Moralization {N}ow I want to explain these tales to you so that their meaning becomes apparent. When, by its efforts, the strong and virtuous soul has vanquished everything – the flesh, the world, and, the enemy – with the help of its friend (who advances it in all good things and, with his true wisdom, acts as its help and shield until it has vanquished the enemy and the assault of its opponents, who are violently opposed and hostile to it), then it must devote its attention to living in contemplation and tending to philosophy. [2300–2314] Whoever wishes to benefit from learning (clergie) and become a philosopher must come to the mountain of Thebes, for there is the source of the living spring that is full of philosophy. Thebes is rightly taken to mean divine worship: one must serve and honor God, love, fear, and worship him. This is the source of philosophy, whose name means and signifies, it seems to me, true knowledge and righteous love of wisdom. In truth, “wisdom” is God. Whoever applies his intellect to knowing and loving God must be called a philosopher. Those who are philosophers, and wise, devote their care and their heart to knowing God and his science,57 to the extent that human understanding can know or comprehend them. They must be satisfied with knowledge according to their limitations, for no human creature will find any shore or bottom to it, Fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v show comparable scenes of Christian prayer, which have similar composition to the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r. 57 Theology. See Aquinas, ST I q. 1, and Bonaventure, Brev. I.1, as well as the Proemium to 1 Sent. 56

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no matter how lucid in understanding or how deeply they might reflect. So profound is the divine intellect58 that no one will be able to comprehend it, try as they might. Who could know his secrets or perceive his ways?59 Who was his chief counsellor, or who was his first helper? Who guided and informed him when he formed the whole world? No one, to be sure, but he alone made everything wisely through his intellect, for from him come, through him endure, and in him are, will be, and have been all good things. May he, our heavenly Father, have eternal glory and honor! [2315–2357] He gave us a well-ordered intellect, a clean heart, and a pure conscience in order to know him through his grace, thus making us philosophers. But a good scholar who wants to be a proper philosopher must also have a yearning thirst to know the world and themselves. For whoever truly knows the world, and really reflects on it, will never have faith in the world. It abounds in malice, filth, baseness, envy, and every iniquity. Its delights are deceptive, its goods transitory and changing, unable to rest in one place. The covetousness of the world burns and stabs and puts hearts into great distress and holds bodies in great hardship. Its perils are so many, and of such a kind, that there is no mortal person in the world who might be able to list a tenth of them: sorrow, pain and torment, death, evils, diseases, treasons and deceptions, griefs and afflictions, the various temptations that assail people every day, too many for me to list in full, or for any person to enumerate. How can anyone who sees these deceitful vanities and these false iniquities put their hope in the world? The world is named Fol s’i fie (“A fool trusts it”)60 because the more one trusts in it, the more they betray themselves. [2358–2393] Whoever wants to practice philosophy also owes it to himself to study the book of his own conscience.61 Whoever knows his own condition and himself, and what is adverse and detrimental to him, is full of great wisdom. One must distinguish good from evil, and read and reread their book and search it thoroughly, and if there is a fault in it, must amend it. If there is falseness in it, or a vice such as betrayal or avarice, pride, hatred or envy, theft or violence, or any vile abomination of gluttony and lust, or any other defect that displeases God, 58 De Boer’s edition has Tant sont li devin sens parfons, v. 2343, with a variant est. Theologically, there is no plurality of the divine intellect: see McInerny (1993). Might v. 2343 be part of this ongoing debate at the time? 59 Compare Romans 11:33. 60 See Keidel (1895). 61 In this and the following paragraphs, vv. 2394–2599, we use he instead of they for the hypothetical/generic person. (See our introductory lexicon, s.v. home, p. 76.) First, this is to maintain clarity about the roles in the imagined court case, where “The devils will accuse them and they will call no witnesses other than the record of their conscience, so that they will read aloud whatever transgressions they have committed” would be confusing. Second, the reference to “lectors, masters, and rectors” suggests that here the OM is treating clergie and philosophy as a primarily masculine project.



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one must take the stylus and scratch it out. The wedge end is confession, the tip of the stylus is contrition.62 With the wedge of repentance or the tip of penance and sharp contrition and good works, let him scratch out and amend without delay anything he might find to correct, and let him write diligently what he will have to read publicly at the great disputation before the Master, who will want to hear account of all our deeds. Then, we shall have to disclose openly and in public the secrets of the conscience. Then, hearts that now are very much closed and veiled will be unveiled. Then, all thoughts and deeds will be made manifest, and everyone will be rewarded according to their merits. The good will be acquitted in heaven, in eternal glory, and the wicked, along with the devil, will be consigned eternally to damnation in hell.63 [2394–2437] Let anyone who would be wise take care how he will acquit himself before the Master Judge, for no one will have a lawyer present to use excuses, chicanery, or cavillation on his behalf. At that time, laws or canons, currently so greatly renowned, will no longer avail. There will be no one to support his case, except for his good works and the alms that he currently gives, which will entreat God on his behalf when the time comes.64 The devils will accuse him, and they will call no witnesses other than the record of his conscience, so that he will read aloud whatever transgressions he has committed in words, thoughts, or deeds. Nothing will be forgotten, so everyone must apply himself with great diligence to correcting his book if he wants to keep his soul free and clear of the infernal prison. To do this is the science and the course of study; it is the spring of learning (clergie); it is the wellspring of philosophy. Pegasus founded the spring full of philosophy where, out of the delightful desire for the great eternal glory, everyone must learn and study to practice philosophy. In this alone must one delight. All profit and all striving for every mastery originate from this cause. The spring has its seat in the heart, from which wisdom must derive. We must keep the spring clean, without baseness or ugliness, and clean it of all filth. Whoever wants to learn and know must have a pure and clean heart, because good knowledge cannot enter into a person of filthy conscience. And those who will have a clean and pure heart when they meet their end, God will show them such grace that they will see him face to face, in his glory, in his majesty, reigning for all eternity. [2438–2487] “Mount Helicon” is situated on high, in a person’s head: that is the mountain where the spring is located. The woods – as I understand it in all seriousA medieval stylus designed for wax tablets has a sharp point, and a flat wedge at the other end to smooth away writing. 63 Compare 2 Corinthians 5:10. 64 Compare James 2:24. Throughout this passage, the OM draws on Proverbs 2:10–11, where the heart is the “seat of wisdom,” which gives birth to understanding, situated, according to the OM on “Mount Helicon,” that is “in a person’s head.” See also John 7:38, esp. “out of his heart will flow rivers of living water” and the “fountain of wisdom” in Proverbs 18:4. 62

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ness – represents the hair,65 and I can interpret the brain to be the little spring which the nine Muses tend. These nine sisters, as some say, are nine instruments required in order to speak appropriately, or nine properties of learning, for if anyone wants to pursue learning (clergie) or know anything at all, they must have these nine methods. Otherwise they will never achieve perfection in understanding, as I see it, for these nine sisters have custody of, and hold the key to, philosophy. Now I will list them for you briefly. [2488–2506] First of all, a man must have (1) the intention of studying well and the heart to practice philosophy, and (2) this intention must bring him pleasure. Then, he must (3) apply his heart and desire to studying, and he must (4) learn, hear, and understand things, and (5) retain what he has learned and read and, (6) depending on what he has observed, he must compare dissimilar things and note their differences, and must do as he sees done, and then (7) judge whether he has done well. Then he must (8) recognize and choose what to hold on to and what to reject. Then he must (9) openly spread what he has learned and make his knowledge public.66 He who has these “nine Muses” in him will be Translating the variant for v. 2492, Li bois la crine, as against de Boer’s li dois in v. 2490. In a note, de Boer identifies the text here as corrupt and says he did his best to restore it to express what he thought was the original meaning, but while li dois (which would be the aquifer that feeds the spring; compare Book 9, v. 2524) isn’t obviously inappropriate for the context, the woods (li bois) are a far better fit for the hair on the head if the fountain is the brain. 66 The numbers here have been inserted for clarity following the Third Vatican Mythographer’s account based on Fulgentius: Fulgentius calls the nine Muses “modes of learning” and “modes of knowledge.” He assigns to them a suitable-enough order according to the meanings of their names. Clio is put first; her name means “fame,” for no one, he says, seeks knowledge except one who advances the dignity of his own fame. So the first Muse is called Clio, “the idea of seeking knowledge.” We call the second Euterpe, which means “well-pleasing,” so that to wish is the first thing and second is to be pleased in that which you wish. The third Muse is called Melpomene, “meditating,” so that to wish is the first thing, second is to desire what you wish, third is to pursue by meditating that which you wish. Fourth is Thalia, “capacity” or “planting seeds.” Fifth is Polyhymnia, “making much memory,” for after capacity, memory is necessary. The sixth Muse is Erato, “finding likeness,” for after capacity and memory, the most useful thing for one who is learning is to find something similar on his own. Seventh is Terpsichore, “delighting in instruction,” because after finding something it is necessary to distinguish and to judge what you have found. Eighth is Urania, “heavenly,” for after judging you choose what you affirm or what you reject. Moreover, it is a heavenly quality to choose what is useful and to reject what is fleeting. Ninth is Calliope, “of best voice.” So this will be the order: first is to wish for learning; second, to delight in what you wish; third, to pursue with perseverance that which you desire and in which you have been delighted; fourth, to grasp what you are pursuing; fifth, to remember what you grasp; sixth, to find on your own something similar to that which you remember; seventh, to judge what you have found; eighth, to make a choice about that which you judge; ninth, to advance well what you have chosen. (Pepin 2008, 279) 65



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well able to practice philosophy. He will be well able to quench his thirst at the spring of learning (clergie) with the drink of philosophy. The house, domain, and primary residence of these nine sisters, of these maidens, is in a man’s head, in three rooms. The first is apprehension; the second, pertaining to judgment, is also called the rational faculty; and the third room is reminiscence.67 Whoever has kept these three rooms well maintained, and the nine Muses well lodged, can become a philosopher, and can keep them with him in these three rooms for a long time. [2507–2542] Pyreneus, who deceitfully held the Muses on the ground floor of his house, can be any person who had his heart set on practicing philosophy and did not much care to study. He was of little understanding and thus, during rainy weather full of clouds, he held them in his first room but could not keep them with him in the middle or rear room. When they saw clear weather arrive – that is, when he had emerged from ignorance and acquired a bit of knowledge about the aspects and rules of the arts – like a presumptuous and deluded fool, he tried to force the nine maidens and fly before he had wings. By force and insult, he took over the governance and tending of the arts and of philosophy, and usurped the noble name of master. And he presumed to climb into the rector’s seat, but in due course he fell, because he had too weak a foundation to hold such an office. Nowadays, there are too many such lectors, masters, and rectors who do not deign to study yet think to practice philosophy and ascend in philosophy without having the wings of learning (clergie). These are the ones who force themselves on the Muses. This defeats the sciences and causes the decline of studies, for nowadays everyone wants to act like a master and usurp the name of one before they know even the slightest bit, or before they’ve put in their time as a student. This is the kind of person who tears apart and tortures philosophy, and skips from one art to another, and climbs higher than his intellect can reach, and so thinks he can teach and instruct others in what he does not know at all. How much understanding and philosophy can his student take from him, no matter how strong his desire to learn? How can the disciple of such a man practice philosophy when the master knows nothing? Like master, like student, since they work in harness. If the student is not willing to look for a better master, he will gain but little understanding from this one. [2543–2599]

67 This is a topic Aquinas explores in detail in his Commentary on Aristotle’s On Memory and Recollection, a follow-up to On the Soul. See the translation by White and Macierowski (2005). Augustine modifies Plato’s theory of reminiscence of the Forms and holds that the soul’s memory is not of the soul’s preexistent vision of the Forms, but of the presence of God to the soul. For Bonaventure as well, this presence is the necessary condition for knowing. The knowledge of the imperfect requires some grasp of the perfect. See discussion in Cullen (2006), 61ff.

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There are also many students who cannot get enough of learning or studying, but not in order to practice philosophy, for they put little effort into that. Instead, they strive and strain for earthly utility, and employ their subtlety, their study, and all their knowledge in anticipation of achieving wealth, honor, provision, and benefices, to satiate their avarice that can never be satiated. But they have never tasted the fruit of philosophy, which is sweeter and more desirable than honey and delightful honeycombs, than gold or precious stones, potent as they might be. That is because they devote their attention and care to learning and studying for the sake of worldly profit, which soon runs out on them and doesn’t last them long, and not to quench their thirst with the sweet and healthy sweetness that flows from the sweet spring. Philosophers and the wise, who have tasted that sweet drink, scorn the worldly delights upon which those who glorify themselves in the world, and learn and study to obtain earthly profit, have set their sights. Such people resemble the servant who buried the silver talent that God resolved to give him to increase and multiply; but he didn’t want to apply his heart, understanding, and knowledge to anything other than amassing earthly goods, which no one can enjoy for long. But when God will come to hear a report of the loan and the interest gained on it, and will want them to account to him for both the goods and the profit, as Scripture bears witness, what account will they be able to give him, those who don’t want to spread their understanding to do or know any good other than to acquire earthly goods, and thus have buried their talent? And what answer will they receive, those who have misused their understanding and buried their intellect underground, without acquiring any spiritual goods? By their mouths they will be judged.68 Hence those who do not multiply their talent, who do not learn and study to obtain eternal profit, as opposed to earthly wealth, are utterly demented. It is for God, and for no other end, that we must devote our attention to learning and studying and multiplying the talent – that is, the understanding that God gives so that we might deserve that crown that is so rich and delightful, with which God will crown his friends in eternal glory. [2600–2671] There are others who have set their hearts on learning and studying and they think they can practice philosophy and benefit well from learning (clergie), but they do not possess the source or wellspring of true philosophy, for their science is empty and vain, of little savor and profit, as delightful as it may be. These people have in their heart a spring of a different nature and type than the spring of philosophy, because from their spring flows poetry, that is more inclined to please and delight than it thinks to profit people. They likewise have nine “Muses” in three rooms, who vie with the nine maidens I previously mentioned. These ladies devote their care and study to vain fiction. They have forgotten their Creator in favor of created things, and their hearts are so clouded that they 68

Compare Matthew 12:37.



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honor created things and dishonor the Creator. These ladies delude the whole world – at least the fools who distract themselves in the study of vain hypocrisy. These ladies want to promote and glorify idolatry, and they scorn our Savior. They are utterly foolish and shameless. Philosophy has good cause to outright call them whores, if the good Boethius does not lie.69 [2672–2705] Like whimsical fools, these ladies came to fight with the nine Muses, and tried to throw them out of their house via disputation. The Muses accepted the disputation, more in order to defend their right rather than because they wanted to compete. They were judged by Reason, or Rational Thought, who is wise and judicious. To resolve this disagreement, the judge, if I recall correctly, was seated on exposed rock. Jesus Christ is the living rock, stone more solid than all other stones, the foundation and the founder who founded Holy Church on himself.70 For anyone who wants to judge the matter rightly, Reason is seated on such a rock. [2706–2724] First, the nine “Muses” – the ones who deserve to be called magpies because of their chitchat – upheld the made-up tale of the fearsome Typhoeus, who tried to make war on the heavens to strike down the heavenly gods, and he drove them all the way to Egypt, as the tale recounts. And there, out of fear, they hid in various forms that they took on. From Egypt, according to Scripture, came the false worship of idols, may God confound them. They went on to be exalted and feared throughout the whole world by wretched misguided people who believed in these created things and did not believe in the Creator. They resolved not to believe in, and to scorn, the Almighty, who created everything – heaven and earth and everything that is – and to choose gods and goddesses in keeping with the fictions of the poets who “taught” the foolish people: instead, they flung them, in their ignorance, into the error of false belief. In this way, false idolatry was exalted through poetry.71 [2725–2754] The nine Muses, who were wise, elected the most eloquent among them to deliver the disputation and speak on their behalf: that was the wise Calliope,72 which means “good sound” in plain speech. She stood upright in front of her judge, her hair braided with tendrils of ivy, and she bowed her head a little. Anyone who wishes to defend a certain cause through their words must have See Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy, Book 1, Prose 1, and more broadly Book 3, on the concerns raised by this section. 70 Compare Matthew 21:42, Mark 12:10, Luke 20:17; prefigured in Isaiah 28:16 and Psalm 118:22 (Vulgate 117:22), then followed in 1 Peter 2:6–8 and Ephesians 19–22. See also Matthew 16:18. 71 These are the types of misleading tales Plato feared in the Republic (and that led him to banish unethical storytellers from the ideal city), and that are also addressed by Macrobius contrasting mendacious fables to fabulous narratives (narratio fabulosa) that “have the air of fables but are nonetheless true,” in the Commentary on Scipio’s Dream (I.2.9). 72 Calliope is the Muse of epic poetry, addressed by Homer and Virgil, and also by Dante in Purgatory canto 1. See Levenstein (2008). 69

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upright intention and behave humbly, and humbly say what they have to say, without shouting, pride, or anger, in order to be more pleasing to their judge. This is what befits a good speaker. Why did she have braids of ivy? Ivy leaves are green on one side, pale on the other: the green side, I believe, represents the greenness of a holy, pure life, and the pale side represents the harshness, penitence, and mortification to which one who wishes to correct other people must subject his flesh, so that the discipline that teaches and instructs them may reside in him. [2755–2781] The Muse resolved to begin with a prologue exalting Ceres, before getting into her subject matter. Some people, it seems to me, purport that Ceres represents and stands for abundance and plenitude of crops, Pluto stands for the earth, and Proserpine, who was the lady and queen of hell, can signify the moon and the planting of seeds. “Ceres’s daughter was taken away from her” because, when the moon is hidden under the earth, it seems to have disappeared. It is the same with sowing, for when the seeds are newly sown and harrowed under the earth, they seem to be lost. “Ceres goes looking for her daughter,” the way we hope to find the moon and the seeds that seem to have vanished under the earth, and no one would ever have known which way they went, if “the belt” had not made us realize it. We know the truth about the moon because of the orbit on which it travels. When it leaves our hemisphere and we lose it from sight, it seems that it is taken away from us, but when it enters its waxing phase and its body reappears, which we see becoming horned, we know well what has happened to it, namely that it is under the shadow of the earth, which keeps its brightness confined. Many people then pray to the Lord God to give them a good moon back; similarly, people can inquire and fret about the seed in the earth for a long time, without “hearing certain news of it” about which they might rejoice. Then, we see the appearance of the sign that makes manifest and reveals to us that the seed is sprouting after having germinated in the soil. But we still cannot know for sure what profit we might have from it until it has matured into ears, fully grown and full of grain. That is when we see the seeds: then “Ceres has high hopes of getting back Proserpine.” Those who labored strenuously when the seeds were sown, those who calculated the harvest, when they see spikelets sprouting out of the crops they sowed, they think that they will reap the returns when the harvests approach. Then they pray that God return the crops to them, and that he protect and prevent them from being lost in the earth, so that they might not have sown them in vain. [2782–2843] Ceres would have gotten her daughter back without opposition, like the tale says, if Proserpine had not broken her fast. After the seed is cast, it can be picked up from on top of the earth without waiting for a year to pass, if it hasn’t been



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there long enough to germinate in the earth.73 The seven pomegranate seeds represent the seven days that come and go in turn, during which the crops that we sow in the earth are able to germinate. [2844–2855] To remove his daughter from hell and to do the will of Ceres, Jupiter resolved to divide her time because, for anyone who really wants to pay heed to it, the crops appear above the earth to the same extent as they are enclosed beneath. I could say as much about the moon, which is one of the seven planets that, without rest or repose, travel through the sky night and day. Hence it spends equal amounts of time hidden from, and visible to, our sight. When it is in our hemisphere, then “she is with her mother,” and when it is hidden under the earth, “she is returned to her husband.” [2856–2871] Ascalaphus, who denounced her, was a scholar who was absorbed for a long time in finding out about the orbit of the moon, and, through study, he came to know the truth about it. He worked and exerted himself so much, “the moon turned him into an owl”: that is a bird that flies at night, and this man spent his nights in scholarship, learning, and studying, in order to spy out the orbit of the moon. [2872–2881] {T}he tale can have another meaning, one more appropriate and in accordance with the truth, in keeping with the intent of the one who undertook to argue the side of the Muses in the disputation. Now, I want to deal with her speech and provide the meaning in another way. Ceres denotes Holy Church, who was the first to devise the teaching and the manner to serve and worship God and to shun idols, and was the first to promulgate the law that all of us together must fulfill and abide by, and she is accustomed to feed and replenish us with the fruit of spiritual life and with everlasting food. She must truly be praised, exalted, and honored. She is truly deserving of praise. [2882–2902] Typhoeus, if I dare say so – the giant who resolved to make war on the heavens to strike down the gods and who drove them all the way to Egypt, just as the tale recounts it – is Jesus, divine light, resplendence of perfect glory, visible and clear embodiment of the substance of God the Father. He is the giant, as God is my witness, ready to fulfill his calling,74 who first came down from heaven and then was born of earth, that is, from the earthly chamber of the womb of the Virgin Maiden in which he, in his great humility, resolved to take on our humanity, which he made the lady and queen of heaven. He is the one who tossed out “the gods” with his winnowing fork,75 that is, the false idols that the Reading S’ele n’i est par tant de terme for v. 2850, following the manuscripts as opposed to de Boer. 74 See 1 Corinthians 9:24, Philippians 3:14. 75 See Matthew 3:12. De Boer has Ce fu cil qui mist en ruïne, v. 2921, saying “Les mss. donnent faine, foine, rouine; aucun de ces mots ne donnant un sens ici, j’ai introduit dans le texte le mot ruine” – but it does make sense following this Bible verse, so we read the line as Ce fu cil qui mist en faine. 73

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wretched, foolish people used to honor, serve, fear, and worship as gods. He is the one who went to Egypt, from which he was called back by God the Father, and he caused the idols to fall, break their necks, and shatter. With him he takes his friends to heaven. He is the one who was sent to earth, and whom the Jews nailed to the Cross, and they condemned him like a thief, for the sole reason that he reproved them, and held himself to be the Son of God. He is the one who rescued his friends from hell and rose from the dead, and as he rose again, he made the earth quake mightily.76 He is the one who shoots blazing fire from his mouth, with which he sets fire to the enemies who surround him, as the Psalmist recites.77 He is the one through whom light came into the stinking place full of misery, that is, into frightful hell. [2903–2946] Pluto represents the devil, base and full of wickedness, king of shadowy darkness. He tours his realm and prowls around the world to prevent hell from falling into ruin, and if he finds anything that suits him, that he might seize and capture, it can hardly escape his grip. The devil “saw Proserpine in Pergus,” and abducted her from where she was with her young companions, distracted by picking flowers. The valley of Pergus, where Proserpine became distracted, signifies the world that deceives the misguided. Proserpine, in truth, can represent our humanity, which becomes accustomed to mortal vices and becomes distracted by worldly delights, which are vain and changing, ephemeral and deceiving, more than a flower that blooms in the morning and in the evening wilts, dries up, and perishes. When “Pluto” sees that the soul is distracted by the vain delights which it abuses, he strives to deceive it. “He wants to take it to wife,” for the soul that is committed to doing wrong is promised to the devil, and once it falls into sin, it is condemned to dwell in hell eternally and is immediately carried off. [2947–2981] “Venus caused the abduction,” when Pluto abducted Proserpine, because the soul is carried off to damnation through a life of lechery, and more than all the other worldly vices, it is the sin that most abounds and that makes the most people perish, the most souls be lost, and the most bodies die, and which makes the most people woeful. Venus boasts to her son Cupid about her strength and power, and her boasting is truthful, for her dominion, power, and mastery are overwhelming. Love holds captive in its snares fish and animals, and birds, and every human creature. All are caught in the snare of lust. The whole world is submissive to it. Is it really? Certainly, for many of our theologians are completely obedient to it. It is difficult to find anyone over whom love does not reign and exert control. Venus holds everything under her sway, and leads many to damnation. [2982–3006] Compare Matthew 28:2, and the harrowing of hell, following 1 Peter 3:18–20. An earthquake is also referenced in Dante, Inferno 12.31–45. 77 Compare Psalm 18:8 (Vulgate 17:8) 76



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During the cruel flurry of events when Pluto carried off Proserpine, the girl dropped her flowers, which made her more distraught than for her own sake, seeing herself doomed. She was so innocent and naive at that time that she loved herself less than her flowers. When the devil wants to carry off the soul to take it to the infernal flame, it loses the worldly delights that it had set its sights on, and it is more distressed and anguished by the anger, pain, and anguish that it feels for the goods from which it is parting, that it had chosen for its own, than by fear of the vast torment that awaits it in the place where the devil is taking it. The devil has disastrously deceived and blinded the hearts of those who, for vain transitory delight, damn their souls and lose the great glory that will last eternally. [3007–3028] Cyane represents the impulse to wicked temptation. In that case, the soul falls into dissolution and “has lost its belt,” when it is tempted and defeated so that it commits some mortal sin. And then, once the soul has sinned, it is carried off and spiritually put to death, because it persists in living dissolutely. [3029–3038] But Ceres intently searched and looked for her daughter. Ceres represents Holy Church, who creates souls anew and reforms them,78 and gives them new form, and feeds them bountifully, without envy, with the bread of eternal life. “Ceres searches for her lost daughter”: our mother, our nurse, is heartbroken and bewildered when the soul, in its malice, puts itself beyond her reach, and so she goes looking for it morning and night, and wants to lead our humanity – which the devil has misled and, through his fraud, befouled – back to proper truth. [3039–3055] She has two torches to help her see and prevent her from going astray when she wanders through the dark night. The two torches are the Scripture of the Old and New Testaments, containing the teachings by which the Church is instructed, set straight, and illuminated. It is through these that Holy Church sets us straight, and guides us, and shows us the way that we must keep and hold to, if we want to go straight to the great glory towards which we strive. She is the light and the torch that prevent us from going astray, from stumbling and falling into the great darknesses of heresy, which is what the “dark night” represents.79 [3056–3073] “Ceres, without taking a break, searches for Proserpine night and day,” for at every hour, in every season, Holy Church is in prayer – from Sunday till Saturday, at prime, at terce and at noon, at nones, at vespers, at compline, at matins80 – and she begs God to lead our humanity back to proper truth. “Ceres is thirsty from her travail,” because Holy Church yearns to draw to Qui les ames cree et reforme, v. 3042. See 2 Corinthians 5 and Ephesians 2:10. For v. 3073, Rouen has l’oscurte nuit, presumably “the dark of night.” 80 The canonical hours that mark the divisions of the day in terms of fixed times of prayer at regular intervals. 78 79

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herself, and to set straight, those whom the devil misleads. She aims to redirect those who err. [3074–3088] “To quench her thirst, Ceres went to the house of the harvester, who gave her sweet porridge.” “The harvester” is God, our Savior, towards whom all sinners who yearn for their salvation must run. He will sweetly quench their thirst with the sweet delightful drink of salvific wisdom, mixed with truth, boiled over the fire of charity. Whoever is fed and refreshed and intoxicated by this beverage will be counted among the blessed.81 God is symbolized by an old woman, for old is synonymous with unchanging, and God reigns eternally, with no end and no beginning. Her house was humbly appointed and had a humble appearance for, as Scripture bears witness, God dwells in a humble heart which is in devout contrition. [3089–3111] While Ceres was drinking the sweet beverage she held, a harsh and misbegotten child went on mocking her and, out of hostility, called her gluttonous and spiteful. Ceres struck him in the face with the beverage she was holding, and by the power of the beverage he became a speckled creeping thing. Now I will tell you, if you wish, who the child is who, out of foolishness, mocked and opposed Ceres. It is Synagoga – blinded, stupid, and unfortunate – who constantly scorns Holy Church. She is indeed this “child” who keeps getting worse, cannot recognize its own good, and cherishes evil over good. Synagoga is like that, so proud and insolent that she does not deign to show any honor to God, her Father and her Lord. Rather, as one who is childish and stupid, she refuses to acknowledge him and denies him out of pride and wickedness, and considers Holy Church to be gluttonous, betrayed, and deceived, solely for being intoxicated by the sweet beverage of Jesus Christ. The writings containing God’s commandments are the sweet drink with which God lovingly nourishes us and guides us along the path of holy life. Holy Church struck Synagoga in the face with her beverage, because by the very facts given in the Old and New Testaments and in the Scriptures, the Church demonstrates that Synagoga is deceived, reaching this conclusion by decisive argument. But Synagoga, the wretch, abandons the true light and wanders in damning darkness, and wants to hide the truth. And, because she does not know how to respond and does not admit the truth of Scripture, she wants to impose many different meanings on it, all contrary to truth. And more variance, fraud, and cavillations are in her false evasions than there are speckles and spots on the lizard which is so dappled and spotted. [3112–3166] When Ceres – that is, Holy Church – had searched the whole world for her daughter, she went back via Sicily, which means “dry land,” that is, a dry heart without the humidity of merciful charity, found in the sinful soul that the devil

81 De Boer has for vv. 3100–3102 Qui de cest douz boivre est peüs / Est rassasiez et embeüs. Ou nombre est des boneürez, but his period seems unjustified.



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holds in a bind.82 Ceres stopped to see Cyane who, if she hadn’t been transformed, would have told her and let her know the whole truth about Proserpine. But from the sign of the belt, Ceres realized anyway that Proserpine had been abducted, for when the soul goes astray and falls into dissolution through wicked temptation, one can deem it lost. The soul is then so corrupt that it cannot bear fruit. No one could grow any seed in it that might come to good. The dryness destroys it, along with the hardness of its malice, and the great heat of avarice, which heats and inflames hearts, and the thistles of covetousness, the rain and the snow of melancholy, and the cold of sloth. The great flood of lust takes away its good temperance. Thorny and spiky envy strangles the fruit of the soul. The blight of excess, the winds of pride and vanity make the seed abort so that it cannot bear any good fruit. The soul is very dry and barren, and, if by any chance it bears fruit, the devil gobbles and devours whatever the weary soul produces, and wipes out all of its good deeds, so that, no matter what good it might do, it will never obtain a fruitful reward. [3167–3210] “The oxen and their drivers die,” being stained with vice, because the good deeds committed in sinfulness are dead and cannot produce salvific fruit nor conduct the soul to eternal salvation if one dies in mortal sin, without repenting – that’s the truth. That said, no one must hold back in any way from doing good or from doing good works, no matter how much they sense that they are stained with vice or mortal sin. For, although they cannot obtain eternal life through good deeds, these are nonetheless very profitable for them, and they can acquire many virtues from them which make them rich and abundant to the world with the goods of the earth.83 And these virtues restrain their sins, so that they are not so quick to do evil, and they cause them to hold back from sin, and lead them to repentance, and shorten their penance, and advocate for them toward God the Father, praying to him on their behalf to set them on the path to grace and grant them forgiveness for their sins. And, should they die without confession, and the soul without redemption be condemned to the death of hell, they alleviate the punishment that the sinful soul can expect. Thus one is all too foolish – even if they are in a state of innocence – to delay until now, through negligence, to do good works and to do good, for no one should hold back.84 Rather, in every season they must pray and petition for God to lead them to repentance, and they should give alms and practice abstinence, because alms wipe out sin. [3211–3252]

82 De Boer has Que Dyables tient et copresse, v. 3173, reporting variants compresse and t. et c., but Rouen has tient en compresse and we translate accordingly. 83 The biens of v. 3226, translated “virtues,” seem to be different from the biens of v. 3227. Compare 1 John 2:15–17, Matthew 6:19–21, and Hebrews 11:13. To read as “worldly possessions,” not virtues etc., would be against James 4:2–4 and 1 Timothy 6:17–18. 84 See Luke 12:16–21, the “Parable of the Rich Fool.”

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Ceres looked everywhere to see if she could find her daughter, but her search would have been worthless to her. Rather, she would have lost her, except that Arethusa, when she flowed underground, “had seen her in hell” where she was imprisoned. Arethusa gave Ceres the true news about her, which then made it possible for her to get the beauty back.85 Arethusa, according to the tale, was the name of a flowing watercourse that originates and springs from Elis, and flows through underground channels deep into hell, and there it sees clearly the works that are hidden, and goes on to reveal them. Arethusa saw Prosperine being lady and queen in hell, and made it known to her mother. [3253–3272] “Alpheus loves the river of Arethusa and holds her dear”: Alpheus is a river which flows through a stretch of sea without its waters growing bitter.86 These two waters flow together. Arethusa, it seems to me, can represent true penitence, contrition, and repentance, a clean heart and pure intent to make satisfaction, and the desire to truly confess that the sinner who wishes to obtain remission must possess. [3273–3286] Confession is very good, and it is very precious and valuable. It is compared to a river because of various properties it has that are similar to the qualities of water. Water is clean and pure and cleansing of all filth: likewise, confession must cleanse of filth and pollution the sinful soul that confesses its sins with a pure heart and without hypocrisy.87 Through this, the soul is cleansed. [3287–3296] Confession must be like this: pure, and without pretense, and revealing to the depths of the heart, because, just as one can see down through clear water all the way to the bottom, likewise anyone who confesses faithfully must guard against leaving in their conscience any filth or baseness, or any abomination, deed, or thought displeasing to God, without making it known to the confessor, without covering up or hiding anything. Rather, they must tell and reveal everything in order to receive the medicine for all of it.88 The confession must be simple and entire and faithful and true,89 without the admixture of anything that should not be said. [3297–3318] For de Boer’s Par quoi, v. 3261, Rouen has Por quoi. Compare Ezekiel 47:7–12. 87 Compare 2 Corinthians 7:1. 88 See the discussion on “medicine” in Aquinas, ST Suppl. q. 9, art. 2. On Christ as the most able Physician, who can supply the remedy for sin, see also Bonaventure, Brev. VI.10. 89 See Aquinas, ST Suppl. q. 9, art. 4. The OF seems to be approximating the theological language of this passage: “Sed ex propria ratione huius actus qui est confessio, habet quod sit manifestativa. Quae quidem manifestatio per quattuor impediri potest. Primo, per falsitatem. Et quantum ad hoc, dicit fidelis, idest vera. Secundo, per obscuritatem. Et contra hoc dicit nuda: ut non involvat obscuritatem verborum. Tertio, per verborum multiplicationem. Et contra hoc dicit simplex: ut non recitet in confessione nisi quod ad quantitatem peccati pertinet. Quarto, ut non subtrahatur aliquid de his quae manifestanda sunt. Et contra hoc dicit integra.” 85 86



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One should choose, for the revelation of one’s secrets, a confessor who is worthy, and wise, and discerning in his knowledge of the sinner’s ailment, and who will assign him penance according to the quality of his sins.90 And if he has steadfast repentance without hoping to turn back – on the example of the river that flows downhill without turning back – he must, with a humble heart, devout contrition, and steadfast resolve, steadfastly submit to do what the confessor charges him with. Nor should he bear the charge grudgingly, but must willingly do his penance.91 This process is the water that cleanses and wipes away all filth and baseness and every abomination that might stain the soul. The sinner who is dying of thirst must cherish this beverage: it is the sweet water that, in and of itself, returns the dying to health and brings souls back from hell. It procures mercy, and instils peace and concord between the soul and its Creator. “Thanks to this river, Ceres managed to secure the return of her abducted daughter”: thanks to this river, the soul that was condemned to eternal death because of the devil’s artifice will come back from death to life. This is “Arethusa,” the river that “Alpheus” loves and holds so dear. [3319–3353] Alpheus, in truth, is God, who is the origin and the source and the wellspring from which all good things originate. It is the river that flows through the sea without its waters becoming bitter. The world is what we understand by the sea, which is full of commotion, bitterness, and flux, in which God lived devoid of worldly corruption, for he never stained his body with the bitterness of sin. [3354–3365] When Holy Church was certain, after searching for her daughter for so long, that she was in the confines of hell, she went up to heaven through prayer, guided as she was by pity. She came before God and entreated him to have her daughter returned to her. God would have immediately had her daughter returned to her free and clear, but she had already broken her fast with the fruit of hell. Ascalaphus, who had seen her eat the seven seeds, denounced her and tried to prevent her return. Ascalaphus is the devil, the traitor, the deceiver, who, through his deception, makes the soul fall into temptation so that it (“By reason of its very nature, viz. confession, this act is one of manifestation: which manifestation can be hindered by four things: first, by falsehood, and in this respect confession is said to be ‘faithful,’ i.e., true. Secondly, by the use of vague words, and against this confession is said to be ‘open,’ so as not to be wrapped up in vague words; thirdly, by ‘multiplicity’ of words, in which respect it is said to be ‘simple’ indicating that the penitent should relate only such matters as affect the gravity of the sin; fourthly none of those things should be suppressed which should be made known, and in this respect confession should be ‘entire.’”) “Quality” here seems to reflect species and number. See Aquinas on the species of penance in ST III q. 90. Bonaventure describes the sacrament of Penance in Brev. VI.10. 91 De Boer’s comma at the end of v. 3334 suggests that C’est iaue in v. 3335 is specifically glossing sa penitence, but it has already been explained that Arethusa corresponds to the whole process of confession, penance, and satisfaction whereby the soul is cleansed. 90

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commits some mortal sin. Then he grabs, seizes, and ensnares it, not letting it redress itself or gain the benefit of its good works.92 The seven seeds are the seven sins: anyone stained by them risks eternal death for it, unless Arethusa rescues him and he confesses and makes satisfaction. God, our Father who is ready to help, merciful, and compassionate, prefers the reformation of people over their damnation: he is a judge who wants to render unto everyone his due in fair measure.93 He saw the supplication of the Church and the affliction of the soul that devoutly wished to make amends, ready to do penance. On the other hand, he saw its adversary, the devil, the accuser, who terrified the soul and tried to prevent its return because he had seen it sin.94 Preferring the salvation of the soul to its damnation, God, since it had come to repent, divided time through a definitive judgment and declared that, by law, the soul should remain in torment for a while and purge itself and do penance for the seven seeds that it had eaten – that is, for the seven deadly sins95 with which it had previously been stained – and once it had been purged, it would exit Purgatory to live in eternal glory with the Church Triumphant. In this way, “Ceres got her daughter back,” and she was happy and full of joy. [3366–3426] But all the same, Proserpine splashed Ascalaphus, who had denounced her, with the water of hell, and turned him into an owl, base and foul. “Ascalaphus slanders her”: he is, in my opinion, the vile devil, the owl that flies at night in the darkness of iniquity. He hates light and truth. He is most vile and abominable, horrible and fearsome, and deserves deadly hatred, for anyone who decides to obey him and consents to heed the voice of his urging deserves eternal death for it. Such is the desert of anyone who serves him. [3427–3450] [miniature, fol. 151v: the sirens, one half-bird, two half-fish]

Calliope (IV): The Sirens {I}n any case, because of his base and vile tongue, Ascalaphus was subjected to woeful punishment and became a screech-owl, horned owl, or owlet. He thoroughly deserved this punishment because of his wicked gossiping when he denounced Proserpine. Now, when Pluto had abducted her while she was picking flowers, she had some companions with her who searched

See vv. 3167–3252 above. This does not contradict Ephesians 4:7 or Romans 12:3. See Aquinas, ST Suppl. Appendix II, art. 1; Bonaventure, Brev. VII.2; and also Daniel 5, Matthew 7:2, Deuteronomy 25:13–16, and Proverbs 16:11, 20:10, 20:23. 94 See Aquinas, ST Suppl., Appendix I q. 2, art. 3. and n86. 95 Reading des sept creminaux pechiez, v. 3419, lit. “the seven criminal sins,” as a standard rendering of “the seven deadly sins.” 92 93



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for her throughout the world. They wandered up and down until they had traveled the whole world. When they didn’t find her on land, the young ladies asked the gods to give them wings and the gods granted their requests. Now they were ready to better accomplish their will, and they went on to make many men suffer. They are still searching the ocean for the one who was so dear to them, and they still have human form: they are known as the Sirens, false and full of deceptions. There are three of them, and their appearances differ. Their forms are human plus bird, in two cases, and plus fish, in the other, and in every season, all three of them sing in harmony and very melodiously: one plays the harp, another the trumpet, and the third sings in a feminine voice. By singing in a sweet voice, they bewitch seafarers. They attract ships and ensnare sailors so that they make them drown in the sea and destroy their ships. [3451–3483]

Moralization {N}ow I would like to let you know what this tale can mean. Proserpine’s companions at the time of her abduction represent the worldly delights mixed up with mortal vices that distract the soul, and draw it into the sea of the world and delay it there, so that it never reaches its true harbor, full of salvific gladness; they sink it to the depths of hell and the deep abyss. Such delights are vain and changing, transitory and fleeting. That is why the tale claimed that they had wings, and they have the faces of maidens, because they do not bear any good fruit. Anyone who is consumed by these vain delights is utterly misguided and utterly lost, for no one can get taken in by them for long96 without imperiling his soul.97 [3484–3504] [miniature, fol. 152r: arethusa talking to ceres]

Calliope (V): Arethusa {N}ow Ceres has found her daughter. Now she is happy and full of joy. She now hungers and yearns to hear how Arethusa became a spring and why she lived in Sicily,98 rather than in Elis, where she was born. The lady lifted her head from the depths of her wellspring and wrung the water from her hair. Then she told Ceres, without delay, about Alpheus’s ancient love for her. On tendre la muse (v. 3503), see Lecoy (1948), 341. In Dante’s Purgatory 19, the Sirens represent the lure of secondary goods and the ways of the world, symbolized in the above illumination by the mirror. Originating their role as temptresses in Homer’s Odyssey, Sirens appear on painted and sculpted vessels dating back to the 600s bc Their fish tails appear to make their appearance in descriptions in the seventh century. For more context, see Mustard (1908) and Clark (2006). 98 Lit. “in this realm” (en ce raine, v. 3509). 96 97

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Then the waters went silent and still and listened to their lady. [3505–3517] [miniature, fol. 152r: alpheus chasing arethusa] “{T}here was a time when I was a huntress in Achaia and I would roam the forests to put up nets there to capture game. I was beautiful and praised for it. Nonetheless I took little delight in it; rather, I, as a strong and independent woman, found it shameful and degrading to be addressed in the same terms as women who like to hear that they are pleasing and beautiful99 typically enjoy. I couldn’t care less to be told such things; rather, I considered what people nowadays hold up as a great honor to be very dishonorable.’’ [3518–3531] “One day, I’m quite sure, I was coming back from the Stymphalian forest where I had been hunting, and it was in the heat of summer. I was weary and my weariness made me feel twice as hot. I found a clear and calm watercourse, without a source,100 that flowed without a sound, so harmoniously that it seemed motionless, and you could count the pebbles at the bottom of the deep riverbed. Willows101 and poplars that grew on the bank cast shade over it. I quickly went to the water and first dipped my toes and the soles of my feet in it, then, without delay, my legs up to the knees. Finding it a pleasant temperature, I didn’t stop there; rather, I draped my clothes on a willow and dove into the water naked to get rid of the heat I felt. While I bathed, and went frolicking, swimming naked in the middle of the river, splashing my arms around and hitting the water with them, I heard some kind of whisper. [3532–3561] “I felt great fear and fled to the nearest bank. From the midst of his river, Alpheus started to shout with his harsh voice, asking me where I was running, for I was truly running, completely naked and with no clothes: my clothing was on the other bank. He pursued me all the more, and grew more impassioned for me, and the love he felt increased even more, and the fact of seeing me naked gave him the impression I was all the more eager. Thus I ran without stopping, fearful and full of distress, from the man who hurried to follow my tracks more intently than a hawk pursuing a dove. I ran past Orchemenus, Psophis and Cyllene, and the passes of Maenalus, Erymanthus and then Elis.102 He was not faster than me but my body was sooner exhausted by exertion, nor could I exert myself as long, because I was weaker. He was a man, and had more endurance and was better able to For v. 3528, de Boer has soient but reports that all the manuscripts have fussent. chief, v. 5338, is an addition to Ovid’s description (Met. 5.586–592), and corresponds to the moralization of la fontaine sans chié, v. 3677, as God, the Unmoved Mover. 101 De Boer has Marsauce, v. 3542, with a note that “A écrit ‘Marcance’, comme le fait aussi le manuscrit de l’Arsenal,” but Rouen actually has Marcauce. 102 Orchemenus, Psophis, and Elis are cities; Cyllene and Maenalus are mountains; Erymanthus is a river and a mountain. 99

100 Sans



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stand the exertion than I could, and nevertheless I fled through fields, lands, and plains, over tall mountains full of rocks, and through places where there was no path, I thought I could still see, thanks to the sun that was behind us, his shadow near my feet, and that was true, because I could hear the sound of his feet and feel his breath, which ruffled the hair on my head.103 I was terrified and desperate, and said: ‘Diana, dear lady, lend aid to your maidservant. I’ll be captured if I don’t get help. I am weary and can no longer endure or keep up the race. You used to let me carry your good Turkish bow, your arrows, and your quiver.’ [3562–3607] “Diana, moved by pity, covered me in a thick cloud so that he couldn’t see me. The god started groping around, looking for me in the cloudiness. Then I was in great fear and great distress, when I knew he was so close to me. I was so afraid I didn’t dare move, like the ewe that hears the wolf sniffing and lurking at the gate, or the hare that hides in the bushes and hears the dogs barking. Alpheus, who knew that I was wrapped in the cloud, kept searching and looking for me, and did not dare distance himself from the place or the cloud. I, who was confined to hiding, and still afraid of getting caught, was overcome with cold sweat all over my body, and dripped so much that wherever I moved my foot, the earth was drenched; a heavy dew fell from my hair. Why should I draw this out? I was transformed and melted away into water faster than I am telling you now. The god who loved me loves me still, and he cast aside the form of a man that he had taken on for the love of me and, in order to be joined with me nonetheless, he turned into his own waters and joined his watercourse to mine. In order to make a path for me, Diana split the earth with a deep crevasse, where my river plunged down, so that I flow underground, without being seen by anyone, all the way to Ortygia, where I came above ground. I love the place for the love of my lady.104 [3608–3647] [miniature, fol. 153r: a penitent kneels before a confessor]105

103 Compare

Book 1, vv. 2981–3024, where Apollo chases Daphne and she cries out to Peneus for help. 104 Pour l’amour de ma dame l’ain, v. 3647. This line corresponds to Ovid’s “Ortygia, dear to me, because it has the same name as my goddess, the ancient name, for Delos, where she was born” (Kline, for Met. 5.639–640). For l’ain, see, e.g., The Old French Evangile de l’Enfance, ed. Boulton (1984), 34, v. 391, which has je l’ain with variant je l’ayme. 105 Fols 29v, 153r, and 245r have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by the confessor’s use of the rod.

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Moralization {N}ow I want to explain this tale. I can interpret Arethusa as penitence and true confession. She is the “hunting maiden” who chases the wild beast of sin from the dark recesses of people’s hearts and bowels. She is the “strong maiden” who is beautiful and lovely, so pleasing and agreeable to God. She does not take delight in vain praise that profits in no way; rather it is damaging to the soul. And she considers shameful and degrading, reprehensible and dishonorable, what many who boast of their good works hold in honor. [3648–3664] True confession hides and conceals the soul’s good deeds and would be ashamed if people found out about them from its own mouth. Anyone who wishes to confess properly should keep their good works silent and unremarked. Anyone who makes their good works known in order to gain praise doesn’t know what they are doing. It is not proper for someone making a true confession to say such things. But, if they are inflamed to any act of malice by the artifice of the evil one, to purge themselves of all sin, they should come to the “spring without a beginning,” that is, to God,106 who cleanses and purifies the true repentant of all filth, and gives them relief against the wicked heat of sin through ablution with the water of confession. In this water should bathe anyone who finds doing good to be weary and burdensome, to strengthen their resolve to do good. They must take off and remove the garments of malice and hang their old skin on the willow of repentance,107 and strip their conscience naked, and reveal all their vices and so tell all, without hiding anything, word for word, and in order: thoughts first, then words, and then deeds, in which they feel they have transgressed against God. [3665–3697] To the soul that will confess this way, God will send his grace and his Holy Spirit, which visits the repentant soul and calls it to his holy love, and so fills it with the fear of God that the soul hastens to run and rush without stopping to the bank of penance. And it flees divine vengeance through true satisfaction, running with good inclination, clean and naked, without covering of any sin or any filth, like the maiden who leaves her sins on the other bank of confession, whose name is true penitence.108 [3698–3714]

106 On the eternity of God, see Aquinas, ST I q. 10, esp. art. 5, and Bonaventure, Brev. I.2. The head and mouth of the river in the OM correspond to “before” and “after.” See Revelation 21:6: “I am Alpha and Omega; the beginning and the end. To him that thirsteth, I will give of the fountain of the water of life, freely,” and Revelation 22:1, “And he shewed me a river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.” Compare also Ezekiel 47:7–12. 107 Compare Ephesians 4:22–24 and Zechariah 3:1–4. 108 As different banks of the river of confession, it seems reasonable to distinguish the rive de penitence of v. 3706 from the autre rive de confesse, / Qui a non “voire penitance” of vv. 3713–3714: penitence precedes confession, and penance follows.



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Thus the holy soul moves forward through the open fields of truth, through the rocks of adversity, and always it runs by way of good works so that it reaches mercy. And the faster it runs, the more God presses it: he loves it and does not let it feel secure in vain idleness, but spurs and excites to afflict and mortify the body by fasting and keeping vigil, as much as it can and then some. When the penitent sees their body weakened and weary from suffering the punishment visited on it by the Spirit, which alleviates God’s wrath and anger,109 they weep and sigh and dissolve into tears, praying and tearfully calling upon the mercy and the grace of God, who covers everything and erases their sins under the cloud of oblivion, and in his mercy grants them remission, so that he reconciles and reunites them with himself, and pours his grace into them. In this way, true confession erases the sins with which the soul was burdened. Through its help, the soul is purged, and it leads it out of the infernal prison, and brings it into safe protection in heaven, in everlasting joy. [3715–3746] [miniature, fol. 153v: ceres/triptolemus and lyncus]110

Calliope (VI): Triptolemus and Lyncus {A}s the tale goes on to recount, Ceres had found her daughter, recovered thanks to Arethusa. Now she was happy and full of joy. She made her way straight through the air and came to Athens, covered in a shining cloud. She saw the world perishing from hunger. She took pity on it. To save it and to feed the people, she resolved to send Triptolemus to carry to the world her seeds, from which the grain grows and abounds, and ordered him to plant them in the ground. [3747–3760] Without touching earth or sea, he set off in a chariot pulled by two serpents that flew through the air, and he brought the world the seeds through which the people had an abundance and a multitude of grain. He filled up many lands that had lain fallow for a long time. He passed through rich Europe and came to Scythia, and there he resolved to stop and sow his seeds. He went to the king’s palace to seek lodging. [3761–3772] Lyncus was the king of that land. Lyncus asked and inquired of him where he was from, where he was headed, who he was, and what he was looking for. Triptolemus said: “I was born in Athens: I have crossed many kingdoms, and have come over the ground without setting foot on it, and over the sea without looking for a ship. I fly freely through the air, carrying 109 De Boer has Qui double la vengance et l’ire / Damedieu, vv. 3730–3732, “which redoubles God’s vengeance and wrath.” We read according to variants toute and Encontre etc. 110 Lyncus is supposed to be transforming into a lynx. The medieval illuminator seems not to have been sure how to represent the animal, so Lyncus here receives a snake-tail.

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the profitable gift of Ceres, goddess of grain, through whom the world is full and overflowing with rich abundance. I bear the sweet seeds through which the world is sustained. I have come here for this reason: so that your land can be replenished with them.” [3773–3788] King Lyncus was very envious of him. He plotted with great malice to usurp his role: he thought he would lodge him and strangle him in his sleep. He would have murdered him, I have no doubt, but Ceres, his lady and friend, saved his life and his head: she made the king transform into an animal which has such keen vision that it can see through walls.111 This animal is called a lynx. Without further delay, Ceres sent her servant back to the world to carry her gifts to the people. [3789–3803] [miniature, fol. 154r: man and woman, bushels of grain]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you, according to the historical level of interpretation, how this tale was true. Long ago, as history attests, there was a rich and powerful lady who had lots of grain in her possession. In her time, there was a famine that starved the entire land, but thanks to the grain she had, the land was fed. She was wise and shrewd: she was the first to invent a measure to fairly distribute her grain, such a price for such an amount. It is to her we owe this custom, which is still in use and still practiced by grain merchants. The lady had a grain dealer of her own, a general agent112 that she appointed master and vendor of all the grain in her barns and receiver of her revenue. She would send him across the country to sell her grain and collect her revenue. He was called Triptolemus. He came to the house of the wicked tyrant, King Lyncus, who, through envy, resolved to make him lose his life. But Triptolemus, to ransom his life, was willing to supply him plentifully with the grain that he had in his possession, which freed him from all famine, and then some. Lyncus, who drank plentifully, had such a plentitude of grain that, lacking any other beverage, he used it to make beer to drink. The lynx is a thirsty beast: hence the claim, according to the tale, that Ceres turned him into a wild lynx, because Lyncus made the beverage, that is, the beer that he made from the grain that he had in plenty. [3804–3843] [miniature, fol. 154r: a saint preaching to a seated crowd]113

As de Boer notes, this detail is not in Ovid. For context, see Taylor (1993). equivalent of Chaucer’s Reeve in England. 113 Fols 67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. 111

112 The



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{T}here can be an allegorical interpretation to correlate the tale with truth. When Jesus, in whom all good things abound, the Creator of all the world, had, through his magnanimity, delivered the soul that “Pluto” held captive and redeemed our humanity, he rose in immortality to heaven, hidden in a cloud,114 without seeking any outside help other than his dual substance which he joined into one single essence and united by divine power. On earth, he “saw the great famine,” that is, the desire of those who were in Jerusalem, waiting for his holy Paraclete. He then sent the Holy Spirit, which filled his disciples with grace,115 and all those filled with his love and his goodness were of one will, one heart, one soul, one wish, and they all burned with one desire and wanted to partake in one love. They scattered across the world bearing the divine seeds to free people from famine.116 The famine is the ignorance and the lack of the faith that Holy Church keeps and preserves,117 which is the seed that sustains and nourishes the soul, and feeds it with bread of eternal life, and relieves the famine. [3844–3878] The savage-hearted tyrant who wanted to kill the messenger that Ceres sent to the world to alleviate the famine represents the tyrants who persecuted the apostles and disciples who announced to the world the holy seed of Christian belief, some of whom God, in his mercy, resolved to draw to him118 and through his grace illuminate, establish, and instruct them how to believe and have faith in him. He made them cast off their insolence and their wicked intent, and so they fixed their vision on knowing the secrets of heaven. Our teacher Saint Paul was like this: first he was a persecutor of Holy Church, and then a guardian. He was a lynx, wise and discerning in seeing the divine secrets, and his heart was ardent and uplifted with salvific wisdom. [3879–3903] [miniature, fol. 154v: the pierides turn into magpies]

The Pierides Transformed {A}bove, I told you the tale, just as it was recounted by the Muse who told and related to Pallas the quarrel and discord of the nine Muses of the mountain and the magpies who, out of spite, came to pick a fight with them. Then she said that, by a righteous verdict, it was deemed that those who governed Helicon 114 See Acts

1:9. 2. 116 See Acts 2:42–47. 117 This renders Ovid’s “ordered him to scatter the seeds she gave, partly in untilled soil, partly in fields reclaimed, after lying for a long time fallow” (Kline, for Met. 5.646–647). 118 Compare John 6:35–44 and 48–50, John 12:32; and Hosea 11:4. 115 See Acts

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were in the right, and that Calliope119 had rightly triumphed in the disputation. The defeated denied it, and attacked them with insults and started to abuse them. The nine Muses, the victors, could not tolerate the threats or the insults of the chatterers. Instead, for their chatter, they transformed all nine of them into magpies: these are speckled birds with black and white feathers. The magpies are still cackling nowadays, they are full of gossip and have held onto their former eloquence,120 and are still speaking out of habit. You also heard about the senselessness of the man who tried to rape the nine Muses in his house, and how pride made him fly, when in pursuit of them he climbed up the tower from which he fell. [3904–3935] [miniature, fol. 154v: the rebel angels falling as devils from heaven into hellmouth121]

Moralization {I} can provide the following allegorical reading and interpretation for this text. When Pallas, Divine Wisdom, that is, Jesus Christ, who shepherds the soul in doing good works, had vanquished the temptations of the world, and sacrificed his flesh for the soul he had delivered from hell and the snares of the devil and the jaws of eternal death, so that he led it out the stinking dungeon, he went up to heaven, flying through the air, on a shining cloud. The nine orders of angels rejoiced at his coming. That is where the heavenly mountain is, the mountain of God, the mountain of mercy, that is, delightful paradise, where God resides in eternity. There dwells the Holy Trinity, which is the living and true spring that is full of philosophy, love, and discernment. That is where the company of angels is in contemplation and heavenly study. [3936–3961] Pyreneus, who tried to be master and to rape the Muses,122 represents Lucifer, who long ago tried to be king in paradise and climb atop the high tower to resemble his Creator, and he fell through his folly. And his woeful company, who in their foolish arrogance tried to pick a fight with the angels and, in their foolish presumption, cast them out of the places they occupy in the heavenly 119 For Et qu’ele ot par droite raison / Vaincue la desputoison, vv. 3914–3915, where de Boer identifies ele as Calliope, the only Muse who actually takes part. But with variant Et que eulz ont, it could be that they had triumphed, collectively. 120 For Et tienent l’ancien langage, v. 3928, we follow Ovid (Met. 5.646–647): “Even now, as birds, their former eloquence remains, their raucous garrulity, and their monstrous capacity for chatter” (Kline), our emphasis. 121 Compare and contrast the miniatures on fols 41v, 154v, 209r, and 295r. 122 Pyreneüs, qui mestroier / Vault et les Muses forçoier, vv. 3962–3963. A dot in Rouen supports reading les Muses as object of forçoier only and not of mestroier (so the translation would not be “tried to dominate and rape the Muses”).



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dwelling: they fell through their insolence into the vile and fearful depths of hell and were transformed from angels into devils. And they are still chatterers full of rancor,123 and sowers of wrath and discord amongst people. They are very diligent in this, the treacherous and misbegotten devils, and they disturb every attempt to do good. [3962–3983]

123 Rouen

has iougleor in v. 3978, vs. jangleor in de Boer.

Book 6

Arachne [miniature, fol. 155r: pallas and arachne]

{P}allas had lent an ear to this marvel that the Muse was telling her about, while recounting the dispute of the nine Muses and the nine magpies. And she said that they had avenged themselves well, and she praised their disputation, and said that they were justified and in the right. [1–8] Then she said softly so that no one could hear her: “What good does it do me to praise you? Why do I let myself be scorned? I feel great spite and anger because Arachne scorns me with her skill and mastery, of which she is becoming prideful.1 She’s a fine craftswoman and good weaver: because of this she doesn’t deign to obey me. For sure, I’ll go challenge her, and she’ll pay for her presumptuousness if she doesn’t show me reverence.” [9–20] This Arachne of whom Pallas was thinking was, as the tale relates, born to a very low station and lived in a little village, but she was a very skilled wool-worker and a fine weaver: there was no one as skilled in the region. She had great renown for it throughout the whole land of Lydia, but she was so prideful and arrogant because of her skill and renown that it was a marvel. From all around the nymphs would come and delight in seeing what she made, for her work was beautiful and very pleasing. They took great pleasure in watching her work. She knew well how to shear, card coarsely and finely, comb, and spin wool. She knew so well how to dye wool in scarlet, and was so expert and wise in weaving and the art of wool-working that no one else knew as much, except Pallas, who felt spited by her contempt and her foolish boasting that Pallas didn’t know as much. [21–47]

1 This sets up an interpretation that may surprise modern readers, but is compatible with Dante’s interpretation of Arachne as a cautionary tale against the sin of pride in Purgatory 12 (she is also mentioned in Inferno 17, in the description of Geryon). This line hints already at a first transformation in the OM tale (Arachne becoming bloated with pride), and sets up the moralization. But Pallas herself is prideful, as Dante points out. Thus, both figures are carved together in the rock on the terrace of pride. It’s also interesting to note that Orgueilissant here rhymes with bien tissant: the problem is not that she’s a good weaver but that she doesn’t acknowledge the source of her skill.

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Pallas, who heard her bragging, came to Arachne’s home in the form of a gray-haired old woman, trembling and supporting herself with a cane she held, and she spoke to the weaver and told her: “Girl, I’ve come to your house to scold you. I’m old and gray-haired but you mustn’t scorn me for that. An old person can very well say a thing from which a young one can profit. Now believe me, and I’ll let you know: you’re considered to be a very good wool-worker and a wise weaver. You are greatly praised among the people,2 but you go around comparing yourself to Pallas, the wise goddess who originated the art of wool-working. That’s unreasonable. Make yourself truly repentant: I advise and admonish you to do it. Beg the lady’s indulgence, that she pardon your ill-will. Give up your foolish presumption. To my mind, it should be amply sufficient for you to have glory and praise over mortals and to know more, but never compare yourself to the gods, for I’ll take that as great presumption.”3 [48–76] Arachne, who couldn’t care less for scolding, looked at her pridefully and held her in disdain. She put down the work she was holding and could barely restrain herself from beating the old woman. She flushed with rage and anger. She spoke to her with great fierceness: “Filthy lady, crazy old woman, devils brought you here. It’s unfortunate you’re still living. If you have a daughter or niece or daughter-in-law, scold them, for I’m wise enough. I won’t change my heart because of your admonishment. And if she on whose behalf you scold me were here now, I wouldn’t hold back in any way from saying everything I’m saying to you. Let Pallas come, if she is so bold, and challenge me. I’ve no fear of being defeated by her in weaving.” [77–99] [miniature, fol. 155v: pallas and arachne]

{P}allas said, “Pallas has come. Now you will see it revealed.”4 Then she threw off her aged appearance and showed herself with her true face. There was no nymph who did not do her reverence or feel great fear of her, except Arachne, who feared nothing.5 Nevertheless, her face reddened, then immediately whitened, it seems to me, but in no way did she humble herself, rather she persevered in her folly. And to garner vain praise, she provoked the goddess to pursue the competition. Pallas did not deign to back down from her, and she didn’t want to admonish her any more. [100–115]

Compare Psalms 57:9–10, 108:4 (Vulgate 56:9–10 and 107:4). The comparison to Lucifer is salient here. Lucifer wanted to be the equal of God. 4 De Boer has Ja la verras for v. 101 and lists “B la” as a variant. Rouen reads Ja le. It would seem that the edition has a typo, if la is the variant. “Now you will see her” fits the context, but seems to be the variant reading: “now you will see it without an integument/ covering,” a persistent theme set up by the prologue to the OM. 5 Ostensibly, not even God. The tale continues to set up the moralization. 2 3



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They now began, without delay, to weave two tapestries with different designs. Pallas sat on the right and the other sat on the left, pleased and content with the dispute.6 Both of them were capable and swift; each prepared her loom and stretched the warp, eager to tie it off so that she could begin and make progress on her tapestry. The tapestries were most intricate, with many distinguished portraits on them, colored with numerous hues: crimson and cloth of gold, which made the work marvelously beautiful; indigo, yellow, green, scarlet, and other colors, light and dark. Each of them depicted many stories. [116–132] [miniature, fol. 156r: pallas and arachne weaving]7

{P}allas portrayed a marvelous picture in her tapestry: how Athens was founded. And when the city was established, Neptune wanted to name it. Pallas refused him and said absolutely not, telling him not to interfere and that it was up to her to give it a name. There was great contention between them over the imposition of the name, and they sought a verdict. [133–143] Next she depicted how the twelve heavenly gods were nobly seated, six on the right and six on the left, each in their proper semblance, with august bearing. Jupiter was seated at the center, with six of the heavenly gods sitting on each side of him. He is known as the king and master of them all, and he certainly seemed to be. He held a scepter in his right hand, and the others, who sat around him, bowed before him. They were to be the judges of the disagreement. [144–157] Neptune was there, and stood before them8 as a plaintiff with his trident in hand; he struck a rock and, without a doubt, made a horse leap out of it. All of the judges marveled. Because of this marvel, Neptune wished to give the city its name. [158–165] Greatly noble, Pallas was armed from head to toe, just as she had portrayed and depicted. She held her shield in front of her chest, her spear in her right hand, and her helmet laced upon her head. She gripped her shield tightly and struck the earth hard with the point of her sharp lance, and from it sprang an olive tree bearing flowers, fruit, and foliage. The gods marveled mightily and judged in favor of the goddess, who garnered such admiration that she, and not the god of the sea, was granted the right to impose a name on the city to be named. She called it “Pallas Athens.” [166–183] A lack of harmony, emphasized by sitting on the left, which is not in Ovid. In the image, Pallas now seems to be on the left, unless our gaze is from behind her. This may also be intentional, to emphasize the interchangeability of Arachne and Pallas as prideful figures. 8 In Ovid, the twelve gods plus Jupiter are also there, thus Neptune and Pallas are included in those supposedly judging. 6 7

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In the four corners of the tapestry she depicted four scenes of contention. In the first corner were Haemus and his wife Rhodope, who was the queen and lady of Thrace, who were so arrogant that they wanted to be called gods. They have now become mountains. The second corner contained how Pigmea, queen of Piconia, was disgraced: she had contended against Juno and gone around boasting she was more beautiful than her. But she was defeated. Juno caused her to transform into a crane and now she wages war against the pygmies.9 Anyone who gets carried away by pride is a fool. Then in the third corner there was a depiction of Antigone, who for her gossiping was turned into a base and foul stork. In the fourth corner, it seems to me, there was a portrait of Cinyras, weeping for his daughters whom he saw transformed into temple steps for being so audacious that they scorned the gods and prevented those who came to the temple from entering the temple. These four examples were depicted so that Arachne might understand what reward might come from contending with someone who is stronger and more powerful! The tapestry was finished all the way around with borders depicting olive leaves.10 Pallas completed her tapestry in the manner described above. [184–219] {N}ow it is right for me to recount to you which images and depictions Arachne depicted on her tapestry. She wove it well and gracefully. First she depicted how Europa was abducted across the sea, without barge or ship, when Jupiter, in order to abduct the maiden, took on the semblance of a bull and swam away with her. How distraught she was to find herself on the high seas! Then it showed how Jupiter abducted Asterie as a flying eagle. Then how, transformed into a swan, he went about raping Leda, the beauty with the gleaming body, and took her maidenhead and left her pregnant, and how the beauty gave birth to Helen, Pollux, and Castor. It showed how Jupiter disguised himself as a shepherd to have Mnemosyne, and how he became fire to deceive Aegina, and how he took the semblance of a satyr when he carried off the beautiful Antiope, who bore him two sons. He was a serpent when he impregnated Deois.11 He deflowered Danaë as golden rain. He took Alcmena in the appearance of her husband, Amphitryon – and from that encounter was born the valiant Hercules, who went on to rule many realms to win praise and esteem and performed many acts of heroism. Jupiter – who deceived and de-

I.e., her own people. Compare Ovid (Met. 6.101–102), which makes it clear that olives means olive trees or leaves: “Minerva surrounded the outer edges with the olive wreaths of peace (this was the last part) and so ended her work with emblems of her own tree” (Kline). 11 Proserpine. De Boer remarks that the spelling Deolis, for Deois, is retained in an eighteenth-century Ovide Moralisé by M. l’abbé de Bellegarde (Paris: 1701), vol. 1, 78. 9

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flowered the aforementioned ladies, so that they all conceived by him – even resolved to adopt the form of a sheep to take Bisaltis.12 [220–260] Arachne depicted lots of other pictures in her tapestry, but I would have too much to account for if I wanted to describe fully how the gods disguised themselves for the maidens they loved and with whom they had their way. Here Neptune was a calf, there a man, there a sheep, and there a dolphin. And Phoebus transformed himself endlessly: here he was a goshawk, there a lion, there a farmer, there a shepherd. Liber13 took on many shapes: to deceive Erigone, he resolved to take on the form of grapes. Saturn was shown as a horse. It would be small profit and great labor for anyone who wanted to recount every event that Arachne portrayed in the tapestry she wove. To finish it off, she bordered it with ivy leaves and flowers depicted in many colors. The resulting depiction was very beautiful. [261–285] [miniature, fol. 157r: pallas chases arachne and hits her on the head with a shuttle]

Upset by the workmanship, Pallas ripped the tapestry and hit Arachne on the head several times with her shuttle. Arachne, who was outraged to be so mistreated by Pallas, grew very angry and scornful. She was prideful beyond measure, and could not abide such abuse. In her anger and impatience, Arachne, the foolish, proud, demented woman, hanged herself, to her misfortune. [286–297] Pallas lifted her up out of pity, saying: “Wretch, you won’t die; instead you’ll stay hanging on this cord that you yourself used to hang yourself, and so will all of your descendants. For all those who will stem from you will hang just like you.” Then the goddess sprinkled her with the juice of a poisonous herb and left her hanging from the cord. All her hair fell away, followed by her nose and ears. Her head shrank marvelously and her whole body was reduced in size. Her thin and graceful fingers stuck to her body as legs; all her other limbs dwindled, and disappeared into her belly. Still she spins, still she weaves, still she continues her original craft. Thus Arachne was turned into spider. [298–318] [miniature, fol. 157r: arachne turned into a spider, with pallas standing alongside]14

In Ovid (Met. 6.117), it is Neptune who “deceived Theophane as a ram” (Kline). Theophane is the daughter of Bisaltes, thus known as “Bisaltis.” 13 Bacchus, as in Book 3, p. 276. 14 Note the chiastic visual structure with the preceding miniature, with Pallas moving from left in the first image, to right in the second. 12

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Moralization {I} will now tell you how the tale is believable, according to the historical interpretation. Pallas, valiant and wise, invented the art of wool-weaving, of which Arachne was a good artisan. But she foolishly and arrogantly tried to surpass her teacher and so she quarreled with the goddess, who beat her and abused her, destroying her tapestry. Arachne, who did not know any other way to avenge the act that caused her such suffering, hanged herself from a noose in order to avenge her grief by dying. Because she had been an experienced weaver and a good and skillful artisan, and had spun the cord from which she hanged herself, the tale recounts, and it seems to me that it claims that Arachne became a spider. [319–338] Let every man and woman learn from this example not to contend with someone more powerful, for I have never seen or known it to work out well for anyone. If a rich man contends with a poor man, he will always manage, right or wrong, to defeat and have victory over the poor man, and will use his power to make it seem that the poor man was at fault: in this way he perverts judgments. The rich are found to be in the right everywhere, no matter how they might transgress. [339–352] [miniature, fol. 157v: pallas, reading, and personifying divine wisdom, while arachne forsakes her book to stare in a mirror, and personifies foolish presumption, i.e., the inordinate love of self]

{I} can provide another interpretation. Pallas, for anyone who wants to gloss her properly, represents Divine Wisdom. Arachne represents foolish presumption, that rules and holds sway with the devil,15 and the many who follow her teaching have now gotten it from him. “Pallas,” Divine Wisdom, was angered and spiteful because she was scorned by “Arachne,” that is, the deluded and silly world full of presumption and vices, which boasts against God, nor is it intent on anything in this world except for works of vanity and destroying the truth. Pallas came to earth covered in a dark cloud,16 for the Deity came to the world under the veil of humanity to root out the vices and instruct the world in the path of righteous life. Pallas disguised herself as an old woman, because the old are supposed to have more moderation, sense, temperance, abstinence, and chastity than there is in young people. Arachne was a young maiden, since foolish error is childish and barren, incapable of producing good fruit. Pallas tried to reprimand Arachne and scold her for her folly, and urged her to be humble, but Arachne disdained her too much: the proud fools of the world do not want to be reprimanded. 15 Reading ou in v. 357 as o. Reading as au, the translation would be “that rules and holds sway over the devil,” but Divine Wisdom is described as being with God, and oftentimes in the OM is interchangeable with the Word (Logos) in John 1, i.e., Jesus Christ, Pantocrator. See also our lexicon, s.v. sapience (p. 78). 16 In the disguise of an old woman.



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Pride plunges and drowns them so much in worldly misdeeds, and they love vain delights, vain praise, and vainglory so much that they do not deign to believe any counsel; rather, they hate all admonishment and loathe correction, but they wallow in their error. Wisdom and folly weave tapestries of disparate workmanship. The works of fools are barren, full of foolish vanity, and without the moisture of charity.17 [353–402] Now the desire has come upon me to tell you about the “threads and material” in the “tapestry” that fools make. Pride, which fells and confounds the prideful full of arrogance, plied with foolish boasting and stupid presumption, formed the weft. Vainglory, haughtiness of heart, and false hypocrisy, ire, avarice, and gluttony, envy and woeful sloth interwoven with sadness, hatred, and foul lust were the warp threads, in my opinion. With these threads and many others, the tapestry that Arachne made was woven in many colors: its workmanship was very pleasing to her, for all fools delight in and feed on their own folly and are all too pleased with it. [403–422] [miniature, fol. 157v: monks studying opposite people drinking and feasting; or, images of the contemplative/religious life and the active/courtly life (book and chalice), so both christ-centered]

{T}he tapestry woven by learned Pallas was different both in workmanship and in appearance. Hers was more profitable, better, stronger, and more durable. Its warp throughout was virtues. [423–427] Now it makes sense for me to tell you what the depictions made in the tapestries signify, just as the tales recount, and I will explain to you the contention, strife, and dissention as to who would name the great, noble city founded by double-bodied King Cecrops,18 that is, the city of Athens. The King of eternity, the noble King of dual nature, God and man according to Scripture, founded the eternal city, that is, delightful paradise. Pallas and Neptune both wanted to give the city a name when it was built, as the aforementioned tale relates, and they each wanted to name it after themselves. Neptune, the god of the sea, can represent the active life, and Pallas the contemplative. [428–450] These have two types of followers: laypeople lead an active live, and people of the cloth live in contemplation. Both laypeople and those who live in contemplation strive to have their names inscribed in the city of joyous eternity.19 Both types of people look forward to this. Those who are intent on the world because of the labors and efforts they expend in earthly works for which they anticipate a good reward, are to be commended. But more to be commended are the contemplatives, who day and night are intent on acquiring Compare Isaiah 58:11. On the founding of Athens, see Book 2, vv. 4087–4116 and 4117–4153, and Book 7, vv. 2171–2204. 19 Lit. “put in the city” (v. 457). 17 18

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heavenly goods, and who don’t concern themselves at all with earthly ones or the acquisition of worldly wealth. [451–469] They are armed to resist the prideful enemy. They carry the shield of holy faith against the arrows of their adversary, who never ceases to shoot at them, for he wages a mighty war against them. They have strong, multilayered hauberks of justice girded with the belt of truth, that has served many men well, and they have strong helmets of salvation so that the devil cannot harm them. They have the sword of God’s word piercing them to the depths of their conscience more keenly than any spear, and it fills them with grace so that they exude mercy, that is, the olive tree, I believe, that bears foliage, flowers, and fruit. [470–488] The foliage is the inception of the heart’s good cogitation20 towards doing good works. But when this thought becomes pleasing to the heart, so that it uninterruptedly remains in cogitation and perseveres in the good thoughts that God makes it think, it sprouts flowers as well as leaves. A person bears fruit, it seems to me, when they put their good intent into practice, thinking and planning and acting well, then striving to complete the work well, and becoming a good example for other people of how to do good deeds and good works. This is the nature of those who exert themselves to bear foliage, 20 The doctrine of the vis cogitativa (“cogitative power”) originates in the writing of Aristotle. After defining the soul as the first actuality of an organic body, Aristotle considers vegetative and sensitive animation. In De Anima 2.6, he distinguishes the objects of sensory cognition. Sensible reality is categorized as either essential (per se) or accidental (per accidens). Essential sensibles are objectives that directly and through themselves act on the sense organs. These are cognized through our external sense faculties. The accidental (also known as “incidental”) sensibles are not cognized through our external sense faculties, but are apprehended by our higher cognitive powers. Aquinas, ST I q. 78, expands upon the intellective and appetitive powers of the soul. In keeping with Aristotle, Aquinas distinguishes between four ways in which something can be alive: plants (in which only the vegetative soul is present), immobile animals (in which the sentient is also present), mobile animals (in which the power to effect movement from place to place is present), and human beings (in which the intellective powers are also present). Animals are able to form an “instinctive judgement” at the level of perception as to whether or not a perceived object is likely to pose a danger or not. This requires what Aquinas calls “insensate intentions,” i.e., forms not currently present to the senses but that allow the animal to come to an estimation of the risk posed (or absence thereof) by comparison. The internal sensory power performing the comparison is called the estimative power. The power that allows the animal to retain the insensate intentions is called the memorative power: when I’ve burned my hand on a stove once, I’m less likely to do it again because I have the memory of what happened the first time. But for this estimative power, human beings don’t depend on instinct; their intellects enable them to put an individual into the context of a universal and they can make comparisons based on that context. Thus, we typically distinguish between the “cogitative power” of humans and the “natural estimative power” of other animals. (The faculty of the memorative power in humans is also typically known as the sense of “reminiscence.”) On the powers of the soul, see also Bonaventure, Brev. II.9 and 2 Sent. d. 24, parts 1 and 2.



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fruit, and flowers well and so obtain the joy that never ends. To raise themselves to the heavens, where all joy abounds, they cast aside the world and its vain, fickle, transitory, and deceptive goods. They live in contemplation and afflict their bodies with harsh penance, fasting, and abstinence, keeping vigil and praying to God, and they seek no other reward or profit but the great joy they look forward to receiving. [489–520] The twelve gods who were the judges, seated on twelve seats all around the great heavenly god, are the twelve apostles and the masters of the law that God established. They have been chosen and established to judge the dead and the living. They hold the keys to paradise: no person can enter into the city of glorious eternity without being admitted by them. Whatever they exclude is excluded; whatever they bind is bound; whatever they unbind is unbound. [521–534] Now I will explain the other imagery Pallas made in her tapestry. [535–536] [miniature, fol. 158v: haemus and the rhodope mountains, pallas and the crane that was pigmea]

{H}aemus and Rhodope lived in contemplation, having fixed all their intention on God.21 Hence the tale says through fiction that they were “transformed into mountains,” because they thought highly of acquiring heavenly goods and scorned earthly ones. Now they are on the mountain full of delights, full of roses, and full of lilies.22 [537–546] Pigmea was a queen who devoted her care and attention to Divine Scripture and wanted to live in contemplation all the days of her life, with no wish or desire to have earthly wealth. She exerted all her power to keep herself from folly, thus she possessed great prudence. She “became a crane,” the tale says. A crane is a very prudent, wise, and learned bird. When cranes are together, they travel in concert, with one accord, in orderly fashion, without complaint or dissention. They use their tails as rudders and guides so they can fly straight, wherever they might wish to go. And if they are inclined to sleep, they choose one to stay awake, to protect and keep watch over all of them. And the one who keeps watch, to stand guard more safely, piles pebbles under her feet, because cranes sleep standing up, and the pebbles keep her constantly off balance. That way she has no inclination or desire to sleep, and she wouldn’t be able to anyway without falling over in a tangle. Thus she stands watch without any fear that anyone might sneak up on her. [547–580] The crane can signify foresight, which must guide and watch over the virtues of the soul. When prudence is the lady of the soul and conscience in this way and guides them in due order to wherever she wishes to hide herself, that is when the crane flies straight. And it is not possible to deceive the soul that has so 21 22

Compare Psalm 125:1 (Vulgate 124:1) Compare 2 Esdras 2:19, and Luke 12:27.

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much prudence and wisdom that it never falls asleep or becomes entrenched in any form of error. This is due to reason, which keeps it on a short leash, so that it stays wisely restrained and always fears being in error or that the devil may take it by surprise. Noble Pigmea was like this: she gave thought and was intent to protect herself and show prudence so as not to transgress or go astray. Such is the contemplative soul, which is eager and thoughtful to avoid and scorn the world and to choose sovereign goods. [581–604] {T}he historical interpretation says that Piconia is a very fertile land, plenteous and full of wheat. Because of the plenteous land, the whole country is overrun with cranes, which “wage great war on the people,” that is, which cause harm and damage to their crops and livelihoods. [605–612] [miniature, fol. 159r: antigone turning into a stork]

{A}ntigone became a stork, as the tale bears witness. I explicate this on the moral level.23 The stork has many qualities that various other birds do not, and which are related to lechery. The stork customarily makes its nest in the most visible part of the town where it resides. It has no tongue, so it tosses its beak backwards over its rump and clicks and noisily clacks it incredibly loudly whenever it pleases it. The stork feeds its chicks and itself on vile and disgusting things: frogs, snakes, and dead fish are its sustenance and livelihood. It watches over the waterways to see if it can find any dead fish, but it will not eat live ones, because they are able to protect themselves so it cannot catch them. Some foolish women do the same, wanting the flashiest house in the city. Why? To make it all the more obvious that their wares are for sale. It doesn’t matter if ten or twenty or thirty guys show up; as long as they’re willing to compensate her, they won’t leave again without blowing their load, assuming they can manage it. Such women “have no tongue,” for their taste does not distinguish where their sustenance and livelihood comes from, whether it be from a thief, a murderer, an abbey, or a monastery: wherever the assets come from, it doesn’t matter to them, only that they’ve got them. They feed on bloody and foul morsels. But the living fish swimming in the water, these are the wise prudent men, who shun their company and are of good prudence. No matter how much they fish,24 such women cannot catch them. To be sure, nothing that rolls off the tongue of such a woman amounts to any good; instead she always stutters and blabbers. She insults one, harasses the next, and makes a great din “over her rump”: “I 23 De Boer has Cest expont par mortalité, v. 615, giving no variants for mortalité, which is indeed the reading in Rouen. But Copenhagen (p. 355) has moralité. 24 Reading pescher for preecher, which de Boer gives for v. 657 with no variants. Since v. 657 is unmistakably “that they (fem.) cannot catch them,” preecher (“preaching”) would only work if used ironically, for verbal exhortation or seduction by the women. “Fishing,” meanwhile, is what the storks try and fail to do to live fish in the account being glossed. Copenhagen (p. 356) clearly has pescher.



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screwed that woman’s husband yesterday. This guy brought me stuff, that guy promised me something, that one is completely in love with me, that other one gave me this gift.” This is one way to look at Antigone. [613–668] {W}e can provide another interpretation for her, more agreeable to this text, for wisdom must not put anything foul in her weaving, unless, at the very least, it is to reprimand those who are willing to attend to it. Now it is proper for me to ascribe another meaning to her. Antigone, the daughter of King Laomedon, “became a stork” because she had no care for incontinence, pride, or presumption; rather, she wished to fly high toward heaven through contemplation. Therefore she absconded from all her father’s wealth and power: her father’s nobility never made her want to humble herself any less. Rather, she had a secluded and solitary mountain found and picked out for her, far from people, and made it her refuge, her habitation, and her home. Antigone chose to remain there and live in peace and serve God, so as to deserve God’s grace. To show the path and serve as an example of seeking God and doing good, she openly left the world, and lived a life of contemplation on the high mountain of religion. So the explanation goes like this: religion, the daughter of austerity, puts the body through harsh privations and perseveres in holy intent to lead the soul to good rest. [669–703] {C}inyras can be understood as the sinner once prone to error who then mends his ways and repents, applying himself to good works, and so comes to true repentance. And his heart is full of grief and woe, and he laments and bewails his sins, by which he feels badly stained. And through true confession, which is penance and remission, he kneels with his head bowed and asks God to pardon him. The daughters who were transformed25 represent the wicked thoughts, cruel and hurtful words, and evil and harmful deeds which he was once accustomed to think or speak or commit, and from which he is now striving to restrain himself, and to keep himself from any transgression in heart, tongue, and deed, and chooses to employ his heart, tongue, and ability entirely for good. Whoever does this, I have no doubt, will obtain eternal life and will find peace and concord with God, full of mercy. This is the staircase of the holy temple that bears people up by good example. [704–730] [miniature, fol. 159v: a ship reflecting the historical interpretation of europa and the bull]

{N}ow I will explain to you the imagery Arachne depicted in her tapestry, as I’ve related in the tale. Jupiter, the great king of Crete, in a handsome ship which had the form of a bull painted on it, abducted bright-faced Europa and carried her away by sea. You have heard another explanation for what this tale signifies, and I don’t want to pick that back up; rather, I want to continue with my subject 25

Cinyras’s daughters, who were transformed into temple steps.

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matter. No doubt this king named Jupiter conquered the beautiful Asterie by force of arms, with an eagle on his banner. Jupiter came up with the eagle during his clash with his cousins the Titans, during which he performed magnificently. The Titans were very bad neighbors for him: they wanted to dispossess him and expel him from his kingdom, but he fought against them. He vanquished the invaders with prowess and chivalry. As he and his forces were marching out against the Titans to defend themselves, Jupiter saw an eagle swoop down towards him, and on that day he had the victory; from then on, to commemorate the event, he depicted an eagle on his banner. Jupiter, a king of great renown, was incredibly aggressive and very powerful, full of pride and arrogance, more so than any mother’s son. He wanted to make the people of all realms subject to his dominion, and that is why it says in the fictional account that the eagle was his messenger, because it is the most aggressive of birds, living on prey; it is lady and queen of them all, and flies the highest. [731–773] This fictional account can have an interpretation of more noble meaning and a more positive explanation. [774–775] [miniature, fol. 160r: god enthroned, framed by the animals representing the four evangelists]26

{J}upiter, who signifies God, who rules over everyone as King, Father, and shepherd – our God, our Creator, who must judge the whole world – chose the eagle as his messenger in order to bring his messages to the world. The “eagle” was Saint John, the wise, who is called the Evangelist, and was loved by God above all others, and who leaned back against Jesus’s bosom during the Last Supper and drank the water of living wisdom from the holy fountain. He had such lofty knowledge and was so wise and discerning that he knew the divine secrets, just as God resolved to reveal them to him. It is fitting to call him an eagle, for he had a clearer understanding and spoke more loftily of God than did the others who wrote the Gospels, as is apparent from their writings. Matthew spoke of Jesus Christ and how he was born in the flesh. Luke told more specifically of his death and of the suffering God endured in human flesh. Saint Mark told of the Resurrection, Saint John of Jesus Christ’s Ascension, whereby he arose corporeally to the place from which he had originally come, that is, to heaven, to the right hand of his Father, in heavenly glory. He is the ox who was led to sacrifice because of our wickedness. He is the eagle who soared up to heaven. [776–813]

26 This image is similar to the various images of God enthroned: fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fols 193r, 278v, and 315v show God holding an orb; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have similar depictions of human kings, and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia.



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{A}s the tale recounted, Jupiter “turned himself into a swan” when he lecherously forced himself on Leda – and that is the historical reading.27 “Leda” represents slander and lies, with which power “fornicates” when a man of power and lordship decides to mistreat or slander those subject to him. Jupiter was “transformed into a swan,” which represents abuse or slander. The intercourse of defamation and power, it seems to me, engenders three things, namely scandal and sedition; damnation is the third. [814–828] [miniature, fol. 160r: jesus carrying the cross, surrounded by a mob]28

{T}here is another meaning for this. Mighty God, who created everything – our Father, our helper, our God, and our Savior – put himself into the semblance of a swan, which represents true humility. He was so gentle, so merciful, so humble, so charitable; for the sake of human beings he resolved to receive shame and abuse and to offer up his body for torture. And he prepared himself joyfully to come to his sentence of death, just like the swan, which rejoices greatly, seems incredibly happy, and sings when it sees that death is imminent. The wicked, misbegotten Jews treacherously and enviously made him endure a shameful death, but his death brought us to life and cast them into confusion, shame, and perdition. [829–850] Jesus was a shepherd, it seems to me, who resolved to relinquish and offer up his entire soul and body to deliver his lambs, which had been carried off by the wicked wolf. He rescued them and saved their lives. God was a fire, according to Scripture, that inflamed the hearts of his friends with the ardor of charity.29 He was a satyr30 when he reproached sinners for their foolish acts and condemned their wicked lives. He was the noble serpent by which we were rid of the vermin of sin that had infected us all.31 The Son of God was the golden rain when he became incarnate in the Honored Virgin without violating her, and to hide this mystery so that the enemy could not perceive it, he resolved that the virgin should have a husband. He was the gentle and peaceful sheep; he was the ram that was mighty and strenuous in charging the enemy who had attacked his flock. He is “Liber,” the Deliverer, the Salvation and the Savior, who saves and delivers souls. He is wine, which intoxicates hearts with joy and cheer and gives them strength and ferocity against the wicked adversary. [851–883] Now I must tell of Arachne, foolish and wretched, who was transformed into a spider. [884–886] This is clearly a reference to the story, and not to the historical level of interpretation. Compare and contrast with the miniature on fol. 216v. 29 Compare Acts 2:1–13. 30 Satiriaus fu, v. 860. Compare Isaiah 13:21, 34:14. 31 Presumably a reference to Numbers 21:8–9, where God tells Moses to raise a brass serpent on a pole to heal the Israelites of snakebite. 27 28

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[miniature, fol. 160v: a (hypocritically and performatively?) religious woman kneeling and praying with a book in her hands, juxtaposed to the spider, set up earlier as a symbol of vanity and pride]

{A}rachne represents and signifies a foolish person full of hypocrisy, who carries themselves righteously in public view, and lives a holy life in order to gain favor in the world. But they have no desire to do any good works except to deceive the world, and to garner vain praise they endure tremendous penance, give alms and practice abstinence. They pray, keep vigil, and mortify their flesh with fasts, but nevertheless their works are without charity, full of false vanity. Such a person closely resembles the spider who pulls from its own body the beautiful work that it arduously weaves. They do the same, for truly they do not think that the good works they do come from God, but from themselves alone, and they give too much glory to themselves for it,32 and delight in their folly, on which their foolish heart is intent, and so they “hang themselves from their own cords,” just as the spider hangs itself. Anyone who squanders their good works, and loses them through their wicked intent, truly hangs themselves. They string themselves up by the devil’s snare, and do no deed that pleases God. [887–916] {T}he tale can have another interpretation. Arachne represents the devil, who never stops setting his snares to trap and capture people, the way a spider sets its snares in anticipation of catching flies. After a fly gets caught in the web, the more it struggles and flails and tries to escape, the more it becomes entangled and trapped in the web where it got caught. When the fly has struggled enough to exhaust its heart and strength, then the spider comes to attack it and presents it with the gift of death. It pierces it to the heart, bites it, sucks out its blood and vitals, and kills it. This, without a doubt, is how the devil, full of fraudulence, spreads his hunting nets and snares all over the place to trap sinners. And no one who lets themselves be caught in his snares can escape him, for the more they struggle to free and extricate themselves, the more they are held fast and entangled. The snares set by the devil – whose only concern is to trap and deceive people – are so subtle and deceptive, so tricky and dangerous, that one hardly notices their deception and trickery. And if someone lands on a snare and gets caught, they take little care not to fall into many. For if they think they have freed themselves from one of the snares, the devil, to harm them even more, traps them in the next. He leads and harries them along, pushing and shoving, so that they are completely beleaguered and overwhelmed, and he bewilders and distresses them so that they can no longer defend themselves. Rather, they lapse into such despair that they no longer believe or have faith that God can take mercy on them; rather they think, in 32

Compare 2 Corinthians 10:16–18.



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their wickedness, that God will never rescue them. Then, the devil pounces and eviscerates them, and slays them with eternal death. Such snares are incredibly dangerous and fearsome, and inspire terror. Foolish is anyone who wants to intrude into a place from which, if God doesn’t help them, they will never escape without losing their life. [917–972] [miniature, fol. 161r: a crowned woman draws the gaze of worshippers away from a golden idol: if not a personification of divine wisdom or holy church opposing idolatry, this is niobe in the temple of latona]33

Niobe {T}he fame of Arachne, who was changed into a spider because of her folly, was great throughout Lydia and throughout Phrygia, where she was raised. The news had spread everywhere. While she was still a maiden, Niobe had often seen her and had clearly heard that she had been shamed because of her presumption and the pride in her heart, having shown contempt to Pallas. But in spite of this, Niobe never questioned her actions or held back from scorning the gods. [973–985] She was lady over all the realm and married to a great lord, who held the land and title. She was a powerful lady and a rich one, the daughter of miserly King Tantalus, who had had his child cut into pieces to feed to the gods. She became proud because of her wealth, because of the intelligence and nobility of her husband, Amphion the wise, but she became far more presumptuous because of her children’s exploits. She was so foolish that she believed she was better than everyone in the world. She would never have reason to suffer in her life – on the contrary, she was too well born – if pride had not overwhelmed her, but her pride brought her to shame. She had a total of seven daughters and seven sons, on account of whom she esteemed herself so highly that she scorned the gods, in such a way that loss and suffering befell her and all her lineage. [986–1008] Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, a highly esteemed prophetess, at divine instigation went crying loudly throughout Thebes: “Hurry ladies, hurry handmaidens, hurry girls and maidens, to seek pardon for your sins by bringing gifts and sacrifices to Latona’s children34 and herself. Hurry! May Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 34 Apollo and Diana. 33

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no one hesitate to celebrate them and do them honor.” Everyone hurried to gain the favor of the gods, and wore laurel wreaths on their heads in celebration. Everyone served the gods, everyone worshipped them, honoring them with incense and gifts. [1009–1024] Niobe was proud-hearted, full of pride, full of rage. All angry and upset, she came to the rite with a great company of people. She had a beautiful face and a graceful body, except insofar as she seemed extremely angry. She was very richly attired. Her garments were golden. Her hair, without ornament, was tossed angrily over her shoulders on both sides. She looked all about her and turned her head. The great train of her dress twisted upon itself. She spoke loudly and, in her folly, uttered an arrogant statement, which later cost her most dearly. [1025–1041] “Foolish, bewildered people,” she said, “what madness and what folly lead you – you deceived people, you base people – to celebrate gods you’ve only heard of? You are foolish and confused to prefer ill-known foreign gods to those you’ve seen! Why is Latona worshipped – a stranger, a wretch, daughter of a lumpen giant, who once wandered madly to the ends of the earth seeking a place to give birth, but never managing to find anywhere to take shelter? She couldn’t find a suitable lodging except in wandering Delos,35 where the fugitive halted. It offered her a little spot, enough to be delivered of her womb. Listen, you people drunk on folly, you deceived people: you should have esteemed, feared, served, honored, adored, and sacrificed instead to me, whom you have always seen – your friend, your neighbor, your lady, your queen, who reigns over all of you. [1042–1070] “I am of very noble lineage, and I am wealthy, powerful, and wise, lady of Thebes and of Phrygia. I rule over two kingdoms, of which I am lady and mistress, and I truly seem to be a goddess due to the beauty of my body and face. No one has at her disposition such joy and influence in the world. All goods and all honors abound in me: I have so much that no one knows the sum of it. I have fourteen children in total – seven boys and seven girls – who will all be kings and queens, gaining me sons- and daughters-in-law. They will give me grandsons and granddaughters to exalt my lineage even more. I have every right to vaunt myself because of them. I have every right to esteem myself all the more because of them. Latona is not my equal, nor is her offspring the equal of mine: she has a son and a daughter, but that is not even a seventh of my progeny, and were one to take away a quarter or a third of mine, I’d still have more children in my house than would remain to her. [1071–1097]

Fors en Delon, la desvoiable, v. 1058. Delos was a floating island that became fixed in place for Latona (Leto) to give birth. Otherwise, the translation would have been “remote Delos.” 35



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“I am rightly blessed and always shall be, without a doubt; I am secure in my prosperity. I am so powerful and rich that I don’t care one crumb for Fortune or all her adversity. I am at the summit of her wheel. I am seated there so firmly that I don’t fear tumbling or any harm she might cause me. Fortune will never be able to take away so much from my amassed goods that I wouldn’t still have plenty left, and that she wouldn’t let me have even more. I have so much wealth and property that no matter how much I lost I’d still be richer and more prosperous than Latona the orphan. One should offer divine honor to me, not to her. Stop this ceremony, this celebration, and this sacrifice – otherwise, all those who contradict me will fare poorly!” [1098–1120] Because of the lady and her threat, and out of fear that she might harm them, whether it all weighed on them or whether it suited them well, everyone abandoned this celebration, for they had no wish to court Niobe’s enmity. But everyone prayed in low whispers to the goddess, that, through her grace, she grant them pardon and mercy. Latona had incredible scorn for Niobe, who scorned her and disrupted her sacrifice. Latona lamented and complained about this arrogant malice. To her children she made the following complaint: “Children, dear sweet offspring, you always afforded me security and made me braver and stronger, but now I don’t know what to say. I am very woeful and overwhelmed, for I’ve lost all honor for evermore if you two don’t rescue me. We used to be honored throughout the world, you and me, but that rabid-hearted glutton Niobe, daughter of Tantalus, who takes after and resembles him – with a tongue that is wicked and proud, contemptuous and insulting, full of slander and vice – goes about disrupting my cult, forbidding, by her arrogance, anyone from revering me, keeping people away from my festivities. She compares her children to you and calls me poor and destitute and bereft of children. If only I can get to her at once! The injury and harm she causes me could bring about great scorn for me. Children, avenge me for the transgression for the way she has slandered me! Or, if I’m not avenged quickly, I’ll never again feel joy. Now let me …” [1121–1163] Then Phoebus said: “Don’t bother your head by making such a long complaint. Leave this business up to the two of us. We’ll take care of it, without question.” Diana told her the same thing. They spoke no further: Phoebus and Diana flew to Thebes. [1164–1170] [miniature, fol. 162v: ismenus and sipylus struck dead by arrows; phaedimus and tantalus wrestling; alphenor embraces his dead brothers]

{O}utside Thebes there was a field in the countryside near the walls. It was wide and long, dry and denuded of grass, having often been pounded down by the rolling wheels and the horses that ran over it. The youths of the region used to come there regularly to amuse themselves. Amphion’s seven sons were there,

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astride huge, swift warhorses. They had crimson saddle-cloths and beautiful gilded stirrups and collars: they were splendidly dressed and outfitted. Ismenus, who was the firstborn, spurred furiously across the field; his horse was well handled using a fine bit with a gilded rein. Then he was struck through the vitals by an arrow that came flying through the air. [1171–1191] Sipylus was woeful at heart, seeing his brother fall dead. He tried to flee, in fear of death, but as he fled an arrow struck him in the head and completely covered his face and countenance in bright blood. He fell dead from his steed on the spot. The field was painted with his blood. Phaedimus the unfortunate and Tantalus were in the field where they were having fun wrestling, and each one grappled with the other. Their arms were intertwined. While they were struggling arm against arm, and engaging in their sport, an arrow came down through the air and ran them both through. They fell at the same time and both died from a single shot. [1192–1210] When Alphenor saw them die, falling together, he felt very heavy-hearted and angry about it: he beat his breast, he tore out his hair; he approached the dead pair and embraced them. Then he fell on top of them, dead on the spot from an arrow that Phoebus shot at him, which pierced his whole liver. Damascithon was very heavy-hearted at the sudden misfortune of seeing his five brothers laid low. Then Apollo let fly another arrow at him and stuck the point into his knee joint. Before he could pull this one out, Phoebus shot another one at him; it pierced his neck up to its feathers and struck him dead. Of the seven sons, six were now slain. [1211–1229] Phoebus, who had slain them all, raised his bow, nocked another arrow in preparation to shoot the seventh, Ilioneus, who was crying out and praying to all the gods with clasped hands that they might all help him and deliver him from danger. Phoebus would have taken mercy on the youth if he could have, but the arrow was already flown and could not be recalled; it struck and wounded him near the heart. He died of a very tiny wound. [1230–1242] The seven sons of Amphion were dead. Word of this spread everywhere. The whole population was in mourning. Their father, having gotten the news, killed himself in anger and despair to end his sorrow. [1243–1248] {T}heir mother heard the news. She was very woeful and distraught. She felt great grief and sorrow at the recent misfortune. She had not thought it was possible that any god would have the power or the audacity to harm her in any way. She was very sad, woeful, and downcast. People’s being and station change and reverse in no time. In no time, Fortune was causing great harm and had brought great affliction on the woman she had raised up so high and made very arrogant. Now the difference was enormous between the behavior and affect of this proud and haughty woman who had lately gone through the city in great pomp, full of pride and nobility, boasting of her superabundant wealth and with foolish arrogance making the people give up and abandon their celebration of Latona,



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and this woman who was now weeping, crying, and lamenting over the sons she had lost. No person in the world could see her now without feeling pity for her. One after the other she lovingly embraced and kissed her dead sons, but still she did not have sense enough to keep silent instead of slandering, insulting, and belittling Latona. To make matters worse, she attacked and assailed the goddess with slander and insults, for there was no other vengeance left to her; but it was a most foolish vengeance. [1249–1289] The woeful wretch cried out, to further incite the goddess, “Treacherous, hard, and wicked woman, now you can feed on my suffering and glut your wicked heart with the deaths of my offspring. You’ve made seven of them die on me in a most insulting way, but I still have seven left; I still have more of them than you do! I have no doubt that you have been a most cruel enemy to me, but I couldn’t care less for your enmity. I still have greater abundance in all things than you have ever had!” That is what the grieving woman said at the time. [1290–1304] {D}iana heard her and was troubled. She gripped her bow mightily and drew it. She took an arrow and nocked the string, and shot the arrow with such ferocity that it made more noise than rolling thunder.36 All the men and women who heard it were afraid and woeful: they fled from it, some here, others there, and all were filled with fright. But Niobe never felt fear. She wasn’t afraid of anything she heard, and she wasn’t alarmed by anything: rather, she was unmoved and unafraid and bold in the midst of her misfortune. [1305–1318] Now her daughters had come along with her. They were dressed in mourning clothes and were weeping for their dead brothers. As they were hurrying forward – one to embrace her father, another to comfort her mother, another to wipe away her brother’s blood – Diana, shooting accurately at them, killed and disemboweled one with a sharp arrow through the vitals, another through the chest, another through the head. She slew six37 of them without even a pause, in different ways with different shots. One alone remained, the youngest and smallest. “Surely this one can be left to me,” said Niobe. “Lady Latona, leave me this one, give me this one. I beg you not to take this one from me, not to strip me of everything! I am so alone and disconsolate. If I am stripped of this one, I’ll never again have joy in my heart. I transgressed against you in my presumption and have suffered dearly for it, but arrogance has ruined me. Because of my foolish heart I have brought shame on myself. Forgive me my wickedness and leave me my only remaining child!” [1319–1347]

Lit. “than a thunderbolt in flight”. Sept en ocist, v. 1330: lit. “She slew seven of them.” Because one is still alive at this point (although she does kill all seven in the end), we amend to “six.” 36 37

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But this daughter did not long outlive the others. Phoebe,38 completely devastating the mother, slew the girl at her mother’s breast where she had clasped her. Niobe sat alone among the slain and beheld her sons, her daughters, her lord, dead. She felt such woe that no woman who ever lived experienced more. The woeful, wretched woman stiffened in her woe. All her blood and color drained away. Her eyes grew fixed and her hair hardened. She lost her life and her power of speech. Her tongue stuck to her palate, freezing in her mouth. She could no longer move one way or the other her neck, her torso, her feet, or her hands. Her human state was completely altered, and she became marble, and yet she still wept, she still shed tears for having transgressed while she lived. A whirlwind took hold of her, carried the stone back to her homeland, and set it39 on the summit of a mountain. There, the marble wept and still goes on weeping, and her tears keep on rolling down. [1348–1378] [miniature, fol. 163v: personifications of religion or holy sermonizing (latona), holding a book, and the conversion of pride of the world (niobe), holding a shield with a blazing eagle]

Moralization Now hear the allegory that this tale represents. Latona is religion or holy sermonizing, which has “two children of equal age,” that is, wisdom and chastity, which a religious person must have. All religious people, to be without deception, must be wise and pure. Niobe is the pride of the world, which hates holy religion and scorns sermonizing. It “scorns Latona” and bears hatred for wisdom and chastity; it boasts of its power. It “has seven daughters,” as I understand it, and “seven sons.” The “sons,” it seems to me, are the eyes, eyebrows, and tongue, together with the nose, hands, feet, and chest.40 These seven reveal the scorn and indignation of pride. The disdainful glance of the eye, and the raising of the eyebrows, the arrogant movement of the chest and the mocking speech that comes from a prideful tongue, the flaring of the nostrils, the scurrying of the feet, and the evil working of the hand: these are, without a doubt, the seven daughters of arrogance. Many people have been killed and destroyed by these daughters and these sons. One Diana. L’encroiche, v. 1376. Because the word for the stone is feminine (la roiche, v. 1375), this pronoun is translated “it” but may still have overtones of “her.” Before the roiche is mentioned, in v. 1374, the pronoun la can only be Niobe herself: hence “a whirlwind took hold of her” is the only appropriate translation there. 40 Cassell (1984) says that this follows specifically on Arnulf of Orléans: “Arnulphus of Orleans, who in all likelihood was known to Dante, interprets Niobe’s children as parts of a human body through which the sins deriving from pride may be expressed. Later moralizations merely echo this interpretation” (ch. 6). 38 39



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is a fool to birth such a lineage, for they cause many people to take a bad turn. These are altogether wicked offspring. No one should strive for them. “Niobe” had such “children,” by whom many men are deceived. [1379–1416] Niobe, in her arrogance, disparaged the reverence she saw being paid to Latona. The fools full of envious pride are moved to great anger and opposition when they behold honor and reverence being paid to religious persons. But chastity and wisdom, which are the children of religion, through truthful sermonizing caused Niobe to convert and to repent of her vices; they slew her entire lineage and hardened her to every vice. Her heart grew restrained and contained: then she was transformed “into a stone,” that is, into firm humility, and anchored in truth. She ceased to care about the world: she saw well that it could be of little value to her. She placed her every thought in God. Then Niobe was “transported” to the contemplative life, abandoning the active life completely. [1417–1440] {I} can understand the tale in another way, for Niobe can be taken as covetousness for the things of this world, from which all wickedness abounds. Covetousness is the mother and nurse of all sin, of all malice. Its sons are the seven deadly sins, with which the covetous are tainted, and its daughters are the promptings by which the covetous are tempted to do all manner of evil: pride, envy and gluttony, lust and robbery and betrayal,41 and every other transgression. Covetousness is “lady and queen, and has to maintain care and possession of two realms.” This very day one can see both ecclesiastics and laypeople all wanting to pull at this yoke. All are subject to covetousness, the people of the world and of the Church. It is the one that “keeps and holds everything.”42 The whole world belongs to it. [1441–1464] Covetousness is “of noble birth,” and is “joined by marriage” to obsessive anxiety or to fearful suspicion, because a covetous person is always insecure,43 This unusual list starts with the seven deadly sins but doesn’t list them all. The omission of anger, greed, and sloth doesn’t seem to be a purposeful exclusion of these. Instead, the progression from lust (which is one of the deadly sins) to robbery to betrayal seems to mirror the general structure of Dante’s Hell: sins of appetite followed by sins of violence followed by sins of fraud. Aquinas (ST II–II q. 66, art. 9) and Dante differ in their appreciation of whether theft by stealth or by violence is worse: taute (v. 1453) is translated here as “robbery,” i.e., theft by violence rather than by stealth, and if our reading of the sequence Luxure et taute et traïson is correct, Aquinas would not explain it, despite explaining so much else in the OM. In Brev. III.6, Bonaventure misquotes Augustine as having said that it is not generation but lust that transmits original sin to posterity. The statement was made, not by Augustine, but by Fulgentius. Bonaventure echoes the same theory in his Disputed Questions on the Knowledge of Christ (q. 3, art. 1). This contrasts with Aquinas, who teaches that the first sin of man is transmitted to his descendants by way of origin (ST I–II q. 81, art. 1). See also Bonaventure 2 Sent. d. 30. 42 This seems to be introducing a new topic: Niobe’s wealth, versus her political authority. 43 Qu’adez est convoiteus en doute, v. 1469. Douter can express fear and uncertainty as well as doubt: this en doute would seem to contrast with adez doute in v. 1470, so we read it as feelings of insecurity in contrast to fear in the second instance. 41

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always worried, always fearing that what they have will not be enough, and that they will lose what they have gained. A person whom covetousness inflames and goads is in imminent danger of damning themselves. A covetous person hates religion, for a person inflamed by covetousness does not undertake to do any good, but rather hates anyone who does. A religious person would never be able to please anyone consumed by covetousness. Covetousness shuns and interferes with the doing or undertaking of any good thing, hence is accustomed to scorn and upbraid holy religious men. Those people have little desire to amass worldly goods and pile up riches; rather, they flee the delights of the world in order to be clean, pure, and spotless, free from peril, free from fear. And they want to live in penitence, abstinence, and austerity, and to mortify their bodies through fasting and vigils, through prayers and labor, in order to give rest to their souls. [1465–1497] The entire concern and purpose of the truly religious person must be to reflect upon the heavenly kingdom, and to serve and pray to God, to afflict and mortify the body, and to take pains to please God. And he must by their good example instruct the people of the world, and illuminate the whole world with his intelligence, his knowledge, and his spotless continence, and get them to behave wisely and to live well and holily, without baseness or filth, and to shun all foulness, all baseness, and every vice of pride, of envy and of avarice, and of every other iniquity. With the arrow of humility, he must overcome and defeat pride, and vanquish envy with noble courtesy. With esteemed generosity, he must destroy avarice. And he must drive off anger with the arrow of patience. With the bolt of true abstinence, he must destroy gluttony. And he must overthrow foul, shameful lust with spotless and pure continence. And with steadfast joy, he must defeat slothful depression. And he must overwhelm and annihilate the evil pressures of the evil temptations whereby the world is wont to tempt people, through motivations opposed to those that tempt him. He who through wise continence will vanquish the vain arrogance of the world and the temptations, the base pleasures, and the evil promptings whereby all of earthly existence is tempted, will be able to protect himself, and renounce and rid his mind of every vice. And he will be able to live chastely and think attentively about acquiring heavenly goods instead of immersing his heart in earthly things, and focus his attention in true contemplation. And if he has transgressed in his life through pride, avarice or envy, or any other evil vice, let him repent of his malice and weep for the sins he has committed, and may he be firm and truly perfected in the love of God. God will transport anyone who acts accordingly to the summit of the heavenly hill44 that is full of glory and joy. [1498–1560] 44 En la souveraine Monjoie / Dou mont plain de gloire et de joie, vv. 1559–1560. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. Montjoie (p. 77).



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{T}his is what happened to Mary Magdalene, who at first was foul and base, proud and full of vices, and had allowed her heart and body to be sucked into worldly pleasures. And she was so full of sin that she had seven devils within her, as I have read in the Gospel, that had completely taken her over. But God, the true Sun of justice, true purity and true purgative, who cleanses and purges all sin, purged her of all malice and cleansed her of every vice. And then she was so pure and refined and steadfast in the love of God, and she went on to weep so much for her foolishness, that after this present45 life she was transported into the joy of the heavenly hill. [1561–1580] [miniature, fol. 164v: latona and her children]

Latona {F}or having scorned Latona, as the tale relates, Niobe was changed into a stone. All those who learned about this made a big deal about it throughout the land, and talked about it a lot, and, because of this event, everyone took care not to spite the goddess. Everyone feared her, everyone dreaded her, and everyone honored her and shuddered before her. Because of this recent victory, they all mentioned and remembered and recounted the past deeds and the miracles she had performed. Someone said: [1581–1595] The peasants who scorned her paid dearly for it. In Lycia there occurred a very great adventure, but it is little known because the peasants who scorned the goddess were inconsequential.46 But I’ll tell you marvels! The peasants became frogs because of their wicked insults. I actually saw the place where the marvel happened. Some time ago my father, who was old and weak, lost his team of oxen from his barn.47 He sent me off to Lycia48 for them, because he’d been told that the robber had taken and led them there. I found a man who knew the byways of that country, who guided me and led me through that land. While we were searching through the country, scouring the meadows, woods, fields, and plains, we came upon a pond filled with reeds, as our road led us. There, as god is my witness, was an old and unadorned altar in the middle of the marsh, all blackened with soot, for those who had made sacrifices upon it had blackened it. My companion stopped, bowed, and I.e., “earthly.” De Boer compares v. 1599 to Met. 6.319: res obscura quidem est ignobilitate virorum. In other words, the adventure is not well known because it deals with peasants. 47 A departure from Ovid (Met. 6.321–323), where there is no thief: “since my father, getting old, and unable to endure the journey, had ordered me to collect some choice cattle from there” (Kline). 48 Libe, v. 1609; but the context requires Lycia. 45 46

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prayed humbly in a low murmur, and I did likewise. Then I asked my guide which satyr, which rustic god, was worshipped upon this altar that was in the open, outside a temple. [1595–1632] Without delay my guide said to me: “Indeed, young man, no satyr or country god is worshipped there. The men of this area attest, and it is the truth, that Latona and her divinity are worshipped and served here. And it is attested in her Life that the almighty Jupiter made love to her and made her pregnant with two children of great prowess: one was Phoebus, the god of wisdom, who invented the art of medicine and illuminates the whole world; the other was Phoebe, the goddess of the moon and the huntress, the goddess of chastity. These children were twins,49 conceived of one womb. When the one who had conceived them was pregnant and heavy, Juno, wife of the Almighty, who knew all about it, harried Latona relentlessly through many lands, hither and yon. She pursued and tormented her so much that she could not find enough space, repose, or place anywhere in the whole wide world50 where she might give birth to her offspring at full term. Juno harassed and beleaguered her ceaselessly because she wanted to abort the fruit she was to bear. “Delos, a floating island, gave shelter to the fleeing Latona, whoever it might displease. She had little rest or comfort there until she was delivered and unburdened of the fruit of her womb. She clung to two trees with her two hands, one an olive and the other a palm. Between these two trees, Latona bent over and gave birth there, in spite of Juno who in her hatred wanted her to abort. With Juno still in pursuit, Latona came fleeing this way, carrying her two twins with her. It was hot and Latona was thirsty, and her nurslings were troubling her. She saw this lake in this valley and bent down to drink here. There were graceless and merciless peasants picking reeds and grasses. When they saw the goddess bend down over the lake to get water to drink and assuage her thirst, the gross and wicked peasants sprang forward and kept her from drinking, saying she would never drink there and had no right to do so. [1633–1694] “The goddess replied most humbly: ‘My lords, how can you keep me from this drink, which should be for the use of all? The air, the sun, and the moon belong to everyone, and water is for everyone, the poor as well as the rich. You ought not to be stingy, or miserly, with the drink available to all. I haven’t come here to bathe or to sully the river, but to drink and assuage the great thirst that is killing me. It has so overcome and vanquished me that I cannot go any farther. I can’t go on speaking or living. For god’s sake, I beg you to let me relieve my thirst without interference. Give me 49 50

Lit. “the same age.” Lit. “in the world, as far as it extended.”



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what is available to all. With just a little water my immense thirst will be quenched and you will have given me life. Otherwise, if you don’t have mercy on me, I die here of thirst; but, for compassion’s sake, take pity on these two nurslings who are stretching out their arms to you awaiting your generosity.’ [1695–1722] [miniature, fol. 165v: latona with her twins, standing in the water surrounded by frogs] “{W}ho would not have been moved – unless his heart were harder than wood – at the goddess’s plea? Yet the base, hostile people, lacking all courtesy and pity (for in peasants there is no compassion or desire to do any good), the wicked, misbegotten peasants repulsed and drove off the lady, insulting and threatening her if she did not leave at once. The stinking peasants did even more: to double their baseness, they went into the lake and jumped into the middle of it with their feet, so that they muddied all the water, and mixed the water up with filth. When Latona saw the abuse that the wicked peasantry were directing at her, she was so angry, without a doubt, that she completely forgot her thirst. The lady was so humiliated that she refused to humble herself further or deign to beg from them. She raised her arms and face to the heavens and said: “Vile peasants, devoid of grace, courtesy, and pity, wicked peasants, filled with iniquity, gross and uncouth peasants, may you do the same forevermore, and live eternally in the water in such agitation!’ [1723–1754] “What the goddess had prayed for happened without delay: the peasants remained in the lake and never left it again. They still leap about in the lake and live in the waters, sometimes at the bottom and sometimes on the surface. Still they are all full of insults and they have retained the wickedness of their base and shameful tongues: they are still bent on slander. Their voices are hoarse and full of anger; they are grimacing and spiteful; their huge heads are joined directly to their chests; their backs are green and their distended bellies are white: they have become reproachful frogs, and they live in muddy waters.’ [1755–1772] [miniature, fol. 166r: a dominican speaking to other dominicans in a church]51

Fols 166r, 168r, 275v, and possibly 87v seem to depict Franciscans and Dominicans in their characteristic brown and black habits. As noted in our introduction, these illuminations mitigate against the OM’s having been received as a purely Franciscan product. 51

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Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegory this tale represents. Latona is true piety, without simulation, fraud, or hypocrisy. Piety is the intimate and beloved of God, from whom all goodness abounds. Juno, that is, worldly pomp, wants to make religion abort and kill all its good fruit, for no one, so it seems to me, can have worldly comfort and at the same time produce the good fruit of religion. Between them there is such great dissension that no one can bring peace, because whoever would wish to submit his heart to the vanities of this world and to the base excesses that the world offers and promises, by force and of necessity drives away piety and dismisses all piousness. [1773–1794] Anyone who wishes to enjoy God’s love must flee the pride of the world, and worldly vanities and base excesses, and devote their heart and care to guarding themselves from all filth and living in true humility, full of love and charity, without any pride, without any yearning. Alas, such is this mortal life, in which we have but little time!52 Anyone who sets their heart on it too strongly and relies on it too much is a fool, for this present life in which we find ourselves is all too brief and uncertain, and the state of mortal men offers no firm assurance or certain happiness. What good are honors, what good is nobility, what good is worldly status, what good are temporal riches, what good are bodily delights? The possession of goods that are worth little and soon end is all too unreliable,53 and it damns the soul and flees true piety, which strengthens one in divine love, and, like a foreigner and a pilgrim, avoids the worldly delights of fine linen, quilts, soft beds, meats, and wines.54 [1795–1825] A pious and holy person must avoid all malice, all wickedness, and all vice, all vainglory and position in the Church, and live in contemplation; they must comfort widows and support orphans whenever they see any of them in distress. I believe in such piety that pleases God, the spiritual father, and it must be acceptable to him. Piety must be like an exile in this mortal life: it is an island surrounded by a sea full of bitterness and woe, of unstable fluctuations and grievous tribulations. This is indeed a “floating island.” The shelter it offers affords little rest, for piety may not take up permanent residence, but like a foreigner and a guest it stays only a short while, while it is in labor. Anyone who wishes to bear good fruit must “support themselves unwaveringly between the palm and the olive tree.” [1826–1852] The palm is a long, straight tree, tall and large, beautiful in every respect. It spreads out towards heaven and becomes narrower towards the earth. Its leaves are long and straight, sharp and narrow at the ends; it has sweet and delightful 52 For de Boer’s De las, c’est cette mortel vie, v. 1804 (which seems to go with v. 1803: sans toute envie / de las, “without any envy of a wretched one”), he cites only C’s Ou temps de ceste… (“at the time of this mortal life”) as a variant. But multiple manuscripts agree on Helas, “Alas,” and we translate accordingly. 53 Compare 1 John 2:15–16, Colossians 3:2, Matthew 16:26, 2 Corinthians 4:18. 54 Compare Hebrews 11:13.



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fruit within a shell that is as hard and strong as if it were made of steel or bronze. Its heart is not in any branch or twig, but only in the trunk, which reaches straight toward heaven. The palm tree represents the just and holy person who scorns earthly goods and has fixed their whole intent on obtaining heavenly goods. They don’t care much for earthly goods, except insofar as they provide them with sustenance or moderate sufficiency. Their conscience is strict55 and their will is strong and upright; their heart is not hanging exposed, nor spread among divergent thoughts,56 nor weak nor changeable, but rooted in a strong and stable place, and it reaches straight towards God alone, and raises its intellect in lofty contemplation and strives to bear fruit through good works. [1853–1883] The olive tree can represent a man full of mercy, full of peace, and full of concord. Anyone who supports themselves upon these two trees flowers, germinates, and produces a fruit of true humility, innocence, and purity. And through example and teaching they enlighten the laypeople, and through true confession straighten those who were stained by the disease of sin toward their salvation; they set them on fire and makes their hearts incline to doing and undertaking good. That is the desirable thirst57 that a worthy person must have for the salvation of sinners. But the base cheating peasants, in whom all baseness abounds, who set their minds on the world and on worldly vanities, by their gross perversities impede the just who go about preaching their salvation, and so they dirty themselves58 in the vile muck of the world, which sucks them all down. These people have hearts and mouths full of insults and reproaches; they never stop harassing, slandering, and insulting the good people who seek to do good. Such gross and misbegotten “peasants” can be compared to frogs, because of their base and vile tongues. Oh God, how many people are still like this! This is harmful, and a mortal sin. [1884–1920] [miniature, fol. 166v: the people of lycia, telling tales]

Marsyas {T}his is what the people of Lycia related about the peasants who had become frogs because of their wickedness. Everyone made a big deal of the goddess and her deeds. Someone else recounted the story of the satyr who was defeated and flayed because of his folly – that is, Marsyas, who like a fool dared boast against Phoebus that he was good at singing and preferred the sound of his hornpipe to the Apollonian harp. [1921–1932] That is, strictly follows the narrow path: compare Matthew 7:13 and Psalm 1. Compare Proverbs 4:23. 57 Compare Matthew 5:6. 58 soullent, v. 1909, in de Boer, Rouen, and Copenhagen; Arsenal has soillent. “Dirty themselves” makes more sense here than “gratify themselves.” 55 56

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[miniature, fol. 167r: pallas playing the hornpipe to the finger-pointing of other gods]

{P}allas, if the tale does not lie, was the one who originally invented the art of the hornpipe and of piping. It happened that she blew so hard into the instrument to make it sound that her cheeks swelled up and hurt badly. Pallas, who could not see herself, was so intent on piping that she knew nothing of the swelling. The gods who watched her piping teased her about the swelling. Pallas, who was aware of the teasing, wondered what it was all about; she looked at herself in a stream and saw that her cheeks swelled up when she blew into the instrument, so she stopped piping and threw down the hornpipe. [1933–1951] Afterwards the satyr found it and, to his misfortune, took it. And he piped everywhere in public and he said in foolish challenge that the sound of the hornpipe was better and more pleasing than the sound of the harp. Phoebus felt contempt and scorn for the foolish satyr who scorned his harp and praised his own pipe. He welcomed the challenge and won the competition, for the harp has a more delightful sound, is more worthy to be heard, and does a better job of making hearts rejoice. Phoebus had Marsyas flayed, for having held dear the sound of the hornpipe and denigrating the harp. The gods of the country, the fauns and the satyrs, the shepherds and the herders gathered at Marsyas’s death, and for love of him they wept so much that the tears of those who wept and the drops of blood that flowed from the flayed man gave rise to a deep river that is still called the Marsyas. I believe this river flows through Phrygia. [1952–1980] [miniature, fol. 167r: a nun reading/praying in a church]

Moralization {N}ow I must make clear to you the meaning this tale can have. The hornpipe, rightly speaking, represents vainglory and boasting. A person “blows and toots into the hornpipe” when they swell up with the intellect with which God, from whom all wisdom comes, has illuminated them, and they overflow with presumptuousness and display their intellect to everyone out of vainglory. “Pallas invented the hornpipe” because, as I can corroborate based on Holy Scripture, learning puffs one up and makes one prideful. When a learned man gets puffed up and overflows with presumptuousness on account of his learning and boasts of his intellect, and is intent on seeking praise, not noticing or taking heed of his folly, then God can mock and laugh at him and scorn his “wisdom” that leads him to presumptuousness and puffs him up with empty boasting, which is most unsuitable and inappropriate. But when his good heart returns to him, when he contemplates his conscience and sees his vain presumptuousness that strips him of divine grace, then he “casts aside and



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throws down his hornpipe” and through true confession forsakes his foolish presumptuousness, his vainglory, and his boasting.59 [1981–2013] After that, Marsyas went public with the sound of his pipe and boasted as a challenge that the hornpipe was more pleasing than the sound the harp made. I can explain the foolish satyr Marsyas as false hypocrisy, which, as the Gospel bears witness,60 in order to seek praise throughout the town, outwardly plays the unfortunate, the meek, the innocent, and the compassionate, giving alms and practicing abstinence, mortification, and penance out of vainglory alone, and not purely for God. This kind of person reproaches and chastises others, puffing themselves up and glorifying themselves in the praises of the people. They pit transitory reputation and praise against eternal glory, and prefer to have praise in this world than in heaven, where every delight abounds. But the God of true wisdom – who hates vainglory, boasting, and false pretense, and values the devotion of the heart and conscience more than false appearances – delivers and hands over the hypocrite and cheat who through their false hypocrisy angers God and sullies the people, to the flayer. God thus openly reveals to us and succinctly teaches us how to recognize the great malice that lies under their humble “skin.”61 But the blood of hypocrisy is making itself so apparent and its sins are multiplying so much and have become so overwhelming that now they run through the whole earth like an overflowing river and confound the whole world. [2014–2056] [miniature, fol. 167v: pelops and the gods]

Pelops {A}bove, you heard the marvels of the peasants transformed into frogs and of the wicked man who, because of his presumption, was flayed to his great shame, just as the tale tells it. All these tales, all these stories were recalled to memory because of the manifest victory the aforementioned goddess Latona had over Niobe, who had scorned her. Everyone talked about this constantly, but they were very upset about Amphion and the children, who were put to such destruction without deserving it. They didn’t care about Niobe. No one mourned her except Pelops, but he ripped into himself with his own two hands. [2057–2073] He was her brother.62 He wept and sighed out of love for her. He wrung his hands, tore his hair, ripped his clothing, and beat his breast. That uncovered the 59 60 61 62

Compare 1 Corinthians 8:1–3. Perhaps Matthew 6:1–4, 6:16–18, and 23:27–28. Sous lor humble pelice, v. 2050. This could also be “humble hair shirt.” Ses freres germains, v. 2074: they had the same parents.

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ivory shoulder that had been grafted to his left side. It was equal to and exactly like his right shoulder, as if he had been born with it, but it was not flesh. His father, rich Tantalus, the stingiest and most miserly man in the world, summoned the gods to his table and had his son chopped up and given to them to eat.63 He tried to serve such food to the gods! Ceres took all she wanted of the left shoulder and ate it willingly; the other gods, who understood the malice of the wicked man full of avarice, did not deign to taste the dish, but made the pieces join together to restore the whole child. But the shoulder was missing, it seems to me – the one that Ceres had taken. In place of it they added and installed an ivory shoulder. In this way, if the tale is true, Pelops was put together and made whole again, after having been slain by his father. Pelops wept and mourned deeply out of love for his sister, but he could not set aside his grief. The kings from neighboring lands came to comfort him: from Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae, from Calydon and Orchomenos, from Corinth and Cleonae, and the kings of Patrae and Pylos and many I do not wish to name here came to distract Pelops and comfort him in his grief. [2074–2116] [miniature, fol. 168r: a franciscan and two (?) dominicans talking]64

Moralization {P}elops represents the rejection of riches and the profession of humble and true poverty: the one who sees the mutability of this false and deceitful world, whose goods are short-lived and finite and full of empty vanity, who realizes that he is filled with iniquity, pride, envy and avarice, anger, sloth or malice, gluttony or lust, and all the time has invested too much of his care in feeding and fattening his flesh.65 He clearly sees his end approaching, when the flesh that he fed and nourished so well will necessarily rot, for each of us has no tomorrow. A man who is rich and strong in the morning will have decayed and declined before the day is over, and his flesh, which he treated so nicely and which was so pleasing to him, will be given over to rotting and become food and nourishment for the worms of the earth, which will gorge themselves upon him. He must indeed, before death overwhelms him, give up the comfort of the flesh, corporal delights, temporal riches, and worldly vanities. And he must have This detail anticipates the story of Philomena below. Fols 166r, 168r, 275v, and possibly 87v seem to depict Franciscans and Dominicans in their characteristic brown and black habits. (In this image here, the man on the right is clearly Dominican; the one on the left could be Benedictine or something else.) As noted in our introduction, these illuminations mitigate against the OM’s having been received as a purely Franciscan product. 65 In this section, vv. 2117–2182, which speaks to the human condition, he/him/his is grammatically clearer than singular they, given the various plurals involved. See our introductory lexicon, s.v. home (p. 76). 63 64



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sorrow and contrition for his iniquities, and through true confession lay bare his wicked life and seek divine aid that desires in every way to resuscitate him and give him new life, like one dead through sin, with which he feels himself badly stained. He must indeed lament and grieve for this, and he must strengthen all his resolve and suffer harsh penance, and, in order to live in pure innocence, he must mortify and chastise his flesh and sacrifice his whole heart to God through spotless purity and contrite humility. [2117–2164] And he must take example and comfort from the saints, who were steadfast and strong in scorning the honors of this world and in suffering martyrdom and death, pains and tribulations, insults and curses for the sake of Jesus Christ and in his name. These are the “kings of great renown” who scorned earthly delights, who with strength and courage vanquished the flesh and all temptations. These are the ones who will judge the nations, sitting on the right hand of the great Judge in heavenly glory. One must follow their example in shunning the world, doing good, and living in humility, so as to reign in eternity. [2165–2182] [miniature, fol. 168v: mounted knights in melee]66

Introduction to Philomena {B}ecause of the great sorrow that Pelops manifested for his sister Niobe, which he could not set aside, kings of many regions came to comfort him. But King Pandion did not come, because at that time King Pandion of Athens was at war in his land. Barbarians had besieged him. They would have made him poor and impoverished and destroyed all his lands, had it not been for the knights brought by the king of Thrace, who laid low the barbarians. He destroyed many of them, laid low many of them, and threw many of them in his prison. The king of Thrace pressed so hard that he drove them forcefully from the country. When the war was over, Pandion gave him the elder of his two daughters. Oh, God, what a pity that he did not know the great sadness and harm that would later come from this marriage, which would cause him to shed many a tear and die of grief before his time! I am sure that, had he known, he would never have married her to that man. But I will never tell this story except as it is told by Chrétien, who did a good job translating the text of it. I do not wish to place myself above him: I will recite his entire poem to you and draw the allegory from it. [2183–2216]

66 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat.

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Philomena Pandion was King of Athens, a powerful, generous, and courtly man. He had two daughters whom he loved greatly, one named Philomena, the other Procne – she was the elder. Procne was given in marriage. A king of Thrace had sought her hand, and Pandion rejoiced greatly at this. Rejoiced greatly? Indeed. Why? Because he had given her to a king. To a king? Rather to a wicked tyrant. Tereus was the name of the tyrant to whom Pandion, without much entreaty, had given his dear daughter Procne. Tereus’s nuptials were ill-fated, for Hymen, the god who should be present at weddings, was not there. No cleric or priest officiated, and there was no joy in evidence. But all night long in his raucous voice the eagle owl sang above the chamber, as did the screech owl and the cuckoo and the barn owl and the raven. This was not a propitious sign; rather, this entire manifestation was one of sorrow and grief. Their union was most unfortunate, for in the bedchambers and great hall, evil spirits flew about all night long: Atropos, Tisiphone, and all kinds of dire portents. [2217–2247] When the wedding was over, Tereus took his wife to Thrace as a noble lady. There the two of them had a son. Alas that they had him! The day the child was born, the entire kingdom celebrated, and each year they held a feast, similar to that for Tervagant, for Tereus ordered it. The child grew and thrived, and within five years he was very handsome. His name was Itis. It was a matter of great sorrow that he did not live longer. I will tell you precisely how things turned out for him in the end, but first I will tell you something else. [2248–2264] Procne and her husband had now been together for more than five years, it seems to me. She conceived a wish to go and see her sister Philomena, provided this did not upset her husband. One day she spoke to him about it, and swore to him repeatedly and promised that, if he let her go to her sister across the sea, she would return very soon and not remain there long. And if he forbade the journey, so that she could not see her sister, she begged him to go and get her and bring her back to his land. He replied that she should stay there and not complain about doing so, and that he would go, whatever the weather, and bring her back to Thrace. Tereus immediately ordered his ships to be equipped with provisions, masts, sails, and main-yards. Soon everything was ready. He went aboard. He had a large retinue. At his departure, Procne begged him to bring her sister to her soon. [2265–2291] [miniature, fol. 169r: tereus leaving procne in his ship]

{T}hen they set sail, pulled on the ropes, spread the sails, and followed the course of the stars. They sailed by day, they sailed by night. It was a great sorrow and a great misfortune that they crossed the sea in one go, and that the sea was so calm for them, and that it had the great perversity not to detain the



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king, for a great harm would thereby have been avoided. Pandion heard about the ships that had arrived in his harbor. The news reached him that his son-inlaw had come to visit him. He was obliged to go and meet him. [2292–2306] He went to him at once and met him at the dock, greeting him and kissing him profusely on the mouth, the eyes, and the face. The welcome was so warm that it became wearisome. He greeted Tereus’s people as a group and led them into his city. Then he asked him the truth about his daughter and his grandson, if they were happy, and safe and sound. [2307–2316] To this Tereus replied that they were both happy and also safe and sound; they both sent him greetings. Then he told him, without concealing it from him any longer, the purpose of his journey: “My lord,” he said, “Procne sends me to you: she greatly desires to speak with Philomena. Your daughter asks you through me, and so, if my own plea adds anything, I beg you to send Philomena to her. You’ll be anxious to have her back, for even if she remains there for just a single day or hour I believe you will be very anxious for her return here. And therefore I promise you that, as soon as I see that the wind is light and favorable for the return, I won’t let her stay any longer without bringing her back at once. But now I have the right to complain that she hasn’t come to greet me.” [2317–2339] [miniature, fol. 169v: philomena with pandion and tereus]

{T}hen Philomena emerged from a chamber, her hair unbound. She did not resemble a veiled nun, for it would be a great marvel to describe her noble body and her bright face, such that, I believe, there would not have been sufficient skill to relate all her beauty in the wisdom and words of Plato, nor of Homer or Cato, who were men of very great learning. Thus I need not feel ashamed if in the footsteps of these three I fail, and I’ll put all my effort into it. Since I have undertaken this, I don’t want to back down; I will say more than one would expect, first about her head and then about her body. [2340–2357] Her whole head of hair shone more brightly than pure gold. God had made her in such a way that Nature, to my knowledge, would have erred if she had tried to change her in any way. Her forehead was white and smooth, without any wrinkles; her eyes were brighter than a jacinth stone; her eyes were well spaced, her eyebrows well-aligned and not painted or made-up. Her nose was high, long, and straight, just as beauty requires. Her face had the fresh complexion of roses and lilies. She had a smiling mouth, lips that were plump with youthful scarlet, more so than any scarlet-colored silk, and her breath smelled sweeter than spices, balm, or incense. Her teeth were small and white, set close together, and her chin, neck, throat, and bosom were whiter than any ermine. Her two little breasts were like two small apples, her hands were slender, long, and white, her waist slender, and her hips low. The rest of her was so well made that no one had ever seen such a beauty, for Nature had lavished

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more effort on her than on any other living thing and made use of everything at her disposal. [2358–2385] Along with the great beauty she possessed, she knew everything a maiden should know. She was no less wise than beautiful, if I tell the truth. She was more skilled in games and amusements than Apollonius67 or Tristan, indeed even ten times more so. She knew how to play backgammon and chess, the old game and six-and-aces, and also the bluff and trap game.68 She was so entertaining that she was loved and courted by powerful lords. She was an expert with sparrow-hawks and falcons, both the falcon-gentle and the lanner-falcon. She knew how to molt a falcon, both a goshawk and a tercel, and, if she had had her way, she would never do anything but hunt game or go hawking by the river. Along with this, she was also such a skilled worker with fine scarlet cloth that she had no peer in the whole world. She would have been able to embroider on a patterned silk cloth or brocade even the Hellequin’s devilish hunt.69 She knew the Classics and grammar, how to compose well in verse and prose, and, when it pleased her, how to handle the psaltery and the lyre – she knew more about them than one could say – and also the fiddle and the rote. Under heaven there was no lay, melody, or tune that she could not play on the viol, and she was able to speak so wisely that by her words alone she could have been a fine teacher. [2386–2420] The maiden came to her father, her face blushing and beautiful. She wore a tightly laced silk gown and Tereus embraced her, greeting her and kissing her. Her great beauty and her splendid appearance stole his heart away. Sin instilled in him a hope of wickedness and folly. Love ensnared him foully. Foully? Indeed, without a doubt it was a foul undertaking for him to let his heart turn toward loving his wife’s sister. Still, even if she had been his own sister, the love would not have been foul, for one of their gods, according to the law they observed, had established that they could each do whatever they wished

67 In the Middle Ages, Apollinius of Tyana had a reputation for creating talismans and magical devices. 68 Backgammon (tables, v. 2393) and six-and-aces (sis et as, v. 2394), a dice game, are known quantities (see, for example, Wilkins 2002, 118–119), while “the old game” (del vieil jeu, v. 2394) and the “bluff” and “trap” game or games (de la bufe et de la hamee, v. 2395) are apparently still unidentified (see Colby 1965, 132, and Baldinger 2003, 307– 308). Colby discusses a proposed emendation of v. 2394 by Semrau (1910, 38) to et du vieil jeu de sis et as, comparable to del vieil jeu de sis et des las in de Boer’s ms. G1: this would be translated “the old six and ace game,” as E. Jane Burns (2001, 134) has it. 69 La Mesniee Hellequin, v. 2408: more literally, “Hellequin’s followers/entourage.” This was a parade of the walking dead: see Schmitt (1998), ch. 5 (93–122). E. Jane Burns (2001, 134–135) argues that “to portray them fully [making a ‘hideous racket’] would require images and sounds, to relay voice through weaving or make cloth speak much in the way Philomena uses the famed tapestry later in the tale to convey her own speech” (134–135).



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or desired.70 The god had established such a law that each of them could do whatever pleased or delighted them without committing a crime; such was the law according to paganism. For this reason, Tereus could have defended himself if there had been anyone who wanted to reproach him for this. Whatever it pleased him to do, no one could interpret it unfavorably. But now let us leave their law alone. Who could withstand love without immediately doing all its bidding? What a misfortune that Tereus had set off from Thrace in search of Philomena, because love declared war on him, trapped him, and reduced him to a sorry plight, because into his heart had burst the ardor that catches fire and burns easily. [2421–2457] He took the maiden in his arms and said to her: “My sweet friend, your sister greets you and begs you to come and enjoy a visit with her, and I myself beg you to do so, if my plea can make a difference. If it could have been accomplished by praying to God, you would have been in Thrace a long time ago, because the only thing Procne prays for is to be able to hold you. If I had let her come, she would have come to visit you here, but I had to restrain her wholly by force, against her will. Your sister hungers greatly to see you for a couple of weeks. Make sure that my efforts aren’t in vain and ask my lord the king to let you come with me. I don’t think there could be any harm in his letting you enjoy a visit with your sister across the sea. When I took my leave of her, she told me, and didn’t conceal it, that I would never again be her lord or her beloved if I didn’t bring her sister to her. And to be sure, I would rather be feeble, white-haired, and old than have her really upset with me. Now, my dear friend, ask your father, if it pleases him, to let you come with me.” [2458–2490] Being no fool, she replied to him: “My lord, what weight would my opinion carry in comparison with yours? If you were to do things properly, you ought to be the first to ask – such is the French custom – because those who want something and have sufficient courage and knowledge should struggle and work hard to get it, and if it happens that they fail and cannot achieve what they want alone, then they must get others to plead on their behalf.” “Maiden, you have spoken true, yet there’s one little thing you might have amended. You should first have asked whether or not I have already asked him.” “By my head, I should have done that! If I’d been smart enough, I would have asked and enquired about this. But now tell me nevertheless, have you discussed this matter with him in any way?” “I have mentioned it to him, without making a fuss about it.” “What did he answer you?” Contrast with Ovid (Met. 6.458–460): “Her beauty was worthy of it, but he was driven by his natural passion, and the inclination of the people of his region is towards lust: he burnt with his own vice and his nation’s” (Kline). 70

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“Nothing.” “Then there is no need for any explanation. As he has been unwilling to reply to you, my sister will go on waiting for me, for she will not see me for a long time. I am sure that my lord the king has no wish to grant me leave. This affair isn’t to his liking.” “Not to his liking?” “No, I don’t think so.” “How do you know?” “How? Because he didn’t want to answer you.” “You can explain and understand this differently. He heard me out, listening most willingly to me without any interruption, and for this reason I think it pleases him, since he who says nothing is in full agreement.” “This isn’t a true saying, because we are still unsure as to whether he will refuse or grant it.” Then Tereus spoke to the king again: [2491–2536] [miniature, fol. 170v: pandion, tereus, and philomena talking]

“{M}y lord, wise king of Athens, my message from your daughter Procne has been properly delivered. If everyone ever born were to ask something of you, you should act in my interests sooner than all of theirs combined, and, it seems to me, you should at least do this for your daughters, if you are not willing to do it for me. For one of them has sent you the message and the other has ordered me to entreat you in this matter and persist until I take her away with me.” [2537–2550] Pandion, who was greatly distressed by this affair, put his head in his hands. But, however distressed he might be, he had to make a reply: “My friend,” he said, “you well know that I have nothing in this world that you couldn’t take away and have possession of, just as it pleased you, if you had need of it. But I believe that if you knew the good my daughter does me, you would never confront with a plea for this gift you’re asking of me. I would be completely bereft if I were without my daughter for a single day. I now require a stick and a crutch to lean on. If it doesn’t vex you, what you have asked of me will be delayed and postponed to another time.” [2551–2570] “Delayed?” “Indeed.” “Willingly. How long?” “For as long as I live, for you should know for a fact that I won’t live much longer, for I’m very old and feeble. I’ve lived longer than Jacob, Abraham, or Esau, and I’ve had many of the things I desired, but now I have nothing left that pleases me. In my daughter lies all my comfort; for her alone do I live, for I have no other support. If you take just this one thing away from me, you want to shorten my life. I must inform you of this, that my daughter looks after



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me and serves me night and day, morning and evening. I don’t let anyone else take care of me, either when I get up or when I go to bed. My sweet daughter cherishes me so much that she puts my shoes and dresses me, and the service she does for me is so agreeable that, were it not for the comfort I receive from her, I would have been dead a long time ago. For this reason, I beg of you, if you love me, to acquit me of this request.” [2571–2596] Now Tereus was not assuaged by this, for he had not heard anything that pleased him and thought he had completely failed. He considered himself to be very badly treated. He did not know what to do or say, but was very dejected and sighed a lot, making it obvious that he was very upset that he had not achieved his will, evil and foolish as it was. He completely lost the power of speech, to the point that he said nothing, and merely lamented. His folly vanquished everything he knew. Folly? In fact it was Love, I believe, who vanquishes and destroys everything and, when she wishes, very quickly puts the vanquished back on top.71 Is Love powerful enough to let the vanquished vanquish? Oh yes, for those who howl and rail against Love bear witness to and confirm this, and since those who serve Love and fear her bear witness to it, I can thus prove by right that one can find no loyalty in this Love that changes so quickly, which banishes her friends, and retains new servants and gives them all equal pay. In faith, is Love then loyal when she gives equal pay to everyone? On the contrary, her disloyalty is clear, for everyone’s pay should be increased according to their deserts and according to their worth. But I know very well how Love retains the worst people and rejects those who are of greater worth. [2597–2624] Do you know why the best fail? Because Love does not know how to choose the best from the worst. Does not know? So she’s not wise? Yes she is, but her disposition is such that she doesn’t care about any wisdom as long as she can have what she wants. Love is more fickle than the wind, and for this reason she is false and deceitful, and is lavish and generous with her promises, but miserly and mean with gifts, and she only harms those who are under her thrall. Love beats and punishes those who exert themselves in her service, yet in spite of their distress and torment they cannot escape her. For no one who has ever truly loved, whatever might have come of it, has ever abandoned or grown weary of it, since no one could do enough for her. Love does whatever she pleases, and the more one laments and grieves over it the more one is inIn this section, the noun for love, which can be variously masculine or feminine in medieval French (see amours/Amours in our introductory lexicon, p. 72), is clearly feminine—cele Amor, v. 2621; ele, v. 2626; etc.—and while the capitalization in the edition is supplied by de Boer, we agree that here it seems appropriate to treat Love as a feminine personification, whose fickleness is comparable to the feminine personification of Fortune, and translate she rather than it. This is an exception to our general policy and we were swayed by how Reason is named in vv. 2665-2710 as a competing influence. 71

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flamed and set on fire, for they take no joy or solace from it. Love is a malady for which the treatment makes the disease even more deeply rooted. No one knows what health looks like, for everyone thinks they can seek their deliverance by doing her bidding, and then Love binds and constrains them all the more. [2625–2664] So Tereus would have been very wise if he had been willing to withdraw and go home without the maiden, but he found her so courtly and beautiful, and endowed with every kind of beauty, that he thought he would go completely mad if he did not have his way with her, for he could not dissuade himself. So what would he do? He did not know. He kissed the maiden again and again, sighing mightily and weeping. He never thought he would see the time when he could have her as he wished. The devil, who never ceases to do evil, had bewitched him, so that he thought to himself that he would have to take her by force, if he could not vanquish her through love, or steal her away by night. But he did not have a big retinue, and was afraid of undertaking something that could not end well. For this reason, he hid his intentions as best he could, because the undertaking would turn out to be foolish and shameful if those who were asleep in the city were aroused, for not one of them would escape alive. Reason talked him out of it, and I don’t know how it came to him. I am amazed at how it came about that Reason succeeded in this, for Tereus was incredibly distressed. Distressed? By what? By more than love, because no one should call this love. Love? Indeed not. What, then? Presumption, disloyalty, and madness, for, if my understanding is correct, being driven mad is not love. Tereus had been driven completely mad and was getting madder and madder. That is why I find it truly amazing that any form of reason convinced him. Reason? In what way? Because he held back from the foolish plan he had conceived, and decided that he would make another attempt to win the day through entreaties. [2665–2710] He then renewed his request and spoke to the king in this way: “My lord,” he said, “I know and see clearly that you’ll do little for me since you have refused to grant me this gift. I have wasted my time for nothing by coming here now. I regret doing so, but it is too late and I will return just as I came. Nothing I’ve ever done has made me feel so foolish. If I’d had my way, I would never have visited you now and never crossed the sea. What a poor excuse you’ve come up with, about your daughter taking care of you. If my journey is wasted because of this, I’ll have exhausted myself to no avail. Do you not have enough servants and maidens to take care of you? You can easily manage to do without her for just three or four days, if you let her come and enjoy herself with her sister, who sent me here. I’ve made a long journey for little benefit, and it will pain me greatly if I fail in this, not because of your daughter but because of my effort, and most of all because of Procne, which upsets me even more, because she told me I should take flight and never return



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to her, because I will have forfeited her love if I come back without her sister. For this reason, I don’t know what I should do, for if I go into exile I’ll feel great sorrow because of my son and even more because of Procne, if I were to leave her, since I don’t think I could ever go back. This is why I am weeping, as you see, because I’m exceedingly frightened that you’re letting me down for so little. Good lord, give her to me on the understanding that I’ll bring her back safe and sound in less than two weeks. In this matter I promise you and make a pledge to you on my faith and on all the gods in whom I believe: on oath and on my faith, give her to me with confidence.” [2711–2757] Oh, the scoundrel! How he lied to the king! How he now betrayed and deceived him! Pandion, who saw him weep, didn’t think he was lying to him. Because Tereus lamented and wept, Pandion thought the tears were caused by his pitiful state. So hard did the evil tyrant strive, using promises and oaths, entreaties and tears, that he achieved his aim. Pandion could not prevent himself from weeping along with him. They both wept so hard that I do not know which one wept the most. (It is a man’s right, when he gets old, to weep easily and frequently.) [2758–2773] “Friend,” he said, “in accordance with the agreement you have promised and sworn to me, and confirmed by your pledge, you’ll take my daughter away tomorrow. I place her in your hands, but know that you’re causing me great sorrow. Take good care of her, as you should, and bring her back within a short time. My eyes will never be without tears, nor will my heart know joy, no matter what, until my daughter comes back to me. If you wish to retain my love, make sure you return soon and bring my daughter back. You must certainly strive to do what I beg of you. Mind you don’t forget this.” “I won’t,” said Tereus. “My lord, say no more about it, for I’m a good deal more anxious than you to have come back here and brought her back.” [2774–2795] Their conversation then came to an end because Tereus made no further requests, and King Pandion gave the order for the tables to be set up at once. The seneschal, the constable, the pantryman, and the cupbearer each took great care and concern to prepare and make ready whatever pertained to their position. Some servants ran to set up the tables, others undertook to bring water in various places. No servant there was idle, and no squire or skilled valet failed to be of service in any way. Everyone strove to serve well, but Tereus took no delight in any service that was provided to him, except to gaze at the graceful body and the face of the maiden who sat beside him at dinner. She was his drink, she was his food. He was very solicitous toward her and served her very well, attracting her attention frequently, but no one knew why he was doing this except for him, because he would not restrain himself from committing his very wicked act as soon as he had the opportunity, which for him was very much overdue. He gazed at her rapturously and thought about nothing else. [2796–2825]

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They sat there at the meal for a long time, and he sat there very happily, more to gaze at the maiden than to drink or eat. Yet there was no shortage of peacocks, swans, or pheasants, or of fine and pleasing wines. Rather, generously and in abundance they all had their fill of whatever a royal table has to offer. When the lords had eaten, they got up and the servants brought them water in silver basins. The barons washed and dried their hands. When they had washed, they all reclined together on couches. Each one said what was on his mind, good or bad, foolish or wise, and the squires busied themselves with making up and preparing the beds. This gave no joy or pleasure to the traitor, the wicked tyrant, who didn’t care to sleep. He would have preferred to stay awake all night, if he had had the opportunity to converse in private with the woman who had his heart. What? She knew nothing of this? No, in faith, for if she had known his heart was set on her, with the aim of causing her shame and harm, she would never have gone away with him. They talked and stayed up until the beds were ready, and then all the lords went to bed. That night Tereus had no peace or repose in bed and did not get a wink of sleep. Throughout the whole night he measured the length and breadth of his bed, agitated, as he did so, that day was taking so long to break. All night long he tossed and turned, getting up and then lying down again. The others who were lying in bed slept very comfortably and knew nothing of all this, while Tereus stayed awake all night, tormented by his folly, until the watchman on the tower began to sound reveille. When he heard reveille sounding, he wouldn’t have been any happier if someone had given him thirty marks of gold. He woke his companions and made them get up quickly, and at his command they readied themselves at once. [2826–2883] The king heard that they were awake and were hastening to get up. However it might grieve him, he had to keep his commitment. He acquitted himself of his promise and handed his daughter over to Tereus. She was very joyful and glad at this and delighted by what was happening, but often one rejoices over what turns out to be their misfortune. She truly believed that she was assured of having a safe journey and returning home. How could she have imagined the horror the tyrant had in store for her? No one would ever have imagined this. Tereus took her to the port and Pandion escorted them, nevertheless begging him to come back at the appointed time, as he had promised him. “And you, my dear daughter,” he said, “mind you come back soon and remember me, for I’m so happy when I see you: it brings me so much joy and well-being. My sweet daughter, come back soon, soon come back. If you come back soon, my joy and well-being will soon be restored.” [2884–2912] He repeated these words a thousand times, kissed and embraced her a thousand times, and brought her back more than a thousand times just as she was preparing to go on board the ship: he detained her as best he could, but when she had to turn away he entrusted her to the traitor. In this way, he made the wolf the shepherd. He had made a shepherd of it, no lie, unless Tereus were willing to



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abandon his folly and his madness, but he had no inclination to do so. Rather, for him things were being unduly delayed. As they departed, Pandion wept and in good faith kissed the traitor who was planning betrayal and wickedness. It was betrayal he planned. Whoever it might grieve, he would carry it out as it suited him, for the power and authority were now his. In a short time, the maiden he was taking away with him would be in a very sorry plight. The sail was now filled with wind and the ship was not moving slowly, for they had all the wind they needed. They were soon well away from the harbor, where Pandion was weeping mightily for his daughter whom he could see disappearing. If he was weeping, he had every reason to do so, for he would never see her again, and she would never return to his land. [2913–2942] [miniature, fol. 173r: tereus, philomena and her attendants sailing]

{B}ut he had no idea that all this would happen, even though Philomena was already very close to danger and grief. For Tereus, urged on by his madness, had taken her alone to one of his deserted houses. The house was in a wood – Chrétien li Gois says this72 – and far from any towns in all directions, and far from fields, clearings, roads, and paths. All the time talking and joking about this and that, in an act of treachery he took her to his house, and when they were both inside and he was alone with the maiden, with no one else to see or hear them, this man who was plotting evil drew her toward him by the right hand.73 She had no idea what this meant and could not perceive that he was intent on deceiving her, as he started to kiss and embrace her tenderly. In truth, when a scoundrel spots the opportunity to do evil, he has no regard for the consequences. Whereas doing evil is such a sweet thing for the evil-doer who dares to do it, it is very bitter and cruel for a loyal and wise gentleman. But this man was not good, noble, or kind; rather he was evil, wicked, and deranged, and since he would not abandon his wickedness, he was compelled to appease his heart and carry out the entire wicked deed, since he had no dread of evildoing. But he made an attempt to be courtly insofar as he asked for her love before he violated her in any way. [2943–2981] “Beauty,” he said, “be aware that I love you and I entreat you to make me your lover, and the affair should be kept hidden if you want it to last.” “Hidden, good lord? What for? I love you dearly, as I should, and I’d never want to hide it, but if you request of me a love that is immoral, keep quiet about it: I have no interest in it.”

72 For some time, critics believed this to be Chrétien de Troyes and extended his authorship to the whole of the OM. See our introduction, p. 7. 73 This is especially treacherous, since usually the left hand would indicate an act of evil or deception, and the right, quite the opposite. The deceit is complete.

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“I’ll be quiet – but you be quiet about it too. I love you so much and you please me so much that I want you to allow me to do whatever I desire with you.” “Come now, my lord, you are acting shamefully! God forbid that such disloyalty should ever take place between us. Think of my sister, who is your loyal wife. My sister will never have reason to be jealous of me, and, unless I am taken by force, I’ll never do anything to displease her.” “Would you not?” “No!” “Then I swear to you, since I have you here under my control and can do with you whatever I like, whether it appeals to you or completely repels you, that it will be no use resisting, I’ll do whatever my heart conceives.” “You will?” “Yes, without delay, and let anyone watch me who wishes to do so, for I’m not worried about being seen.” [2982–3013] Then he took her by force, and she cried out, struggled, and squirmed, almost dying of fright. Her color changed more than a hundred times with rage, anguish, and pain. She trembled, turned pale, and poured with sweat, saying that she had left the land of her birth at an unpropitious hour, since she had suffered such shame. [3014–3022] “Ah!” she said, “you misbegotten traitor, hurtful traitor, what are you going to do now? Wicked traitor! Outrageous traitor! Perfidious traitor! Disloyal traitor! Ignoble traitor! Faithless traitor! Traitor! Did you not promise my father the king that you’d treat me honorably and bring me back to him in my country safe and sound? You swore to him and yet you betray him! Traitor, my father trusted you and never suspected your treachery, because you wept in front of him and because you swore to him on all the gods in whom you believe. Where are those gods now? Where is faith? Have you cast them into oblivion? Where are the tears I saw when you wept in front of him? Oh, poor me, why did I not recognize your deceit and your treachery? Traitor, why are you doing such a wrong and behaving in this deranged and frenzied fashion? Repent and you will be doing the wisest thing, while repentance is still available to you, without perjuring yourself and breaking your oath!” [3023–3048] In this way the poor, wretched woman begged him to repent, but her entreaty was to no avail as he continued to assault her. He attacked and restrained her in such a fashion that she was conquered by force and he had his way with her completely. He is telling the truth who says that “One evil deed always leads to another, which feeds off it,” and bad nourishment issued forth from it, as bad as could be. Tereus did not even stop there, for after this evil act, he did worse: he took a sharp knife, and so that she could not relate this shame and disgrace to any person she might meet, he said he would cut the tongue out of her mouth all at once, so that what he had done would never be



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spoken of. One misfortune never comes alone: he pulled her tongue from her mouth and cut off almost half of it. Both in this and in the other matter he had behaved very wickedly. Then he left her locked up in the house, where she wept, cried out, and wailed. [3049–3075] [miniature, fol. 173v: tereus and philomena in the house]

{H}e returned to his companions, who knew full well what had happened, but they feared the traitor, who was their lord and king, so much that they did not dare say a word about it. They concealed the matter more out of fear than out of love. But Tereus did a foolish thing: in order to guard her, he placed with Philomena a peasant-woman who lived off her own labors, for she knew how to spin and weave and had a daughter of her own, to whom she was teaching her craft. Tereus was ill-advised when he entrusted Philomena to her to guard. He gave her instructions about everything he asked of her, and he told her not to leave the maiden, no matter what business or need might arise. She swore it to him and he trusted her. Then Tereus immediately left, having no wish to remain there any longer. [3076–3100] [miniature, fol. 174r: procne and tereus]

{H}e went to his city of Thrace. Procne truly believed that her sister would be coming with him. It filled her heart with the greatest joy, but her joy was short-lived, for as soon as she saw her lord and his companions, but no sign of her sister whom she was expecting to rejoice at seeing, nothing she heard brought her any pleasure, nor did she care to reply with either “welcome” or “God save you.” But when they had all greeted her, she asked in anguish: “Where is my sister? Why hasn’t she come? What is she doing? Who is holding her back? And why is she taking so long? Where has she been and since when? Tell me where you have left her.” [3101–3119] The traitor held his head down, displaying the air and demeanor of a man who was suffering grief and sorrow, and he deceitfully uttered aloud a feigned sigh to lend credence to his lie: “Lady,” he said, “it is true enough that one is forced to do without what one cannot have.” “That’s true. You’ve said this just for me. My sister’s not coming, I gather.” “No, in truth, my lady, she hasn’t come.” “So what has prevented her?” “What? My lady, I’ll never tell you!” “Why? Then in that case I’ll go to her across the sea, if you don’t object.” “My lady, don’t argue, for I’m going to tell you the truth, since you wish to know it, but, if I had my way, I would never tell you. Indeed, I have to reveal it to you, whether it turns out good or bad.” [3120–3141]

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And then he uttered another false sigh, and to lend more conviction to his words, he began to get teary-eyed, another ruse and deception. “My lady,” he said, “I don’t know what to say, because I would never want to say anything that would cause you grief. Don’t you believe that the grief that is distressing me so much is very great, so that, no matter what might happen, I can’t prevent myself from weeping? I weep because of the great grief you’re going to suffer when you know what has happened. But concealing this does me no good, except that words and courage fail me, so painful to me is what I have to say.” With these words, he sighed again, without having any such great grief in his heart, and when he had uttered this sigh, he told her what he had thought up. “My lady,” he said, “he who brings bad news comes too early. Know that your sister is dead.” “Dead? My sister? Wretched, poor me!” “Indeed, why should I conceal it any longer? But control your feelings, for one should not lament too much or grieve too much over one’s loss. Death deals with each of us as it wishes, because no one, good or bad, escapes from it. We all owe this debt to death, we all have to pay this price, nor can we manage to put it off. Since it has so happened that death has claimed its due, which your sister had to render to it, mind you don’t embark on too much grief, but suffer without too much vexation what we will all have to suffer.” [3142–3180] Thus the wicked tyrant thought he could mix honey with the gall whose bitterness he had placed in her heart through his deception, and he strove to assuage the anger and grief she was displaying. But his exhortations were not sufficient to comfort her, for she almost went raving mad. Then she called herself poor and wretched and had so much grief that she did not know what to do. Now she tore her hair, now she struck herself in the face, now she wept, now she yelled out, now she fainted, cursed the gods, and reproached death. “Death,” she said, “you acted very wrongly when you killed my sister, and Nature must hate you very much for it, since you have killed the most beautiful creature she ever created. Death, it would be a very noble act if you were to place me with her. Death, what are you waiting for, in not sending my soul to take its rest with hers? Death, I have a great longing to die, for I don’t want to live anymore. Come, then, death, and if you can, help me in this hour of need. Death, why are you so far from me that you do not hear me or understand me? Death, if I lived for a hundred years, my grief would never end. Death, if you want to be reconciled with me, then do what I command you. Every day from now on, in remembrance of my anger, anguish, and suffering, I’ll wear black-colored fabric,74 and there’s a good reason I must, because it’s written in our law that black clothing should be worn by anyone to whom death has brought anger and anguish.” [3181–3220] 74

Dras, v. 3216. Reinforces the importance of fabric in this story.



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Then she gave the order to bring the garments. They were brought to her swiftly and she put them on, vowing and swearing that she would never have any clothing that was not similar to these, or even worse. Then a bull was brought to her so that she could make a sacrifice to the gods. Its blood was put into a vessel, so that not a drop of it fell out. When the bull had been sacrificed, she ordered a pyre to be built in the temple, thereby maintaining such a custom and rite on behalf of their ancestors, for they made sacrifices to Pluto. Pluto was lord of the devils, the most terrifying of all, the most hideous, and the ugliest. The fire was lit and prepared as soon as she had commanded, before that god’s altar, and to thicken the smoke, as tradition demanded, the bull was brought to the fire. Then she made a promise and a vow to the god to make a similar sacrifice each year before his altar, so that he would take care of her sister’s soul in hell with honor, delight, and repose. When everything was burnt, flesh and bone, so that nothing remained, and there were just ashes or embers, she poured the blood onto it. Afterwards, she put everything into a white pot, as neatly as she could, then buried the pot beneath a tombstone of dark-colored marble. When the stone was lowered onto it, at one end she had a statue set up that was an ugly sight, made in the likeness of the one who has power over souls that burn in hell and the devils who guard them. Then, on the tomb before the statue, she placed an inscription in her language so that everyone could read it clearly: “God, who is lord and king of hell, Pluto, have mercy on the soul of the one for whom I perform this sacrifice and this service here, wherever the body may lie.” [3221–3272] In this way Procne, with great piety, devoted all her effort to making this sacrifice in order to rescue her sister’s soul from somewhere she was not; in fact she was still alive, living a life that weighed heavily on her, and every day the traitor, the vile demon, who was inflamed by his love for her, renewed her pain. The fact that by force he did whatever he wanted with her, whom he had betrayed, caused her incredible distress. She would have had great need of help, and, if she could have, she would have wanted to let her sister know the state she was in. But she was unable to think up a scheme through which she could let her know, for there was no messenger to go there, and speech failed her. So, even if she had had a messenger, she would not have been able to express or explain in any way what was on her mind. On the other hand, the surveillance she was under was such that she did not have the permission or the opportunity to go outside the house. How? Why? Who was preventing her? Who? The peasant-woman,75 who was guarding her and to whom Tereus had entrusted her. A thousand times she would have slipped away from her if she could have, but she never got the chance. [3273–3303]

75

La vilainne, v. 3300. Also a double meaning: the “wicked woman.”

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She was in that state for a very long time, until finally it occurred to her, dictated by necessity, that thread had been spun in the house, that both the old woman and her daughter had spun a lot of it, nor was there any lack of equipment to make an embroidered coverlet. It occurred to her how she could make certain that all of her misfortune would be revealed to her sister. She did not stop at the thought: she wanted to set to work quickly. She went and opened a coffer in which the peasant had stored her skeins of yarn and her spindles. She took them, unwound the yarn, and began to work very diligently in a way that suited her goal. The old lady didn’t prevent her, but helped her very willingly, and whatever she thought she needed for such a piece of work she provided and got hold of for her. She got her all of her supplies, so that Philomena had plenty of thread, blue, scarlet, yellow, and green, but she didn’t know or recognize anything about what she was embroidering, and yet the work, which was very difficult to accomplish, appealed to her.76 For woven into it at one end was the information that it had been created by Philomena. Then the ship was depicted in which Tereus crossed the sea when he went to find her in Athens, and then how he behaved in Athens when he arrived there, and how he took her away from there, and then how he raped her, and how he left her there after he had cut out her tongue. She had “written” all this on the coverlet, including the house and the wood where she was imprisoned. [3304–3349] When she had finished her work, to the best of her ability, if she could have found someone to take it to her sister, she would have gained great comfort for her grief and distress. But she did not know through whom it could be sent, unless her guardian would undertake the journey or send her daughter, for there were just the three of them in the house. Philomena spent six months there without ever being able to leave until, driven by necessity, she made and invented new signs, and made certain that her guardian understood everything, whatever she asked of her, and nothing, great or small, was ever denied her, except for leaving the house. Her guardian had reason for this, because the king had forbidden it. The maiden had suffered so much and waited so long that now she thought she had a way to escape and be rescued from her prison. [3350–3374] One day she and her guardian were at the window of the house. Ever since she had been put there by Tereus, who had mistreated her most wrongfully, she had never been near a window or a door. As she was leaning on the windowsill, she saw, with a touch of joy, the city where her sister lived between the woods and the river and she began to weep profusely, unable as she was to Mes l’uevre li abelissoit, v. 3334. The li here could perhaps be Philomena. This line is interesting in light of the thirteenth-century revival of Aristotle, because the old woman perceives the truthfulness of what she’s seeing, which stands in opposition to the perversion of truth by Tereus and of worship by Procne. Per Aristotle (and Dante), the human soul, born to rise and inclined to seek the truth, and its ultimate end. 76



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gain any relief for her sorrow. If her guardian could have found a way to bring her relief, she would have helped her very willingly, for the grief the maiden was displaying had inspired very deep pity within her. Whatever Philomena wanted, apart from getting out of the house, she would have provided at once in order to satisfy her every wish. [3375–3396] When Philomena had seen and realized on many occasions that the woman was doing for her whatever she wanted, and she had seen her opportunity and chance, she took the coverlet she had embroidered and went back to where her guardian was waiting for her. She knew all Philomena’s signs so well that she never made any mistake at all; rather, she understood her almost as well as if she had used her mouth to speak to her. Philomena came and touched her, making a sign for her to send this coverlet via her daughter to the city she could see there, and present it to the queen. The woman understood exactly what she wanted her to do, and she had no fear of doing what she commanded and knew no reason why she should delay, for she saw only good in it, thinking that she wanted it to be presented to the queen for some reward and in the hope of receiving whatever such a piece of work merited. She was very well disposed to doing what Philomena wanted, who now had a great deal less anger, anguish, and sorrow than she had been accustomed to experiencing, because now she at least had great hope that when her sister knew what had happened she would want to come and get her out of there. She did not want to delay any longer, for, as the saying goes,77 it is folly to postpone one’s business when it is possible to achieve it successfully. She was careful not to do this, and she did not hold things up since her goal was within reach. Her guardian created no difficulty, as she thought there was no harm in this. “My daughter,” she said, “be good. This is the task you will perform: take the coverlet to the queen and present it to her. Don’t be slow to return. Go quickly and hurry back.” [3397–3443] Then for the first time Philomena stopped weeping. She felt relieved when the girl took away the coverlet, for she thought she would soon have help. The girl hurried along and never ceased or paused until she came to the queen and offered her the coverlet. And the queen unfolded it, looked at it, and recognized the workmanship without revealing her thoughts, not wanting to make an outcry or fuss about it; rather, she ordered the girl to leave. The girl departed and the queen followed her, staying not too far behind but not too close, so that she never lost sight of her. The girl did not notice anything until she had made it back, and Procne, like a madwoman, came to the door and found it bolted. She did not say a word or call out, but kicked the door as hard as she could. The peasant-woman Ce dit la letre, v. 3430: lit. “as the letter says.” The OM normally contrasts escriture (Scripture) with the letre (letter) of Ovid, but this proverb, not in Ovid, seems biblical. Compare Ecclesiastes 5:4, Proverbs 6:4, James 4:17; and Proverbs 12:24, 13:4, 20:4, 26:14. 77

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did not move, but kept quiet and pretended to be deaf. Philomena yelled out and ran to the door in order to open it for her sister. The woman, who was trembling all over with fear, ran to grab hold of her, and Procne struck, pushed, and shoved until the door gave way and broke. The peasant, overwhelmed and not daring to face her, fled and locked herself in a bedroom. [3444–3476] [miniature, fol. 176r: procne and philomena decapitating the boy itis]

{W}hen Procne found the entrance free, she came in like a madwoman, yelling with all her might: “Philomena, sister, where are you? I’m your sister, don’t be afraid!” Philomena came rushing toward her, weeping, and Procne, who had almost gone out of her mind, ran and kissed her eagerly. “My sister,” she said, “come away, for you’ve been here too long! It was such an unhappy day that dawned for you when I became the wife of that traitor, who has mutilated you so that you cannot now talk to me! You’ve got to get out of here, for you’ve spent too much time in this place.” Then they made their way to the city, lamenting as they went. They kept away from roads and paths, and Procne took her stealthily to an underground chamber so that they could vent their grief in secret. The two of them were alone, and Procne wept and lamented. “Sister,” she said, “I’m grief-stricken to find you so mutilated, and I don’t know how to, and cannot, avenge you on the traitor who did this to you. May god make sure he gets the reward that suits his treachery!” [3477–3507] Then her son, who was exceedingly handsome, came before her, led on by the misfortune that was about to befall him. The mother saw her son coming and, prompted by the devil, whispered something astonishing. “Ah!” she said, “you look just like the traitor, the vile devil. You must die a bitter death because of your father’s wickedness. You’ll pay for his wickedness. You’ll die wrongfully for his crime, even though you haven’t deserved it in any way, except that I’ve never seen, nor, to my knowledge, has God ever created, two things that look so much alike – and for that, I want to cut off your head.” [3508–3525] The child, who had heard nothing of all this, ran to embrace her. He kissed her and showed her so much affection that it should have taken Procne out of the mindset she had just adopted, as law and nature78 require of all human creatures, and compassion forbids that a mother should kill or dismember her child. But when she began to remember the traitor, the perjurer, she did not reassure the child; rather, she said that, whatever the consequences, he would have his head cut off and that she would give him to his father to eat. In this way, she could avenge her sister on the traitor who had mutilated her. While the little child embraced her tenderly, with the devilry and ferocity urged on her by the devil, she cut off the child’s head and gave it to Philomena. [3526–3549]

78

Droiz et nature, v. 3531: perhaps a reference to Aristotle’s natural law.



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Then the two of them prepared the flesh very carefully and swiftly. They roasted part of it and the rest they put into stock. When the flesh was cooked and roasted, it was the moment and the time to eat. Procne was very impatient and eager for all her will to be done. She came to the king, who suspected nothing, requesting and inviting him to come and eat the thing that she thought he would love the most in all the world, and to come without a companion or squire, but not to let that trouble him, for there would be only the two of them. She would be alone and so would he, and she would serve everything. He replied that he would come, provided that his son Itis was there; he sought no other company than himself, herself, and his son. [3550–3571] “In faith, he will truly be there,” said Procne, “I promise you that.79 Only the three of us will be there, no more and no less, nor, if I have my way, will anyone know where we have gone. Come on, everything is ready and well prepared, I think, for you to enjoy the meal.” [3572–3580] In this way, she told him the truth, but he could not fathom to what meal he was being invited. Do not think she would tell him that she was giving him his son to eat. He did not delay any longer in going, for he did not think there was anything harmful in it. Procne led him along and sat him down pleasantly and very comfortably, so that he would enjoy the meal; he was very pleased by how she waited on him. She had set the table for him and the tablecloth was fine and white. She brought him one of Itis’s haunches, and he carved and ate and drank, and asked about what he was looking at. [miniature, fol. 176v: procne and tereus at the dinner table]

“{M}y lady,” he said, “where is Itis? You promised me he would be here with us.” “My lord, you will soon have had your fill of him,” said Procne, “don’t worry about him. Itis is not far away from here. If he’s not here now, he soon will be – he won’t be long.” Then she went and got a spit of meat, and Tereus continued, while eating and carving, to urge her to go and fetch his son. “My lady,” he said, “you are letting me down badly when you do not bring Itis and I’m very upset that he’s not coming. I’m going to have to go and look for him, for I have no one else to send and it’s upsetting me not to see him. Go and fetch him and call for him!” Procne could no longer conceal from him what kind of food she was serving him, so she told him quite openly: “What you are seeking is inside you, but it’s not entirely there. Part of it is inside your body and part of it is outside of you.” Philomena, who had been hiding in a chamber nearby, strode out carrying the head. She went right up to Tereus and threw the head, covered in blood, right into his face. [3581–3628]

79 Je le vos otroi, v. 3573. Another double meaning: “I grant you this” and “I bestow him on you.”

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[miniature, fol. 177r: procne, tereus, and philomena brandishing the head of itis]

{T}ereus saw that he had been betrayed. For a moment he remained still, so stunned that he did not move or say a word because of the anguish and shame he felt. He felt shame, as he should, when he recognized his son’s head, and what made his blood curdle and doubled his anger and woe was that he knew in truth that Procne had given him Itis to eat. He felt great shame and great woe, and his shame made him change color when he saw Philomena.80 But he soon lost his shame, for he wanted to avenge the death of his son. Now the two sisters were in grave danger of death, but they didn’t care. Tereus jumped up from the table and kicked it over, scattering everything that had been on it. He shoved everything off and scattered it all, then saw a sword hanging on a wall and ran to grab it. The women did not dare delay; rather, they fled, and Tereus chased them, threatening to kill them, carried away by his wrath.81 He chased them and drove them to an exit.82 There, as fate would have it, such a great marvel occurred that you have never heard its like, for Tereus became a bird, foul and unpleasant, small and vile. The sword fell from his hand and, as the tale tells, he became a crested hoopoe,83 because of the sin and shame he had inflicted on the maiden. Procne became a swallow and Philomena a nightingale.84 Still to this day, if anyone believes this bird’s advice, traitors should all be killed and destroyed shamefully, as should scoundrels and perjurers, those who show no interest in joy, and all those who commit wrongful, wicked, and treacherous acts toward wise and courtly maidens, for this grieves and weighs on her so much that, when it comes to springtime, and we have got through the whole of winter, out of her great hatred for the wicked, she sings as sweetly as she can throughout the woods: “Oci! Oci! (Kill! Kill!).” Here I will leave off with Philomena. [3629–3684] [miniature, fol. 177r: philomena, tereus bearing a sword, and procne half-transformed into birds]

Et de honte mua color, v. 3640. This “turning” could be to white or red. Si con ses mautalanz l’aporte, v. 3655, could go with the following sentence instead, but we follow de Boer’s punctuation here. 82 Lit. “a doorway.” 83 See Delboule (1904). 84 Contrast Hyginus (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, 114) and Apollodorus (Smith and Trzaskoma 2007, 68–69). 80 81



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Moralization {T}his is the end of the story of Philomena as Chrétien tells it. I will now provide an explanation of this change85 and you will be able to understand the historical interpretation which – no lie – is completely true. Because Philomena – who was noble and worthy, upright and esteemed, wise, courtly, and cheerful – was imprisoned for such a long time in the wood and had “sung” so well,86 the tale claims that she was transformed into a nightingale, especially as she was securely hidden and concealed in the woods. But the queen, Procne, having cooked up her son, whom she had cut into pieces through wickedness and sin, fled out of fear of her husband and took refuge in a large, strong, and handsome tower: in this way she became a swallow, which is accustomed to make its nest in towers like these, in chimneys, and in courtyards. Because of the iniquity, filth, and vileness Tereus perpetrated in deceiving the beauty and deflowering the maiden – and because he had been a knight and armed in many battles with a crested helmet, a shield, and mailed hauberk – the tale claims, it seems to me, that he became a hoopoe, foul and base. [3685–3718] {N}ow I will tell you the allegory that this tale signifies. The king of the city of Athens is God, the King of immortality, the Almighty, and the everlasting King, generous, courtly, and merciful. Procne, who was his elder daughter, represents the soul that God had formed in his likeness and his image, and which he joined and gave in marriage to the body, which had been extracted from earth. The pagans who waged war against the king of the city of Athens were the sons of iniquity, the devils, who made war on God and tried on their own to seize the heavens from him and despoil them: and so they fell into the abyss, into hell, that horrible prison. For this reason God made the marriage of the soul and the body take place,87 so that through them he could replenish the heavens, which had been emptied of the foolish, arrogant angels. The soul and the body, it seems to me, lived together in peace for a long time and devoted themselves faithfully to each other. They had and engendered a son, that is, the good fruit of a holy life. And they did not have any inclination to evil-doing, and lived sincerely and piously in joyous peace, until Procne, who is human nature, disposed to all shameful works, desired to have her sister and decided to send the body to her. [3719–3754] Philomena, who signifies deceitful and faulty love, is the fallible goods of this world, which God, in whom all goodness abounds, created in order to sup85 De ceste variacion, v. 3688, could refer equally to the transformation of the characters into birds or the transformation of the text by Chrétien. 86 Et que tant avoit bien chanté, v. 3695: this makes sense only in terms of her artistic expression through her embroidery being assimilated to singing (possibly via sense of chanter as “to compose poetry”). 87 Compare Aquinas, ST I q. 76, and Bonaventure, Brev. II.11.

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port humankind in sober measure. To support men and women, God brought forth worldly goods, so that they might honor, serve, and worship him for them. But in order to have these vain delights, the soul made the body pick itself up and travel over land and sea. The soul did not want to seek anything else from God and did not ask him for any other good thing, and God granted these to it to be used soberly, but the body devoted its thought and attention to them to an unreasonable degree, and wanted by force and abuse to make use of them in excess and to live in dissoluteness, and so it enclosed, imprisoned, and confined all of this88 in strongholds, in stone towers, because it wanted to dwell with it there in order to sport and enjoy itself with worldly delight. [3755–3781] “An old woman,” that is, avarice, kept worldly delight under strict surveillance in prison, so that it could not escape from the enclosure. On behalf of earthly delight, the soul “offered sacrifice, oblation, and homage to Pluto,” and – as anyone would who was sad and filled with wrath – “removed its gilded robe,” with which it was dressed and adorned, and “clothed itself in black garments.” Those of golden cloth are the trappings of a holy and virtuous life, while the black and mournful clothes represent a sinful life, in which the woeful and degraded soul dresses on account of the body that deceives it and abuses vain delight. And it makes an offering and a sacrifice to Pluto when, for the sake of worldly delight, it joins and binds itself to him and forgets God its Creator, to whom it should have directed all its delights. [3782–3803] When the soul consents to squander excessively and without reason, then Procne breaks open the enclosure that held Philomena captive. When earthly delight emerges from the bonds of covetousness, then the soul indulges and takes delight like someone who is foolish, bounteous, and squandering, and has no intention other than to bring destruction to the spiritual fruit in order to feed and provide pleasure for the gluttonous body, and to lose and mutilate itself in order to satisfy the woeful body, and for its base gluttony it destroys the good fruit of its life. The wretched body, because of its gluttonous belly, ruins itself in the process, and consigns itself to baseness, shame, and corruption, and it brings the soul to perdition in the infernal smokestack. Brief, and soon ended, is the joy of the delights that it clung to, which had no other aim than to live in delight and pursue the gratification of the shameful and stinking flesh, and the delight flees from it faster than a nightingale flies, and the foolish and wicked soul is lodged in the fire of hell, as soon as it has flown away. In this way the tale corresponds to the truth. The stinking body becomes a hoopoe, full of stench, filth, and shameful putrefaction, and the vain and changeable delights become a winged nightingale. [3804–3840] Here, the text shifts from the plural of v. 3764 to La mondaine delice, v. 3781. This is consistent with Philomena moralized as the vain delights and goods of this world. See also La terrienne delice, v. 3785. 88



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[miniature, fol. 178r: boreas and orithyia]

Boreas and Orithyia {A}bove, you heard the tale, as Chrétien tells it, about the great transgression and outrage Tereus inflicted in the woods upon his sister-in-law, whom he shamed; how Procne became enraged and, to avenge Philomena, made the father eat his own son, for which, if the tale does not lie to me, the gods took such vengeance that for the crime and outrage all three became winged birds. When old Pandion learned this, he felt such grief and indignation that he lost his life from grief over it. [3841–3855] Erectheus assumed the lordship of Athens and its territory. He was a most worthy man, experienced in war, strong and fierce toward his enemies, gentle and humble to his friends. He had four sons and four attractive and beautiful maiden daughters. They were wondrously beautiful, but their beauty was not comparable, for just as stars shine more brightly than tiny candles, and the sun more than the moon, two were more beautiful: one was named Procris, who was given to Cephalus; the Scottish wind, Boreas, had long loved the other, and would willingly have taken her, if he could have had her as his wife, but not for land and wealth, not for pleading and entreating would her father give her to him, because he was a kinsman of the disloyal tyrant of Thrace. [3856–3878] When he saw that no eloquent pleading could win him his beloved, he swelled up and grew angry and began to say out of great pridefulness: “He is quite right to refuse me. I’ve squandered too much time89 begging him, and it’s beneath me. Weak, impotent, and helpless people – they’re the ones who should be devoting themselves to pleading, entreating, and supplicating. I have no use for mere pleading when I can achieve my goal through violence and abduction. I can stir up the seas and make them stormy through my violence; through my power I can drive the rain clouds, gloomy and dark, before me, and brighten up overcast weather; I can make snow harden and turn to hail and make it hail. When I choose to mingle in the air with my brothers the other winds, I am so powerful and shifting that I make the whole air rumble and resound. I cause lightning and thunder, and when I want to lock myself away underneath the caverns of the earth, with the great power I have in abundance I can make the whole world tremble and frighten the denizens of hell! I cause the great winter frosts, the freezes, and the cold spells; I make soft lands hard. I kill off the vile vermin that destroy seeds. I clean up filth: I cover everything with dust and blow clouds of dust along the ground. I cause tree trunks to be uprooted from the earth by my breath. This is the only assistance I should have 89

See Lecoy (1948), 341.

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used to win a beloved. I should not gain the beautiful Athenian by wishing for her; rather I must apply my force and effort to it.” [3879–3924] This is how Boreas boasted. Then he took action and came gusting forth, trailing his dusty cape. He embraced and seized beautiful Orithyia, and carried her off without any opposition; then he flew with her to Ciconia. There, he made love to her and impregnated her with two sons, the bravest in all the land: one of the two was named Calaïs and the other was the esteemed Zetes. They were skilled and cheerful, valiant in arms and well educated. Seeking fame, they went with Jason to a foreign land to win the Golden Fleece. Their faces resembled their mother’s and they flew like their father when they came of age. It was they who boldly went with Jason in the foremost of ships and crossed the wide sea. They were the ones who drove off the Harpies, the base and shameful birds who duped the blind king and ate at his table with him. King Phineus presented them with white doves as a reward for delivering him from the birds that were duping him. [3925–3954] [miniature, fol. 179r: the annunciation by the angel gabriel to the virgin mary]90

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegory that this tale signifies. God had joined together earth and human nature, and the soul, for the comfort of the body, had coveted vain delights against God’s command. And God saw the evils of the world increasing, along with its iniquities, its abominations, and its vile dissolution, as a result of which the soul was consigned to perdition in the infernal fire, and the body given over to putrefaction, death, shame, and scorn. The merciful Father, almighty God, the eternal King, felt great pity and compassion over this. And, to restore the harm and loss of the human race, he became a mortal and sentient91 man, so gentle and so peace-loving92 that he resolved, for our deliverance, to die in shame and scorn and go down into the confines of hell, where his daughter’s soul was held, from whence he came forth in great victory, rising in heavenly glory, where Jesus, true God and true man, who created the four winds and married his daughter, Holy Church, to Cephas, St. Peter, reigns eternally. [3955–3987] Whoever wants to have and win the other one, that is, the glory of paradise, must, in my opinion, “abduct or carry it off by force” and resemble the wind Boreas, because I do not believe one can have celestial life by just wishing for 90 Fols 35r, 119r, 179r, 227v (where Gabriel has no wings), and 287v have comparable miniatures of this. 91 See Aquinas, ST I q. 81, art. 2. 92 Compare James 3:17.



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it – at any rate, a man who can do good and is strong enough to bear pain – but rather he must devote effort and care to it: he must cast forth all filth, all vice, all iniquity and all excess; he must avoid and flee sadness and rejoice in good. And he must repel the world’s assaults, which plunge and submerge the worldly, through unstable fluctuation, into the depths of dissolution. And so he must by his good example freeze hearts against evil actions, and cause the lazy cowards to exert themselves in worthiness, doing good, and working. He must awaken his own heart to acquire divine love. And, if he has a surplus of possessions on this earth he must distribute them bountifully, scattering them like dust, in order never to accumulate a fortune. He must thunder with terrible threats and strike like lightning to chastise the wicked who go astray, for he should never tolerate evil people in their wickedness, but punish them harshly because he has justice to uphold, and must reflect deeply on the pain and damnation that evil-doers who transgress suffer in the depths of hell. And he must, for fear of such sinners, guard and restrain himself from doing evil. And he must lift up the humble and cast down the prideful, and with proper affection, he must fly to that place where eternal peace abounds and produce such good fruit in this world that he might reach paradise. [3988–4037] Long ago, the saints did as much for the love of Jesus Christ; they are the ones of whom it is written, “You are the light of the world.” They were clean, pure, and spotless, lofty in contemplation and humble in behavior, contemplative toward God the Father and humble toward Holy Church their mother. They endured the great hardships, penances, and distresses that are in the world, and enlightened those who were blind and ignorant, whom the devils had blinded, deceived, tricked, and duped by their cunning. But the saints, full of divine grace, brought them to cognizance, to the brightness of true belief, through holy preaching, and brought them out of ignorance and the power of the devil through good and salvific counsel. And from greedy and evil tyrants they brought forth gentle doves of simple life, flying by contemplation and training their understanding to know and believe93 how Jesus took on the “Golden Fleece” in the body of the Honored Virgin. [4038–4068]

For context, see chapter 3 of Bonaventure’s Triple Way, where he discusses contemplation as the way through which true wisdom is attained. See also his Journey of the Mind to God, especially Book 5, where he states that we contemplate God “through a light that shines on our mind,” and, borrowing from Augustine, that this light is eternal truth, since “our mind is created directly by Truth itself.” Aquinas discusses the contemplative life in ST II–II q. 180. See also Bonaventure’s On the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. 8, where he discusses in detail the “key of contemplation.” 93

Book 7

Background to Jason’s Quest for the Golden Fleece1 [miniature, fol. 179v: pelias and jason]

{I}n the tales above, you heard how Ino made the scythe from the cooked wheat that she had sowed, how Helle drowned in the sea, and how Phrixus crossed the sea and came to Colchis, and left the fleece there in the temple of Mars. Now you will hear why Jason went to seek the fleece and how he was able to conquer it. I will tell you everything in order. [1–7] There was a powerful king in Argos, a wicked tyrant named Pelias. He ruled over large territories. The powerful king had a nephew, very brave, very wise, very courtly, very well-mannered, very esteemed, very skillful, and very cheerful. He was humble and obliging, well-mannered and amiable. The young man was named Jason. He was the nephew of Pelias and the son of Aeson. He was marvelously handsome. Nature had devoted both care and attention to forming him, in my opinion. She made him handsome in body and face; she formed him handsomely in all respects. Above all, she formed him with good qualities and morals, so that if he were loyal towards love, he would have no equal in the whole world. But when he grew up, he had so little loyalty towards love that it brought him grief and loss, as you can hear in the story. Know that no one can be happy, in the end, by being unfaithful to love. [8–37] There was a lot to admire about the youth. He was more loved for his prowess than Pelias for his power. The wicked king was very envious of him. He thought that if he was alive much longer, Jason would dethrone him, and the fate and the prophecy about him that he feared so greatly would come true. Long ago, the king had heard a fate, a prophecy, that troubled and shook his whole heart. The prophecy, it seems to me, was that the first person the king would find who was both barefoot and shod would become king over the realm and Pelias would be disinherited. Pelias’s heart was very troubled. Soon after that, the king saw the youth, with one foot fully shod and the other 1 Although the Metamorphoses assumes knowledge of the quest for the Golden Fleece, this part of the narrative (vv. 1–249) is not in Ovid: it corresponds to Dares Phrygius, De excidio Troiae historia 1–3 (trans. Frazer 1966) and the Roman de Troie, vv. 715– 1130 (trans. Burgess and Kelly 2017, 55–59).

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completely bare. The king saw him one morning when he got up. It grieved him deeply. Then fear entered his heart. There was nothing in the whole world the king dreaded or loathed more. The only thing in the world he craved was to find a ruse and scheme to put the youth to death, but he did not want to let on to him about this. [38–67] For a long time he let this business lie, until he might have the occasion and opportunity to take action in a way that pleased him. He feigned to love and cherish him. He made him ride here and there. He never came to hear of any threat without dispatching Jason to deal with it, whether in battle or in war, whether in Greece or elsewhere, on the pretext that Jason could extend his fame. And Jason was valiant and well-trained, so that he successfully achieved everything he undertook. The wicked king saw this and it grieved him very much. The more Jason succeeded, the more Pelias became irritated. In his heart, he raged and grumbled about it, while outwardly he seemed to take great joy. Meanwhile, the young man’s heart was blithe, for he earnestly believed that the king was assigning him such weighty deeds for his advancement. He gave him plenty to spend on weapons, clothing, steeds, and whatever he needed, so that he displayed great nobility and generosity throughout the land. [68–92] [miniature, fol. 180r: the argonauts at sea]

{R}umor, which reaches everywhere,2 was recounted in many courts that there was a Golden Fleece in Colchis, so well guarded that no man – no matter how much strength or knowledge he might have – could have it. Many had eagerly attempted it, and in so doing, had been destroyed. None could win the fleece because none could oppose those who guarded it. There were ferocious bulls from whose mouths shot forth burning flames with which they set fire to everything. One had first to subdue them and use them to cultivate the earth and then sow in it the teeth from a horrible serpent. The teeth would grow in the earth and, from their sowing, heavily armed men would be born, with shields strapped around their necks and with sturdy and strong swords in hand. It would take far too great an effort before they could all be slain. When they were all dead and slain, the fleece would still not have been won – rather, it would now be necessary, by some means, to put to sleep the vigilant serpent. It was very daunting and perilous to win the fleece. It would be easier to drain the sea than to win it by force. There was no one – no matter how strong, and no matter how much he exerted himself – whose effort did not result in death. Many brave men had died in the process, which was a great loss and harm, for they were of great valor. [93–130] Renomee, qui partout court, v. 93 could refer to a specific rumor, but the verb is present tense, so we read this as Rumor, personified, as in other episodes of the text. On the translation “Rumor,” see our introductory lexicon, s.v. renomee (p. 78). 2



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When King Pelias heard the news, he rejoiced greatly. If he could, he would assign Jason to the task. He would put some effort into sending him, for he was confident that if Jason went there, he would never escape alive. One day the king held a great and distinguished court, and all the young men of the land came to his feast. Zetes was there, and Calaïs, the strong and handsome Hercules, and many other young men, not all named here, who were famous and feared for their valor. Lion-hearted Jason3 was there. They certainly had enough wine and food to consume. When they had had plenty to drink and the wine they had drunk had gone to their heads, then talk of knighthood and exploits arose among them: which of them were bold, fierce, and strong, and where might they find danger to put their valor to the test. They all discussed this. The king answered and told them that some time ago a Golden Fleece had come to Colchis. Whoever could win it would gain great praise. [131–162] He called his nephew Jason. He spoke to him with great guile: “Dear nephew,” he said, “I love and esteem you very much, for you are full of valor and worthy of esteem. You have tested yourself in numerous perils. I would consider myself well repaid if you could win the fleece, because you would acquire great praise in doing so. You’ll never travel to any land where you might win as much honor. On top of everything else, you would gain a reward, for you would possess all my land: you would be king on your return. I can no longer govern my land, for I am weak, and full of days.4 I’ll really need a break. I can no longer work, and from my wife I have no heir to govern my land on my behalf. If you can win the Golden Fleece, I promise and freely grant the whole kingdom to you.” This became such a topic of conversation5 that Jason took on this journey to win the Golden Fleece. The king had his expedition outfitted. When the ship was ready and loaded, Jason boarded with a large company he had engaged and recruited, and took leave of his uncle and friends. They unfurled their sails before the wind. They reached the high seas. [163–195] The wind carried them directly to the powerful city of Troy. They arrived there with great joy, but soon became angry. Laomedon was soon told that a ship full of armed men had arrived in his land. When King Laomedon heard this, he became very enraged and upset, as he had never heard tell of anyone being able to cross the sea. He thought they were spies. He ordered them, on pain of losing their bodies and lives, to leave his land and relinquish his country to him. If he were to find them in his harbor the next day, he would have them all put to death. The Greeks put to sea, quite woeful to be chased Jason y fu au fier corage, v. 146. This is our standard translation for this phrase. A biblical trope in the Old Testament. See, for example, Abraham (Genesis 25:8), Isaac (Genesis 35:29), David (1 Chronicles 23:1), Jehoiada (2 Chronicles 24:15), Job 42:17. 5 Not “it was determined that Jason would go.” It appears the king held this feast publicly to pressure Jason into taking on the quest for the Golden Fleece. 3 4

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off so ignobly by the king. They feared his threats so much that they dared not remain. But they decided that if they could return alive from the quest for the Golden Fleece, they would wage a war so great it would dethrone him. They spoke the truth, in fact, for on their return they waged so great a war, so great an attack that his land was laid waste, and mighty Troy was levelled and the king lost his life. And his daughter, Hesione, was carried off and put to shame: Telamon kept her as his concubine. [196–230] When his son, Priam, heard of this, he was very heavy-hearted and angry. He grieved for his father and his loss and for his sister’s disgrace. This established the root and the cause of the abduction of Helen, whom Paris abducted. Cursed be the hour that he did it, cursed be the hour he first saw her, for because of it, Troy was later burned and razed and its people killed and mutilated, as you can hear in the story. But now is not the moment to tell more about that. When the time comes, I will certainly come back to it and pick this subject up again. But to carry to term my subject matter, I must first recount and tell about those who were going to seek the Golden Fleece in a foreign land, with a great number of good people. [231–249] [miniature, fol. 181r: hypsipyle and the argonauts]

Hypsipyle6 {I}ndeed, the Greeks were sailing across the sea. They had raised anchor and left the harbor. They sailed for a long time, now forward, then back, depending on the direction of the wind. They arrived at the island of Lemnos. They landed there and stayed for a good two and a half years. Hypsipyle, the noble woman who was the queen and lady of Lemnos, made valiant Jason her lover. During that time, the woman had two beautiful and lovely children by him. He swore to her that he would marry her when he came back, and take her to Greece with him, but he very quickly forgot about her as soon as he turned his back on her. The Greeks stayed as long as they pleased, then headed back off on their way. The lady, weeping, accompanied them with her eyes as far as she could see them. Then, she kept them in her heart. [250–272] Medea (I) They maintained their course at sea until they reached Colchis. Jason asked for the fleece: he had come for that reason. The king responded in a proclamation: “Do not speak of it. It is useless unless it is won by your own effort. Once you 6 While what follows follows the Metamorphoses, Hypsipyle is not mentioned there but in Heroides 6 (Hypsipyle to Jason). While on Lemnos, the Argonauts father the Minyans, which the OM uses below (vv. 565–676) to refer to the Argonauts themselves.



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have somehow tamed the haughty bulls and extinguished their burning breath, and endured many more serious dangers, much pain and much misfortune, and you alone have fought hand to hand against a thousand men and overcome them by your own effort, and when you’ve accomplished the hardest part – that is, when you’ve put to sleep the serpent that has never slept – then you can have the fleece.” [273–291] Medea came to see Jason and the mighty company of Greeks. Medea was the daughter of the king, a beautiful, innocent, and wise maiden. She gazed admiringly at Jason, with his bright face. She found him marvelously handsome, so that she was completely troubled, and marveled. Her heart shivered, making her tremble and sweat beneath her warm pelisson.7 Her color changed often. She had fallen in love with Jason. But she was so wise and cultivated that she thought she could tame her heart and put an end to this love. She scolded and reproved her heart over and over. The more she scolded it, the more the fire of love in her heart blazed up – she could not hold back from it for any price. [292–310] When she saw clearly that no rebuke could banish love or keep her away from Jason, and that denial was worthless, she thought and said to herself: “Medea, foolish one, give in! What good is resistance or reprimand? I don’t know what it is that hinders and harms you. Certainly, as soon as I saw Jason tonight, I felt this anxiety. I can’t oppose it anymore. Rather, I must do its will, no matter what suffering it might bring me, and I marvel that this is possible! True love has me in its power. – I am truly overpowered! – Overpowered? – Yes! – But how? Why does the task my father gave to Jason seem excessive to me? It is excessive, and he will die because of it: nothing will ever be able to save him from it. If he dies because of it, what does it matter to me? He is a foreigner and has nothing to do with me. I shouldn’t have such fear about this. The fact that I’m so afraid amazes me. Wretch, poor me, don’t you dare think about it! If you don’t protect yourself, who will do it for you? Eliminate if you can the foolish love that governs you, that sets you on fire and inflames you. [311–342] “In truth, if I could behave more wisely, I would, but I cannot. I exert myself in vain. New love forces me to obey its will and loathe my own. I see the good and choose the evil, for I know well that I am falling for him. This is the work of love, which is driving me out of my mind. Wretch, poor me, I’m so foolish! It is great folly and great rashness for a maiden, a king’s daughter, to place her heart with a foreigner. But he is a guest, and why do I love him? I could find a lover in this land, if I deigned to seek one and take him as lord, if he pleases me, without going off to another land where I would know no one. What do I want with him then? If he dies, he dies. That doesn’t bother me at

7

A fur-lined tunic.

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all. I’m completely indifferent to him.8 It’s up to the gods and their pleasure. Nevertheless, as I wish, may god grant him joy and a good life. He does not deserve death. Only a hard-hearted scoundrel would not be moved to pity him. He is so noble, so young, and very valiant, and, above all, I think he is so handsome in body and face that there is no woman on these shores who would not love him, even if he were the son of a commoner. [343–377] “What can I do then but love him? Indeed, I love him to excess and if I do not try to help him, he would not be able to withstand the fire of the bulls, or endure the fierce attack and the battle with those who will be born from the earth, or else the serpent would eat him, for he would never escape it. If, for lack of aid, I were to let him lose his life, my heart would be harder than adamant.9 Will I put up with that? God forbid! O, Medea, what then? You will betray your father and your kingdom for a man from another country – a restless foreigner, who, when you have saved him, will, without your even knowing, leave without you, his rescuer?10 If anyone marries him except me, after I’ve saved him, may a dreadful death slay and disembowel her. Disembowel? God, what am I saying now? His heart is so sweet and kind and his face so innocent, he’s such a courtly and noble man, he’d never betray anyone. [378–406] “It’s not appropriate for me to doubt him, and if I’m in any doubt about it, I’ll make him swear beforehand to keep his promise to me and reward my effort. Surely he will do all I ask without taking that pledge. I have no doubt of it, and so I must help and assist him without delay. If I choose to rescue him from death, he’ll be grateful to me for it forever, and raise me to high station. He’ll take me to Greece with him and take me as his wife, and both great and small will celebrate and do me honor for his sake. Will I then leave my father, my country, my sister and my brother for him? Is it right of me to leave them? My father is a very cruel man, and my sister would willingly go away with Jason and leave me behind – why should I not forsake her then? What enjoyment can one derive from a child that hasn’t even spoken yet? I will leave my brother, in truth, for whoever loves another more than oneself must die from thirst at the millstream. [407–434] “Great is the love that governs me, and I will do everything it pleases. I’m sacrificing only a little bit to win much more. I’ll head to the sweet land with Jason once I’ve saved him. I’ll see the land and the countryside and the castles and the cities where there is so much delight. Above all, I will see my lover endlessly, night and day. Indeed, if anyone were to have me choose between Il ne me fait ne froit ne chaut, v. 364. An idiomatic expression that endures in French today: lit. “it makes me neither hot nor cold,” the equivalent of English “I couldn’t care less,” or in this case, a specific expression of indifference towards Jason. 9 A proverbially hard, magnetic mineral (see Volume 1, p. 330, n.47). 10 Lit. “who will have rescued him,” v. 398 8



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him and all the riches and all the delights of the whole wide world, I would give up all the goods of the world, and all its wealth, in order to have him. He’ll be my spouse and I, his wife. Then I’ll be such a high lady that no woman under the light of the sun will be my equal. What to do? I’ll cross the sea and put myself at risk of dying, for there are a great many wicked perils. – No, I won’t put to sea for any reason, for I’d never make it back to the other side alive. – If I held my beloved, my joy, my solace in my arms, and he held me as well, there is no distress or storm or any peril that could harm me. I’ll cling tightly to my spouse and have no dread of anyone, and if I feel fear, it will be for him. – Is he your spouse? With what tale are you prettily concealing your shame? Watch what you’re doing, you fool! You’re taking much too shameful a burden. Wretch, abandon your folly before you even begin.” [435–474] Thus love and reason held a disputation within Medea.11 Shame took reason’s side.12 This discord lasted for so long within her that love was vanquished and defeated and ejected from the beauty’s heart. Medea feared shame and harm so much that she no longer cared about Jason anymore. [475–483] {I}n a great thick forest Medea went to the temple of the goddess Hecate to pray, and she went there without taking her love for Jason with her: rather, it remained behind, the living spark was extinguished. [484–488] When she saw the young man, the instant she caught sight of him, the diedout flame was revived, and her suffering was renewed as she gazed upon his bright face. At that moment, I believe, Jason was more handsome than he had ever been. In him there was no holding back from any woman who was looking for love. No one should blame Medea for being inflamed with love at that moment. Her color changed in many ways: she turned red, pale, and white. Reason fled; love, that now controlled her heart, came back. Medea was so amazed by the young man’s beauty that she thought she was looking at a god from heaven. She gazed incessantly at his bright face: she could not take her eyes off of him. [489–508] [miniature, fol. 182v: jason faces the bulls]

{J}ason took her by the bare hand and greeted her graciously. In a low voice he humbly entreated her to help him, out of love. He promised to make her his wife and take her away with him. Medea answered him in tears. She set forth her heart’s desire: “Beloved,” she said, “I will betray my father and my country for you, and I can say indeed and without doubt that it is not out of ignorance: this is the effect of love, which governs and greatly oppresses me, and for better or worse it makes me abandon my will for its own. Through me, you will be Tienent desputoison, v. 475, could be translated “were at odds, contended” but we chose to preserve the sense of formal disputation as with the Muses and the Pierides in Book 5, vv. 176ff. 12 Lit. “Shame attunes itself with reason.” 11

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saved. Through me you will win the fleece you came here for, but, to keep your promise to me, take me to your land and as your spouse.” [509–530] “If god protects my body from harm and grants that I may bring this business safely to fruition, then I, without any falsehood, will take you as my wife and partner as long as god grants that I escape alive. I pledge my faith to you and to all the gods of this grove.” [531–538] Medea immediately gave him herbs full of enchantment and taught him what to do with them. Jason went away happy, showing her great gratitude and thanks. The next morning, when day dawned, he prepared forthwith to undertake his harrowing day. He did not forget his magic charms.13 Fully armed, he entered the field where the king and all the lords of all the surrounding land sat to watch the marvel. Then, without delay, came forth the horrible and hideous bulls. Fire leapt from their mouths, igniting and scorching the grass. Everyone who saw them fled, except for Jason. His companions treacherously deserted him. Valiant Jason faced the bulls alone. The haughty bulls charged him headlong at full speed. They tried to attack him with their horns and with the breath from their mouths, which destroyed everything it touched. [539–564] Then the Minyans feared for their lord Jason, who felt little fear. His magic charms were so potent that he didn’t even register the heat from the bulls, or the stinking fire of the breath they exhaled upon him, nor did the bulls have any power to harm him. Once they had sensed the magic, Jason did with them whatever he wanted. He yoked them and had them pull in harness and plow and harrow the land. This made the king and the assembled Colchians feel nothing but rage. The whole thing seemed like a great marvel to them. Because of the adventure they saw unfold, the Minyans cheered loudly. Jason was encouraged by their cheering. [565–581] From a helmet that was brought to him, Jason took the serpent’s teeth and scattered them over the field that he had plowed and harrowed. The seed quickly softened and developed in the earth, and, if the tale does not lie to me, the teeth had heads, feet, and hands, and became human bodies. Just as an infant is formed in a mother’s womb, takes form, and is born complete at term, that is how the tale affirms that the teeth in the earth took on human form in a short time. And moreover – something to be marveled at – they were all ready for battle, fully armed. [582–599] The Minyans feared for their friend when they saw so many enemies ready to battle him. To be sure, Medea, who had given him so much protection,14 13 Ses charmes, v. 547 (and again in v. 567), could refer to either the herbs for the spell, or the words to activate them. Another possible translation could be “magic drugs.” 14 Qui tant asseüré l’avoit, v. 605. The French could also mean “who had given him so much assurance of victory,” but we follows Ovid (Met. 7.134), “She also, who had rendered him safe, was afraid” (Kline). Here the OM uses “Minyans,” normally the people fathered by the Argonauts on Lemnos, for the Argonauts themselves.



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felt the same when she saw so many armed enemies opposing him: she completely panicked, fear made her bloodless and pale. To strengthen her first charm, she went to develop a new one. Valiant Jason exerted himself. He hurled a large rock at them: the stone fell in their midst. Then war broke out among them: Medea’s enchantments were so powerful that each one believed with certainty that his comrade had thrown it at him. Each one brandished his sword and struck the first one he encountered. He struck the other dead, and the same misfortune befell him in return. Why trouble you with the details?15 All the brothers killed each other. [600–623] When the Greeks saw them dead they could only rejoice. All rushed to embrace Jason. Just as willingly, had she dared, Medea would have embraced and kissed him, but she dreaded shame more than physical harm. She had very great joy in her heart when she saw her beloved return safe and sound from such perils. Now, once Jason had put to sleep the serpent that had never slept, he would soon have the Golden Fleece. He went to the garden without delay and placed his trust in his beloved’s magic. To the serpent that never slept, three times he spoke a powerful charm, which put the watchful serpent to sleep. [624–640] In this way, he won the Golden Fleece, and, in the process, the hand of Medea. One night, the Greeks gathered in secret: Jason carried away the fleece, and the beauty too. The king learned the news.16 He was vexed and full of anger. He soon gathered his forces and pursued them in haste. He was very threatening toward Medea and the Minyans: if he could catch them, he would have them all burned alive or hanged. The king went after Jason until he caught sight of him fleeing in the distance. When the Greeks saw the dust of the host that followed behind, they were afraid and fearful; there was not one who didn’t fear death. But Medea reassured them. She had brought along her brother Absyrtus. She showed him great cruelty: she dismembered him limb from limb and cast him along the track so that her father would see him. When Aeëtes, in pursuit, saw the body of his little child scattered across the fields, his heart nearly burst from anger, anguish, and woe. Filled with sadness and filled with weeping, he fell to the dirt in a faint. His intimates raised him up with some difficulty. When he recovered, he had the body parts collected before he was willing to continue. [641–676] In the meantime the Greeks had escaped and put to sea. Jason took away his beloved Medea, the elegant beauty. They made way so much by day and night that they arrived at the port of Athens. The people of Greece, with offerings,17 Lit. “Why would I cause you delay?” What follows here, including the brother’s dismemberment, is not in Ovid. 17 Devocions, v. 683, could be “acts of devotion,” “prayers,” or “offerings.” In Ovid (Met. 7.159–161), “The elderly Haemonian mothers and fathers bring offerings to mark their sons’ return, and melt incense heaped in the flame” (Kline). 15 16

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made good on the vows and donations they had promised to the gods for the safe return of their sons and their friends who had been in foreign lands with Jason to seek the Golden Fleece. Now they arrived with a splendid victory! [677–689] Moralization {A}ll of this tale about Jason and Pelias is historical, with the sole exception of the fleece. Medea was the “Golden Fleece,” so guarded and enclosed that no one was able to take her or carry her off without her counsel and help. Hence many lost their lives when they tried to carry her off from her father the king without his permission.18 She loved Jason at first sight. With her counsel, he abducted her from her father and family and took her away sailing over the sea, and to escape from her father, Medea dismembered her brother. That is how they escaped death, as the tale relates. [690–708] [miniature, fol. 183v: adam and eve, covering their genitalia and eve holding a fruit, flank the tree with the forbidden fruit with the serpent twined around it]19

{N}ow I will tell you the allegory this tale signifies. The devil, for his foolish presumption, was cast out from the noble domain of heaven. For his iniquity, he was cast into the shadowy city, where there is no brightness or light, only suffering, anguish and misery. He saw the creation of the human race, which God was supposed to exalt to the heavens, from which he had been cast out. The enemy became envious of them and took pains to assail, deceive, and betray humanity and cause them to lose eternal life through inordinate desire.20 And so, through his deception, he led them to covet the fruit of knowledge and, through his wicked urging, eat it to their damnation, to cause their eternal loss and death without any hope of healing. [709–730]

Sans son otroi, v. 699. This could also be “her permission.” The French is ambiguous, but “his” makes more sense in context. 19 Fols 183v, 209r, 284v, and 340v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether Adam and Eve are both holding fruit and whether they are covering their genitalia. Also note the image on fol. 21r of God walking a naked Adam through the garden. 20 Although the devil’s envie in v. 720 is “envy,” par envie, v. 723, alluding to the impulse prompting Adam and Eve to sin, is better translated “through (inordinate) desire.” See Aquinas, ST II–II q. 163, who describes the original sin, rooted in pride, as set in motion by Eve’s covetousness and an inordinate desire for one’s own excellence. Bonaventure echoes Aquinas here, noting that the devil sought to tempt the weaker woman, so that he might then bring about the fall of the stronger sex. (The implication is that, had the devil in the form of the serpent tempted Adam instead of Eve, he might not have succeeded.) All of this, Bonaventure notes, is accomplished with God’s permission. For Bonaventure, both Adam and Eve fell into disobedience and succumbed to greed because both had risen in pride (see Brev. III.2–3). 18



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But Divine Wisdom, Jesus, Salvation and medicine21 for every human creature, when he saw the suffering, pain, and death that awaited man if he himself did not come to his aid, took great pity and compassion on him. And for his deliverance, he resolved to assemble and conjoin with human nature in the body of the Honored Virgin so as to possess the “Golden Fleece,” that is, the holy virginity of the Mother in whom the Deity resolved to be joined by marriage, in the flesh, to the human race, and in so doing he bestowed the herbs and roots of the salvific medicine. The herb was gathered from the garden of the Virgin Mary’s womb, where God the Father had planted it. Then it was “enchanted” by both the Holy Spirit and God the Father, and for our salvation it was crushed in the mortar of the Cross and soaked with vinegar. The flesh was the herb and potion that brought healing to the world. The juice that issued from this herb was the blood and water that flowed from the body of Jesus Christ, when the false Jews wounded him. Jesus resolved to render himself up to death to save both men and women from death and from the devil’s jaws. [731–765] Jesus was the one who vanquished the unsleeping serpent that was accustomed to devour every person because of the one who bit the apple the devil presented to him. Jesus subdued the huge bulls whose mouths disgorged “fire” of venomous blame, insults, derision, and threats of violence. All his disciples abandoned him on the field alone and fled from the wicked bulls they feared, that exhaled fiery threats. Jesus alone stood his ground, for he was secure in God’s grace. He plowed the land and sowed the serpent’s teeth in it. The teeth are the holy seed of Christian belief that Jesus resolved to spread on earth to secure new “knights.” The knights are the disciples, who disciplined their hearts to exalt the divine law, and increase and advance the worship of Holy Church. They were armed with justice, and they were strong and vigorous, powerful and very battle-worthy against the enemies of the faith. They were also humble and innocent and without hubris, gentle and devout and meek in obeying divine commandments. “Jason took the Golden Fleece”: Jesus in the Honored Virgin took on flesh and human nature. That is the fleece, that is the wrap that covered God, the tender Lamb, who had his body laid open with a spear for man’s sake, and was sacrificed and hung and crucified. To keep her beloved from dying, Medea put to death her brother Absyrtus and scattered him across the fields. Jesus surrendered his body to be hung, and to suffer death and abuse to save human nature, which he loved so dearly that he passed through the sea of the world sinless and holy, joyfully taking it with him into the land full of delight, into the heavens in sovereign joy, in the eternal city of joyous immortality. [766–820] 21 See Aquinas, ST III q. 46, for a discussion of Christ’s Passion as the “medicine” against Adam’s sin. Compare also Mark 2:17 and Bonaventure, Brev. IV.8–10, for Christ as Mediator and Remedy. Bonaventure weaves the metaphor of medicine throughout his discussion of the sacraments in Brev. VI. See also our lexicon, s.v. sapience (p. 78).

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[miniature, fol. 184v: pelias looks on as a crowd with horns and fiddles celebrates jason]

Medea (II) There was great joy throughout all of Greece. No one failed to rejoice except proud-hearted Pelias, who raged from grief and envy toward his nephew, who had returned safe and happy from his lengthy exile. It weighed upon the king that he had come back, but he kept that secret. He concealed his heart and thoughts and pretended he was glad about the youth’s return. There, you would have seen ladies dancing, maidens and girls singing, horns and trumpets sounding, kettledrums and drums resounding. Here, jongleurs performed: some harped, others fiddled; others drummed or piped; others sang in harmony. Aeson took no part in the celebration, for he lay in bed in great distress, decrepit with age. Jason, seeing him old and miserable, felt great pity for him. [821–844] He came to Medea and embraced her. Weeping, he spoke these words to her: “Lady who saved my life, lady who preserved me from the great perils in which I found myself, you’ve done so much for me that as long as I live I won’t be able to repay you. If now you wish to give me a gift, I beg you to do so. Extend the life of my father and shorten mine a little, if there is any way you can do it, whether by charms or sorcery. And I believe you’ll succeed, if you’re willing to try it. For god’s sake, please make the effort and I’ll be your faithful vassal.” [845–861] Medea felt pity for Jason – more than she had for her father, whom she had left, or for her brother, whom she had had dismembered limb from limb. But she did not really let on; rather, she was pensive and didn’t say a word. Then she replied, as though in anger: “Jason,” she said, “what foolishness just came out of your mouth? Am I supposed to shorten your life, then, to lengthen another’s?22 Will I do so? God forbid that I commit such disloyalty. I cannot and must not do it. But I’ll soon undertake to do more than you’ve asked. I’ll find you some means to rejuvenate your father without draining your vitality or lifespan and without shortening your life, for I will never consent to your life being cut short. Now may the goddess of enchantment, the goddess of triple form,23 come to my aid with her instructions, guiding and informing me so that I can successfully rejuvenate old Aeson with the art of my enchantment.” [862–891]

At this point (following v. 872) Rouen (fol. 184v)skips to v. 933 and returns to v. 873 after v. 909. 23 Hecate. 22



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It took only three nights for the moon to be full. When it was completely and entirely full, the enchantress got ready to keep her promise to Jason. At that hour when everything is still and at rest, the moon shone bright and clear. Medea left the palace, barefoot, tunic unbelted, hair unbound; thus she went off in the night, all alone and unaccompanied. Everything else was asleep. No dog barked, no serpent hissed. The air was clear, the night peaceful. The stars in the firmament shone beautifully and brightly. Medea raised her face to the stars and held her arms up to the sky, bowing three times, then three times plunged the point of her stick into clear running water. Three times she cried out howling, then knelt on the ground and began this prayer: “O night, who see and know secrets, O moon and stars that shine, O Hecate, lady of three forms, who makes and shapes magical charms, who sees and knows of this plan that I have undertaken with trust in you – all the charms of enchanters, all the herbs and flowers that can be used as charms, the gods of the winds and of the air, the gods of the valleys24 and mountains, those of waters and plains, and the gods of the woods – I summon you: may you all come at my call! [892–930] “All the gods who journey in the dark night seeking adventure, grant me, by your grace, to succeed in this undertaking. Many times you have helped me complete more difficult tasks. Thanks to you,25 I have performed many feats. There is no undertaking so tough that I cannot complete it with your help and my ingenuity. I can make waters everywhere run backward, back to their original source. No matter how wild the sea becomes, I can make it lie still, and I can make it squall and rage when it is calmest. With your aid, I can darken white clouds and brighten dark ones. I can have the winds locked up, and have them make storms. If it suits me, I can make a serpent or lion as meek as a lamb. If it pleases me, I can draw a block of unhewn stone from where it sits. I can uproot trees and woods and make the earth roar and the mountains tremble. I can make the dead resemble the living and rise from their tombs. When I choose to put effort and care into it, there’s no corpse that won’t come forth. I can cause the sun to eclipse, the moon to go dark, and the dawn of day to grow pale. And many other more difficult things can I do with your help. Thanks to you, I subdued the bulls and overcame their burning breath. Thanks to you, I made those born from earth fall to mortal combat among themselves. With your aid, I put to sleep the serpent that had not slept a single day in its whole life. Thanks to you, the fleece was carried off and brought to this land. Now I need your help to find herbs and roots so as to make spells and cures to rejuvenate Aeson. That chariot that I see approaching, drawn by those flying serpents, and those stars shining brightly, make me believe that my request will come true and that you will give me this gift.” [931–987] 24 25

Reading vaus for de Boer’s vans, v. 927. In this speech “thanks to you” renders par vous, lit. “through you.”

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The chariot came down at once and Medea climbed in. It would take too long to recount all the regions she traveled through. She never stopped in nine days. Day and night she wandered ceaselessly to find and gather herbs; from the south to Aquilea in the north, from the west to Nabataea in the east, no region or land was neglected in her search for herbs. On the twelfth day, when she had all the herbs she wanted, she returned. When the serpents smelled the fragrance of the herbs, they were rejuvenated.26 [988–1002] Medea arrived at the entrance to the palace but did not go inside; rather, she stopped outside the gate. In honor of the goddess of youth, she set up an altar on the left. Hecate had one on the right. When she had covered these altars with leafy branches and green grass, she dug two trenches using iron stakes, then made sacrifices to the god of hell. Without delay, she let the blood of a black sheep spill directly into the two trenches, then poured honey and milk in. But she was not done yet: she prayed to the king of hell and his wife to keep Aeson’s soul confined in his body. She begged and supplicated them a great deal for this. [1003–1019] When she had finished her prayer, she had Aeson brought to her. She drove away his son and the others, who were staring at the ritual: there was no reason they should see more. When she had the place to herself, Medea, disheveled and as if drunk, circled the altars. Why belabor the point? It might bore you to tell you all her tricks, so I will go over them briefly. Medea placed everything she had been able to amass in a cauldron to boil: herbs of various kinds; lots of roots; lots of flowers from the fields of Thessaly and elsewhere, and many other various spices; stones from India and Persia; sand from the great sea; heart, liver, and gall and feathers from a screech-owl; a stag’s gizzard and liver and the head of a crow; all the entrails from a werewolf; and lunar mist. She combined all these things in one. She boiled and cooked them together, and added many other things whose names I don’t care to recount, so I must now shut up about them. [1020–1050] Medea had a dry olive branch with which, it seems to me, she mixed and combined everything from bottom to top. Through the strength of the potion that she was mixing with the branch, the wood turned green and was covered with flowers and leaves, and it bore fruit shortly afterwards. The medicine was so strong that wherever a drop flew from the boiling cauldron, a bunch of green grass and many kinds of flowers sprang forth. Medea then took the old man whom she had put to sleep with her magic. To empty out the old blood, she cut him with a steel knife, then laid him in the potion. Then he became healthier than a fish, cheerful and jolly, full of mirth. His hair, white with decrepitude, began to darken; his face started to brighten: no wrinkles or 26 Compare Ovid (Met. 7.236–237): “The dragons had only smelt the herbs, yet they shed their skins of many years” (Kline).



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pallor remained. His complexion was bright and scarlet, his body straight and tall and agile. Aeson marveled and was bewildered when he saw himself so youthful again, transformed in body and heart. [1051–1080] Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the truth of this tale according to the historical interpretation. Medea truly knew so much about the art of medicine, and enchantment, that she could do all this and more, as the tale now tells. There can be a good and advantageous allegory in this tale. [1081–1088] [miniature, fol. 186r: jesus on the cross, flanked by mary and john]27

{T}here was great joy throughout the whole world when Jesus, in whom all goodness abounds – God reigning in eternity – had taken on our humanity and saved the whole human race. But the devil, who strives to bring humankind to shame, was furious about it. When he saw man flourishing and rising and living in eternal life, the malfeasant traitor felt great grief and distress over it. But he did not dare let on, except to lead humankind into temptation through fraud and deception. [1089–1102] The old man Aeson did not participate in the joy of those who rejoiced that God had become man in the flesh: he represents the unbelieving stock of those who refused to believe in the incarnation of the Son of God, and who, full of wicked infirmity, wallowed in their old sins. But the great kindness of God recalls these sinners to penitence, and renews and rejuvenates the heart of man. For this, the Son of God, Divine Word, powerful in all medicine, resolved to come down to earth from the royal seat and the heavenly palace. The three nights, as I understand it, can represent the three ages of the dark and cloudy world that existed before the coming of the Son of God, who accomplished everything and filled the whole world with his grace and his light. The full moon could represent the Virgin Maiden, who was resplendent and beautiful, full of grace and purity: she was the unclouded moon, uneclipsed and unwaning. It was the middle of the night and everything lay quiet, when God – to raise from misery the people made old by sin, with which the whole world is stained – “set forth from his royal mansion” and “clothed himself” in the likeness of a human,28 without sin, without any malice, “barefoot” and “unbelted” of all vice. In this way God, in whom all power abounds, came secretly into the world, and was never seen by the serpent that deceived the first man. He is the Fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v have comparable miniatures of this; see also fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall. 28 Compare Philippians 2:7. See also Aquinas, ST III q. 2, esp. art. 5–6, and Bonaventure, Brev. IV.1–2. 27

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one who made the firmament and, in his wisdom, gave the stars their dazzle,29 and resolved to receive baptism in the river Jordan and, to bring us into joy, deigned to howl like a child. [1103–1152] He is the one who has power above all others. Everything owes him obedience: heaven and earth and sea and abyss. He is the Almighty, the Most High, to whom every creature bows. He is the one who through divine power makes the winds hide in their confines, and makes them cause storms. He can make the calm sea become stormy, and make the storm cease. And he places springs in the desert. He raises the mountains and lowers the plains, and to let his people through, he made the waters of the sea pile up like walls on either side. He makes the lightning and the thunderbolts. He is the one who, with a wink of his eye, makes the whole firmament tremble. He is the one who makes the dead come to life again. He is the one who is able to make the whole world do his will without limitation. [1153–1173] In order to relieve humankind of suffering and rejuvenate humankind, he brought forth in himself a double essence: one human, the other divine.30 The body of the Virgin Maiden in which God was concealed for nine months is the “chariot” that carried him. God filled this chariot with flowers, fresh lilies and violets, roses and amaranths,31 that represent all good morals, with which the Virgin Maiden abounds. She was humble and pure and clean, virtuous and full of grace, and of fragrant and healthy odor.32 Anyone who smells of this sweetness can rejuvenate aged hearts in all good will. God “took the abundance of flowers out of this chariot” at his holy birth, with which he made the sweet ointment that redeems and reforms the soul, and gives it a new form and raises it out of sin. It was in the river Jordan that God “caused these flowers to be washed,” when, in order to cleanse us, he had himself baptized in the water. God caused this ointment to be cooked within himself, in a pure manner, over the fire of true charity, and infused it with humility. [1174–1204] The branch that stirred everything together was the Cross through which, it seems to me, God resolved to cast down the proud and uplift the humble. This branch, by the touch of his precious ointment, lost its old dryness and became all leafy and green, and bore the sweet fruit of life. [1205–1213] Anyone who doubts God’s Incarnation and his Passion – and who does not deign to believe and learn that God deigned to spill his blood, and allowed himself to be crucified, hung on the Cross, and sacrificed, and deigned to descend into the confines of hell in order to save humankind from its old servitude and from the disease of sin with which it was all too stained, ever Compare Psalm 19:1 (Vulgate 18:1). The hypostatic union. See the note to Book 4, vv. 6364–6365. 31 De flours d’amours, v. 1181. Lit. “flowers of love” but in fact the name for flower-gentle, flower-amour, and various types of amaranthus. 32 The odor of sanctity. Compare 2 Corinthians 2:14. 29 30



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since the biting of the bitter apple which our first mother ate – will not partake of that ointment. God will cause to be rejuvenated and renewed in his grace anyone who firmly wants to believe this, and to repent and restrain himself from all evil and all offense, and to purge himself of all the filth of sin through confession, and to receive that ointment, which is so precious and good, that God offers, presents, and gives to those who firmly believe in him, restrain themselves from evil-doing, and wish to hold to the good. Then we will be able to call them children, pure and full of innocence, without malice and without deception. May the Lord who never lies lead us to this rejuvenation, making us pure and innocent, and filling us with his grace. [1214–1245] [miniature, fol. 186v: pelias, his daughters, and medea]

Medea (III) Now Medea had, through her magic, rejuvenated the old man as a favor to her husband. Now she would raise him to high rank if she were to kill King Pelias, for Jason would be king after his father’s death and she too would be queen – or so her false heart divined, but her heart deceived and betrayed her. The matter would turn out quite otherwise. You will soon hear what happens to anyone who serves evil and what reward they deserve for it. Medea served an evil and deceptive master, and it went badly for her in the end. [1246–1260] Medea felt great envy towards Pelias and the life he led. Her thought was to kill him; she came up with a great scheme to do it. She came to the home of King Pelias. She pretended to be irate at Jason, to have left him in her anger, and to have turned to Pelias for help. The old king’s daughters rejoiced over her arrival and willingly put her up. Medea soon led them on by her cunning in the semblance of love. She complained to the maidens about Jason, who had vexed her so. [1261–1275] “He has sure paid me back,” she said, “for all the courtesy and favor I showed him. For love of him, I came to this land – and I caused him to win the fleece, which he would never have won on his own. Now he sure is repaying me well for the favor of rejuvenating his father. But if I can manage it, he’s going to pay dearly for my anger. The traitor, the evil glutton! If he were as he ought to be, he would love me more dearly than his right eye.” [1276–1288] “Indeed, my lady, you speak the truth. He shouldn’t, at any cost, do anything that might displease you. He should have loved and served you, for you performed a tremendous act of love for him when you rejuvenated his father. Now, dear lady, please rejuvenate our father as well, and we’ll be your faithful handmaidens.” [1289–1297] To trick the maidens even more, Medea became quiet and thought for a little, then said: “Maidens, by my faith, never before have you asked me for a re-

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ward or service. This gift won’t be denied to you, and so that you can believe it better, bring me the oldest sheep you have under your roof. I’ll rejuvenate it and make it become a young lamb.” They then brought her a ram, the largest and oldest. It had great horns and ample fleece. She put it into the potion. Because of the potion, which was powerful, its whole body started shrinking. Its horns got smaller and its limbs shortened. It suddenly leapt from the cauldron, bleating and wandering wherever came into its head. The maidens were flabbergasted by the marvel they had witnessed. This demonstration gave them great hope that Medea had the strength and power to rejuvenate their father, if she wanted to keep her promise to them. They each begged and asked her to do so. Medea asked for time and space to herself in order to make them lose their minds even more. On the fourth day, she made ready to accomplish her treachery. [1298–1329] She had a cauldron filled with water and herbs of little worth. Everyone in the house was asleep except Medea and the damsels. “Now we’ll see,” she said to the maidens, “who holds her father dearest. If you ever loved him, without trickery, clear his old blood out of him. I’ll fill his heart33 and veins back up with the potion that is boiling inside this house.” Into his bedroom they went, hand in hand, each holding a sword in her hand. They rushed to the king without hesitation but dared not look at him. They covered their eyes so as not to see him. Slashing blindly, they cut him up. Blood gushed out of him everywhere. The old man jumped up and took fear: “Daughters,” he said, “for god’s sake, mercy! Are you trying to kill me now? For what dreadful act or sin of mine have you sliced me up like this?” The maidens were afraid: the swords fell from their hands. [1330–1354] [miniature, fol. 187v: medea and the daughters stabbing pelias]

{T}hen Medea came forward. She seized him by the head and flung him into the hot water, then turned to flee. The two serpents took her away in the chariot they had ready, flying through the air to safety. [1355–1360] {N}ow Medea had murdered the king. Jason became king after his death, and Medea had fled out of fear of the daughters of Pelias. Meanwhile Jason got married and forgot about Medea. He acted like a fool and made a serious mistake when he left her and married another. However, the maiden was worthy and wise, and descended from high lineage, being the daughter of a king and queen: the maiden was named Creusa. She was very graceful and wise and beautiful. When Medea heard the news, she nearly went mad with rage. It brought her such grief and woe that the heart couldn’t conceive of it. In her

33

For “heart” over “body” here, compare v. 1553 in the moralization.



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heart she began to recollect the courtesy and favor she had shown Jason so many times. [1361–1380] “Oh, Jason, it sure did me a lot of good to show you courtesy and devotion so many times when you came to our land to win the Golden Fleece, you disloyal, traitorous, and unfaithful man. I made it so that you subdued the bulls and overcame the serpent’s brood. I put to sleep the vigilant serpent. That task would have been too overwhelming for you without my intervention. Indeed, I’d rather be killed than ever have taken the trouble to help you. You’d never have withstood the exhalation or the burning breath of the bulls, nor the great battle and the attacks of the knights born from the earth. You’d have worn yourself out before you managed to win the fleece by yourself. Indeed, you’d have died before your new wife and relatives could have come to your rescue. I saved you from all perils. You’re repaying me wickedly for it! [1381–1404] “Poor me, why didn’t I let the serpent devour him? What a grand and fitting end that would have been for the traitor, the false perjurer, the disloyal and faithless man. His disloyalty is now an established fact: back then it had yet to be set in motion. He now thinks he’ll be better off by betraying his loyal wife, when he leaves me and marries another. Traitor and enemy! This is not what he promised me at Hecate’s temple in the grove. When he betrothed himself to me, he swore by all the gods he worshipped and on his honor that he would never take another besides me. In tears, he asked for my help. I was betrayed by his false tears, and to my detriment, I helped him carry out his task. Through my magic and my potion he won the fleece. Out of love for him, I betrayed my father and turned against my country. I’ve certainly put my virginity to good use! I wasn’t very wise to squander it, since I was deflowered by a thief. God, what hurt and woe! [1405–1432] “My sweet mother, I left you and my sister out of love for him, and fled away with him. Alas, poor me, I did not leave my brother behind, but I dare not tell what I dared do with his body. I myself should have been hacked apart and chopped up with him. Ah, thief, to protect you I put him to death in a horrible way. I committed the murder and the transgression, and you consented to the act. May god give each his due: that is how my heart would wish it. If god were all that he’s cracked up to be, he would have taken dire vengeance for it. The two of us should have drowned at sea, I and that renegade: at least that would have been a solace for these evils, for me to drown in his arms, and he in mine. I would have been his, and he mine. Poor me, I escaped safe and sound. That has led to my sad plight, for I have lost all joy. Now he has another in his clutches: that should have been mine beyond question. Now I have the pay and the reward for what I’ve pursued this whole time. I sought the death of Pelias to make the disloyal one king. I have committed wrongs toward everyone to have the good graces of him alone, and there is nothing

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he hates so much as me. Now he holds me in loathing, in favor of another, but may my body be accursed if I don’t put an end to their love.” [1433–1469] She immediately sent to the maiden – who had taken Jason, who was supposed to be hers, away from her – an incredibly delicate blouse, whiter than fallen snow. No woman who ever lived had one like it. Neither Pallas, who was so skilled, nor Arachne, who became a spider, ever executed such skilled workmanship. It was beautiful, but beneath its beauty lurked great disloyalty.34 The lady put on the shirt. Right away she was set on fire within and consumed by the force of the potion. Now the hate that Jason bore Medea was doubled, and she could not be reconciled to him. And when Medea knew in truth that she could not be at peace with him, she went mad with anger and rage. Her rage ravaged her to the point that, out of spite for Jason, she killed the two children – her very own – because they looked like their father. Then she set her house ablaze, and fled, flying through the air. Jason was unbelievably heartsick and, if he could, he would have killed her: she would never have betrayed another man. But the two dragons that carried her off, flying through the air, saved her. She made it to Athens. Aegeus, king of that land, rejoiced greatly at her arrival and he took her as his wife, but the time may well come when he will have to acknowledge himself as a fool. [1470–1506] Moralization Now I would like to interpret this story for what meaning it can conceal. [1507–1508] [miniature, fol. 188v: jesus leading adam and eve out of hellmouth]35

{W}hen Jesus, true God, took on our humanity, and for our redemption received death and Passion in order to save and rescue humankind, it chose to repay him extremely badly and soon forsook him. Because of this, God had cause to mourn, and he carried on and lamented a great deal, and bemoaned his false friends, reproaching them the favor, courtesy, generosity, and goodness he had shown them, the pain and death he underwent to redeem and save humankind which had been condemned to perish. [1509–1524] He gave the daughters of the devil worthy and useful advice should they deign to receive it. What daughters can the devil possibly have? It is written in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who says it from his holy mouth when he reproaches the Pharisees for being full of hypocrisy. He clearly says and affirms that those who do the devil’s work are the devil’s daughters and his sons. Such people foolishly ask God for the “rejuvenation” of devilish will when they Tapissoit, v. 1480: a wordplay on “interwoven,” like Arachne’s (and Pallas’s) weaving. Fols 32v, 188v, 191r, and 312r have comparable miniatures of this (the harrowing of hell). 34

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ask for a plenitude of earthly honor or delights to increase their wickedness. God does not deign to heed them with respect to such pleas, for they could not stand to benefit from such things, if he made it easier for them to do evil and acquiesced to their demands. Rather, he advises them to restrain themselves from doing every evil, and cast out of themselves the evil abomination and the vile excess of bloody wickedness, of malice and envy that encumber and corrupt their hearts and that the devil inspires in them, and to purge themselves of all filth, so as to be created anew and to receive the drink that relieves the sick and makes the old and ugly sheep become young lambs. [1525–1560] There are some who, thanks to divine exhortation, lightly bestir themselves to make a good start, preparing themselves to go forth on the path of a holy life, and leave behind their wickedness and the sins with which they are filled. They are running straight to the devil. How so? When, against his will, they do good deeds that grieve him, but then a little temptation makes them abandon the good conduct and the good intentions they had cultivated: then they go back to doing worse than they had done before. They attack and assail God, and if they could get him in their grasp, they would leave him dead and defiled. But God has ascended to the highest heavens and reigns in everlasting glory. God “beheaded”36 the devil when he removed the advantage he had over the human race, for in olden times, the devil used to exercise dominion over the good and the evil altogether. And whenever anyone used to die, he took them off in bondage to hell, that shadowy prison. But God, full of pity, who bore great friendship toward humankind, took away that right of possession that the devil had acquired through abuse, fraud, and deception. He placed humankind in possession of the kingdom from which the enemy had been banished and unseated. Yet humankind, which lends itself to corruption, against righteousness and nature forgets the favor and courtesy of God, its Father and friend, who rescued it from the hands of its enemy, saved it from death, and gave it his kingdom.37 [1561–1604] Now humankind, which is corrupting itself and getting worse, is intent upon renouncing and scorning God, and it abandons itself to the deadly vices. And for the sake of the worldly delights it wants to espouse in this world, it foolishly and to its own misfortune abandons God, in whom all goodness abounds, and confidently feels assured that this earthly pleasure will never run out on it – which greatly angers God, without a doubt. When humankind deserts and scorns him in favor of the world in which it takes delight and from which it never seeks to detach itself, God, who loves humankind and does not

This moralizes Medea taking Pelias by the head to throw him in the cauldron. For v. 1604, Et donna son regne et sa mort, Rouen (fol. 189r) has Et donna son regne. Or s’amort followed by the Homs qui that de Boer notes for v. 1605. 36 37

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want to send it to perdition, sends it some affliction, perchance depriving it of the possession of worldly goods.38 [1605–1621] But people who have no concern for perdition, and have set their hearts too much upon worldly goods, complain, lament, and are distraught more for the loss and destruction of these vain goods from which God has separated them, trying to attract them to his side, than they rejoice in God’s love, in which they ought to anchor their hope. They do not know how to bear patiently the loss of the worldly delights that they have set their sights on. Rather, because of their defect,39 the wicked grieve and despair of God, their Lord and Father, and remove from him entirely the love of his loyal lover, for since they lack hope, they can no longer hope for or expect the love of God, which they have lost. And so God punishes their body and soul and destroys them in the infernal fire. [1622–1642] {I} can explicate the story in another way. Creusa can be glossed as the wicked one, full of deception, who must come openly to the world and take on human form,40 to deceive men and women through his deception and falsehood – and make them lose the grace of God, their Father and friend – in order to unite themselves with the enemy and do all his will, which will give God great cause to mourn. And God will take very harsh vengeance on the wicked one who would use deception to entice away the innocent and foolish, and will slay him with his Word41 and with the radiance of his awesome Coming, and will summon flames and fire that will bring the whole world to an end. And those who will have renounced him in favor of the devil will receive a dire wage and dire payment for it: they will be damned to hell in everlasting flames that will destroy body and soul. To those who will have wholeheartedly loved and cherished him without trickery, God will grant a suitable reward in heaven in everlasting joy. [1643–1672] [miniature, fol. 189r: theseus and hercules]

Medea (IV) {A}bove, you heard in the story about how Medea fled and came to Athens, and how the king took her in and then married her. This turned out very badly for him, as the narrative source relates, for anyone who wants to tell the whole story. [1673–1680] 38 Echoing Boethius in Book 4 of the Consolation: God sends afflictions and punishment to correct the wicked. 39 Compare Boethius, Consolation, Book 3 and the idea that “evil is nothing,” building on the Augustinian view of evil as privation. See also Aquinas, ST I q. 49, art. 1. The goal of studying Scripture, as described in the Prologue to Bonaventure’s Breviloquium, 2–3, is also related: to revoke from evil, and move to good. 40 The Antichrist. 41 Compare Revelation 19:13 and Revelation 10:1–3.



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The king of Athens had a son, a brave young man and very noble. That was lion-hearted Theseus, who, to seek honor and distinction, sought out adventures with Hercules the conqueror, the strong, the best knight who was ever able to bestow arms. This Theseus performed many deeds of great nobility through his prowess, whence he earned great renown and glory. He vanquished the Cretan bull in the city of Marathon, and the wild boar of Crommyon42 which had starved the land, and the lion of the Nemean grove which had laid waste the countryside. He had proved his valor in many lands and many wildernesses. He wrought a marvelous death for savage Diomedes, who fed his evil horses on the men he decapitated, and killed Procrustes and Geryon, who changed into three shapes. The noble warrior completed many difficult adventures. There was Sinis, that most wicked thief who robbed passers-by, and was so strong and powerful that he bent great pine trees in order to hang pilgrims on them: Theseus hanged him from a shameful gibbet. He burned Chiron and had the ashes scattered on the fields and thrown to the wind, and he could boast of slaying Cacus the giant. [1681–1717] But why would I trouble you by listing his exploits? There would be too much to examine before I could recount all his deeds he performed. His name was known everywhere. His praise and his reputation were so exalted and widespread throughout the world that there was no place so low or so high, no town, land, or region that had not heard of his renown. Everyone feared him by his name alone. Theseus had a companion named Pirithoüs, brave, valiant, and famous. They were of one heart and one will and loved each other so loyally that no such love had ever existed: each loved the other more than himself, nor would either of them deny the other in any way whatever he might request. They were together night and day. One day they found themselves idle, having freed all the difficult passes that they knew of, and overcome all perils. They found themselves very frustrated by the unaccustomed respite. They held one another in high regard and commiserated with each other. [1718–1747] Pirithoüs, it seems to me, was the one who brought this up with Theseus: “Dear sweet companion, dear sweet friend, whom I love more than my soul and body – and you love me as much and more – you’ve accomplished so much through your efforts that there’s nothing in this world strong enough to dare oppose you in any way. It’s very bad for young men to be idle too long, for they should work to enhance their worth by seeking and searching for high deeds. Since we find on earth no adventure that would allow us to prove ourselves, we’ll be able to find one in hell. [1748–1762]

42 Traditionally known as the Crommyonian sow, a wild pig that ravaged the region around the village of Crommyon (between Megara and Corinth) and was slain by Theseus.

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“Let’s go to free Proserpine, who is held prisoner there: the king of hell took her wrongly, by abduction. Then we’ll see the twisted path and the city that lies underground. Let’s go make war on the denizens of hell. We’ll have victory over them and thus obtain eternal glory, and we’ll set free Proserpine, whom Pluto holds in his possession. That’s why I want to undertake this journey. God, will I ever be able to see her? That’s the thing I most desire: to behold the beauty at my pleasure. The infernal king abducted her in Pergusa, where he saw her when she was gathering flowers. Should the king of hell love such a lady out of fleeting love? Let him burn in the infernal flames! He took her by force, and by force he holds her. Good, sweet friend, let’s go there right now. By your efforts you would win her and bring her out of the shadows. Ceres would be very grateful to you, when she gets her daughter back thanks to you, and so would the beauty herself. And, by god, you’d accomplish the thing that pleases me most in the world.” [1763–1791] Theseus listened in silence. He thought for a moment, then said: “My friend, I can see well that love is making a fool of you, making you think such foolish thoughts. I’m deeply saddened by your sadness. I will never stop keeping you company, even if I lose my life. I’m prepared to die in this undertaking, since it pleases you: dying with you doesn’t displease me.” [1792–1800] Guided by true love, their journey led them into hell. The path was horrible and twisted. They traveled so far that they came to the gates and found hell’s gatekeeper, bound by iron chains. In all of hell, in my opinion, there was nothing so ugly or vile. He was incredibly horrible and hideous. His heads were one plus two in number.43 Without threatening him further, Theseus drew his steel sword from the sheath. He tried to strike him, but he missed. He cut the chain and the monster leapt. He ran off through hell, barking horribly. Theseus ran close behind him, and Pirithoüs followed. [1801–1818] When the denizens of hell saw the gatekeeper and those who pursued him closely, they assembled without further delay, and made ready to defend themselves. All the regions of hell were in an uproar. It was a marvel how much they resounded and trembled. Death carried the standard: his standard was of pain, torments, and tears. Those in hell were well armed with weaponry not made of iron: their weapons were fear, horror, pain, stench, flames, and delirium. It was a very fierce retinue. They were much to be feared and detested. [1819–1835] They attacked the young men, who defended themselves mightily. Each trusted in his own strength and they foolishly parted ways. It was a great loss and a great cause for grief: because they did that, they were defeated so much the sooner. The minions of hell all went after Pirithoüs and attacked him from all sides. Pirithoüs gave and meted out heavy blows in self-defense, but nothing availed and he had to surrender. Surrender? Not at all, for wheth43

These lines are a near match for Book 4, vv. 4533–4536.



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er he liked it or not, he was captured and thrown in prison. The prison was very dreadful. It was not solid; rather, it was made of infernal shadows.44 The shackles in which the minions of hell chained him were made not of iron, but of snakes that filled him with their venom and burned his whole body and heart. Pirithoüs could not bear the infernal pain at any price. [1836–1857] He called his friend at the top of his lungs: “Dear, sweet friend, now it will be clear how your strength will save me: it has always been so helpful to me in the past. I’ve been consigned to eternal death. These enemies oppress me greatly. If you do not help your friend, our companionship will end today. Ah, flower of chivalry, my heart, my salvation, and my joy, for as long as I may have joy and salvation, I commend your body to god.” [1858–1869] Theseus did not yet know anything of this: he was fighting elsewhere. He heard and heeded the laments of his companion tormented by the hellbeasts. No person under heaven could express the great anguish and pain, the moans, the sighs, and the tears that he manifested for the youth. When he saw him confined in that way, his heart was incredibly seized with grief. He sobbed and sighed so mightily that only with great effort could he speak a word: “Dear sweet companion, dear sweet friend, I got you into this suffering. You came here because you trusted in me. I lost you through misfortune. Friend, what ill-parting it is for our companionship to end this way. I don’t want to live another day without you. Either I’ll take you away totally free, or I’ll stay here a captive.” [1870–1891] At once, consumed with anger and anguish, he laid into the denizens of hell. He drove them before him with his steel sword, more than a hawk pursuing small birds. Before him he drove Cerberus, hell’s gatekeeper, and Charon, the one who leads and brings each wretched soul across the river of hell in a broken-down skiff. The crowd of those fleeing was immense. Even the king of hell and his great retinue took to flight, some here, some there. The hero trusted in his strength and prowess, and this risked getting him in trouble. He was engaged in a fighting pursuit of hell’s minions and it should already have been enough for him, but he could not get his fill of it. He was trying to kill and mutilate those who had no fear of wood or iron. [1892–1913] In the most horrible spot in hell, there was a pit both wide and deep: the distance from the rim to the bottom was farther than from the sky to the earth. The sinners who do not believe in their Creator are confined there. Now, I suggest that Theseus turn back or be alert, for if he does not take care, he might very soon fall in! The hero could not see the pit because of the darkness there. Like one unawares, he was not thinking about where he was going, focusing more on how he would destroy hell’s minions. He stumbled on the pit. He could have 44 N’est mie de chaulz ne de sable, / Ains est de tenebreus enfer, vv. 1850–1851. The language is idiomatic per DMF; lit. “not at all made of lime or sand, but of shadowy hell.”

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fallen in and thus he would have been captive and damned. But as he slipped, he grabbed the rim of the pit with his hands and, thanks to his valor, clung on to it. And lion-hearted Hercules, his companion, came to hell to seek them. He had been their steadfast and loyal comrade all his life, so that the three of them were always of one heart and mind, and all three were as one: whatever any of them undertook, the others would join in. He did not wish to leave them to perish there. He took down the gatekeeper, plundered hell, broke down and smashed to pieces the gate of hell, freed the passageway and saved his friends from hell, free and quit, thanks to his strength. He freed them with great nobility and had his victory over hell’s minions. [1914–1951] Moralization The historical reading is well in accord with this. [1952] [miniature, fol. 191r: king pluto and his dog]

{I}n Thessaly there was once a king who was wicked, fierce, and full of arrogance. He was so filled with treachery, wickedness, and evil that, of all the wicked, he was the worst, and so people claimed he was “lord of Hell.” Hell was the name of his estate. No one was ever so cruel. Because of this, those who knew him called him Orcus or Pluto or Dis, meaning “god of hell.” At his side, on an iron chain, he led a strong and fierce hound called Cerberus. The dog devoured men and beasts; nothing could survive near him. When the king was home, he tied the dog to his gate, and it devoured all those who entered. If they were not granted safe-conduct and protection, they would never come back alive. For this reason it was said that he was “the gatekeeper of Hell,” for any who entered there would never return alive, unless it were by divine power. [1953–1977] One day, Pluto saw Proserpine picking flowers with her companions in Pergusa. The king found her so beautiful and pleasing that he abducted her by force and carried her off into his fortress. Her mother was greatly angered and saddened by this, and she would have rescued her by her own effort, had she been able, but hadn’t ever been able to. Pirithoüs with his companions went to help her and fought the watchdog. Being of great worth, they cut away the dog’s chain and entered the city by force. By force they were taken prisoner inside, and would never have been freed if they hadn’t had the help of Hercules. He swiftly freed them, tackling the hound in the process. Reunited with them, he joyfully began the journey back. In that way he plundered the mighty keep where his friends were held captive. Then Theseus was greatly esteemed and made king of the city of Athens. [1978–2003]



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[miniature, fol. 191r: jesus leading adam and eve out of hellmouth]45

{G}od, the living King of immortality, had a highborn Son, Jesus Christ, Divine Substance, who, to win glory and honor, resolved to come down from heaven to earth to unblock the treacherous passages and to pay off the debts, indentures, and dues to which the world had fallen prey. Through him, the land was redeemed. Through him, all doubt and all heresy were cast out of the world. Through him, peace came to the land. He is the one who “opposed the bull,” and “vanquished the wild boar” that had uprooted the vine that God had transplanted from Egypt. He is the one who defeated the “lion” that was bringing the world to perdition and destroying the people.46 He is the one who beat all evils – all treachery, envy, violence and robbery, fraud and malice, wickedness and vice – and ordered the peace to be kept. This is why he resolved to come down here. He is the one in whom all glory abounds. His name is feared throughout the world. All must dread and love him – heaven, earth, and sea – for he has lordship, power, and mastery over them all. [2004–2036] {P}irithoüs can be understood as Divine Love, and Theseus can be taken to mean Divine Essence, which begot Divine Substance.47 The Son of God, Divine Substance, mercy and perfect love, Jesus, charitable friendship, out of love and pity for the soul, which Pluto held captive in hell with no redemption, resolved to suffer Passion and death and go down into the infernal prison. The disloyal dogs full of rage, the vile devils, hemmed in the soul, gnashing their teeth around it. The pains of hell gripped it and the bonds of death captured it, as the psalmist said: “Many dogs have surrounded and compassed me; the pains of hell have gripped and taken hold of me; and the bonds of death have captured me.”48 But God, the glorious Conqueror, the handsome Prince, the powerful catapult, smashed the gates of hell, destroyed death, plundered hell, and drew the soul out of hell, out of the shadowy misery it was in. And through him, his friends were ransomed from the bonds of mortal enemies, and he returned from hell in great victory. Now he reigns in eternal glory. [2037–2068] [miniature, fol. 191v: medea, with aegeus handing the cup to theseus]

45 Fols 32v, 188v, 191r, and 312v have comparable miniatures of this (the harrowing of hell). 46 Compare the bulls and lions in Psalm 22 (Vulgate 21) and the wild boar of Psalm 80:13 (Vulgate 79:13). 47 See Aquinas, ST I q. 39, and Bonaventure, Brev. I.2–3. 48 Compare Psalms 22:16 (Vulgate 21:16) and 116:3. (Vulgate 114:3)

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Medea (V) {A}bove, I have told and recounted to you the great pains and mistreatment that Theseus suffered on earth, to obtain fame and valor. After these labors and pains he returned to his father in Athens. His father, who had not seen him in a long time, did not recognize him, and Theseus did not reveal his identity to him. This would turn out very badly for him. Medea recognized him well, as she had seen him several times. She was grieved by his arrival. She came to her husband, and told him that this was a spy who had come to spy on him and his kingdom, and that all this might cause him great harm. “You’d be wise to believe me: kill him in secret, and I’ll give you the means. If he drank and consumed a potion blended for him, his heart would immediately burst: he would never see another day. Give him the potion to drink! I’ll go prepare the beverage.” The father said: “Give it here.” [2069–2095] The drink was prepared. The king handed his son his potion. Theseus was unaware of the deception: he took the goblet with the poison, and lifted the drink to his lips. He would have drunk it without delay, when the king – from the hilt of the sword that the young man wore at his side – recognized his son. Thus Medea’s treason and deception were unmasked: by her cunning, she had made the father give his son the drink in order to poison him. The king seized the goblet. He poured out the poison with the wine, and then greeted his dear son. And Medea fled, concealed in a dark cloud, never to be seen again. [2096–2114] [miniature, fol. 192r: christ in majesty at the last judgment, flanked by saints and angels, with the dead arising from their tombs]49

Moralization {T}o give medicine to the world, God, in whom all goodness abounds, offered his dear Son, whom he loved so much, to drink the bitter beverage of torturous and bitter death, which was brewed by the first mother and condemned everyone, all together, to mortal damnation. But in order to make good this harm, God offered this mortal brew to his dear Son, who had to drink it,50 to be sure, but he truly did drink it and paid with his life as soon as he drank it. In keeping with our human nature, he paid death’s duty and had to die as a man. But death had no dominion over him, for that was not at all pleasing to God, who raised him from death to life. And through his Resurrection, he gave life and redemption

Fols 49v, 141r, 192r, 305r, and 333r have comparable miniatures of this. For the context of the absolute necessity of God’s plan, see Aquinas, ST III q. 46, art. 1–4, as well as Bonaventure, Brev. IV.10, and his Tree of Life, esp. Fruits 7–8. Compare John 10:16, John 12:23–24, and Hebrews 12:2. 49 50



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to those who faithfully believe in him and renounce evil-doing. These will have joy and lasting life in heaven, in eternal glory. [2115–2140] But there are misbegotten traitors who exert themselves only in doing evil, and do not believe in the Passion, death, and Incarnation of God, who, to deliver us, became a man and resolved to render himself up to receive mortal suffering. If, in their folly, they wait to ask for mercy until the hour when death overpowers and disembowels them, without having mended their ways, they will come too late to repentance. The sinners cannot imagine that God will return another time to give up his body to martyrdom to redeem and deliver them, nor that God will allow himself to be killed again. He will return, but it will be to render unto each according to their merits: reward to the good, loss to the wicked. He will spare no one. Mercy, loved and dearly cherished by God, will flee. Prayers will be of no avail then, for God will have to render justice. Repent right away: whoever expects mercy must not wait so long that the door is shut and mercy is shut out. [2141–2170] [miniature, fol. 192r: theseus feasting]51

Feasts in Athens {T}he king of the city of Athens manifested great joy at his son’s return from long exile. No one could describe to you the celebration and ceremony, but I want to say a lot in a few words. Since the time of noble Cecrops, the good king who founded the city, there had never been such great joy in Athens – but in among thousand earthly joys, one never finds true joy: no one will ever have complete joy except the one to whom God grants it, when he crowns them in heavenly glory for having done good. Great and small manifested great celebration and special joy for the new king who had come to Athens. At the royal table, they ate delightful wine and food, and sang delightfully, and joyfully extolled the praises and bravery of Theseus, full of valor, and the acts of prowess he had performed, and the sufferings he had endured to make the world safe. But they did not think of the misfortune, war, and battle that King Minos was preparing for them. In due course he would rudely awaken them and avenge the death of his son, whose life the Athenians in their envy had so wrongfully taken. [2171–2204] [miniature, fol. 192v: the heavenly host crowned in glory]52

Fols 192r and 307v have comparable scenes of feasting. Keck (1998) notes that “[a]n important cultural image that shaped expectations of angels was the presentation of a crown by an angel to a soul newly arrived in heaven” 51 52

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Moralization When God had redeemed the world, rescued it from all peril, and gone up with great victory to heaven in eternal glory, where he reigns with his Father without end, seraphim and the heavenly virtues came to greet him, with the angelic orders, thrones, principalities, and archangels, and they sang hymns and praises to the vigorous fighter and glorious victor who had pulled the world out of a state of wretchedness; they recalled the mistreatment and the sufferings he had endured, and as the acts of prowess he had performed. God the Father likewise received him most joyfully, and he held court, serving at his table delightful wine and food. Even now he is holding court, presiding over that very glorious and very honorable feast where God rejoices with his elect in joy and delight. But the time must soon come when this whole world must end and the Judge will come dreadfully to take vengeance on those who will have angered him. Those who killed him through envy will receive a dire reward: they will give an account of their life, of the excesses, wrongdoings, and wicked deeds they will have committed by then. At that time, all will tremble in fear, angels and archangels. And sinners: what will they do, when the Judge will be so feared by the principalities?53 [2205–2242] [miniature, fol. 192v: a man on horseback approaching a city with a king in the doorway: androgeos coming to athens, or minos approaching king aeacus of oenopia]

The Athenians Kill Androgeos and Minos Prepares for War {T}here was good reason to hold King Minos in high regard. He held dominion over all of Crete. He was very valiant and of great worth. He had a son, wise and well-educated. I will never conceal his name: he was called (205), and gives some evidence that the angels themselves were thought to wear crowns. The miniature on fol. 54r is comparable. 53 Des poestez is clearly two words in Rouen, which helps to avoid the problematic reading “when the judge, so feared, will be despoestez,” which at first glance looks like “dispossessed” or “disempowered,” the exact opposite of what the context calls for. In fact, this passage closely follows the logic of 1 Corinthians 6:3: “Know you not that we shall judge angels? How much more things of this world?” Keck (1998) comments that “[t]his passage seems to have been a favorite of Gregory VII, one [of] the popes most engaged with defining the proper order of Christian society. In a letter to the bishop of Metz on the authority of popes over temporal rulers, even emperors, he cites this passage. And in his second deposition of Henry IV in 1080, he combines this passage with the belief in the angels of the nations (who exercise their providential ministry through temporal princes). So regular was the deployment of 1 Corinthians 6:3 by popes and the higher clergy that in the early fourteenth century Marsilius of Padua recognized the need to engage this text (among others) in his Defensor Pacis, his vigorous defence of the state’s prerogatives” (44–45). Compare also Jude 1:6, 2 Peter 2:4, Revelation 12:9 (on the judgment of evil angels), and Ephesians 6:12.



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Androgeos. The king had sent him to Athens to philosophize, learn, and study. The boy used his time well; he did not spend it in vain. He was so attentive to his studying that he knew more than those who had heard much more than he had. He became learned above all others, and he corrected the Athenians, the most expert in learning, and confounded their wisdom. The Athenians, who knew less than he did, felt envy and scorn towards him, and treacherously killed him. [2243–2263] Minos was grieved by this wrong, and was mightily angered. He assembled his armies and his forces and sought to avenge his son’s death and lay waste the land; but before he came to wage war, he wanted to invite and ask his neighbors, through promises and entreaties, to consent to help him with his war. Some helped him out of love. Some helped him out of dread and fear. Some thought so little of him that they did not deign to aid him. But if he can, he will pay them back for it with dire compensation when he returns. Those who will not have helped him will receive a dire reward for it. But those who will help him will be well remembered. [2264–2281] King Minos came to Oenopia, to King Aeacus, to ask for help and aid for his war. Oenopia was the name of the city, according to ancient tradition, but the king called it Aegina after his mother, the queen. Minos entered the city. Young and old came to greet him, very eager to see a man whom the whole world praised and held in renown: the king’s three sons and the king himself came side by side to meet him. The king asked and inquired of him what reason had brought him there, and what he sought. Minos wept and sighed from fatherly compassion, and asked him out of friendship to consent to help him avenge the death of his dear son, whom the misbegotten wicked ones had killed. [2282–2301] The king said: “I cannot do that, and I must not transgress, or violate my alliance, for since ancient times we are joined to the citizens of Athens by oath and pledge.” Minos said: “This agreement will cost you, if I can manage it.” Lion-hearted Minos left, sad and full of indignation. He said that he would make the king sorry, and threatened him with great anger, but he decided not to do anything more: until after waging war, he did not want to weaken his people, but we will see that if he is able, he take revenge when he returns from war. [2302–2318] [miniature, fol. 193r: god enthroned, holding an orb]54

54 Fols 193r, 278v, and 315v have comparable miniatures of this. Fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God enthroned with images of the Evangelists; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have similar depictions of human kings, and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia.

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Moralization {T}he “king worthy of such high regard,” whose duty it is to rule over the whole world, is God, the sovereign Judge, the Almighty, the Creator of everything, who created heaven and earth and sea. He is the one who sent his dear Son into the world to instruct the people, and to illuminate those who wander through ignorance in the darkness of unbelief.55 He dedicated all his attention and effort to guiding the ignorant and lowly people to the path of truth. [2319–2331] But the fools full of iniquity – who felt scorn and envy towards the Son of God, for he reproved their wicked lifestyle and their wickedness, and taught the simple people the art of love, charity, and peaceful humility, and the art of true penitence, austerity, and abstinence, which were of no interest to the gluttons who loved earthly delights and have devoted their whole heart to them – like fools and enemies of God, treacherously murdered him. But God will soon take very dire vengeance for this transgression, when he comes to judge the dead and the living. [2332–2349] However, before he comes, it seems to me, he summons us all and asks and entreats us to be on his side, to avenge the death and pain that those who were supposed to be sons and heirs to the sovereign realm inflicted on the Son of God. Every day, God, Judge of the whole world, entreats and summons us to come to repentance before the day of his vengeance comes – the day full of misery, darkness, and obscurity, anger and tribulation, anguish and confusion, that is to come soon – when God, full of wrath and anger, will come in his heavenly majesty56 to end the world. Then those who were accustomed to wage war on him and those who will have angered him will not be able to prevail against him. They will receive a nasty shock from it: he will destroy them with a dire death. None will escape him; flight will not avail them; and none will be able to safeguard themselves against him, either by fleeing or by hiding, unless they are prepared to answer for what each one of them will have done. According to their transgression, for which they will be guilty unto God, the wicked will receive eternal suffering and death in hell with the enemy. The good, the holy, the friends of God – those who are on his side – will live in eternal life. [2350–2386] [miniature, fol. 193v: cephalus on a ship]

55 56

Compare John 8:12. Compare Matthew 25:31.



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Plague at Aegina, and the Myrmidons {M}inos, the valiant and noble, left Aegina indignant at the king, who was refusing him aid. He put to sea and had not left the harbor far behind when a ship came swiftly over the sea from Athens, under full sail, towards the city of Aegina. It brought Cephalus, who came on behalf of the Athenians to ask the king of Aegina for help in defending them against the attack, war, and great hostility that Minos was threatening to wage against them. The ship reached the shore. The envoys went to speak to the king: Cephalus and his companions, two young men named Clytos and Butes, sons of the valiant Pallas. These three bore the Athenians’ message. Cephalus was the oldest and the other two were young men. The king’s sons easily recognized Cephalus when they saw him coming, for they had seen him long ago, bringing another message. They came to meet him at the shore, embraced and rejoiced with him, and were very eager to hear news of his land. They led him to the palace to see the king. They asked him for his news. His two companions accompanied him. [2387–2420] Cephalus held an olive branch in his hand and comported himself well as befitted an old man of great age. He saluted the king and his lords and entreated him most courteously to give the Athenians help and aid, reminding them of the agreement, faith, love, and alliance they had between them by oath, and said that likewise dukes and kings from all over Greece would help them with great bodies of troops. Loyal-hearted Aeacus leaned on his royal scepter and said: “Don’t even ask me, but take my people and my help entirely at your disposal. We are bound by oath to the citizens of Athens, and they to us, that is true, thus it is not right that I fail them. Without a doubt, I want to give them good and gracious aid and help, for, thanks be to god, I have plenty of men to both help you in this war and serve me in my land.” [2421–2446] “Sire, may god be praised, and to you, for helping us, I give more than one hundred thousand thanks. But the last time I was in this city, I saw men of many households whom I no longer see. I wonder what became of the old and gray-haired men, who were once accustomed to serve you, for now I see none who aren’t youths, young bachelors.” [2447–2457] Aeacus did not want to keep the cause of this hidden from him; rather, he began to tell him. At first, he moaned and sighed, then he said: “You have reminded me of the loss I endured, the harm and misfortune, and have renewed my sorrow, for every time that I remember, I feel a great sorrow in my heart. I had an unhappy beginning, but in the end, thanks be to god, fortune is good and joyous, profitable and abundant to me. I’d be glad to tell you the story, if I were any good at it, but anyway I’ll give it a try, even if it lacks structure, and I’ll try to keep it short and not make a big deal about it. The old and grayhaired men you ask about are dead and turned to dust; all of them are dead and their death was a great loss to me. Juno hated my land and people on account of my mother with her graceful body, with whom almighty Jupiter, disguised

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as burning fire, had been intimate, and impregnated her. Juno spread a harmful plague throughout my whole realm, so that both livestock and people were so afflicted that they died suddenly throughout the country and land. At the time, I sent for physicians to give medical treatment to the sick, and to seek out the root and cause of the dreadful malady that was causing me so much harm. They weren’t able to uncover the cause, and no one was able to get help, because no help alleviated the illness, which kept getting worse; rather, it kept spreading with no relief at all. [2458–2499] “First, this plague came through the air, which was full of fog and shadowy smoke. The mists were so dark, warm, stinking, and corrupt that the whole air was corrupted. Then, the misery spread through the wells and fountains. The waters were so full of vile mud, snakes, and venomous vermin that no beast drank from them without getting this infection, from which they never could heal; rather, they inevitably died. The dogs died in the streets. The bulls and oxen fell in harness as they plowed the fields. The birds fell out of the air dead, and likewise all the wild animals dropped dead indiscriminately. The ewes were lame from disease, and all mangy. The chargers and palfreys lay all cold in their sheds, some dead, the others dying. The stags and does could not outrun this sickness by their speed. Bears and wild boars and lions: all had their share of it. All languished. One carcass after another lay contorted in the woods and fields. The roads were completely full of them, and such a great stench issued from them that the whole air was stinking, and, from their stinking decay, the pustulence spread everywhere. [2500–2538] “Then, without a doubt, this pestilence spread to the people: this corruption came upon everyone in the region, and this adversity had dominion over everyone in this city. The first signs that people had of this dire and harmful malady was a burning in their vitals and their faces turning red. Their breath was obstructed: it was labored57 and full of stench. Their tongues were swollen, covered with mucus and little bumps. Without seeking a bed, uncovered, they lay down on the hard ground, being so hot that they couldn’t stand beds or clothes; they couldn’t cool off; rather, they made the whole land warm up with their body heat. It was a great tragedy and cause for grief that they could find no help. The doctors were infected with the malady from which everyone suffered. Their medical skill did them little good; rather, it led to their ruin, for the more intently anyone tended to or got close to the sick, the more the terminal malady beset them. [2539–2569] “With no hope of healing, everyone awaited their judgment, and until death, no one had any relief from their malady. Everyone lived by following their heart, without healthy nutrition or medical treatment. No one paid heed 57 Qui trouble et de puour ert plaine, v. 2550, should be read as qui trouble [ert] et de puour ert plaine. Trouble can’t be a verb since the other verbs in the sentence are past tense.



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to their lineage, whether it was good or fitting, for it did not profit them in any way. I saw them gathered to drink and quench their thirst at these fountains and wells. They drank so much that they couldn’t get up anymore; rather, they inevitably died there, and they were never sated with drinking until they died of it. There were some who drank a lot and nevertheless didn’t die there; rather, they stumbled off, feeble, sickly, and suffering, and those who couldn’t stand threw themselves down on the ground and fled their own homes. Because the reason and cause of their malady was concealed, those who didn’t know the truth about it put the blame on, and vented their fury at, their houses themselves, which were not to blame for it. You could see some crying, others on their backs dying; but none could ever delay so as to save themselves from death. They all died together. [2570–2603] “When I saw my followers and my people dying so painfully, it didn’t please me one bit, and I couldn’t help them. I myself hated my life and all I really wanted was to die. I couldn’t direct my eye to any place I went without seeing someone dead or dying. Everyone died such a death faster than a rotten apple or an acorn falls from the branch. The people rushed in great processions to the temple of the great sovereign god to make offerings, vows, promises, or sacrifices. One brought a bull, another a heifer, another wheat to offer in sacrifice. They hoped to appease the gods with gifts, prayers, or vows on behalf of their sons, daughters, nephews, sisters, nieces, and parents, but they had no guarantee58 that they themselves wouldn’t die before finishing their prayer. [2604–2628] “Meanwhile, as they prayed, the very beasts they were supposed to sacrifice died. I came to the god’s temple to pray for him to save my children and me, for whom I was fearful and troubled. There were so many dead there that no one knew the number, and many hanged themselves in front of the temple because of the death they feared, thus they killed themselves of their own will. The steps were all covered with the corpses that were there. There were so many that all of them, or even half, couldn’t have fit in the temple. There, the dead had no friend to conduct funeral rites for them and no one to bury them; they found no one to cry for them or pray for their souls. The bodies all stayed in the open for the tombs were all full, and anyone willing to cremate the bodies was absent, even if there had been enough wood to make such a fire. I was bewildered and full of anger because of my great loss that I saw, so then I prayed to Jove, my father, and said humbly: ‘Lord, just as you truly engendered me in my mother’s womb, just as I claim you as father, if you deign to claim me as your son, then give me back my people, whom I love so much, or have me join the dead.’ [2629–2663]

58

Lit. “no one stood surety for them.”

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“Then a sign came to me from heaven that mightily cheered me: I heard a thunderous voice that resounded around me and heaven gave forth great radiance that divided over my head, as though it had been split.59 ‘Dear father,’ I said, ‘by your grace, this sign makes me glad and gives me firm assurance of joy and happiness, medicine and salvation.’ [2664–2675] “There was an oak tree there with spreading branches, brought there from Dodona.60 It was full of small ants that had made their path across the bark, and they were all traveling – some upward, some downward – and all exerting themselves to seek out grains and pile them up in the hollow of the tree, to help them pass the winter, which defeats the lazy. There were ants there without a load, and I saw that each one was putting care and effort into looking for its food. ‘Father,’ I said, ‘full of goodness, give me by your will, to populate my empty city, such a multiplicity of people as there are ants here, so that all my realm might be populated and provided with and full of good families.’ The oak trembled mightily and the branches on the oak shook without any breath of wind, and creaked loudly. My flesh was covered in goosebumps and my hair stood on end. I was so afraid, but nevertheless kissed the earth and the oak. I didn’t dare express what I was thinking, but I hoped to be gladdened, on the basis of the signs I saw. I concealed my thought in my heart. [2676–2708] “That night I saw as I slept, it seemed to me, the tree trembling just as I had seen it tremble that day, and I saw the ants assemble, carrying grains in their mouths, and from the top of the tree they dispersed to spread themselves over the countryside. At once I saw the company grow, and each one got up and stood up straight. Each one lost its blackness and its thinness and all its feet except only two, and so it seemed that suddenly they had all become men. I really felt like a fool for having the dream when I woke up. Since I thought I would receive or find no help or refuge of any kind, I started to reproach my dream. While I was in such a state, my palace was full of murmurs and it seemed to me that I heard the voices of men that I wasn’t used to hearing, indeed I thought I was daydreaming. [2709–2731] “Then my son Telamon came running and threw open my door: ‘Father,’ he said, ‘come see a greater wonder than you ever could believe!’ I went outside and found the vision I had seen come true: I saw such men in such a number as I had seen in the vision, and they came into my household in great crowds and great companies and greeted me as king. I gave thanks to the god, my father, and spread my new people throughout my land in different regions. I distributed to them my whole kingdom, in which there was no one who had not died. I called them Myrmidons, which suits their nature well. They don’t In Ovid (Met. 7.619), “He gave me a flash of lightning as a sign, and thunder followed” (Kline). 60 In Epirus, the site of an oak-grove sacred to Jupiter. 59



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have bodies of great stature, but they are very valiant and vigorous, strong, fierce, and good at battle, very thrifty and frugal, keen in pursuit of gain, inured to toil, without a doubt. These will follow you into battle, as soon as Auster blows and Solar diminishes.”61 The king spoke such words, or similar ones; then the tables were set and they dined with great delight. [2732–2761] Cephalus and Procris After dinner, the beds were made up and they rested and slept until they saw dawn the next morning. Cephalus got up early, and his companions, who found themselves frustrated at the wind that prevented them from returning home and had delayed them for a long time. They came to the palace to see the king, but he was still asleep: he was not yet awake at that time. Phocus, the king’s youngest son, took them to the chamber and there all four of them sat down to relax and pass the time until the king was awake. [2762–2777] Cephalus had a javelin made of strange and unrecognizable wood. When Phocus saw it and did not know what wood it was made of, he said: “I know a lot about the woods and rivers and hunting. I have killed and put to death many beasts, but I don’t know what kind of wood the javelin you hold in your right hand can possibly be made of. The point is sharp and golden, the shaft straight and well crafted, but I can’t tell what kind of wood it is. I know well that if it were of ash, it would have to be of grayish color. If it were of cornel-wood, I believe I know that it would be knotted and bumpy.” [2778–2793] One of the three said: “If you doubt what it is, that is no wonder. It is beautiful, but its form is nothing compared to its goodness. There has never been a more virtuous62 javelin. No matter who throws it, it won’t fail until it reaches what it wants and then, when it has reached its prey, it comes back, without having to be sought, to the person that threw it.” [2794–2802] Phocus marveled at the wonder and said: “So help me god, no such javelin has ever been seen. Where did it come from? How was it obtained? Who made a gift of such value?” [2803–2807] Full of sorrow and tears, Cephalus wept and sighed, and as he wept, he began to say: “I can’t help weeping and grieving every time I am reminded of the loss and sorrow, the sudden misfortune, that befell me on account of this javelin. This javelin took away my wife from me, the thing I loved most in this world. This javelin took away from me all joy and gave me eternal grief. I wish I had never come by it! I will lament it all my life. [2808–2821] 61 Auster (Pluviaus) is the south wind; Solerres (Solar) is the east wind that, according to Ovid, brought Cephalus there. On the winds in general, see Book 1, vv. 265–286. 62 Or “potent, powerful” or even “miraculous,” but the moralization in vv. 3494–3512 seems to favor the idea of moral excellence.

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“Procris was the sister of the beautiful Orithyia, the one Boreas abducted; but never at any time, I think, did anyone see a woman so good or beautiful anywhere, whoever she was, lady or maiden, not Orithyia nor another woman, as was Procris, my wife. She was beautiful and of good morals. I took her hand in marriage and love, to the approval of her friends and mine, and I gave all my heart to loving her, as was my duty. We were happy together, and would be still, if she were alive, but this javelin carried away from me my good fortune, my joy, and the beauty I loved so much. [2822–2838] “One month after our wedding, I went hunting in the recesses of the woods, to catch stags and does. I was beginning to stretch out my nets at the top of a delightful tall mountain, always beautiful, always in flower. Aurora saw me early in the morning, and the beauty took me and carried me off by force against my will, and wanted to make me lie with her. Saving her grace, I’ll tell the truth: although her face is colored in rose and lily hues; although it is a joy and delight to gaze at the goddess, who is well worth contemplating; although she causes the night to end and the light of day to arrive, which the bright sun prolongs for us; although she is full of sweetness and delectable dew – I loved my new bride Procris so much, and had given her my heart, like a pure and loyal lover, to such an extent, that I refused the goddess. On account of the beautiful woman I had wed and to whom I had pledged myself, I excused myself and said that I would never, in my whole life, be intimate with any other woman but her, or be unfaithful to my love. [2839–2868] “The goddess was incredibly upset, and, sad and angry, she said: ‘Ha, false one, full of ingratitude, quit your fear and your laments, don’t go on protesting any further. Go away to the one you love so much. If I know anything, there will come a time when her love will weigh on you and you’ll wish you had never seen her.’ Angry, she sent me back to her. [2869–2878] “As I made my way back, in my anxious heart I repeated everything Aurora had told me. I was gullible, and questioned whether my wife had ever been faithful to me as a loyal lover, whether she had broken her marriage vows and committed adultery and whoring. I believed this disloyalty because of her age and beauty, for she was beautiful and young. On the other hand, she was so worthy, good, and wise, that her worthiness led me to believe instead that she had safeguarded her marriage. And yet, I had delayed so much, for I had been absent for a long time, and she from whom I was returning had given me cause and suspicion to begin to worry deeply; and all lovers are fearful, for jealousy arises from love. [2879–2900] “I put my effort and care into seeking my own misfortune, that I didn’t want to find: I wanted to find out and test whether anyone could use gifts or wealth to induce my wife to violate her marriage. Aurora, who condoned my actions, changed my face and my form – I felt it clearly. I came into Athens and acted like a stranger there. The way I looked, no one who might have seen



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me could ever have recognized me. I went to stay as a guest in my own house. I observed that my house was being flawlessly kept, with nothing to be seen but signs of worth and good renown; but I also saw it full of sadness for its lord, who had been abducted. [2901–2920] “I put my care and thought into thinking up more than a thousand deceptions by which I might come to the lady, but no more prudent lady had ever been seen, in my opinion, in conduct or appearance. I didn’t find her naive or foolish in looks or words. When I saw this, I rejoiced very much, and was mightily stunned by the goodness I saw, and I almost repented of the foolish test I had undertaken. I almost took her in my arms, to kiss her and celebrate together, to tell her the truth and rejoice that I was her rightful husband. But no woman was ever more beautiful than she was in her sadness. She was desirous and burning for her husband who was delayed and whom she thought she had lost. Certainly I had a foolish and bewildered heart when, on account of such signs, I didn’t give up my foolish undertaking and my test. And nonetheless I pressed her and entreated her to join me in foolish love. [2921–2948] “She excused herself most wisely: ‘Indeed, I couldn’t care less for any lover, except one, to whom I belong and will belong my whole life, without trickery. To him alone have I given my heart; he is my lord, he is my lover; he is the one I want and the one I desire. May it please god to bring him to me! My heart awaits him alone.’ [2949–2957] “The defense I found in the one63 I tested so much should certainly have satisfied me, if I’d had sense and moderation, but to my misfortune I kept harassing her more and more. When I couldn’t defeat her through entreaties, I tried to deceive her through gifts. I promised her such great abundance and plenty of my wealth if she did my bidding, that she doubted what she should do: refuse or take the gifts I promised to her. And it certainly seemed to me that I had defeated her and she would have taken them. [2958–2973] “But I, consumed with jealousy, could no longer silence my thought; rather, I said: ‘Foolish woman, certainly I think and know that already you were going to consent to whoring and take my gifts, were I to give them to you. Know that the only thing I was striving for was to know your heart. I didn’t want to make you a whore, for I am your loyal husband. False one, perjurer, and disloyal one, now I have so tested you that I have found you to be wicked: you would have really gone above and beyond to commit adultery with a stranger.’ [2974–2988] “She fell silent and didn’t say a word; rather, when she realized who I was, she ran away, all ashamed and embarrassed. She entirely gave up my company and had no more use for a husband; rather, she left me entirely distraught, and she ran about these mountains, woods, and fields. She applied herself 63

For En vele, v. 2960, Rouen (fol. 197r) has cele; we translate accordingly.

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to hunting. She busied herself with Diana’s art. She wanted to become a huntress. Now I realized what a fool I had been, when I saw that through my folly, my dear beloved was taken away from me. I couldn’t forget her love; rather, I was more anguished on her account than if she had never abandoned me. I loved her dearly and she pleased me very much, so that I entreated her warmly to deign to come back, but she didn’t want to grant me that. I begged her, had others beg her,64 and, in god’s name, sought her pardon for the offense I had committed against her, and so I confessed myself guilty before her, and said that I could have succumbed to the same offense, and been so easily deceived. I might well have been won over by such gifts, if anyone had propositioned me with them. I endured such suffering for a long time, thus I paid dearly for my folly. When she saw that I repented and confessed myself guilty before her, she forgave me her ill-will. She came back to me in reconciliation, and afterwards we lived for a long time in joy and amicably, and she gave me two gifts that she had: a dog and this javelin, which she had received from Diana. But no such dog had ever been seen, so fast-running and so speedy, so tireless in pursuit or so capable. It was never outrun by another and was never tired of running.” [2989–3034] Phocus said: “What happened to it? Certainly you must have held him very dear.” Cephalus said: “Without fail, I will tell you the truth about the dog. Along with the dog,65 Diana deigned to give a riddle that was obscure and difficult to interpret. Themis didn’t know how to solve it. This riddle was as follows: ‘The one and the other will run; the one will not be able to exhaust the other; the one over the other will have no victory.’ This riddle was true, as everyone would find out later. The water nymphs solved it.66 Themis was ashamed and heavy-hearted on account of this and took very bitter vengeance for it. Throughout Thebes she dispatched a beast that caused grief and trouble to many.67 The beast was very terrifying, dangerous, and harmful. It destroyed the whole land and killed people and livestock. The farmers feared it so much that they abandoned their plowing because of it, not daring to come out in the open on account of the rampaging demon. [3035–3060] “I and the other young men assembled dogs and birds, and we stretched out our hunting nets to stop the beast and capture it. The beast was so strong and Je l’en priai et fis proier, v. 3010. Au chien, v. 3040: we read au as o, “with.” 66 In Ovid (Met. 7.759–765), it is the son of Laius (Oedipus) who solves the riddles. The substitution of Naïades for Laïades is likely due to an error in the source manuscript for Ovid, and many early commentators replicate it. In Purgatory 33.46–51, Dante also suggests it was the Naiads, or water nymphs, who solved the riddle of the Sphinx. It was not until 1646 that the reading Laïades would be restored to the Metamorphoses in Nikolaes Heinsius’s edition. See Ghisalberti (1932b). 67 Not identified as such in the OM, but this was the Teumessian fox. 64 65



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fierce, and it was so fast and nimble, that it leapt over the nets faster than any bird. Everyone who held his dog on a leash let it loose and allowed it to run swiftly after the beast, but it ran away ahead more quickly than a bird flies. It killed and maimed many of the dogs. I held back my dog, which was on fire for the chase, if it not been held back by its collar. Then I was many times asked and entreated to let him run after, to help the other pursuers. Then my dog was unleashed. No sooner had he been sent that we couldn’t tell where he was, except we could see in the dust the mark and trace of his paws. But no eye could see or make out where he was. No javelin or catapult or arrow descending from a bow ever flew so fast as this one flew swiftly towards the demon he wanted to capture. [3061–3092] “I climbed up a high hill without delay, to watch the chase, and I saw the beast fleeing and the dog following after so close and so swiftly that it would plainly seem to you that he should have captured and seized it; then you would again see the beast escaping, and it was so tricky, subtle, and cunning that it didn’t run in a straight line, but applied all its care and attention to dodging and turning to throw off the dog’s pursuit and keep him from catching it. It often seemed to the dog that he had it in his grasp, and then it was further away than before. [3093–3109] “I saw the crafty beast so bewildering my hound, and realized that the one was running after the other and never managing to seize it. This was not helping the hound, for it could keep running after it, fruitlessly, forever. At that point I put my hand to my javelin. I took my amentum, and to launch the javelin, I wound up mightily. For a moment, I looked away; then I turned back and looked at the beast and the dog, and saw them become two marble statues, and thus they were in the process of doing as they had begun: you would certainly have thought that one was fleeing and the other chasing it. In this way, god68 wished that neither might have the victory of this hunt and so the riddle came true.” [3110–3128] {C}ephalus had finished the story of the dog; Phocus asked him to tell about the javelin, how it caused him to come to grief and what loss he suffered as a result of it. Cephalus said: [3129–3133] “Without a doubt, this javelin of mine has brought me joy and sorrow, and so, if I may, I will first tell you about the joy and then about the grief, for it pleases me greatly to recall the time when I used to have the pleasure of my sweet beloved’s company. As long as we were together, I held her dear and she, me. She loved me and I loved her, so that she wouldn’t exchange me at all, nor would I exchange her for any other lover. Each of us was satisfied with the other. We were wounded with equal love, and we would have been very fortunate if it had lasted forever. [3133–3148] 68

Specifically Jupiter, according to the story of the Teumessian fox.

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“I often went hunting in the woods when day was about to dawn, without dog, hunting nets, or retinue except for my javelin, in which I placed great trust. I killed as many wild beasts as suited my pleasure. In the heat of the day, I was forced to seek rest and the breeze, and so I often called upon the breeze to relieve me and alleviate the heat I felt, thus I said: ‘Delightful Aura, pleasant and kind Aura, come, help me and relieve me from the great heat afflicting me. You are my comfort and my delight. I chose these woods out of love for you and am used to go on hunting here thanks to your faith and grace. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t come here at all. Come and embrace me, sweet beloved.’ [3149–3170] “Someone heard me call out to Aura and saw me more than once going to the woods, where I called upon her. They heard the utterance I spoke but didn’t understand the meaning: they thought I was speaking to some lover I had come to meet in the woods. They told Procris, and when she heard it, she didn’t take it as a joke. Rather, she believed it and was quite shattered: she fainted out of grief and anger as soon as she was told. Love is an incredibly foolish thing, credulous and full of fear. This woman loved, so she believed on a flimsy basis and thought she would go entirely mad for fear of something that didn’t happen, thus she lamented in this way: ‘Oh, poor me, suffering and wretched, how I live at an unhappy hour, since I love this false man, this oathbreaker, this perjurer, who lied to me like this! I bore him too much loyal faith!’ She was so sad and upset that she had no moderation. She was afraid and didn’t even know why she should be so afraid, and she was very desperate to know if what she had been led to believe was a lie or true. She was very afraid of being deceived, but until she saw it revealed by proof, so that she might be sure and certain of it, she had no grounds to disbelieve and convict her husband of having sinned against her. [3171–3206] “The next day, when day dawned, I came back to my usual place to hunt and, just as before, when it was hot, I called upon the wind: ‘Aura,’ I said, ‘come and relieve me! The exertion and heat afflict me.’ As I carried on and waited to be cooled down, I suddenly thought I heard a groan and then I saw the foliage trembling. It was a wild beast, so it seemed, hiding beneath the foliage. Of course, it was not, rather it was my beloved who was hiding beneath. Without hesitation I threw the javelin, just as Fortune led me to, and it struck her right in the chest, giving her the gift of death. Procris, who felt death upon her, cried out. I didn’t fail to recognize the voice. I was by her side in a flash, completely demented and filled with woe. I found her half dead and colorless, bloody and stained. [3207–3231] “I took her in my arms and hastened to cut open her dress in order to stanch and stop her blood from gushing out. As she was dying, I begged her with humble countenance and suffering heart, to forgive her ill-will and the love she had for me, her beloved, who had killed her so suddenly. She, very feeble and life-



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less, feebly answered me, with great pains, and said: ‘Beloved, you have killed me. By the faith that you owe me, by the love and great faith that abides between you and me, and by the law of marriage that joined together our lineage, by the cause for which I’ve been killed – if ever your heart loved me and if ever I did anything that pleased you, and if you were to owe me anything, I pray you not to treat me so unjustly as to take to wife this Aura you call upon so much. It seems to me you love me little, since you have taken another lover.’ Then I told her that it wasn’t a living thing at all that I called upon so often, but the breeze, that I was seeking in order to cool myself off, when I was hot and worn out. She certainly believed I had told her the truth, but what was that worth when she would never heal? The beauty died in my arms, but, while she still had the power, she never wearied of looking at me. She gazed at me intently and thus died more happily since I had reassured her.” [3232–3272] At these words, Aeacus entered without delay, leading a great host which his sons had spent the whole week mustering and conscripting, and entrusted them to Cephalus to help the citizens of Athens in their need. Now all that was left was to get underway as soon as they could get a wind. [3273–3280] Moralization Now I want to explain to you briefly the meaning of these tales. [3281–3282] [miniature, 198v: jewish patriarchs (abraham, isaac, and jacob?)]

{I}t was already the case that on account of those from whom they descended – his servant Abraham, and his friends Isaac and Jacob, to whom God had sworn and promised it – God had chosen and set apart the Jewish people to be heirs and citizens69 of joy and heavenly glory. Afterwards, by their envy and extravagant life, they rendered themselves guilty unto damnation, according to the rightful divine judgment. The living God and eternal King, merciful and compassionate, would prefer his people to repent and be saved. If there is some fault in them, he would rather they amend it, rather than assenting to their damnation. Instead, he amiably offers and promises them help and aid to seek eternal life, if they deign to receive it. To show and make known their error and ignorance, and the death and misfortune that await them for eternity, should they persevere until the point that the righteous judge attacks them, the Creator of the whole world and the source from which all goodness abounds, resolved to descend and come without fail. He brought peace and concord and the branch of compassion through which all human nature was reconciled and reunited and restored unto God. [3283–3320]

69 For de Boer’s cristoyens, v. 3289, with no stated variants, Rouen (fol. 198v) has cistoyens, and we translate accordingly.

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He had an “escort,” that is, the Scripture of the Old and New Testaments, through which God fittingly calls and summons the whole world, and specifically Israel, to the city in heaven above; but those who long ago were chosen and ordained to live in the sovereign kingdom and to serve the living God are now dead, and just as the winds chase away the dust in front of their face, so too does God rebuff and cast them out, and destroy them, as though he pulverized them on the spot. Not one of them is left who pleases God. All are deposed and ousted, and God has placed in his service a new household and young people, who are his people and servants. With these people he has populated his city, which was once tainted and laid waste. [3321–3340] Now it is right for me to tell you which death and which malady caused the old people to suffer. Unbelief and folly – with which their hearts were clouded, so that they forgot God – confounded and killed them all: that is the “plague” and the “death” that damns them all. This ignorance and faithlessness first fell upon them through the great masters of the law, who were supposed to teach the others: those are the ones who deceived them the most and brought them to perdition. Then the corruption descended on the people, and the common folk were deceived by the masters and their bad teaching. Then the stench spread throughout the whole world altogether, and so every land was contaminated by their foulness. [3341–3363] The upper classes were swollen with pride. The “dogs” – those are the sinners, the most stinking and the worst of all – died of this swelling. Then, the sickness spread to the naive and ignorant people: the country folk and laborers, and they, who knew no evil and lived according to their example, died in the same way. Those who were supposed to live a religious life of contemplation and to focus their attention on choosing heavenly goods, and on shunning and despising the world, fell from their good purpose and sinned with the wicked, and the hermits and the cloistered were all in the grip of this malady. So were the simple people without malice: they were all consumed by this vice and, through their transgressions, they lost all the good works they had done. [3364–3386] Those who put all their hope in filling their belly and living dissolutely grazed like mares,70 and died fat at their table like a stallion in a stable. The murderers, robbers, and wicked thieves, who lived by robbery – they were full of the death that causes the soul to be damned. The wickedness and evil spread so widely and so many were all full of vice, that they stank before God and the world and corrupted every land. All the law was corrupted. They first became aware of this stinking misery that brought them all to damnation by the fact that each one had his vitals inflamed by burning covetousness, and their base

70

Compare this same porrir in Book 2, v. 3278. See also Proverbs 14:30.



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and vile tongues were full of obscenity and gratuitous oaths, and their whole face was aflame with anger. [3387–3411] They “could not find a doctor,” for those who were supposed to save them suffered even more virulent sickness. Their clergymen and preachers were the most sinful. Their wisdom71 was harmful to them and denounced them all the more before God: it would have brought less harm upon them if they had sinned through ignorance. [3412–3420] The devil held all of them in his snares, both the vassals and the prelates, and they allowed themselves to be lost and perish without any desire to heal, for no one deigned to pull back from or repent for doing all evil. No one had any care for abstinence, doing good, or repentance from evil-doing, and the worse they acted, the more their transgressions pleased them. They could not have enough of doing evil or causing harm. Everyone “fled their own lodging,” that is, God, who lodges in every good heart. And they placed all their cares in these earthly filths, and the deluded people thought that God had conceived a hate for them, and in their folly they distanced themselves from God, their dwelling-place and their life. [3421–3439] When God saw the corruption, death, and perdition to which his people, drunk with folly, were given over, he had mercy and compassion on them, and out of his friendship, he resolved to become incarnate72 and come down into the womb of the Virgin Maiden, which was a temple and a divine chamber. And he allowed himself to be lifted and hung on the high tree and crucified, to give life to his people. [3440–3452] We take the “tree with spreading branches” to mean the Cross, which has been worth so much to us. This tree “came from Dodona,” for God the Savior forgave through this tree all the sins by which his people were stained. That was where the wheat and grain were sown that was distributed to bring the human race safely through the hunger of the wintertime. That is where anyone who wants to lead a good life must seek their sustenance and livelihood in order to survive the wintertime and the great infernal famine. It is the tree where the ants took shelter: they are the ones who steadfastly believe, with dread and devotion, in the torment and Passion to which God resolved to give himself up in order to give life and food to those who will choose to place their belief in him with steadfast hope. The ants were the disciples, who disciplined their bodies through pain and suffering on earth to obtain eternal life. These are the valiant, the vigorous, the bold, the battle-ready, with whom God resolved to populate his Church, formerly laid waste and humiliated. These are the bold champions who fight for our defense by praying to God. They beseech God on our behalf so that we might 71 72

The wisdom of the world is foolishness in the sight of God, per 1 Corinthians 3:19. Compare Luke 1:35.

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not be disinherited from the eternal city on the day when this world fails, when the judge will assail us. They are the ones whom God feeds at his table with spiritual food, and causes to sleep in his rest. [3453–3493] {N}ow it is right for me to explain to you the mystery of the javelin, of the dog, and of Procris, who had been Cephalus’s wife and loved him so much, and then left him. The javelin can represent the Divine Word, or the Holy Spirit that flies wherever it wishes, low or high. And it does not fly in vain, and does not fail even once to reach and accomplish whatever is delightful and pleasing to it. It is efficacious and piercing and sharper than a fearsome sword. This javelin has such a sharp point that it pierces to the point that the body and soul separate and the joints and marrow are broken up. It knows the thoughts and intentions of the heart.73 [3494–3512] {P}rocris can be understood as Israel, that once upon a time was the lover and wife of the sovereign Leader. She then wronged him through her offense and foolish lechery, and spread her debauchery throughout the world indiscriminately, and fled her loyal lover, who loved her so much and held her so dear. She acted very foolishly and capriciously, when any level of temptation could induce her to abandon the good affection and thought and intention she had made to love her husband. [3513–3526] Our Lord, in order to test which friends he might find – strong or weak, true or feigned – like one who is very determined to find steadfast and pure love, tests and purifies his friends through various temptations. He tests some through harsh afflictions of their wealth, limbs, or friends, or through the harsh attacks of enemies. Others, he tests through an abundance of wealth. In this way, he tests and confirms74 which of them will love him steadfastly, although he manifestly foreknows75 which one is his pure and loyal friend, and which one is false and disloyal. Anyone who does not forsake their good charity76 in spite of persecution, suffering, tribulation, anguish, distress, poverty, or riches is someone who loves God, and truly God will feed them with the delightful fruit in heaven, in eternal glory. However, whoever forsakes their good affection on account of temptation and separates from their friend, and abandons themselves77 to the enemy – that one is

73 This is an almost word-for-word translation of Hebrews 4:12: “For the word of God is living and effectual, and more piercing than any two edged sword; and reaching unto the division of the soul and the spirit, of the joints also and the marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” 74 Veult savoir, v. 2538. 75 Compare Romans 11:2. 76 Caritas, and everything the theological virtue entails. 77 De Boer’s Si l’abandone, v. 3554, is Si s’abandone in Rouen and we translate accordingly.



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a foolish and false friend; they are a perjurer and an oathbreaker. God makes a great lament78 about such people. [3527–3557] Thus Israel loved him with feigned love, having abandoned him in her malice, foolish and naive.79 But God, who loves her so much, still calls out to her, still waits for her, and wants to be reconciled with her. God, full of great mercy, still entreats and has her entreated to make peace and concord with him; and he cannot forget her. But her heart is clouded, full of pride, and in her folly she does not want to come to repentance. And nonetheless a time will come, if it pleases God, when she will think better of it80 and make peace with her beloved, to live with him joyously. [3558–3574] {N}ow it is reasonable for me to tell you what is signified by the beautiful Aurora, who abducted Cephalus from the mountain where she saw him. Aurora is the Virgin Maiden who was so glorious and beautiful, full of grace and purity; the one who filled the world with happiness and joy; the one who was so pure and clean that she cleansed the whole world; the one through whom God sent light and brightness into the world; the one who was the end of darkness and Mother to the Sun of justice. Through her the Godhead was “abducted and seized” contrary to nature, when he resolved to come down from the sovereign mountain to the world and take on human form in order to save human beings, heal them, and free them from the infernal prison. [3575–3596] Thus, he “came as a stranger” to Israel, “in her dwelling.” Israel, who had once been his beloved, did not recognize him. Our Lord entreated, solicited, and tested her a great deal, to see if he could move her to do anything that might please him. He found her wicked and foolish, and she loved God only in word. She chose to sin against him and do him wrong when she gave up her Lord to be crucified. She separated from her Savior and forsook her maker. But God, who loves her with good love, prays and entreats and asks and summons her assiduously to come to repentance and recognize her beloved, and to separate from the enemy, who has had her for a long time, foolish and deceived, through adultery. If she comes to make amends for her fault and does not fall back into her wickedness, God will take her back joyously when he returns.81 He will return, I have no doubt, and she will be his loyal beloved and will love him with such steadfast love that for the love of her lover many of Israel’s people will be put to mortal devastation through the deception of the enemy, and they will die in the bosom of their friend, who will be mightily Grant clamour, v. 3557, analogous with Cephalus lamenting. Comme fol et nice, v. 3560, would be masculine, seeming (inappropriately) to refer to God; we follow Rouen’s feminine fole et nice. 80 De Boer’s Qu’il s’apensera, v. 3572, expands an abbreviation in the manuscript: qu’el fits the context better. 81 Quant el revendra, v. 3622, and El revendra, je n’en doute mie, v. 3623, seem primarily to reference the Second Coming, rather than “when she returns [to him].” But perhaps it is intentionally ambiguous, to reference both. Compare Romans 11. 78 79

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sorrowful about it, but he will greatly comfort them because for this transitory death, they will live in eternal glory and in delightful rest. [3597–3635] {N}ow it is right that I explain the dog to you. The dog represents the preachers who rehabilitate sinners, and who use the power of preaching to pursue and put to flight the gluttonous and predatory wolf that snatches up and destroys the wandering foolish fool. And they confound it with their teaching. But the end must come soon, as Scripture, which cannot be dismissed or falsified, affirms, when the beast from the sea,82 the disloyal beast, will come seeking nothing other than to destroy and devour the whole world and to disembowel those who will hold on to truth and loyalty. The prudent will fear it so much that they will not dare appear in the open because of the demon full of rage, and most people will pull back from doing good and will believe in evil. It will try to destroy and undo those who will not do its bidding. The fear of it will be great. It will have little regard for the preachers and the rules of our law. Through its fraud and disloyalty and the signs it will make, it will lead the people into foolish error. [3636–3666] {W}hen God, our sovereign Leader, will see the grief and misfortune to which the people will be condemned by the wicked, enraged beast that will devour his people,83 he will send them good help: the one who will come to damn it eternally. Before him, none can flee; and God, to help his friends, will gather all his hosts84 and make the whole earth tremble. [3667–3678]

See Revelation 13. De Boer’s Qui con peuple, v. 3671, is qui son peuple in Rouen (fol. 201r) and we translate accordingly. 84 As written, de Boer’s Fera tous ses os assembler, v. 3677, could possibly be a reference to the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37, but os is clarified by the manuscripts: Copenhagen has fera tous ses osts assembler, “will assemble all his armies,” and likewise BNF fr. 373 has Et Dieu pour son pueple secourre / Fera tous ses osts assambler. 82 83

Book 8

Scylla [miniature, fol. 201r: scylla watching battle from her tower]

{T}he morning star had already become visible,1 and already the dawn appeared, bringing in and revealing the day and covering the darkness of night. Solar’s breath subsided and gentle Auster breathed and blew,2 providing a fair and gracious return to Cephalus and his men. They kept their course towards Athens, and arrived to great joy in less time than they had expected, since they had the right wind. [1–12] In the meantime, powerful Minos laid siege to Lelegia and succeeded in destroying it, and returned via the mighty city of Alcathoë. There he set up camp. He thought he would capture it easily but met great opposition: Nisus put up strong resistance. He was king and lord of the land, experienced and trained in warfare, valiant in arms, full of knowledge, well endowed with friends and wealth. He protected and defended his territory well. Minos could make little headway against him; as long as Nisus was alive, he would never possess his land. Nisus successfully held out for a full seven months; Minos, out in the open, never managed to gain even a little ground. [13–31] Nisus had a daughter of great renown, extremely wise and beautiful. The maiden was named Scylla. The girl would often climb a tall stone tower next to the walls in order to amuse herself. She used to watch the knights fight when they were in battle. She could see very well from the tower what was happening in every tent. She put so much of her care and attention into watching the lords in the army that she could make out one from the other: who held his lance best in the saddle socket, and who struck the most impressive blows in the bloodbath where the weapons clashed. [32–48] She admired Minos above all others. She found him more impressive in battle than all the lords in the army. She didn’t think that much could shake him. When he was armed with his arms and held his shield by the straps, she thought he must have been born that way. There was no man in thirty kingNee, v. 1. Lit. “born.” Solar is the east wind and Auster is the south wind: see the description of the winds in Book 1, vv. 265–286. 1 2

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doms who knew better how to wield a sword. Whether on horseback or on foot, she deemed him superior to any other. As much as it suited him to be fully equipped when he was armed with his arms, when he was uncovered3 and unarmed and she could see his face, she found him exceedingly beautiful in every way. Beauty led to fancy;4 these two things led to folly; and all three made the foolish girl fall in love. She thought about it so much she went completely mad: a new madness overtook her heart. Many times she had the impulse – if she had the opportunity and the power – to go and see Minos in his army, in the midst of all her enemies, and beg him to be her beloved. But she could not and she dared not. She feared the king and the gate was shut. Many times she had the urge, no matter to whom it might bring woe, to jump down from the tower to the ground and go and ask her beloved for his love and reveal her desires to him. She was very willing to open the city gates to Minos, because she was very willing to set about doing any action that might please him, if there was any way she could manage it. [49–86] One day, as she was fixated on watching the tent of King Minos from the tower where she spent time, being consumed by the fire of love that had overtaken her, “Poor me,” she said, “what will I do, or what am I to make of the pain that I endure for love? I don’t know if I should complain about this war that has lasted so long, or if I should praise it? Why would I complain? Thanks to this war, I have seen and gotten to know the handsome Minos. But what is this knowledge worth, when I haven’t gained his love and or been intimate with him? Rather, he is my mortal enemy. If he wanted to be my beloved and took me as a hostage and a pledge for peace, peace would surely be made, I believe. [87–106] “Oh, Minos, so nobly made, beautiful above all other creatures: if the mother who bore you was that beautiful when Jupiter, disguised as a bull, carried her across the sea, of course he loved her so much. It would make me extremely happy if I could fly through the air and come to the king’s tents, and tell him of the anguish and distress I suffer for his love, and then make, to his very person, my appeal to him.5 If only I knew that I could ever have his love in exchange for anything that I might give, I would certainly give up everything for him, even the city he desires so much. – Rather, I would truly let myself be killed or locked in a foul prison sooner than commit such an offense against my father and my people! Even though he has a bright face and a noble body, I wouldn’t want a marriage that causes so much harm to my people. [107–130] 3 Lit. “naked, bare” (nuz, v. 62). Compare Ovid (Met. 8.32–36): “But when he exposed his face, free of the bronze, and when, clothed in purple, he took to horseback, his white horse conspicuous with its embroidered trappings, and he controlled its foaming bit, Nisus’s daughter was scarcely in control of herself, scarcely in a rational frame of mind” (Kline). 4 De la beauté vint la seance, v. 65. 5 Rouen (fol. 201v) has a dot in v. 119 that supports our sentence division here.



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“My father would not be discomfited, rather he and all his troops would be better off if he were defeated by such a noble king. If he agreed to surrender willingly without fighting or further resistance, Minos would show him very great mercy. Minos is certainly in the right to be fighting: it is a good cause and a good action for him to avenge the killing of his son by the Athenians, who murdered him out of envy. Besides the fact that we are in the wrong, he knows more than we do about chivalry and war. If he can conquer us by force, he will destroy this city; then we will all be dispossessed and put to death without fail. Will I wait for Minos to conquer my land and people by assault? It would be better and more gracious if I brought him dominion through love and romance: it would not cost him as much. Of course, I fear someone might hurt him or kill him in battle. But who would commit such insanity? Who would dare stand against him or strike or wound his body? [131–160] “This plan pleases me. I greatly want and desire to give myself and my land to him, and thereby put an end to this war. It’s not enough to want it. It will cause me nothing but frustration and woe if I can’t actually do what I want to. This would be too difficult an undertaking. It’s so upsetting and infuriating to me that there are watchmen on the walls all night long to defend the gate, and my father takes the keys with him every evening and keeps them, because he doesn’t trust them to any guard. He is the only one I really fear, the only one who interferes with my accomplishing what I want. Now, on my life, I wish he were dead: his life and existence have gone on too long when I endure such suffering because of him. God save me, anyone can achieve their goal if they don’t have some defect in themselves, but a bad person fails because of apathy.6 “If anyone else were to experience the distress I am experiencing and suffering for love, they couldn’t possibly be so long-suffering that they would hesitate to demolish any obstacle to their love, if they had the occasion and the opportunity. Am I weaker than that? What am I waiting for in order to do what anyone else would do? God help me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t dare to undertake, not even to face death, if I am ever forced to die for this! All I have to do is destroy what’s impeding my desire. I need the head of my father: with that, I can undoubtedly accomplish my goal and everything I want, and my troubles will be over.” [161–201] As she was saying this, night fell, and the disloyal woman, up to no good, became even bolder to do evil. The way seemed immediately clear to her. “My father is sound asleep right now,” said the fool. “Now I have time and leisure to do as I please.” She quietly entered the bedroom. The king was fast asleep. 6 Par peresce, v. 183. This is timidity in Ovid, but comment on fortior in line 76. Here sloth, but the OM could be thinking of spiritual apathy in Aquinas: compare ST II–II q. 35, as well as Bonaventure, Brev. III.9 and Dieta salutis 1.7. Bonaventure notes in On the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. 3 (on Fear of the Lord) that sloth is destroyed by the gift of fortitude.

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Then the disloyal, insane daughter cut off his head.7 Delighted and joyful, she took it with her. [202–213] She left the palace, came to the gate, and unlocked and opened it. Alone amid the army, completely fearful, she came to the king’s tent. Minos was very frightened and startled when he saw her coming like that. She spoke to him at once: “Minos, for love of you I have committed wickedness and sin. I give you my love, my homeland, and myself, and I ask no reward in return except your love and favor. Don’t suppose I am making you some small gift, present, or mark of affection: behold the head of my father, whom I killed for your love.” When he saw the head of the dead man that the madwoman was offering him, “Flee, fool!” said the worthy man. “May God curse and confound you. Never before in the history of the world has such an act of madness ever been committed. May your madness and sin henceforth be recounted throughout the world.” [214–237] [miniature, fol. 202r: scylla presenting her father’s head to minos]

{N}ow that the king had been beheaded, when the people of the city learned of it, they no longer wished nor knew how to resist the besiegers. They placed their bodies at their mercy: they surrendered themselves and the land to the king. In this way the war came to an end. Minos imposed on this land his customs and laws. Then he had his ships prepared and put to sea at once. [238–248] When Scylla saw the king on the move without giving her any reward or showing her any goodwill, and without giving her his love or favor, and realized that no amount of begging would make him relent, she held forth discontentedly. “Base deceiver!” she said. “Disloyal and wicked deceiver, are you leaving me then, and going away? Is this the love and recompense you’re giving me, scorning me like this? I murdered my father for love of you. It’s only right for me to pay for it: I have lost my land and people. Now this is the reward you’ve given me, you who take no pity on me for either my gift or my love.8 I had placed my hope in you alone. Now I have no trust in anyone anymore. I don’t know what will become of me anymore. I wouldn’t dare return to the city I betrayed. My people hate me for good reason, and I have nowhere else to go. Those who will hear me spoken of will fear that I may do the same to them. I have lost everyone’s favor to gain your

By contrast, in Ovid (Met. 8.8–10), her father Nisus “had a bright lock of purple hair, on the crown of his head, amongst his distinguished grey tresses, that guaranteed the safety of his kingdom” (Kline), and this is what she cuts off rather than his head. However, the moralization (vv. 361–362 below) is clearly based on her cutting off his hair. 8 Gue de moi, v. 265, is for Qui or Que de moi in Rouen (fol. 202v). With que the translation would be “[a reward] such that you take no pity on me,” etc., which seems less compelling. Compare the qui in qui m’as despite, v. 260. 7



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love alone, and you, harder than adamant and crueler than a famished tiger, are leaving me here alone and lost. This is only right, for whoever serves a bad master deserves a bad reward for it.9 [249–282] “Oh, deceiver, it was to serve you obligingly and raise you to high degree that I committed the great offense. I killed my father treacherously and reduced my country to servitude. Oh savage-hearted deceiver, you bastard, truly a son of a bull – Jupiter, god help me, never got involved with your mother or transformed himself into a bull! It was a genuine bull that fathered you, and its nature will never fail: you certainly resemble one in cruelty, wickedness, and evil! [283–296] Why don’t you acknowledge the benefit and the love that I gave you? If you consider it wicked, why are you still assuming the lordship? We are both tainted. If you had abhorred the sin, you would never have claimed the victory. I’ve inherited the loss for it, and you the glory. If I suffer for it, it’s only right. All of those I ever betrayed are now avenged on me. Now you’re leaving, but how dare you think that you can go away like that without me? Deceiver, scoundrel, you exert yourself in vain. I will follow you whether you like it or not. That bad whore with a bad name, Pasiphaë, who tricked the bull so that she conceived a half-bull, altogether deserves, in my opinion, a husband as deceitful and base as she. It’s no wonder she left you for the bull, when it would have been easier to get the cruel bull to relent and show pity than your misbegotten heart. Since you take no pity on me for either my love or my gift, I’ll go away with you in spite of you. The day will never come when I will leave you, as long as there is life in my body.” [297–325] She jumped into the sea after the ship, driven by the force of love. She pushed and strained herself so hard that she reached the Cretan ship. She wrapped both arms around the sternpost. She clung and held tightly to it, and swam along following the wake. [326–332] [miniature, fol. 203r: nisus as osprey attacking scylla as bird on the sternpost, with minos and his men looking on]

{I}f the author does not lie, Nisus, her father, who was suddenly transformed into an osprey, distracted and thwarted her. He remembered her treachery. He came at her with his beak and talons and struck her so violently that he beat her back into the open sea. She was about to drown, I have no doubt, when the gods – in their magnanimity and not because she deserved it – gave a public demonstration in that moment, and, in so doing, demonstrated their power: they

Qui mauves sert, v. 281. The expression appears proverbial. Indeed, the opening is documented in Morawski (1925), nos. 1987 (qui mauves sert son loier pert) and 2271 (son loier pert qui mauves pert). The meaning is similar here. 9

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changed her into a little bird, named “cut lark,” on account of the beheading.10 As a sign of this sin, it wears a crest on its head. This has henceforth become the root and cause of the two birds’ mutual hatred. [333–353] [miniature, fol. 203r: minos and his troops receiving the key to the city from scylla]

Moralization {N}ow I want to explain this tale in historical terms. There truly was a war in which King Minos besieged Alcathoë and Lelegia, which were sworn allies of the Athenians, who had killed Minos’s son: they paid dearly for his death. Scylla “took the hair off her father’s head,”11 that is, a great treasure that Nisus had amassed, which he used for a long time to protect his realm and his land from Minos, who was waging war on him. And he would have gone on protecting it without fail, so that Minos could never have taken it by force of arms, if the foolish woman, poorly instructed by love, had not put him at such a disadvantage. But the foolish woman, by her sin, stole his precious treasure for the love of Minos, and this felt as if she had cut off his head, for a warrior is in dire straits, as good as dead, if he doesn’t have the wherewithal to pay or promise to those willing to help him. The foolish woman, to my mind, committed an even greater act of treason and guile against her father when she handed over the keys of the city to the leader of his enemies so that he brought it under his dominion. [354–384] When Nisus saw that he was betrayed, he fled, all on his own. Feeling hostile, to preserve his life he then captured many prizes, and from then on plunder became his livelihood: for this reason the tale claims and suggests that he was transformed into an osprey. Scylla, who committed the perfidy and treachery against her father, paid for it, according to the tale, by becoming a cut lark: she became a forlorn whore in the hedges and fields. Just as the lark gives up its songs for everyone, so her body was given over to committing folly with everyone. Her father took to hating her so much that, if he could catch her, he would have made her suffer woe and death. He chased her, intending to make her perish. She fled to save herself, the way a lark flees the osprey. [385–407]

10 By contrast, Ovid (Met. 8.148–151): “In fear she let go of the sternpost, but as she fell the light breeze seemed to hold her, not letting her touch the water. Feathers spring from her arms: changed into a bird, the rock dove, with its red legs and purple throat, she is called Ciris, “Cutter”, and acquired that name from her cutting of the lock of hair” (Kline). 11 Unlike in vv. 211–212 above, where she cuts off his head, here we return to Ovid’s original scenario of her cutting off her father’s purple lock of hair.



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It is now right for me to reveal to you the allegory that is present in the story, so I will explain it as I see fit. [408–409] {N}ow everything that Scripture says about the Virgin Mary has been fulfilled. Now “the morning star is born.” Now “the bright dawn appears,” she who illuminates the world, she who by divine power bore the Sun of justice, Jesus, who has dominion over the whole world. [410–418] Now everyone must make ready. Now the cruel wind that robs us of the sun’s grace must subside. Now it is necessary for everyone to act so as to reach the city of joyous immortality. Now the beneficial wind blows – gentle and delightful Auster – that directs our course and guides us there. God, who has led many of his people there, has already shown us the way. Alas that we were born in this world, where we are dispossessed of this joyful city! [419–432] As long as this glorious wind blows, let everyone weep and repent the wrongs, transgressions, and sins they will have committed. Through confession, let them unfurl and set before the wind the sail of the heart, which directs the wanderers to the harbor of the kingdom full of gladness. Anyone who strays in the deep sea of confusion and vice must surely love this gentle wind. They can never be driven to such distant parts by their wickedness and dissolution, no matter how much the devil has drawn them off course, that this wind won’t soon have guided them back towards the harbor of eternal life, if they want to pilot their ship in that direction. For if they choose to hold back from sin and devote their heart to doing good, a single moment – one mere instant – of repentance is enough for this gentle wind to bring them in to shore.12 Therefore a soul is altogether woeful and wretched if it does not concentrate on sailing while this wind is blowing, and curb its desire while it still has the time and opportunity to reach the port of salvation, before it ends up in the swamp where the devil, who enshrouded it on the high seas, has befouled it. For if it waits for the hour when the judge assails it when he attacks his enemies, it will not reach the port of true salvation. [433–468] The Lelegians are understood as the legists, the high wearers of tonsure,13 who read the laws and canons and give us to believe, and claim, that they are studying to gain the knowledge to defend the law. But instead it is in order to have ecclesiastical authority and benefices, and in order to learn tricks to deceive the simple folk. One can see very well that they are full of every 12 This concept is also teased out in Dante’s Purgatory. In canto 5, when Dante the pilgrim meets Buonconte, he explains to Dante that he repented with his final breath. That alone was enough for God to welcome the prodigal son type back, and for Buonconte to be among the elect making their way to paradise. 13 Legists are those trained in Roman law: Bakhouche (2002) notes that, in “a very clear illustration of the popes’ determination in the early thirteenth century to extend their control over the whole university world,” the status of university-trained legists “changed from that of laymen to clerics, symbolised by the wearing of the tonsure” (152–153).

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kind of malice, pride, envy, avarice, gluttony, and lust, and have no attention and care for anything but earthly honors. They want to be masters and lords and reduce the common people to servitude, and they cause themselves to be feared and served, and have all the carnal delights: soft clothing, beautiful beds covered with sumptuous coverlets, dishes and great finery, tall palfreys and handsome destriers, with girths, saddles, and golden stirrups, but also sweet medicinal paste, spices, a variety of dishes and delicacies of meat, fish, and wine. [469–495] I don’t know what to say about the theologians, who are supposed to uphold God’s law, except that I see them turning out the same way as the great princes of Holy Church, who were supposed to be intent on serving God and to set a good example that moves the people to do good. These behave even worse than the common people. All fraud and malice on earth have come about because of them. Their hearts are all full of avarice. They are now the most benighted. They will be the first to be lost. They will be first on the good Lord’s docket on Judgment Day, and he will interrogate them to their utter ruin, if they are other than what they should be. They deceive the world and God through false simulation.14 Their heart and intention are full of fraud and deception, treachery and scheming, malice and iniquity. And they only seem to love truth, charity, peace, and patience. And they fast and do penance as if to gain paradise, certainly, but it’s to deceive people, for they don’t care about paradise. [496–525] “In secret and in the darkness of night,” the malfeasant traitors who go about betraying their friends do all the evil they can. There are those who disobey those they should obey. There are those who commit fraud or conspiracy in order to betray their relatives and ruin them. There are those who take wealth they know and suspect to be ill-gotten, and give it to God, and who hope to win divine love with what they have gained through plunder. There are those who go around slandering God, scorning his holy law and disbelieving in his Passion and his holy Incarnation. There are those who devote their time and attention to foolish entertainment, such as the reciting of songs and tales that are in no way profitable and are liable to move people’s hearts more to folly than to wisdom. There are those who devote themselves to foolish love and spend their time in indolence. [526–550] The ladies who are so bedecked, so smart, so adorned, who part their blond hair down the middle, resemble larks because of those crests.15 Larks properly have only one crest, but each of these ladies has two on her forehead. They shame and affront themselves by their overblown elegance, which is a sign This breaks up a long sentence that starts cil qui … v. 514, for readability. Et des cornes, v. 554. Cornes would normally be “horns,” and the moralization here, referring to women’s hairstyles, is comparable to the moralization of cows’ horns in Book 1, vv. 3926–3948 (Io), and Book 10, vv. 3540–3559 (the Cerastae). 14 15



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of whorishness, and they cannot restrain themselves. But soon the time will come when their heads will be bald and bare. When they will see that the Judge has come, they will no longer care for daintiness, pleasure, or elegance; rather, they will be full of woe, pain, and putrid stench. [551–568] The youthful and handsome young men who are now so elegant and polished will die by the sword and by torture: they will experience the divine wrath that will lay waste the earth. And what will become of the false princes whom God elected as his servants to govern the simple folk peacefully and rightfully? By force and abuse, they are plundering and robbing and despoiling them. They are becoming prideful and tainted with the power given to them by the Lord who provided everything, and are scorning the poor while coddling those who have great sums of wealth and living in fear of them. They are oppressing the simple folk and denying them law and justice. [569–587] This is the present state of the world: there is no longer any equality, faith, justice, or loyalty in it, or any truth for that matter. But God, who will set everything to rights and not coddle anyone, will judge them according to their actions and take very harsh vengeance for them. And those who have the most power now will be the most humiliated on that day, and the most bitterly punished – just as they now assail the simple folk and “devour” them through violence and plunder. Such will be the divine sentence: that they will become, according to Scripture, meat and fodder for the birds,16 and not merely them, but all together with them, those who will have disloyally renounced the divine law: these are the disloyal, the unfaithful who will have believed in the devil. At that time, God will exert his dominion throughout the world as he pleases: he will establish his commandments, his laws, and his institutions, that will last eternally, nor will they ever be able to pass away. [588–616] [miniature, fol. 204v: pasiphaë embracing the bull]

Pasiphaë {A}s the tale tells it, Minos was reproached for his wife’s shame, baseness, indignity, and adultery by Scylla, who betrayed her father, and Minos hated her for this. Minos – the righteous judge, the strong king, the good ruler – had a wife who had come of high status and noble lineage, with plentiful wealth and friends. Nature had exerted herself greatly to form such a creature. Her body was of lovely stature, long and straight, slim and proportionate. Her face was not made up or plucked, nor was there any need, for God, with great “Their carcasses shall be meat for the fowls of the air” and similar expressions occur repeatedly in the Bible, e.g. Deuteronomy 28:26; Jeremiah 7:33, 15:3, 16:4, and 19:7; Isaiah 18:6; Ezekiel 29:5; Psalm 79:2 (Vulgate 78:2); 1 Kings 16:4; and compare Luke 8:5. 16

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attention, had endowed her with all that might befit a beautiful woman. She was the daughter of the sun. She was very gracious in body, face, and head. If I cared to recount and speak of her beauty from end to end, I would prolong my subject matter too much. Nevertheless, I will say a little bit about it, and will describe her in a few words. [617–642] She was very beautiful and attractive. She had startling green eyes, black eyebrows in perfect semicircles, and her forehead was not full of scabs or warts, but broad, smooth, and white, without wrinkles. Her nose was wellformed and shapely. Her teeth were white, delicate and small, well aligned in her dainty mouth. On her chin was a dimple, which Nature had perfectly placed there. Her face was nicely embellished and touched up with a delicate scarlet color that illuminated the whiteness of her complexion. Her hair was blonder than pure gold. She was so beautiful that there was no end to it. Her bosom was white, plump, and full. If I cared to describe everything else in detail, there would be too much to tell. Therefore, I now wish to fall silent about it, except to say that Nature could never have managed to portray anyone more beautiful than she. [643–665] Because of her great beauty, Pasiphaë pleased the king very much and was agreeable to him, but the disloyal woman never showed him any faith or loyalty. Her heart was cunning and false, full of madness and folly. Alas for the beauty that Nature had invested in her, for I never saw nor ever knew of a woman more vile or base. She was full of every wickedness. As far as committing folly and baseness goes – baseness? for sure! – I never saw such a one, so vile or so abominable. She must have been filled with the devil and must have had madness in her heart to have it enter into her will or her heart to commit such great lunacy. I do not know how I would utter such a vile reproach against a woman; I will never soil my mouth to repeat such a vile accusation. She felt no shame in so doing because she had lost all shame. She had set her care and attention on wickedness and sin. Her heart was fixated on evil and estranged from doing good. She never spoke about or appealed to noble sentiments or honor. She hated honor and considered dishonor to be honorable and good. Sinning pleased her above all else. Nothing could please her as much as sin and wrongdoing. Her mind was set on all kinds of wickedness. She devoted her hands, tongue, and mind to aborting everything good and to doing and exalting wrong. She was evil in both word and deed. And where is the fault if you say bad things about a bad person, and wicked things about a wicked one? It would be a far more serious crime and would deserve greater blame to praise a wicked person unrighteously. Therefore I can say it blamelessly: I cannot commit defamation blamelessly, but it is not defamatory or blameworthy to say a nasty thing about a nasty person. Thus I will say it without delay, although I am ashamed and embarrassed to say that a woman can deserve such blame. [666–717]



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Contrary to nature, she loved the bull. Loved? She did not. It was not love at all. What, then? Madness, with which her heart was intoxicated ever since she saw the bull, which pleased her and appealed to her inordinately. One day, sitting at her window, she looked toward the meadow and saw a marvelously proud bull standing in the middle of a herd of cows. Pasiphaë eagerly contemplated the bull’s beauty. She had her heart, eyes, and face set on watching the bull, which was so incredibly appealing to her, from the windows where she sat. Every day, she would look that way. The more she looked at it, the more the unfortunate, foolish woman burned. The more fixated on it she became, the more she went crazy. She became more and more obsessed and mad. Her heart was in the grip of a madness that incredibly distressed and tormented her. She sighed and wailed and gasped, flinched, trembled, and sweated. She often went pale and would change color often as the day went on. In many ways, this wretched and insane woman was overwhelmed by her love for the bull. Her madness racked her so much that she couldn’t control herself. [718–747] The evil woman, with an unfaithful heart, had forgotten about King Minos, good and loyal, who cherished and loved her so much. She certainly bears – and deserves to bear – great shame and great blame for harboring the thought of such an outrage. But if she had the inclination to commit such an offense against Minos, why did she not love a handsome young man who would serve her at her pleasure? She would have had plenty to choose from since she was rich, beautiful, and graceful, but she had fixated on the bull. She had no memory of King Minos: neither he nor another were to her liking. She loved nothing but the dumb beast. [748–763] She didn’t take her heart or thoughts off the fierce bull. It was an illfortuned hour when she saw his beauty, but she did see him.17 She would never have loved him for his beauty if he had not had a big penis. Oh, God! What a shame and embarrassment! How did this even fly out of my mouth? It grieves me deeply that it did come out, but to be sure I didn’t say it, it just slipped out – I couldn’t help myself. From now on, it’s right that I take care not to say anything for which I might incur blame, for anyone who acts foolishly one time must certainly mend their ways at once. From now on I must keep from being foolish. I am going to do this, just as the disloyal malfeasant woman who acted so foolishly, Pasiphaë, should have done, when first she set her heart to thinking of such lunacy. She should have restrained her heart and her thoughts from such vile foolishness, but her love of the

vv. 765–768 plays on vit, which is first “saw,” then “penis.” (A playful misunderstanding of certes, mes le vit! in v. 766 would be “It was an ill-fortuned hour when she saw his beauty – but the penis!”) On sexual issues in this section, see Blumenfeld-Kozinski (1996). 17

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bull bound her so much that she couldn’t care less to repent; rather, she set her thoughts and attention on carrying out her wicked purpose. [764–789] Her heart would never rest unless she accomplished her will. Her love for the bull caused her to suffer, melt, and sizzle,18 burn and fade away. She was very willing to go to any lengths, by either ingenuity or knowledge, if she could gain his love. She could not go on living without him. As if demented and drunk, she, who had forgotten about herself, her nature, her high rank, and the nobility of her lineage, this disloyal woman, full of madness, went off to the fields without delay or hesitation, to see up close that which she desired in her heart. In her white hands, she plucked the grass to feed the bull. Now she would surely have been able to kiss the bull if it had pleased him, and he might even have let her have her way and will with him, but he couldn’t care about this at all, because it was not in his nature to do what she was seeking. He left Pasiphaë all alone and went off to mate with the cows. [790–816] Now Pasiphaë was full of anger. Her suffering was so great that I can’t put it into words. She felt great anguish and spite when the bull who was her only comfort scorned her for the cows. Because of the fire that so mightily oppressed her, she could not go without looking at the bull. She kept looking at and scrutinizing herself. She consulted her mirror. She kept adorning and dressing herself up in what seemed to her a more pleasing way. Her face was discolored and pale. [817–828] “I really think it will be helpful when he sees my countenance blush, and my face so pale and thin because of him. If his heart is not too cruel and bitter, he’ll take some pity on it.” It was already certain, I believe, that he would take no pity on it at all! Often, seeing the bull, she would comb her hair, so that he could see her beautiful hair. She often spoke to him and begged him: [829–838] “Beloved, for god’s sake, save me!19 Alas, Pasiphaë, think again: cast aside this woeful thought that leads you to think such madness. You already know very well – if you have any understanding, but you have neither reason nor moderation – you must know that he couldn’t care less about you. He doesn’t know anything you’re saying to him. You’re wasting your prayers and words. What does he care about your clothing, your graceful body, your shapeliness, or your beautiful golden hair. If your face is discolored, and if you love him, what’s that worth to you? He doesn’t know it, he doesn’t care, for he has no understanding or sense. Your heart is indeed full of madness, seeing that you are so convulsed with love for a dumb animal. You are dishonoring your 18 The same expression, fondre et frire, occurs in Book 3, vv. 1790–1803, to describe Narcissus in love. 19 De Boer has her speech end here, at v. 839, but the manuscripts have no quotation marks, so it’s actually unclear how long Pasiphaë is remonstrating with herself before the OM addresses her from an authorial stance. Ce me semble, v. 886, is clearly the authorial voice. Our best guess is that her speech ends at v. 864.



Book 8 579

lord, yourself, and your lineage by your foolish heart. Indeed, this offense and disgrace will be held against all women by slanderers and bad-mouthers. Because of your action, you defame them all.” [839–864] “You defame them”? It would be awful if anyone were to defame good women for anything a wicked one does. The goodness of good women wipes out any blame or slander against them. Bad-mouthers and slanderers will never be able to defame them enough to diminish their reputation by anything they might go around saying. They cast blame only on themselves, for anyone who unrighteously blames a good person has the blame rebound on their own head. No one should be blamed for a transgression except he or she who does it, or who consents to doing it, for anyone who sticks their foot out should expect to be scratched.20 It is vile and outrageous to burden good women with responsibility for someone else’s madness. Nonetheless, whoever wants to cast blame on all women for one woman’s transgression should also praise all women for the sake of one, it seems to me. But no good woman will ever have to shoulder blame, or be less esteemed or less appreciated, because of something wicked that a wicked one does – no more than the wicked one gets credit for the good deeds that the good one does. Each must carry her burden, the one of praise, the other of blame. So one does wrong to blame any other woman for Pasiphaë’s transgression. [865–895] She was completely obsessed with the damned thing.21 Her love for the bull was so deeply rooted within her that without him, she could not go on or feel any joy. She abandoned her chambers, and ran through fields and mountains; she lay with the dumb animals on the moors and meadows, so that she could take her pleasure with the bull. The woeful wretch was eager and intent on her own deception. When she saw that she could not obtain by love what she had planned, she resorted and appealed to ingenuity to fulfill her lust: she had a wooden cow constructed on the advice of a carpenter who was well-versed in this profession. This master’s name was Daedalus. He is still well known for his skill and mastery. It was this man, sought out for his artistry, through whom Pasiphaë carried out her diabolical plan and sin. [896–920] When the cow was finished, Pasiphaë hid inside. She had had a cow flayed that she had seen the bull chasing. The bull thought she was a cow, seeing the wood covered in the skin. Alas, what a disgrace! I am ashamed to say it: he committed adultery with Pasiphaë via the form that deceived him. Pasiphaë conceived from the bull. The semen did not die in her, rather she gave birth at the end of the pregnancy to a half man and half bull. From ‘Minos’ and ‘bull’ (taur) he Another proverbial expression. Compare Rutebeuf, La vie saint Elysabel, v. 1772: “Bien escorce qui le pié tient.” 21 We typically translate maufé as “evil spirit.” But here, it refers overtly to the bull: it is definitely an evil influence, leading her into debauchery and more, but we have opted for “damned thing.” 20

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was called Minotaur. Minos would certainly be aggrieved, and would certainly have cause to grieve, when he would find such an heir in his home. [921–938] {M}inos, the handsome king, where was he? In Athens, avenging his son killed by the Athenians, who hated him out of envy. Minos was brave and an expert in warfare, so he destroyed and laid waste their land. He did so well, fought so hard, that he forced the Athenians to surrender and beg for mercy, and they all agreed to acknowledge him as overlord of their land and all their possessions. In peace and reconciliation, they all offered to do him homage, and they promised him a tribute that forever more, on a set day, without ever seeking to postpone or suspend their payment, they would choose one of their lords to be sent to Crete. Whoever would be chosen by lot would not be able to contest it; and Minos could do with him as he wished. When the bargain was sealed, Minos made good on the vow that he had promised. [939–961] He at once set out for home, glad and joyful of his spoils, but soon he would see a harm that would cause him woe and anger, for he would truly know the adultery, the trickery, and transgression that his spouse had committed against him. He found the monster in his chambers. The shame and adultery were demonstrated by this monster, which had a double form, just as Nature had formed it. In order to confine the monster, Minos had a mighty prison constructed, the likes of which no one had ever seen before. Daedalus, the good carpenter, constructed and equipped this prison. Expert in good work, he put in so many ways and pathways, so many corners and recesses, and made the paths so tortuous, that the closer one thought they were to getting out, the further they would find themselves from the exit. Minos had the monster locked up and hidden away in this prison. [962–985] Now, I wish to interpret this tale for you. [986] [miniature, fol. 206v: god creating eve out of adam’s rib]22

Moralization {G}od, the one in whom all goodness abounds, the Sun and Light of the world, created human nature according to his form and image, and he filled it with good morals. The strong King, the good Ruler who is the Judge of the whole world, loved it so much he joined it with himself in marriage to exalt the human race and turn our captivity to eternal rule.23 But now, human nature is so vile and denatured, and its heart is so clouded that it has forgotten everything: its nobility, its honor, and the grace of its Lord, and the love of God, its friend. It has given its love to the enemy and to the foul and shameful flesh, which is why the soul, which should have been noble and worthy, is degraded. And so it 22 23

Fols 206v and 268r have comparable miniatures of this. Compare Psalm 126 (Vulgate 125).



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“leaves its chamber and its dwelling-place” where it should have been at rest and thinking about God (the Son), its spouse. He has his seat in the city of joyous immortality and will be with God the Father until the time when he will take vengeance against his enemies, who should be trampled underfoot. And they will confess themselves guilty before God, abandoning their foolish and damnable error, and seeking peace and concord with God, full of mercy, who in his mercy will take them back. Israel and Judea will come to ask pardon for their malice. The Ethiopians and Egyptians will devoutly give him offerings, devotions, and sacrifices, according to the written prophecy.24 Then all will believe in God and his name will be feared and known, and all the kings will worship him and all peoples will honor him. Those who come to repentance will be truly blessed, and they will be released from wickedness and sins. [987–1038] The soul should have been reflecting on this to itself, and taking account of the goodness God has shown it. But, false and faithless, it devotes all its attention and care to gluttony and lust, pleasure and seduction, fantasy and folly, and it has no will or desire except to do the pleasure of the body, which is completely corrupt and base. Few are the people nowadays, it seems to me, who seek the soul’s salvation. They make the flesh lady and mistress over themselves, and the soul a servant and chambermaid. Thus they turn everything back-to-front, and submit, against nature, to the body full of foul rottenness, a base vessel enclosed by a bit of skin,25 which exudes nothing but filth and corruption from all its orifices. The soul, which by election was made in the divine image (Oh, God! What loss and harm! What shame and what confusion!), the soul was condemned to perdition in order to feed and satiate the body, which it should have afflicted and trampled through fasting and abstinence, harshness and penance, if it had been willing to derive good prompting from that fact. The flesh is opposed to the soul, and likewise, the soul to the flesh, but when the soul shamefully submits to the desires of the flesh, its Spouse laments it greatly. And do you know what will become of it? The righteous Judge, when he comes, will have both the body and the soul thrown into the infernal flames and given over to the gluttonous beast, to the devil, who swallows all those who enter into this prison from which no one can find the way out. [1039–1083] [miniature, fol. 207r: theseus and ariadne at the entrance to the labyrinth]

24 25

Compare Isaiah 45:14. This moralizes Pasiphaë’s simulated cow.

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Theseus, Ariadne, and Phaedra {A}bove, I recounted the tale of the whoring and great shame that the foolish Pasiphaë committed when she broke faith with her lord, who loved and cherished her so much that he made her his lady and she partook in his glory and his kingdom. But the foolish woman with the demented heart wronged her lord the king through lust and rashness, and was intimate with the prideful bull. Then I told you about the marvelous monster that Minos had shut in a prison. Then I told you about the treachery that the scoundrels committed against his son, when they put him to death out of envy. Minos harshly avenged him. He condemned them and their heirs to death – those already born and those yet to be born. It was determined, as Minos had ordered it and as the tale affirms, that all the Athenians should put a lot into an urn, and forever after, at set intervals, one or more lots should be drawn without reading them; and everyone whose lot was drawn would be sent to the king. All of them would be eaten by the enemy who was shut up in the prison: nor did anyone have preferential treatment, but whoever’s lot had been drawn first was the first to go to their doom, to become meat and fodder for the monster of the shadowy dungeon. The monster was imprisoned for a long time, and devoured many bodies. It was never satisfied or weary. There had already been two rounds of this, so many had had to be sent to pay this deadly tribute and they had all perished without recourse. [1084–1123] In the third round, the lots fell to the son of the king of Athens, Theseus, who had proven his power on many occasions, and had very great renown. He went to Crete, for there was no preventing it, in order to pay the deadly tribute. Minos had two maiden daughters, graceful in body and beautiful of face. The older one was named Ariadne, and the younger was named Phaedra. Ariadne saw the man who had come from Athens to Crete to pay the tribute. She lamented his beauty and mourned greatly for his merit and boldness. [1124–1143] “Theseus, if renown, that gives you such a good name, does not lie, there is no mortal’s son under heaven who possesses your merit and goodness. Through your valor, you defeated and killed the bull that laid waste Crete, this country. Alas for your sense and your valor, your merit and your boldness, your courtliness and your youth, your beautiful body and your handsome face. Your goodness has now come to an end, ever since you passed through that gate from which no one will ever return. The one who lurks within – the devil, the enemy – will soon have slaughtered you.26 What a loss and a great sin that will be! [1144–1161] “I feel great pity for your misfortune. Pity? Foolish, fickle thing, since when are you so inclined to pity? Why do you care so much? Why this change of heart

26

De Boer’s à martire mos, v. 1160, should be à martire mis.



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for a foreign youth? Why are you afraid of his death? Foolish love has made you frightened. You don’t remember much now about your brother, whom they killed. Now this man and the others who killed him are paying for it – their deaths are well-deserved. Deserved? It would be a shame if this man, who has done no wrong, were made to pay for the madness and the act of others. He hasn’t deserved death. It would be a sin. I know him to be so honorable that he would have never consented to my brother’s death. [1162–1179] “If he doesn’t find refuge and safety through me,27 he will soon die, for no one will ever rescue him from there. Rescue? I would certainly be harder than iron or wood if I were to let him die, since I could rescue him. He is so valiant and bold, so courteous in deeds and in words, noble in heart and by birth, and I can tell he’s so young, that I must surely help him. On top of all that, it seems to me, because he has a beautiful and agile body and a bright face, I must surely love him romantically – and so I do. [1180–1195] “Love? God, what is that? Was I dreaming? My heart is very foolish, bewildered, for me to want to love a man from another country and whore myself out. That’s not what I’m doing! What, then? He’ll marry me. When, thanks to my ingenuity, he concludes all his business and has killed the monster, then this man whom I love so much will marry me. – Ah, silly, naive woman: if he wants to, let him die; if he wants to, let him live. Why would I go and seek a lord elsewhere, when I can take my pick in this land? Pick? No: could I envision another man who would please me as much or be as worthy as he? This one pleases me and he is the one I pick. I want no other man but him. [1196–1214] “I will have this man whom I so desire if I help him kill the monster. If I help him, he can escape. If I don’t, he’ll have to die: he won’t be able to overcome the monster. Now, if he could defeat and kill it – may god grant it! – he wouldn’t be able to find the way correctly to the proper exit; rather, he would stay imprisoned within. I’ll release him free and clear. He will give me such a great reward for it that he will take me with him to his country and I will be proclaimed its lady. Ah, what great foolishness I thought up! These thoughts will linger on unbearably. I have really intoxicated my foolish heart. When I’ve set him free, what if he left me alone and forlorn, and went to his country without me, after I set him free? Certainly nothing could make me believe that he would commit such imposture toward me. He is full of such great nobility, so worthy, and such a gentleman that he would not commit betrayal. Above all, I will have his promise that he will never deceive me, and so I will be assured of his love. Ah, Ariadne, what kind of person are you to leave your little sister whom you love so much and go away without her? This will never happen to me! My sister will come with me because I will never leave her.” [1215–1249] 27 S’il ne treuve par moi refu, v. 1180: we translate the last word as refui “refuge,” not refu “rejection”: presumably it was distorted because of the rhyme.

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This was how the would-be lover questioned and answered herself. This was how she changed, how she transformed: she raised objections and proposed solutions and made counterpoints like someone no longer in possession of herself. Then who was? Love, in faith, which held her captive and bound. She struggled a lot and took great pains not to be consumed by love, but it was useless: she was forced to love. She could not resist love. It was no wonder that she loved him: he was so beautiful that she was lost in wonder at it. He had so much worth, so much valor, so much goodness, so much nobility that she should be forgiven if she chose to give him her love. [1250–1266] When she saw that it was worthless to resist, she thought of many ways to strike up a conversation with him so that he would not think she was insane and she would not make a misstep. She searched for an opportunity to talk to him, then she said to him quietly: “Beloved, whoever sent you here has sent you and given you up to terrible torment. I don’t think your father will ever see you again safe and sound. Unless god gives you counsel, you will soon die a horrible death. Soon the monster will have killed you – the half-bull that lives there and devours all the prisoners. If – god grant it be so! – your encounter were to end with you killing the monster, you will never manage to get out unless someone other than yourself guides you, for you would never find the way to bring you back to the entrance. Many have gone in before you, none of whom ever set foot outside again. I certainly feel great pity for you. And yet, if I wanted to, I could use my intelligence to set you free, if I had a good reward.” [1267–1295] “Noble creature, I will give you my body and heart and become your loyal vassal if you help me.” [1296–1298] “I hereby take you as my lord, my brother and my beloved. Once you have killed the enemy, you must take me back to your country and take me as your wife – I want to be assured of this.” [1298–1303] Theseus promised and swore this to her. He offered his gods and his faith28 in pledge. “Beloved,” she said, “now I believe you, and I will save you without fail.” She handed him a ball made with paste, grease, and glue. “When he opens his mouth to destroy and devour you, throw this in without delay and you will suffocate him right away. And then cut his head off. I’ll wait for you at the gate. I’ll hold the end of this ball of thread for you, and you’ll take it with you. And with this thread you will find the path which will bring you safely out of the prison.” [1304–1320] This was the end of their negotiation. Theseus rushed into the prison and struck down the monster that had previously destroyed so many people. He paid the tribute in full, then exited those vile confines. He found Ariadne wait-

28

Loi, v. 1305. Lit. “law.”



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ing for him, and carried her off and headed back at once. Along with her, he took her younger sister, Phaedra. [1321–1330] They wandered so far over several days that they reached the island of Chios. They disembarked and landed in port. Ariadne fell asleep there. He left her there fast asleep and made the younger one his beloved. He left one woman and took the other and it seems he committed a serious fault in doing so. [1331–1338] [miniature, fol. 208v: ariadne meeting bacchus]

{A}riadne was forsaken as she slept. Still today, the sea that Theseus crossed when he left the beauty sleeping is named the Sea of Theseus. [1339–1342] Ariadne woke up and was bewildered and amazed at finding herself alone. She was woeful and forlorn. She wept from her eyes and sighed from her heart. Lamenting, she began to speak: “Theseus, what wrongdoing led you to treacherously abandon me, alone, forlorn, in a foreign land? Ah, god, how inconstant is the heart of man! You have soon forgotten the goodness and the honor I showed you. It was thanks to me that you killed the monster. It was thanks to me that you were saved from death. Now you’re giving me a bad reward for it! You’re doing a bad job of paying me back. You’re committing perjury against your gods.29 Who would have believed that in such a body there would be such a foolish heart! He has betrayed me outrageously!” [1343–1361] She tore her hair, wrung her hands, scratched her face and her cheeks. No person born ever saw a more woeful girl. She went on lamenting to such an extent that Bacchus, king of the area, happened to run into her lamenting by the shore. He found her beautiful and attractive. He took pity on her and asked her why she was mourning and who she was and who had brought her there. The young woman was well-bred, so she answered him at his request. She spoke the truth about anything he asked, and appealed to him out of friendship to take pity on her woeful self. Bacchus greatly comforted her. He carried her to his city. With great joy, he took her as his wife. Now Ariadne was a great lady, crowned with gold and silver. Thus it happens to many people: they often profit from the attempts that others make to set them back. Theseus had set her back, but now Bacchus had exalted her, making her his loyal wife. If she had been alone and scorned, now she had been brought beyond harm’s reach. He placed a crown on her head that now shines eternally in the heavens, if the tale does not lie. [1362–1394] [miniature, fol. 209r: the rebel angels falling as devils from heaven into a packed hellmouth]30 Parjurez tes Diex, v. 1359. Or this could even be imperative: “Go on then, perjure your gods!” 30 Compare and contrast the miniatures on fols 41v, 154v, 209r, and 295r. 29

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Moralization {N}ow I want to explain these tales to you. Almighty God and eternal King who orders everything to his satisfaction, light, Sun of justice, made an angel and, according to his will, endowed him with all goodness. He made him beautiful and attractive, and, through his grace, had him partake in his delightful glory. But pride, which erases all goodness, and from which all evils are born and originate, made the angel so arrogant, because of all the good qualities he found himself to be full of, that he scorned God and outright tried to use force against him, to overpower and dominate31 his Lord and master, or at least to be his peer and equal. [1395–1412] But when God, who knows all and sees all, saw the angel he had made rise in such presumption that he tried to strip him of his domain by wicked usurpation, he shut him up in the infernal prison, which is so horrible, dark, and full of misfortune. He is very ugly and very fearsome, hideous and terrifying, and deserving of such a woeful prison because of his fault. That is the prison that the tale speaks of, which is so horrible and fearsome, so perilous and tortuous, that all those who pass through the gate must remain shut up inside without ever reaching the exit. It was built by the good Carpenter who is a master of all professions. [1413–1432] [miniature, fol. 209r: adam and eve, covering their genitalia and eve holding a fruit, flank the tree with the forbidden fruit with the serpent twined around it]32

{T}hen, in his image, God formed man, who would have been able to win the noble inheritance of joyous immortality and, through humility, achieve eternal life. But the devil, who, out of envy, was upset about man’s elevation, deceived him through the urging of wicked temptation. And he brought him to perdition through the apple that was eaten. Then the sentence was pronounced according to which all human nature was consigned to destruction. And, for this fault, everyone was forced to enter the infernal prison and pay the “deadly tribute” to feed the savage beast, the proud horned beast that dwells in the confines of hell. [1433–1452] This tribute lasted for a long time so that the entire human race was consigned to mortal damnation in hell for eternity, and everyone, sooner or later, had no choice but to go there and pay this deadly tribute, for no one received any preferential treatment. As soon as the soul would take leave of the body, Rouen (fol. 209r) clearly has mestroier for de Boer’s mescroier, v. 1410; we translate accordingly. 32 Fols 183v, 209r, 284v, and 340v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether Adam and Eve are both holding fruit and whether they are covering their genitalia. Also note the image on fol. 21r of God walking a naked Adam through the garden. 31



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the devil would take it, and without any exception, he would send them all to perdition. [1453–1464] But God, the spiritual, merciful, and compassionate Father; God, who reigns in eternity, King of true immortality, to pay off this tribute and redeem the human race, had his dear Son come into the world: Jesus Christ, in whom all goodness abounds, who is so beautiful and pleasing, wise, strong, and amiable. And he covered him with a human figure and gave him a double nature: one was human and mortal, the other divine and immortal. The human nature was apparent, and the divine nature was concealed under the cover of humanity. Jesus, in great humility, “crossed the sea” of mortal life in the vessel of a carnal “ship.” [1465–1484] At first, Judea loved him greatly, and God promised her under oath that he would “take her as his wife” and “take her to a sweet and delightful land,” to heaven, in eternal glory, with the Holy Trinity. Through her, God became a human being who was then stretched out and hung on the Cross by her, and suffered death and Passion. And for our redemption, his flesh was placed in a tomb, and his soul went to the shadowy dungeon of hell, where he destroyed the devil and vanquished eternal death through his divinity.33 Jesus took no notice of the devil, but shattered the infernal prison and saved his own people, then he returned in great victory. [1485–1505] [miniature, fol. 209v: holy church (ecclesia), with cross and chalice, and synagoga/judea, dropping her tablets]34

{A}fter that, the story tells us that Theseus took the beautiful Ariadne overseas with him along with her sister Phaedra, the young maiden who was even more beautiful. These two sisters, it seems to me, that Theseus took away together are Judea and Gentilisa, from whom God established Holy Church and made of her his spouse and his beloved. [1506–1515] But Theseus left sleeping Ariadne, whom he used to love so much, on the deep ocean, and he took with him her younger sister Phaedra, and loved and exalted her mightily. For sleeping Judea, who is so blinded and unwise and wretched that she doesn’t see a thing, let her love for her beloved grow cold and fell asleep in the depths of malice. God abandons her as a fool and a simpleton, to her great shame and great misfortune, upon the bitterness of sin. And he drew to himself Gentilisa, from whom he established Holy Church. [1516–1532] Ariadne “remained on the seashore” alone, forlorn, full of anguish and sorrow, woe and despair. And she complained about her lover, and said that he had abandoned her deceitfully, very wrongfully, and out of treachery, without her Lit. “the divinity that he had,” v. 1501 Fols 59r, 209v, and 336v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether or not Syngagoga/Judea is blindfolded. 33 34

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having committed any fault towards him. She wept and lamented and regretted the courtesy, the goodness, and the honor she had shown him, for which he had rewarded her poorly, for he had promised her under oath that she would be his beloved and his wife. Judea – wretched, asleep, and unbelieving, whom God used to love so much – complains and laments in the same way. He brought her across the Red Sea and was supposed to have married her and had her partake in the noble realm of heaven, but because of her wickedness, she lost his grace and friendship, which he then gave to Gentilisa, from whom God founded Holy Church, which is his beloved and his consort. [1533–1559] Now the woeful, ill-advised woman, who remains alone and exiled in a foreign land, to her great shame, feels great anger and resentment. But, as the story says, she will be comforted by “Bacchus” – that is, God, who will be “demented and fierce”35 against his enemies, and deliver his friends from all persecution and from dire tribulation – who will make her his wife and beloved. When she will have been awakened and, now free of her foolish unbelief, will have come to true repentance, weeping over her fraud and transgressions and the sins she will have committed, he will give her – and this is no mere tale! – a crown in eternal glory. [1560–1578] [miniature, fol. 210r: daedalus and icarus flying]

Icarus, Daedalus, and Perdrix {A}bove, I told and recounted to you about Theseus, full of goodness – the one who, by his courage, paid off the dire tribute and conquered the monster. Meanwhile, Daedalus had been taken captive in Crete, and this was very upsetting to him. He greatly hungered and longed to return to his fatherland. Minos had kept him locked up for a very long time, shutting off sea and land to him, so that he could not return to the place he longed for so much, unless by flying through the air. He thought and said to himself: “Since Minos prevents my return by land and sea, no one can shut me off from the sky. That’s it – I’ll leave by air, since I’m not permitted to take any other way.” [1579–1598] Then, against human nature, he strove to apply his intelligence and effort so as to fly high through the air, and he bound together feathers in an orderly fashion, arranging them from short to long, so that, joined together, they resembled the pipes that long-ago country folk once used to make music. He ordered and laid out these feathers just as real birds have them. The larger feathers were sewn together with thread, and the shorter ones with wax, one beside the other in an orderly row. [1599–1612]

35

Moralizing the Bacchanalian qualities of Bacchus.



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Daedalus had a son of his36 with him, who knew little about the value of these wings, but greatly hungered and wished to have them and see how they fit. But he knew nothing of the great peril awaiting him – all he saw for now was that he would get wings to fly. The fool couldn’t get enough of watching and seeing the handiwork. He started to work the wax to soften it and tried to assemble his wings: he wanted to resemble his father. [1613–1626] The wings were finished. The father gave two of them to his son and took two for himself. He took off into the air and then taught his son how to proceed and which course to follow in flight. “Dear son,” he said, “be mindful of yourself. Son, I urge and warn you not to fly too high or too low, but to follow straight after me along the middle course. If you fly too low regardless, the sea will weigh you down and trouble your feathers so you can’t fly; and if you try to go too high, the heat will scorch them and make you tumble down.37 If you want to hold to a safe path, you must keep to the middle course, following me without deviating in any way.” The father began to weep out of fear and pity, and he kissed the boy lovingly. But he would never get him back, or ever kiss him again. [1627–1651] The father flew out ahead, and he very often turned around, fearing for his son. He felt great fear and dread of losing him. Out of good love for him, he fearfully begged and advised Icarus to fly a straight course close to him, and to do as he did. Those who saw them flying through the air – shepherds, fishermen, farmers, and huntsmen – were marvelously astonished. All those who could see the two flying through the air believed them to be gods. They had already flown over many lands. On their left, they had left behind Samos, as well as Delos and Paros; and on their right, it seems to me, they had passed Lebinthos, looking like a little hamlet,38 and Calymne, where the good honey is made, when the child became presumptuous: he left his master and really thought he could fly safely without him. Thus, he let himself become foolishly bewildered: he launched his flight toward the upper sky. Soon he would consider himself foolish indeed for having undertaken such a foolish flight. The heat of the sun overwhelmed him, melting and dissolving the wax. The wings failed and came apart, since their fastenings had failed. He moved his arms, but what good did that do him, when he had lost his steering wings? He was bewildered and lost. He fell into the sea. In falling, he called and cried out to his father. Because of Icarus, who perished there, the sea is named the Icarian Sea. [1652–1690]

Translated to reflect that Daedalus traditionally had two sons, Icarus and Iapyx. Qui vis trebuscher, v. 1644, should be qui ius trebuscher. 38 For v. 1671 de Boer has several variants. Rouen (fol. 210v) has tel hamiel (not tel hannel as de Boer has it) and we translate accordingly. 36 37

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The father wheeled around and heard the voice of his drowning son, and cried out in affliction: “Icarus, son, where have you flown to? Icarus, son, in which land might I search and look for you? My son, my son, I loved you so much!” Then he looked around, and caught sight of his son’s feathers floating in the sea, and so he knew full well, without a doubt, that he had lost him irrevocably. He forswore and cursed the craft39 that had taken his dear son from him. He dragged the body to shore, out of the sea, and buried it: he laid his son in the ground, and that land was named for him. It was called “Icaria,” from Icarus. [1691–1708] [miniature, fol. 211r: daedalus burying the shrouded body of icarus while perdrix, as a bird, looks on]

{D}aedalus buried his son. While he was burying him, Perdrix was sitting in an oak tree. He was very glad, and Daedalus’s mourning was very much to his satisfaction. It hadn’t been long since Perdrix had had human form, and he had recently been turned into a bird, if the author does not lie. He was the son of Daedalus’s sister, who, before he had turned twelve, apprenticed him to her brother in order to learn the craft and method of the profession that he practiced. He had a remarkably good and subtle intellect, apt for retaining and understanding things, and he put care and effort into learning the profession, which pleased him greatly, and he acted zealously on his master’s suggestions, showing keen understanding. Perdrix invented the pair of compasses and the saw, a tool that saws wood. [1709–1730] Daedalus, who was envious of the fact that he learned so well, made him tumble from the top of the holy tower of Pallas so that he would have broken his neck. But when Pallas, who held his intellect and ingenuity in high regard, saw him pushed from her tower, she took pity on him and would not stand to let him lose his life in such a way. She held the youth up in the air so that he would not fall, and made him into a bird who kept all his lightness, ingenuity, and ability in his feathers and claws. He is fast and well trained, so he retains his original name, but now he only flies low to the ground, ever fearful that he might fall and come to misfortune as he did long ago. The partridge40 flies low to the ground, always fearing that it might be killed, and makes its nest on the ground in thickets. It hides in these thickets. It nests in one place and lays its eggs in another, but is so silly and forgetful that it forgets its own eggs and cannot remember where it hid them. [1731–1759] Daedalus came to Sicily, and Minos went there to seek him out by force of arms and war. Cocalus, who ruled Sicily, behaved loyally towards him, for he kindly came to his aid and rescued him from Minos’s warriors. [1760–1766] 39 40

L’art, v. 1702, translating suas artes in Ovid (Met. 8.233). “The partridge,” added for clarity.



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[miniature, fol. 211r: god, with his compasses, creating the world]41

Moralization {T}he good Artisan, the Carpenter, the Inventor of all professions, the good Master, is God himself, who made hell and the abysses, who constructed the firmament, and who, through his intellect, wisely made the sky, the air, and the land and sea. He was in exile in this world for so long that he defeated and vanquished and overcame the devil, who for a long time had received the deadly tribute from the human race. God redeemed the world in full, and rescued it from dire servitude, and purged it of all wickedness, thereby accomplishing the whole purpose for which he had come to earth. He could no longer be kept back; it was time for him to go home. He recalled the great sweetness of that place that was so lovely, but he could not find a way to the heavenly kingdom “by land or by sea,” because the one who had determined that he would be born and become incarnate for human redemption had so closed off the way and the passage, that he could not get there unless he “flew through the air.” But before he flew off to his delightful kingdom – as God had ordained and the prophets had foretold, who knew it from the Holy Spirit – he, in order to deliver the world, had to become incarnate in the Virgin’s womb and take on our humanity, without breaching the virginity and chastity of his Mother; receive baptism and bitter death; suffer and be hung on the Cross; lie in the tomb and descend into hell; redeem his people; and resurrect from death. [1767–1810] When all these prophecies had been fulfilled in the body of God, as Scripture proclaimed, he resolved against human nature to fly openly to heaven, and to rise into his authority.42 And he showed his children who would come after him how they should take flight. [1811–1818] So what course should those who wish to go to heaven follow? Those who wish to go there must fly with two wings. Love of God is the right wing; love of one’s neighbor is the left one. With these wings, anyone who wants to hold their course straight after God can easily fly. But they must take care not to deviate. Anyone who “flies to the left” leaves God’s path and goes the way of the devil. This side is evil and misleading: it leads those who do evil works to the depths of hell. [1819–1834] {T}hose who “fly too low” are those who, badly, devote their love to this world, which plunges and drowns the worldly in the waves of dissolution and brings them to confusion. [1835–1840] {A}nd one who “flies too high” is one who goes insane from pride and senselessly thinks the goods that God has given them – beauty, grace, 41 42

This miniature is comparable to the left half of the one on fol. 16v. Compare Matthew 28:18.

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strength and knowledge, honor, lordship, or wealth, riches, land, or property – stem from themselves alone and not from divine grace. And if they happen to do anything good – fasting, alms or abstinence, austerity or penance – they want to assign the glory and honor to themselves, not to our Lord. And they want to fly straight without the sovereign Master, but this cannot be. The wicked cannot see how their pride deceives them, gradually stripping away their wings; rather, they fly on, and the more they fly and covet the praise of the world, the more they are confounded and the less they achieve. They will never enjoy rest on high, for all the good they might do with this purpose in mind; rather, they will tumble in damnation deep into the pit of hell. In hell will be their tomb.43 [1841–1867] {T}he person who devotes their attention and care to acquiring vain wisdom, and, for the sake of false earthly goods, of which they pile up and amass too many, they criss-cross and circle the earth: they run high and low and go to care and effort to possess these temporal goods, which only deceive them and lead them into foolish presumption, because they can never have enough of them, for the more they have, the more they desire. [1868–1879] {T}he person who devotes their attention to slandering and denigrating good people: they defame and set about covertly, in secret, destroying the good reputation of good people, and bring up evil blame against them. [1880–1885] God is so pained and grieved by such fraud and iniquity, which gives the appearance of sense and subtlety, to which most people dedicate themselves: he hates and abjures such “sense.” God, who knows and sees everything, who had willingly allowed them to rise up in presumptuousness, casts such people down to perdition. From the height of their knowledge, he makes them tumble; and for their lack of knowledge, he damns them; and he destroys and confounds those who profess such wisdom.44 Their wisdom besots them so that they cannot manage to see anything and cannot know God through their foolish sense in which they place their trust, which leads them to perdition. They have devoted so much of their attention to earthly vanities, frauds, iniquities, betrayals, trickeries, and false flatteries, to which their disloyal hearts apply themselves, that they forget themselves and all good works because of it. And God likewise forgets them, and what they have deceitfully gathered and amassed through trickery or by stealth, they must lose. Thus it is: ill-gotten gains do not profit.45 [1886–1918] De Boer has a semicolon at the end of v. 1867. In Rouen, v. 1868 has an illuminated majuscule indicating a section break, and we translate accordingly. 44 See 1 Corinthians 1:19–27, referencing Isaiah 29:14. Compare also Job 5:12–13. 45 Proverbs 10:2 (and 1:19, 10:24). See DMF, aquerir, that identifies a similar proverbial expression in the Roman de Renart le Contrefait: “Qui mal acquiert, très mal défine : Et si croy que oncquez nulz hom Qui a volu ce mestier faire Que on appelle apotiquaire, On ne veÿ morir riche homme. Tous meurent povres, c’est la somme, Car c’est escripture divine : 43



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{C}ocalus can be taken to mean a powerful and highly esteemed king – noble, courteous, charitable, kind, and compassionate – who must be “king of Sicily” and who, for the sake of God, the sovereign Master, must defend his holy law against the enemies of the faith who want to strike down God’s law. And he must fight well and valiantly when the world comes to its end and God comes in judgment. [1919–1928] [miniature, fol. 212r: people worshipping a golden idol, apparently minerva from what follows]46

Return of Theseus {T}he king of the city of Athens had paid off the tribute, as you previously heard. All the people rejoiced, and the lords and common folk celebrated his coming, those who had been freed and redeemed by his nobility from having to pay the deadly tribute. They had no choice but to give in to joy, and in their rejoicing the city was entirely decorated with displays and tapestries. The walls were covered and adorned with crystal, gold, and sards, jasper and light green glass, and likewise many decorations were spread along the streets. All the temples there were adorned with wreaths of shining gold. Clerics and priests and everyone else paid honor to warlike Minerva, the glorious victor, and to Jupiter, the sovereign master, and devoutly offered sacrifices and acceptable gifts: the blood of lambs and ritual incense. The whole city was full of happiness, without any sadness, and they greeted the new bride with a great feast and joyful fare.47 [1929–1960] Moralization {W}hen God, King of immortality, will have redeemed all his people and brought them back from the death to life, according to the prophecy as well as the Apocalypse, those who will be the elect of God to live in eternity, whose names God has in his book, will live securely and joyfully in sovereign delight. They will have eternal joy without end with the seraphim and the ‘Qui mal acquiert, tresmal define.’ (Renart contref. R.L., t.2, 1328–1342, 45). Mais chose qui est bien acquise, Et seignourie, quant g’i vise, Qui est par raison gouvernée, A tousjours moult longue durée Et ainsis que perpetuele. La male acquise n’est pas tele, Qui petit ou neant profite Selon la raison dessus dicte. (DESCH., Oeuvres R., t.8, c.1370–1407, 255).” 46 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 47 Feste grand et chiere joieuse, v. 1960, could mean just “great celebration and joyful cheer,” but the moralization in vv. 2343–2346 takes it as a reference to food.

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angelic hosts. The heavenly city will be well and magnificently ordered: the pavements will be of pure gold, the walls of jasper and crystal. Those who will be able to enter this kingdom – glorious and full of joy, without crying, weeping, and sadness, without worry and fear – and see their Savior reigning in the Holy Trinity, will be full of spiritual glory and auspiciously born. All the temples of the city represent all the saints who will be there: they will wear crowns of pure gold, and will devoutly praise the One who gloriously resolved to do combat for his people and crush the devil’s pride. They will offer up to the Father and the Son “incense” which will be composed of prayers, and there will be an offering there of the blood of those who will have suffered death for the love of our Lord. At that time the bride, Holy Church, will be held in great honor, whom God loves so much and claims as his beloved and spouse, and crowns in his high court. [1961–2001] [miniature, fol. 212v: the calydonian boar hunt]

Calydonius, Atalanta, and Meleager {T}he renown of the king of the city of Athens, who had freed his people from oppression and, through his valor, paid off the dire tribute and destroyed the monster in its confines, ran rampant: his prowess and name spread through every land.48 No one spoke of anything but him. He was known throughout all of Greece and his name was known and feared. People from many faraway lands sought him out in great need, and he never refused anyone who asked him for help. He helped all of them in their misery. The people of Calydon, very anguished and bewildered, asked his help in great need. [2002–2020] In the land there was a wild boar that was causing them an incredible amount of harm. Diana, who was incredibly distraught because of the king, who had scorned her, had sent it to Calydon, as the story tells. That was King Oeneus of Calydon: he had great lands under his rule. He was rich in gold and silver, and rich in honor and people. A time came when his city was full of fertility, fruit, honey, wheat, and wines. The priests offered sacrifices and gifts to various gods: they forgot only Diana, and offered no gift or sacrifice to her. Diana could not endure this scorn without dire vengeance; rather, for this reason she dispatched against the people of Calydon, whom she hated, the boar that destroyed everything – fields and vines, wheat and groves – and it

48 Adjusted for clarity. The literal structure is: “Renown, running rampant, spread through every land regarding the king of the city of Athens – who had freed his people from oppression and, through his valor, paid off the dire tribute and destroyed the monster in its confines – his prowess and his name.”



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caused them lots of other harm as well. There was no more livestock left for it to slaughter. [2021–2045] To defeat the boar, which was so fierce and full of rage, Meleager gathered all the lords of the surrounding realms. All of the lords of Greece and everywhere in the world came there, summoned by Meleager. They gathered in Calydon. Castor and Pollux, the brothers of Helen, were there; and the mighty Theseus, his dear friend Pirithoüs, Idas, and the two sons of Thestius. What they undertook would lay Calydon to waste – and what great harm and loss it was! Meleager had summoned there Linceus, Acastus, Phyleus, and Telamon and Peleus, who went on to become the father of Achilles; and Iolaüs, the son of Hercules; Lelex, Patroclus, Enrichon; and Phoenix son of Amyntor; Laertes and Nestor of Pylos; and the noble Atalanta, the most virginal lady in the world; and many others, all of whom came to this affair, whose names I do not care to list. [2046–2072] Meleager saw the maiden, whose coloring was finer than rose and lily combined. The sight of her was a great delight to him. In her hand she held a Turkish bow, and round her neck she carried a quiver full of barbed arrows, very sharp and pointed. As he stared at the maiden, love wounded him with a burning spark deep in his chest. He loved and desired the maiden. Oh, God, how strong that love was! No one had ever entreated her love, no one had ever become so fixed on loving her, without getting only death in return. Many loved her and died for it, without receiving any other reward. He will die for it too. What a great pity that will be! Alas for his great prowess, courtesy, and valor. [2073–2093] He, being in the throes of love, could not hide his love well. “Maiden,” he said, “of great worth, most finely wrought by Nature, may god grant you good fortune. A man would be incredibly fortunate to be lucky enough to have you at his pleasure.” With that, shame made him fall silent, and he no longer wished to speak to the beauty with the graceful body in front of everyone – he neither wanted to, nor did he have the opportunity, so he hid and concealed his desire. But the love that must remain in his heart was not any less for that. [2094–2108] {I}n a great, ancient forest, thick with trees and woods – beside a plain, next to a slope – the lords went about spreading nets. They unleashed and loosed the dogs. They scouted for the boar throughout the forest. They were very anxious and eager to find their misfortune: they looked for the boar without a break. In the deepest part of the forest, where all the filth that flowed through the woods was purged, there was a ravine in the wood, full of willows and osiers, bulrushes, brambles, and reeds. The young men found the boar wallowing there, marvelously tall and hideous. In stature it resembled a Spanish bull. They roused it immediately. The boar raised its hackles. Its bristles were like steel barbs. It frothed with anger and hostility. Froth spewed from its mouth, scorching the grass and leaves. Its gaze was fierce and wicked. It

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was a very horrid beast. The two eyes in its head were redder than burning coals. Its tusks were huge and sharp. [2109–2138] Why would I dwell any more on this? Faster than lightning or a crossbow bolt fall from the sky, the fierce beast rushed down through the forest with such violence that it flattened and brought down everything in its path. Nothing could stand in its way. It charged in among its enemies: it made for them with tremendous anger. It cut and tore into the hounds with its tusks, which made it look like an elephant. It injured and killed many of them. The lords shouted at the boar and the dogs attacked it. It did not shy in any way from defending and protecting its body. [2139–2155] Making the first attempt to strike the boar, Echion threw his spear, but did not strike or wound it. Valiant Jason nocked his bowstring to shoot an arrow at the boar. He tried to hit it, but he missed because he aimed a little too high. Mopsus held a steel spear. He went to throw it at the boar, and prayed to Phoebus, by his grace, to make him hit the boar. Phoebus granted it to him as best he could: he hit the boar, but didn’t wound it, because the head had fallen off the spear.49 The boar, feeling the shaft, writhed with anger and rage: it spewed burning fire from its mouth and flung itself into the thick of battle. [2156–2173] No one ever witnessed a catapult make more noise in bringing down a tower, nor lightning in striking down and destroying a steeple, than that adversary made in charging at its enemies. It put two young men to death: Hippalmus50 and Pelagon. Enaesimus took to flight in order to save his life, but it was useless, because the boar, following him from behind, would not give up. It hit him in the knee, tearing his sinews and striking him down dead. It would have put Nestor to death as well. He brought about the fall of Troy, but he didn’t hesitate to leap into a tree to save himself. The boar went to strike the tree, so that it demolished it outright.51 It attacked Hippasus,52 ripping open one of his thighs: it knocked him to the ground head over heels. [2174–2196] Castor and Pollux, Helen’s brothers, rode two mighty Spanish horses, whiter than snow. They shouted at the boar at the top of their lungs and flung two steel spears at it. They could well have wounded the boar, but the boar, to protect itself, went charging into the deep woods, where no spear could pass and no horses gallop. Then Telamon set after the boar, but he fell down because he tripped over a root. He untangled himself with difficulty – his brother helped him up. [2197–2211] In Ovid (Met. 8.397–399), the goddess Diana removes the head of the spear in flight. The OM gives these names as Palemon et Palegona, v. 2181. We have adjusted to match Ovid. 51 In Ovid (Met. 8.367), the boar apparently sharpens its tusks on a different tree than the one Nestor leaps into (Met. 8.363–366). 52 In the OM, Orithiden, v. 2194, which de Boer explicates as “Eurytides = Hippasus, fils d’Eurytus.” 49 50



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Meanwhile, Atalanta wounded the boar beneath its ear. Its blood, coming out bright crimson, spilled out over its cheek. Meleager, who was keeping his eyes peeled and was on the lookout in that direction, was first to see the hit and the wound. He became even happier about it than the beauty was. He said to the lords: “This maiden will have the victory and honor of this skirmish. See, lords, the boar, bleeding from its ear. It is well-wounded: the signs are clear.” [2212–2224] The warriors blushed with shame on account of what Meleager said. They screamed fiercely at the boar. They shot a multitude of spears and arrows at it in such a thick volley that they knocked each other off course. [2225–2230] To his misfortune, Ancaeus advanced towards the bleeding boar, armed with a double-headed ax. He brandished the ax with great arrogance and spoke like a man full of pride: “Learn, young lords, who will be capable of more: man or woman! Diana doesn’t have the power to protect the boar well enough to stop me from making it feel the deadly blow that it will die from. Not even a god will be able to save it.” Ancaeus, who spoke ill of god, thought and spoke great folly. [2231–2244] Diana took dire vengeance for it. He had not finished speaking when he found himself suspended in the air. The boar rushed upon the young man, seeing him suspended next to it. It pierced him so deeply through the sides that his bowels fell out. [2245–2251] Pirithoüs, sword in hand, attacked the boar at very close range. Theseus shouted to him from far away: “My heart, my joy, my comfort, even the strongest are allowed to stand at a distance. Don’t get so close to the enemy. You’d bring grief to your friend if you died by your folly. Ancaeus has suffered and died by his foolish audacity.” At once he violently launched his spear and threw it at the boar. He would have struck and wounded it, if it weren’t for the branch of a medlar,53 which absorbed the blow and, this time, saved the boar from being wounded. Jason threw his steel spear at it without delay, but didn’t hit it: he hit one of the hounds through the mouth and skewered it through its sides. [2252–2271] Valiant Meleager made haste. He hurled two spears at the wild boar, but did not reach the beast with the first one; he planted the other one in the boar’s back. Anyone who might have seen it writhing with anger and going mad with rage, with its front feet scraping the ground, foaming and chomping its teeth, twisting and turning, would have been marvelously afraid of it. Meleager stood his ground against it. He held the deadly sword in his hand. The boar was not afraid of him. It rushed at him. The boar and the hero went at each other so hard that the boar dropped dead, it seems to me. [2272–2288] Then there was a lot of joy and noise. The company bellowed with joy. They all congratulated Meleager. They looked at the boar and were stunned by the size of the adversary. They still did not dare approach it, but looked at 53

Ovid (Met. 8.410) specifies that “it was deflected by the leafy branch of an oak” (Kline).

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the corpse from a distance; and to have a part in its death, they wet their spears in its blood. [2289–2297] Meleager waited no longer. He took the boar’s head and hide and offered them to the maiden who had wounded it first. The others were indignant about it: it made them all start murmuring enviously. The two sons of Thestius could not suffer or endure this gift. They all started murmuring, then yelled at her fiercely: “Put down the spoils right now, woman, for you have no right to them; otherwise, you will pay dearly for the beauty in which you place so much faith. The one who gave you this gift will never protect you.” Then they took the gift away from her, in the presence of the one who had given it to her. [2298–2315] Lion-hearted Meleager could not bear this, when he saw it. He was completely consumed with anger and rage, and spoke with great ferocity: “Learn, traitors deserving of death, the difference between doing and threatening.” At once he drew his steel blade and struck his uncle Plexippus. He struck him such a blow in the chest that he gifted him with death. Toxeus54 saw his brother dead. It made him feel great sorrow and fear: he was uncertain and afraid. He did not know whether he should flee or avenge his brother. With the steel blade that effortlessly cut, with which his brother had been slain, Meleager slew him too. [2316–2332] [miniature, fol. 214v: a sheep (?), lion, and boar feasting on human corpses, dragons overhead]

Moralization {I} wish to briefly explain the meaning of this adventure. The name and magnificence, honor, glory, and power of God, the King of Paradise, is greatly feared, known, exalted, and believed in, in every land, throughout the world, and lifted up to heaven above. The princes and people of long ago – to whom God, in his generous goodness, had given wines and food and meat just as they pleased, without avarice or stinginess – made sacrifices to various gods and forgot almighty God, who had made them in his image.55 [2333–2349] The wicked, full of devilry, neglectfully forgot about “the triple-formed goddess,” that is, the holy divinity that is three persons in true unity, so they made gifts and sacrifices of oxen, sheep, goats, heifers, and other presents that they offered to the devils they worshipped, who had deceived them. Hence God, who was moved with anger toward them, took fitting vengeance on the people who transgressed against him. Without delay he sent serpents, dragons,

54 55

Their names are given in the OM as Flexipon, v. 2323, and Thocippus, v. 2326. Lit. “according to his form” (à sa forme, v. 2349).



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leopards, wicked bears and lions, and wild boars to devour them; and many were killed and injured at the hands of their enemies.56 [2350–2368] The boar the tale speaks about can be understood as the devil, who brought the human race to perdition. The great forest where it lived represents the world where he ruled, before God came down to earth to save his people and reclaim them. I can call the world a forest, where the thief, the false traitor full of guile, the murderer and robber of souls, used to hide. This wood, which is so terrifying and perilous and leads people astray, sits between the plains of paradise and the slope of vile hell.57 [2369–2384] The hollow where the boar lives is a perverted conscience, full of vice and vileness, malice and iniquity, full of stench and filth, where all evil voids itself. [2385–2390] {P}ride, vainglory and boasting, hypocrisy, disobedience, stubbornness and contempt, discord and presumption go down that way en masse. [2391–2395] {D}own another course runs envy58 with its entourage: tittle-tattle, hate with denigration, wicked glee at the misfortunes of others, and sorrowful affliction at their successes. [2396–2400] {D}own another course runs wrath, in great disarray, coursing with its retinue; bringing down into the hollow quarreling and fearful thinking; indignation; blasphemy, which curses and insults God; contempt and shrieking.59 [2401–2407] {D}own another course runs sadness, bringing with it despair, faint-heartedness and folly, sloth and rancor and malice. [2408–2411] {D}own another course run avarice, treason, fraud and robbery, theft and brutality, hardness of heart and violence, perjury and idle worry and sacrilege and simony. [2412–2417] {D}own another course flows gluttony, full of shame and vileness. With it run vulgarity, equivocation, and vain delight, garrulousness, filth, and drunkenness. [2418–2422] {D}own another course run stinking lust, inconstancy, and clouded thinking, hatred of God in the highest, and foolish love of self, hastiness of one’s thought, and many other wretched things I do not now wish to recall. [2423–2429] Truth be told, they all run into the world and each one voids itself and descends into a heart full of filth, that is, the hollow, that is, the place where the

Compare Leviticus 26:22, Deuteronomy 32:24, 2 Kings 17:25, Ezekiel 5:17 and 14:15, Jeremiah 15:3. For the singular destroying boar, see Psalm 80:13 (Vulgate 79:14). 57 Note the similarity to Dante’s wood in Inferno, canto 1. 58 D’autre part i court o sa flote / Envie et susurration, vv. 2396–2397: envie isn’t clearly set apart from the list in de Boer, but Rouen has a dot as though to indicate that this tributary is envy with its entourage. 59 Contumelie et crieresce, v. 2407: crieresce is “outcry” in situations of lamentation etc. 56

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prideful wild boar, that lays waste and deceives the world, has its lair and its den. [2430–2436] To destroy this boar, which used to slaughter the people, God – the spiritual Father, merciful and compassionate – sent into the world his huntsmen: his prophets, his preachers, and also his dear Son. To bring us to salvation, he embraced our humanity and took on our flesh, and he resolved to wage war against our adversary through his body. He slew and defeated the boar and redeemed the whole world. [2437–2450] And he gave all the honor and glory, and all the praise for his victory to Holy Church, his beloved, who was present at the attack. For her, he was hung on the Cross and for her, his blood was spilled.60 She is the Virgin and pure Maiden, without stain or dishonor, through whom Synagoga and idolatry61 were destroyed and overcome. [2451–2460] [miniature, fol. 215v: althaea worshipping a golden idol]62

Althaea and the Death of Meleager {A}lthaea was on her way to the temple, with great devotion, to make offerings to a god on behalf of her son, the powerful Meleager, who had killed the boar. When she saw her brothers slain, her great joy turned to weeping. As a sign of mourning, she donned black clothing, taking off her clothing of gold. [2461–2470] Plenty of people made known to her the truth about this slaying. When she had learned the truth about it, she forsook the mourning she had undertaken: she set her mind on avenging her brothers. She devoted her care and thought to this. In the queen’s home there was a piece of wood that she had kept at home since the time when she was in labor with the valiant Meleager. The log was so fated that until it was burned and fully consumed, the young man could not die.63 And

In the story, Atalanta draws blood from the boar, but now Christ’s blood on the Cross – the breaking of his body (cf. par son cors, v. 2448), relived in the Eucharist – is the defeat of the boar, i.e., the devil. 61 Moralizing Plexippus and Toxeus. 62 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 63 Ovid (Met. 8.451–459) explains this more fully: “There was a piece of wood that the Three Sisters [the Fates] placed in the fire, when Althaea, the daughter of Thestius, was in the throes of childbirth. As they spun the threads of fate firmly under their thumbs, they said: ‘We assign an equal span of time to you, O new born child, and to this brand.’ When the goddesses vanished, after speaking the prophecy, the mother snatched the burn60



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nothing could protect him from dying beyond rescue, as soon as the log was burnt up. Since then, she had had it kept safe. Now she went to fetch it without delay. She wanted to burn it and turn it to ashes. [2471–2489] Full of rage, she had a great pyre lit. Four times, she was of a mind to throw the log into the burning fire. Four times, she held back out of pity, which appeased her. The distressing mindset in which she found herself was discordant and savage. Anger and pain reminded her of her brothers, whom her son had killed. On the other hand, pity softened her and counseled her that she did not truly want to put to death her own offspring. Such a vengeance would be all too bitter. In her heart, sister and mother were at odds, making her think two different things. Her thoughts were profoundly opposed. Sometimes, she turned pale and trembled: that was the work of pity, it seems to me, coming from the mother. When she remembered her brothers, she reddened and was consumed with anguish. Sometimes she took to making threats and her face was grim and horrible. Other times it seemed her face was innocent, peaceful, and filled with pity. She bore all these signs on her face, making her turn pale. Now she wept, and now she couldn’t weep. [2490–2518] {J}ust as a ship at sea, battered from two sides by storm and wind, sometimes yaws now backward and now forward, now here, now there, so too Althaea went back and forth in thought. Now she got angry; now she calmed down. I don’t know why I would keep you – the quarrel in her heart resolved itself thus: the sister sided with her brothers, casting aside her son. [2519–2529] Her heart and will were resolved to put her child to death for the sake of her brothers, whom he had killed. By his death, she wanted to avenge theirs. She seized the log without delay and came to their tombs. She wanted to destroy her offspring! Full of rage, she said to the goddesses of madness:64 “Turn your eyes away from this rite, that you may not see my sacrifice. I want to avenge the death of my brothers. Death must be purged by death, and one evil fitted to the other. If they are dead, their death must be paid for. Or shall Oeneus65 be happy because of what makes my own father angry? It is more right, it seems to me, that they both weep together. Dear brothers, who lie here dead, for you I want to put my son to death. Accept this sacrifice with goodwill. [2530–2551] “Oh, will I commit such evil towards my son? I am his mother! For god’s sake, forgive me, dear brothers, for I will not kill him at all, although he has deserved his death. Will he have killed my brothers this way, making me feel woe and anger, and not suffer any pain for it? Rather he’ll be king of Calydon ing branch from the fire, and doused it with water. It had long been hidden away in the depths of the inner rooms, and preserved, had preserved your years, youth” (Kline). 64 In Ovid: ‘poenarum’ que ‘deae triplices, furialibus,’ inquit / ‘Eumenides, sacris vultus advertite vestros!’ (Met. 8.479–480), “‘Eumenides, Triple Goddesses of Retribution, turn your faces towards these fearful rites!’” (Kline). 65 Father of Meleager.

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and rejoice over their death? I don’t want him to persist in causing me harm. The traitor has made me so angry that he will die for it. Neither his father nor the kingdom to which he will succeed will ever protect him from having to die right now! [2552–2568] “Oh, poor me, what was I thinking? Where are the thoughts of a mother and the pity she is supposed to have? He is my son! Truly, I carried him for nine months in my womb. I wish I had miscarried or killed him the day he was born. Since then, he has gone on living by my goodwill and my kindness; but he will die for his iniquity and because he has done wrong. He will pay the toll for his transgression. Twice, I’ve saved his life; now, it will be snatched away by me, or he will kill me with the same hand that killed my brothers. Certainly, I’d be better off dead, but I can’t be; that’s impossible. I don’t know what to do. Now I remember my brothers, and now pity comes back to me, softening my heart. Alas, brothers: he killed you, and so I will kill him without delay. May such a vengeance be a comfort to you. Certainly, it is a harsh vengeance, but I will not have mercy on him: I will kill him and then myself, and follow your death closely.” [2569–2596] And with that, she did not delay further. She threw the log into the burning fire. Nonetheless, she turned her face away so that she might not see such great cruelty. The log burned, but it did not burn alone; rather, two burned with its burning. Meleager, suspecting none of this, burned and was consumed. He felt great pain and distress, but had so much valor and courage that he kept his pains in check. But his malady kept on intensifying. [2597–2608] He felt great spite and anger at dying in such base torment. He would have preferred to die in battle. He would have preferred to be dead, without a doubt, alongside proud Ancaeus,66 killed by the ravening boar. He called out to his father and sisters, and also his brother, and he cried out, perhaps, to she who brought him this anguish; and he called for his beloved, for whom his heart was full of sorrow.67 [2609–2620] [miniature, fol. 216r: meleager burning up, while his father and sisters look on]

{T}he log burned stronger and his pains increased. The one was burned and turned to ash, and the other died without further delay. [2621–2624] {L}ion-hearted Meleager was dead – God, what loss and ruin! The flower of all Calydon was destroyed in pain and woe. Now Calydon was bereaved. The ladies, damsels, girls, and maidens wept for their ruin and loss; the old The OM has Antheus. This contrasts slightly with Ovid (Met. 8.520–522): “At the last, groaning with pain, he names his aged father, his brothers, his loving sisters, the companion of his bed, and, it may be, his mother” (Kline). 66 67



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and young men wept too. There was never such mourning for any man under heaven, in my opinion. Old Oeneus, woeful-hearted, scratched his cheeks and face and cast himself down on the ground. And the mother who had inflicted such a death sentence went on to kill herself. [2625–2640] If someone had a thousand tongues to speak, was wise and eloquent, and had as much understanding and knowledge as it was ever possible to have in Greece, they would not have been able to describe, no matter how skilled they were at conveying information, the grief of his wretched sisters. This grief killed and destroyed them. They beat their faces and chests. They bowed down prostrate on his tomb. They kissed the corpse, kissed the bier. In that place there was no joy or delight. Without further delay, the body was burned and turned to ash and buried in a well-sculpted marble tomb. The sisters, who could not conceal their sorrow, wet it many times with their weeping: they wanted to be dead and buried alongside him. Sad and woebegone, they all fled in their grief: they all flew off through the air. They sprouted new feathers: all of them became birds, except Gorge and Deianira.68 [2641–2665] Exiled, full of anguish and anger, Tydeus left the land. Tydeus was a son of Althaea, she who had killed her son, and he’d consented to Meleager’s death, as the story tells us. For this reason, he was expelled from the kingdom of Calydon in great shame, and fled with great hardship and difficulty to Argos. There he stopped, and he remained there for a long time. [2666–2676] [miniature, fol. 216v: jesus carrying the cross, followed by lamenting women (the three marys?)]69

Moralization {T}o restore the great ruin and loss of the human race, delivered to bitter death by the bite of the first father, who transgressed the divine command due to the wicked exhortation of Eve, his wife, and of the devil, the merciful Deity resolved to send his own Son to his death, to redeem and deliver those who, by the divine judgment, had been condemned to death and the infernal prison. The Son perished by the “log” of the Cross, where he stretched out his body and spilled his blood. The Deity set the body of his blessed Son on fire with the fire of true charity, to lead his people back from exile and confound the hubris, the dominion, and the power of the world and of the city of hell, full of 68 In Ovid (Met. 8.542–546), Diana does it: “At last, Diana, satiated with her destruction of the house of Parthaon, lifted them up, all except Gorge, and Deianira, the daughterin-law of noble Alcmena, and, making feathers spring from their bodies, and stretching long wings over their arms, she gave them beaks, and, changed to guinea-hens, the Meleagrides, launched them into the air” (Kline). 69 Compare and contrast with the miniature on fol. 160r.

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filth and wickedness, full of anguish, woe, and shadowy heat. Consequently, the vile tyrant, the enemy, who was prince and king of the world, was cast down and divested. Then the presumption, power, and dominion of the world full of madness, which was so accustomed to be feared, was overthrown. And so he was thrown out of the world in shame and disgrace into the exile of perdition, pain, and misfortune, into stinking hell, full of filth. [2677–2714] The sisters who were grieving can be taken to mean the women who wept for the Son of God, who was taken to be killed and made to suffer on the Cross, some of whom “flew off” to Galilee, where they went. Galilee means transition.70 Through true contemplation, they passed over from a wicked path to virtue, and from grief into joy. Gorge can be understood as deceived Gentilisa, who remained in foolish error and worshipped idols made of wood and stone and silver. Deianira represents the wretched Jewish people, who remain foolish and unbelieving in the holy Incarnation and the mortal Passion of the Son of God, who resolved to incur death and Passion in order to save us. [2715–2736] [miniature, fol. 217r: acheloüs and theseus at dinner]

Acheloüs: Perimele {A}bove, I told and recounted to you how Meleager defeated the boar that had laid waste the land, and I told you how his mother, Althaea, killed him with the log she set on fire, and how, because of his death, his sisters were suddenly turned into birds, except for only two of them. Meanwhile, the text tells us, Theseus wished to begin his return journey to Athens, which was his birthright. He had brought companions with him to hunt the boar, and they had kept him company during the attack on it. [2737–2750] He was delayed for a while by Acheloüs, who had blocked and closed off his path with his waters, then invited him to rest and relax with him for only three or four days, until the waters, flowing out of their proper channel, had subsided. The waters were very dangerous, overflowing, and turbulent. Nothing they met with in their onset could withstand them. They were so strong and rapacious that they snatched up the sheep from their pens that were located next to the riverbank, and the cattle, and the swift, strong horses. There, the animals’ efforts were useless in saving them from sudden death. The rise in water level from Perhaps compare Matthew 26:32 and Matthew 28:10. We find “Galilaea interpretatur transmigratio” and variations in Augustine, Jerome, Hugh of St. Victor, Jacobus de Voragine, Aquinas’s Commentary on the Gospel of St. John, lectio 16, and Bonaventure’s Commentary on the Gospel of St. John, and more. For a helpful overview, see Toynbee (1902), 285, on Dante’s use of “Galilea.” 70



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rains or snows, coming down from the mountains every time they melted, made the river swell up. Many young men perished there. [2751–2774] Theseus and his company were put up and lodged at the home of Acheloüs, at his invitation, in order to avoid the danger of the waters and the river that was rushing so strongly, for as long as the ford was impassable. The house was built of pumice, spurges, and cork, and the seats on which people sat there were covered and made with soft green moss. Now Theseus was refreshed. Two-thirds of the day had already passed and Acheloüs, taking great pains to honor such a valiant guest, had the table set. Without delay, Theseus and then the others sat down. Pirithoüs was seated closest to Theseus, on his right, and old Lelex on his left; and the others were similarly seated in orderly fashion according to their rank. Nymphs, who served them barefoot, supplied the tables with delightful meats and foods. When they had eaten their fill at their ease and leisure, they took care to clear the tables. [2775–2803] The lords went to wash their hands, then wine was fetched for them. To entertain himself, Theseus looked seaward and saw five islands in the sea, but so far out that when he stared at them, he couldn’t make any distinction between them. Theseus said: “What do I see there? What island is that? What is its name?” [2804–2812] Acheloüs, who knew it well, replied that there were five islands in the place they were looking at, not one, and that each had been a woman: “But I recently turned them into islands in this way because they scorned me. One day, they were sacrificing five and five bullocks71 to the rural gods and holding great games and feasts, but they never remembered me at all. And do you know what happened? I swelled up mightily over it, and furiously cascaded with the waters of my river, that were very prideful72 and fierce. I uprooted all the trees and crops. My waters completely submerged the place where the women who had forgotten me earlier were celebrating; but now, they remembered me and felt overwhelming terror and fear of drowning. I made my great waters swirl about so much that I swept them down with me to the sea, and split the land there into five parts. Now they have become five islands and are scattered in five places. Now the islands they were transformed into are named the Echinades. [2813–2842] “That other island further away, which you see off to the side by itself, sitting in the deep sea, was a woman I used to love long ago, and I took her virginity. The beauty was named Perimele, daughter of the wicked Hippodamas. She is still called Perimele even though she has been transformed. When Cinq et cinq veaux, v. 2821. De Boer notes that a syllable is missing in the beginning of the line in all of the manuscripts and cites Ovid’s bis quinque (Met. 8.580). Following de Boer, we have translated accordingly. 72 Rouen (fol. 217v) has orgeuilleuse for de Boer’s argueilleuse, v. 2828; we translate accordingly. 71

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I had deflowered the beauty and her father had heard tell of it, he felt such sorrow and anger about it that he flung her into the deep sea. When I saw the beauty floating in the sea, without bark or ship, in danger of losing her life, I lovingly took her, whom I had grown to love so much, and carried her in my current, and I prayed to the god of the sea to take pity on the beauty – who was perishing for love of me and had been condemned to a bitter death by her father’s cruelty – and take her to some place in the sea where he might turn her into an island, so that my waters might embrace her and forever more surround her. [2843–2870] “As a sign of his consent, Neptune nodded. The beauty was very frightened and feared death, and nonetheless she still floated on the ocean and I surrounded her, supporting her in my arms. I felt her breast heave with the great fear she felt. As I caressed her, I felt her breast grow hard, and the more I caressed her, the more it hardened, until it had become so hard that it seemed to be stone. Her whole chest was covered with earth; all the beauty’s limbs were covered with new earth; and she grew so much in such a short time that she became a large island.” [2871–2888] Lelex: Philemon and Baucis {T}hose who heard Acheloüs tell of this marvel were marvelously amazed, but Pirithoüs did not believe in the veracity of what he said. Rather, he considered it a hoax and a tall tale, and said that the gods did not have the power to effect such a transformation, and he mocked those who believed that. All the others were shocked and said that anyone who scorned the gods was acting the fool, and they certainly believed Acheloüs had spoken true. And to compel him even more strongly to believe, without a doubt, that god was all-powerful, Lelex, who was mature in heart, age, and manner, began to speak. [2889–2901] “Divine power is very great: it has no beginning or end. Those sovereign beings can do everything they please in all circumstances. And so that you doubt it all the less, I will, if you’ll listen to me, tell you about something incredibly marvelous, without a hint of a lie or a tall tale. On a Phrygian hill there is an oak tree which is completely enclosed by a low wall. I saw it myself. I was in Phrygia, sent by my father, who had extensive lands there. I went to that country several times, to levy and assess his dues. There is a deep and dreadful marsh in Phrygia which was once habitable land. Now it is full of fish73 and rushes, and only cormorants live there. Now you’ll hear what happened. [2902–2924] “Long ago, Jupiter, god and heavenly king, who is father and master over all, came there in mortal form. And Mercury came with him, his dear son, who 73

Roiche, v. 2923. Specifically, these fish are “roaches” (Rutilus rutilus), and not rocks.



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had willingly laid aside his wings in secret. As pilgrims, as foreign guests, they sought shelter in more than a thousand places. No one ever put them up or deigned to receive them. [2925–2935] “They could find no lodging there except in a poor little hut, low to the ground, narrow, small, and covered with straw and reeds. This alone was opened up to them and received them joyfully. In the hut there were only a compassionate and wise old woman and an old man of the same age, who had moved into this hut since childhood and had stayed there all their days, without having any other home. They didn’t have many possessions or riches in great plenty, but they had endured their poverty with a patient will. And so they were less burdened by their poverty. Less burdened? Indeed, so they were! Baucis was the old woman’s name and Philemon was the good man’s, it seems to me. They had lived together their whole lives, without ever grousing at each other or getting angry at each other. There was no lord or lady or servant in the house except for the man and woman, who were both lord and servant,74 and amicably did whatever they needed to do without giving orders or shirking. This is how they behaved all the time. [2936–2965] “When the heavenly beings arrived there, they entered the narrow hut with their heads stooped and not straight, because they couldn’t enter any other way. Philemon had them rest on a wretched bed they had, and the old woman went to place a coarse blanket over it, for lack of other covering. Then she hurried to the fire to light it, and, to keep them from smoke, she fed it dry leaves and bark, and blew on it with her weak breath. She brought dry branches and whatever dry wood she could, and put a full pot of water on the fire to boil. [2966–2981] “The good man had gone to pick cabbages in the garden: he gave them to her, and Baucis prepared them. With a pitchfork, Philemon took down a side of bacon that was hanging from a beam above the smoking-pit. He cut off a little piece and put it to boil with the cabbage in the pot. The worthy woman hurried to cook the food as fast as she could,75 and the couple talked to entertain their guests while the food was cooking. Philemon took a big tub – of beech wood, I think – which was hanging from a peg by its handle, filled it with hot water, and washed the guests’ feet. They let him, and did not mind at all. Then they sat down on a carpeting of green rushes, with a bedframe on top of it covered with a coverlet that was old and worn, and, nonetheless, in my Qui seignor et sergant estoient, v. 2961: the translation that they held both roles, as a description of their independence and self-reliance, is a better fit for the context than that he was the lord and she was the servant, and we might have expected sire et servante if that were the case. 75 Compare the Roman de Cléomadès: “Durbans sa maisnie commande / C’on face haster la viande ; / Car errant veut aler mengier” (vv. 10247–10249). Also possible, given hastier “cooking-spit” etc., might be “she skewered/roasted and cooked the meat.” 74

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opinion, it wasn’t so worn or so smoky that they weren’t accustomed to lay it out on holidays. [2982–3006] “The food was ready. Baucis hitched up her skirts and, trembling, prepared to set the table. One of the three table-legs was short and gave way. The little old woman rushed to put a potsherd under the collapsing leg. Then she wiped the table with aromatic mint and placed the food on top. For the first course, they had sorb-apples covered in honey, and berries, then radishes and parsnips, and soft molded cheese, and then soft eggs cooked in the ashes. [3006–3018] “All of their plates were earthenware or made of cheap wood, and they had cups made of the same materials, which was the most expensive thing in their abode. The bowl in which they poured the drink was not to be sneered at: it was made of beech-wood, and not of any other material, and was coated with wax on the inside. Then they had their salt pork and their vegetable, and fresh-made wine. When they’d been served their fill, this first course was cleared away. Then they had, to their hearts’ content, walnuts and hazelnuts aplenty; dates and plums, it seems to me; apples, to their satisfaction; after that, they had purple grapes and honey. Above all, there was good cheer and merriment,76 which did much to excuse and much to improve the food. Their hearts were not poor or stingy, but generous and rich in goodwill, despite their being poor in money. Rather, the good people gladly shared what little they had, and you should know that they could not pour the wine or empty their cups without seeing them refilled to their heart’s content, by divine miracle. [3019–3047] “When they saw the wine increase, and such an obvious miracle – that although they drank a lot, it never diminished – they were incredibly amazed and fearful, and worshipped their guests with clasped hands, and begged forgiveness for having offered so little. All they had was a goose. They tried to catch it quickly and prepare it for the gods, but the goose got frightened and took off, and they chased it, giving it their all. In the end, the goose, now terrified of dying, fled to the gods to save itself, and the gods protected it from death. Then they revealed themselves to the good people, and said: ‘We are gods, without a doubt. Those wicked churls who were unwilling to receive us will receive, truth be told, the punishment they’ve deserved. And you, because of your holy lives, will be spared and free from harm. Now leave your home and follow us up to the top of that mountain.’ [3048–3074] “The gods left, and the old couple hastened to follow them closely. Each of them leaned on a staff and climbed the mountain as best they could. They had no further to go than an arrow flies before finding themselves on the summit of the high mountain. Then they looked back and saw the land and its people obliterated, dissolved, and wiped out by an overflowing swath of filthy 76 Compare Ovid (Met. 8.677–678): “Above all, there was the additional presence of well-meaning faces, and no unwillingness, or poverty of spirit” (Kline).



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swamp, without hope of salvation. And everything was destroyed except only for the little hut where they had lived for so long. When they saw everything destroyed like that, they were seized with pity, and wept and lamented for the loss and downfall of their neighbors. [3075–3093] “They suddenly saw their old hut become tall and broad, transformed into a brand-new temple. The pitiful beams that supported the hut became great pillars, and the thatch that covered it turned to gold. This was an obvious miracle! The doors were engraved and flanked by turrets, and the temple was richly paved with marble paving-stone. Baucis and Philemon started praying when they saw this. Jupiter amicably said to them: ‘You holy, good, worthy people, compassionate and generous people, what do you need? Ask for what you please and it will be granted.’ [3094–3112] “They revealed their desire: ‘Lord god, if you please, may it be your will for us to live henceforth in this temple that we see, so that we may be the priest and sexton of the temple forever more.77 And because we have lived our whole lives amicably, in peace and concord, without wickedness or transgression, may it be your will for us to be together always, and for the same hour of the same day to take us and carry us off. That will be a joy and a delight to us, so that neither sees the other’s death; and I won’t be put to the pain or distress of burying my beloved, nor she for me.’ [3113–3130] “Their prayer was fulfilled. As long as they lived, they were priest of their shrine and sexton of the sanctuary, and lived a very holy life. When they came to their end, for by their nature they could not live any longer in the world, the gods whom they had put their care into serving in order to deserve their grace, were not about to forget them. [3131–3141] “One day, the text says, they were standing in front of their temple. They were talking about the events they had seen in their lifetime, and bemoaned the harm that had befallen their neighbors. Baucis looked over and suddenly saw Philemon sprouting leaves, and Philemon saw the old woman sprouting leaves in turn. And, it seems to me, that they were completely covered in magnificent green leaves, all but their faces. Before their faces were covered, they commended each other to god. As they each heard the other say farewell, their faces began to transform, covering themselves in tree bark. Their good lives and their good works were not extinguished and did not perish; rather, they were richly rewarded for them: they became beautiful green trees, covered with flowers and leaves. [3142–3164] “The local people showed them to me, and they recounted this event and this miracle to me as truth. I saw the two trees in front of the shrine, where In Ovid (Met. 8.692–697), both are priests, apparently of equal status. The story seems to have been tweaked here for its Christian audience: since in Christianity the priesthood is not open to women, Philemon would seem to be the priest and Baucis the sexton. 77

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many wreaths of flowers were hanging, offered by passers-by out of respect and veneration. And in the hope that by honoring and serving them I might be deserving of some good, I hung a wreath of fresh flowers myself to honor the divine couple,78 and said that anyone who wants to deserve god’s love must honor those who feared and served and honored god – it is right and just, without a doubt, for him to be served, honored, and feared. And those who honor them in turn will be honored and served.” [3165–3184] [miniature, fol. 219v: erysichthon cutting into bleeding tree]

Acheloüs: Erysichthon and His Daughter {L}elex finished his recitation and everyone in attendance was marvelously moved by it, including Theseus, who took great interest in the miracle and in the power of the gods, and listened to him intently. Acheloüs propped himself up on his elbow and told him about another miracle. [3185–3194] He said: “There are many people, in my opinion, who took on a new appearance only once and then couldn’t change the form they had taken by any means whatsoever. There are some who repeatedly change their form and features, bearing and figure, like Proteus, the god who dwells in the sea, is able to do. Through various transformations, he becomes now youth, now lion, boar, serpent, horned bull, or stone or tree. At one time he was running water, at another, devouring fire. [3195–3210] “Similarly, the wise daughter of Erysichthon79 transforms and disguises herself in many forms, in many guises. Her father, who was full of madness, refused to revere the gods; rather, he scorned them and their power. He was full of cruelty, and in his disloyalty he had the great grove of Ceres cut down, for which Ceres went on to make him pay dearly. [3211–3220] “There was a tall oak tree, thick and stout, full of holiness and salvation, in the grove of the goddess Ceres. The people of the land used to come crowding underneath it to seek help and salvation. And likewise there were ladies80 who Aus diex amis, v. 3176, and the rest of the sentence, reflect this in Ovid (Met. 8.722– 724): “For my part, I saw garlands hanging from the branches, and placing fresh ones there said: ‘Let those who love the gods become gods: let those who have honoured them, be honoured’” (Kline). So “the two friends/beloveds” is unlikely: diex is not a mistake given the context. “The friends/beloveds of God/the gods” is possible; so is “the gods [who are] friends/ beloveds”; and as Ovid explains, it’s because they are the former that they became the latter. We opted for “divine couple” since they are now themselves the object of veneration. 79 For de Boer’s v. 3213, La fille Erisithon le sage, Rouen has la sage. Because the father is described in the next line as plains de rage, it seems appropriate to prefer the manuscript reading and have sage describe her. 80 In Ovid (Met. 8.731–733), dryads. 78



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very humbly, with devout and simple heart, used to make offerings: one of a wreath, another of a wimple. They danced and celebrated around it on the fresh grass. It was fifteen toises around,81 and so tall that it towered over the tallest of the other trees the way that they towered over the grass. The tree was beautiful and marvelous, but the prideful traitor Erysichthon did not hold back from violating it. [3221–3239] “He summoned his servants to break and mutilate the tree, but when he saw that they were afraid to do as he commanded, he angrily took the ax himself and said: ‘If Ceres were here now, I’d have no mercy on her, for I would kill her even more willingly than I would chop down her tree, which I am about to topple.” Then he tried to cut the oak tree down. The tree began to quiver and shake and moan. Its leaves and acorns and branches grew pale with woe. From the first strike he delivered to the oak, brought there from Dodona, blood gushed like a current, flowing even more than at the sacrifice of a great bull or heifer. Those who saw this were very afraid and mightily stunned. Someone tried to take the ax away and interrupt the crime. But Erysichthon glared at him very viciously and said angrily: ‘Take payment in full for your services!’ Then he stepped back from the tree, teed up the man’s head with the ax, took his head off, and turned back to the tree to complete his crime. [3240–3271] “A voice was heard from the tree itself, saying: ‘You who have injured me, an agreeable nymph beloved by Ceres, the goddess of grain: your wicked heart is utterly disturbed, when, to offend my lady, you want to splinter me and hack me to pieces, being demented and full of madness. But you’ll pay dearly for this outrage! To avenge me, the goddess will have you dismember yourself, so that you’ll butcher yourself then worse than you butcher me now, and you’ll die a painful death. That will bring me joy and comfort. This I foretell.’ [3272–3287] “But the wicked man with the insane heart never deigned to let this deter him from completing his betrayal. He cut and notched the tree, then toppled it with ropes.82 The oak tree fell. In its fall, it made all the other trees splinter. The wood-nymphs lamented. They were sad and bewildered, deploring with great woe the harm to the woods and to themselves. In black clothes, sad, tearful, they gathered before Ceres. They came to complain about Erysichthon, and begged her from the heart, without feigning, to send shame and great harm to this disloyal fool full of madness. Ceres nodded her head, which was beautiful and full of grain, and said that without any doubt, she would take such dire vengeance on him that, as she planned it, such dire vengeance had A toise is about six feet. For “fifteen toises thick” vs. “fifteen toises around,” we follow Ovid (Met. 8.747–749): “often, also, linking hands, in line, they circled its trunk’s circumference, its massive girth measuring fifteen arm’s-lengths round” (Kline). 82 That is, he didn’t cut all the way through the tree, but cut into it deeply enough that it would crack and fall in the direction it was pulled. 81

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never been taken on any human being. She would punish him shamefully. She would destroy him by terrible hunger. [3288–3312] “{B}ecause Ceres is not allowed to consort with her enemy Hunger, she summoned a nymph and sent her to Scythia, showing her the way that led to the dreadful den where wretched Hunger dwelled. There was nothing but privation around her. Oread was the name of the nymph whom Ceres tasked with her message.83 [3313–3321] “{B}eyond Scotland84 lay a wild place, filled with cold and sadness, far from all woods, far from all pastures. No grain or anything like it grew there. The place lacked every good thing. There, in a freezing hall, dwelled fasting Hunger, trembling and pale. Ceres said, ‘You will go there. Tell Hunger on my behalf that she must lodge so firmly and so stoutly in Erysichthon’s heart that nothing can satisfy her: not drinking, not eating, not any assault that I85 can make against her. Let nothing dislodge her until she has destroyed him. To travel more safely to this land which is so far away, I wish and order you to take my chariot and my dragons, which will safely carry you there and back.’ [3322–3342] “Oread got into the chariot and crossed over many lands. She never once pulled in on the reins until she arrived in Scythia. She landed on top of Mount Caucasus and there the nymph halted, between Scotland and Wales, I think. In a rocky field, devoid of any good thing, the nymph happened to find the very poorest creature one could find or search for, who was dragging herself along the ground like someone in utter misery. With what teeth and nails she had, she was ripping up the grass to feed herself – and she found little of it in that wretched place. Her face was pale and hairy. ‘Welsh Hunger’ was her name, it seems to me: ‘Welsh,’ because this hunger is familiar and endemic to the Welsh. [3343–3362] “Her eyes were sunken in her face, very deeply hidden and furrowed, and her hair bristled: she had never braided it. Her lips were dry and chapped, and had become wan. Her teeth were full of reddish decay and stinking rottenness. Her skin was brittle and, without a doubt, her internal organs were visible through it. The bones that jutted from her lower back were dry and marrowless. Her belly, where her guts were concealed, was flat and withered. Her breasts were sagging from her chest, barely holding to her ribs. Her toes were frail and long, her ankles were somewhat swollen, and her knees, which were stiff, were swollen at the joint. [3363–3382] “The nymph, seeing Hunger, easily recognized her. She feared and dreaded her so much that she stayed as far away from her as possible. She called her from afar without approaching her, and then told her on the goddess’s behalf what Ceres had said to her: only that, nothing more, since looking at her made In Ovid (Met. 8.772), this is not her name but a category of nymph. In Ovid (Met. 8.781–783), Scythia. “Welsh Hunger” (la Fain Gale) is also not in Ovid, only Fames (Famine). 85 Ceres is speaking of herself in the sense of wheat, crops, sustenance. 83 84



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her feel ravenous for food. She turned her chariot around without delay and flew back to Thessaly. [3383–3393] “Now I will tell you about Welsh Hunger, who set about fulfilling the command of her opposite. Hunger stepped onto a wind that carried her easily, and arrived at the door of the house in which resided the one the wretch had come for. She entered swiftly into the room where the glutton slept deeply. It was night, dark and gloomy. The famished creature crept into the sleeper’s belly and heart. And she inspired and deluded him mightily from within, so that she filled his heart and body, mouth and teeth, chest and belly, and his veins, with hunger. When she had accomplished her business, she went away, leaving him to his misfortune. She departed that fertile place and went back to where meager fare awaited her. [3394–3415] “Erysichthon, still asleep, began to gnash his lips and teeth because of his body’s hunger; thus he chewed in vain, swallowing nothing. He woke up, and bewailed the distress and anguish of the great hunger that so anguished him. Whatever good thing one could find or seek in the air, sea, or land, he had fetched for his benefit, to eat, but he couldn’t stem his hunger. The more he ate and gobbled down, the hungrier he was, and the less he was satisfied. [3416–3428] “He alone devoured and consumed more than everyone else in the land combined, just like the sea, which drinks everything, engulfs and receives all the waters of the world, but never rises or overflows no matter how much water it takes in; just like fire consumes logs, and the more it’s given, the more it burns, so it was with this deluded glutton, who devoured and destroyed everything, but nothing he possessed was enough for him, for he ate and devoured more and more, and still demanded food. [3429–3442] “Because of this famished frenzy, he squandered all possessions and inheritance, and had nothing left to spend. He had a daughter: he decided to sell her to feed and relieve his hunger, which increased incessantly. He took the money for his daughter, but she, who was of great worth, would not accept to be subjugated and enslaved: she escaped her master so as not to serve him and thus evaded slavery, and the lord who desired to possess her chased after her. [3443–3455] “The beauty was on the seashore and stretched out her hands toward the sea. She began to implore the god: ‘Neptune, lord,’ said the beauty, ‘who took my virginity and deigned to lie with me, may it please you to deliver me from this lord over there who’s pursuing me.’ Immediately Neptune, who had once loved her, changed her appearance, and transformed her into a fisherman to remove her from suspicion. She held a line and hook, and had her head bent toward the sea as if to go fishing in the surf. [3456–3470] “The lord, who was hastily following her, said: ‘God save you, fisherman, if god allows you to catch any fish that might benefit you, tell me what happened to a poor naked girl who just came this way.’ She, finding her clothing and herself changed thanks to the god, said: ‘To be sure, sir, I’m not aware that

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any man or woman has come this way since I got here. Besides, I can’t keep an eye on all the passers-by since I’m focused only on my business.’ At once, the lord turned around, and the beauty made her getaway, very joyful to have escaped. [3471–3487] “In this way, the beautiful Driope86 was sold to different lords from whom she managed to protect herself through taking on various forms. On one occasion, she flew like a bird; on another, she was a cow, a mare, or a deer, and so she was able to provide sustenance to feed her father’s hunger. But she was not able to do anything permanent because his hunger incessantly went on growing and he, becoming more and more anguished, had nothing more to eat or cook. When he could not find any foreign substance that would relieve his appetite, he began to feed on his own limbs and was forced to mutilate his own body to sate his belly. He ate all of himself to feed himself, so that in eating, he was doomed to die. The beauty, who had become accustomed to assuming so many new forms to nourish the glutton, could do nothing to prevent him. [3488–3510] “{I}, who told you about these others, can readily transform myself in three different ways: sometimes I’m a snake; sometimes I’m a river; when I choose, I am, without a doubt, a fierce and very powerful bull. But I’ve lost my right horn, which makes my whole heart forlorn.” [3511–3518] [miniature, fol. 221v: scene of baptism]87

Moralization {N}ow I want to briefly explain to you the meaning of these tales. The eternal Deity, merciful and compassionate, gave his dear Son up to death, and through his death, he delivered the world and slew the devil. And he rose from the dead, and appeared to his followers in Galilee, where they had traveled. He resolved to return joyfully to where he had originally come from when he resolved to assume human flesh, that is, to his heavenly kingdom. But before he ascended on high, he lingered a little longer in the world. That was forty full days. He was with his people during that time. He drank and ate like a mortal man. [3519–3537] Through many miracles and through talking to them, he proved that he was truly the one who had died for the salvation of his people and his household, and been resurrected from death to life, which the world doubted, for in its ignorance it was set afloat in deep unbelief, away from the faith of Holy Church. The onrush of this great doubt had swept the world into unbelief, so that the apostles, who were the strongest in the world, had doubts. But God, to avoid the flood and Her name is conventionally Mestra; Ovid (Met. 8.857) calls her Triopeis (granddaughter of Triopas). 87 Fols 48v and 221v have comparable miniatures of this. 86



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the perils of this doubt, remained to give them certainty – to guide and instruct the hearts afloat in unbelief, and those who were in a state of doubt because of his death which they had witnessed, in the faith of firm belief. He explained the Scriptures to them, drawing back the veils of the prophets, who spoke of none other than himself, sentenced to die in order to redeem and save his people. And he told them what reward awaited those who would receive baptism and believe steadfastly in God. And he told them what punishment would be meted out to the wicked who did not believe in God’s law or want to do anything that would please God for the sake of his love. [3538–3572] Acheloüs is to be understood as the world, where God resolved to take lodging before his holy Ascension, after he had endured the Passion and was resurrected from death to life. The river of the world signifies the uncertain fluctuation of wicked dissolution, which runs rampant throughout the world. And some it snatches up and drowns in vainglory and boasting, or wicked presumption, or deep hypocrisy; some, in wrath or envy or avarice or sadness or lust or drunkenness: these are the currents that drown and destroy and confound everything. They make it easy to be swept away. [3573–3591] But God, to have us avoid this deluge and this flood, took lodging in the world, and taught us how one can avoid such a river that drowns and confounds the worldly and dumps them into the depths of hell. Whoever wants to pass safely through this world, and not drown in these currents, must behave according to God’s example: they must stay out of the currents of the world and live in continence which is stable, strong, just, and provident,88 and then nothing can hurt them. They must live with God “in a hall made of spurges, pumice, and cork,” so that the river doesn’t hurt them. [3592–3608] {T}he spurges can represent prudence, that is, wisdom or providence.89 This makes a person reasonable, wise, discerning, and provident. It leads to loving each thing according to what it may amount to, and judging its true value according to sense, awareness, and proper discernment, not per the opinion of those who care about such things, but according to the true nature of those things. For a thing is wicked and pernicious if it seems good and profitable to someone whom it later causes to suffer, and a thing can seem to be of very little value when it is profitable and valuable. Anyone who wants to use prudence must not value or cherish too much any transitory and fallible good that may easily perish, which in the end might cause them harm. [3609–3630] {S}omeone who possesses such goods must not count on them or hold them as their own: they should treat them as another’s property when guarding and surrendering them, and as their own when spending them for their use Porvoiable, v. 3604. We generally translate “prudent,” but this has to match the terms in the next paragraph, “prudence, that is, wisdom or providence.” 89 This is distinct from divine providence. 88

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and for their benefit. And this principle must hold universally, without any variation whatsoever, but it must be appropriate to the occasion – not variable or mutable – as a result of the mutability of time. Whether the hand is open or closed, it’s all the same thing. So however one behaves, they should always adhere to a single purpose. [3631–3644] {A} wise person must question counsel and draw conclusions with great thought and great care, great sense and great moderation, not with foolish haste. They must not lightly affirm or conclude anything; rather they must withhold their verdict until they have found the truth and done a good job of inquiring into and verifying it. Often what seems to be true is false and misleading, and something that seems to be only fiction can in fact be true, just as someone who wants to cheat you often acts like a dear friend, while a good friend might turn away, looking angry and sad. Thus the false, to deceive us, lies low and hides under the truth, and the truth conceals itself under falsehood. In every undertaking the wise person pays heed to how it might turn out, and what might transpire: if they pay heed to it before it happens, then there’s nothing that will surprise them. [3645–3670] They must not make assumptions or conjecture; rather, they must anticipate and attend to everything, and must, without a doubt, avoid what can turn out to be harmful. In all things, they must inquire wisely about the cause and the origin, and the end which is to be expected. A wise person knows what should be undertaken and what should be avoided, and knows what things might hurt whoever tries to undertake and complete them. A wise person deceives no one, and no one can deceive them. Their heart does not deceive or lie: their opinion is as good as judgment. A wise person scorns and rejects those vague cogitations, those misleading visions in which the fool delights and is distracted, for there’s only vanity in them; rather, they place all their heart and thought in firm stability, and so they do not want to think or say or do anything that doesn’t amount to something. Instead, they strive and labor to do good or to give advice, to rescue the fool from folly. They must praise little, and condemn even less, if they want to avoid committing a fault. Great praise seems like flattery, and too great a condemnation is wickedness. The wise person must bear accurate testimony, not in order to exonerate a friend but to speak truth, and not out of love or for gain. They must make promises with great consideration, and undertake to deliver more: they must promise less than they deliver. [3671–3709] They must arrange the present well, and provide for what is to come, and recollect time past, for anyone who does not think on time past squanders their life in poor management.90 Anyone who does not pay heed to what is to 90 Compare 1 Peter 4:7. On remembering and recollection, see also the useful overview of Albert Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, and Bonaventure by Oelze (2018), 167ff.



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come may have discomfort and suffering, and anyone who doesn’t arrange the present will feel badly in the end. In their heart, they must recollect everything that can occur, be it good or bad, before it happens. That way, if they must face the good with moderation and the bad with vigor,91 they do not have to labor constantly; rather, it is most necessary for them sometimes to recover their joy92 and rest. But at the same time, they should make it their purpose to think some kind of worthy thought. It is not proper to exert themselves incessantly, but they must not be idle; rather, they must avoid vain idleness, and think of getting their affairs in order. What is overdue, they must hasten;93 what is hard, they alleviate;94 and when they find themselves in perplexity, they must hold to the most appropriate, the best, and the most profitable course, and avoid the most harmful, and avoid what is too high.95 [3710–3740] If they know the path to attain what they set out to do, they quickly arrange and orchestrate everything, and are wary of the counsel of fools. What seems clear, they treat as obscure; and they consider small things to be of great consequence; what is far off, they treat as immediate; and from the parts, they conceptualize the whole. Nor do they get flustered because of any person, no matter how rich or good they may seem; nor do they part from truth based on the dictum of anyone in authority, and they scrutinize the dictum itself more than the person saying it. [3741–3754] The grace of a few good people, and acting in a way that pleases them, is worth more than the grace of many who lack goodness, so the wise person must not have the will or desire to do anything that they fear may make good people take them for a fool. They learn what is in their power to know, and go after what is in their power to have. They must not climb so high that they fear falling. When Fortune is favorable to them, then they should seek salutary counsel about how to behave and conduct themselves, and contemplate what might happen, and proceed without rushing, and act with deliberation as if walking on ice, because Fortune distracts and deceives those who put too much faith in her. These are the precepts of prudence, and anyone who keeps these precepts will never go astray, I think. They can avoid the currents of the world, that sweep away and drown the foolish. That is one of the parts of the lodging and the hall where God is lodged, and he brings his people there to avoid the currents of the world. [3755–3782] Reading viguereusement (see Rouen, fol. 222v) for de Boer’s vignereusement, v. 3724. Reading ioie (very clear in Rouen, fol. 222v) for de Boer’s foie, v. 3727. 93 De Boer gives v. 3734 as Ce que tardif set doit haster, “What they know to be overdue, they must hasten,” while Rouen has se doit. 94 Or, “soften.” 95 De Boer ends both vv. 3739 and 3740 with eschive, and we translate accordingly. Rouen has exiue: exiver is “être oisif, vivre en oisiveté” (Godefroy), which makes less sense, unless the text is circling back past avoiding idleness to eschewing heights of exertion. 91

92

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{F}ortitude96 is the other part of the hall, which is not dark or dirty, but resplendent and shining. This virtue encounters nothing it finds harmful, nothing that can oppress or grieve it. It is compared to cork: it is a virtue full of comfort. Anyone who has a steadfast heart endowed with such great courage can be confident and without fear. This virtue makes a person live happy and glad, steadfast and free, stable and full of confidence, without any fear of misfortune. A steadfast person must not fear death, but must await the end of their life unafraid. No one could commit a fault or transgress toward them in any way that they would ever judge to be a base act against them,97 and no matter what offense might be done to them, they don’t say “This person transgressed against me.” Rather, they say “This person tried to transgress against me.” If they can get their enemy under their control and in their power, they think it a much finer vengeance to make them ask for mercy than to punish them. Indeed, it is an honorable vengeance for them to bring someone who has transgressed against them to repentance and to forgive their transgression. [3783–3814] Anyone who has a heart full of fortitude must not attack anyone, regardless of their transgression, unless openly; rather, they must overtly, face to face, without treachery and without malice, confront them in an honorable way before attacking them. To commit fraud and falseness is fitting only for a coward heart. A steadfast person is not accustomed to undertake any harmful acts through folly. But if they have a need to defend or attack, they should do it boldly and vigorously, without fearing danger or harm. For nothing makes the heart fearful except conscience, which reproves the wicked when they are at fault. [3815–3832] {A}fter fortitude comes continence, which we call temperance: that is the other part of the house. This is what pumice can reasonably represent. It removes all excess and cleanses the base foulness of every abomination. Continence constrains a person from desiring every evil. Continence couldn’t care less about anything; rather, it wants to live in proper moderation according to the sufficiency of nature. [3833–3845] A person who lives according to continence restrains all covetousness, so that what they have is sufficient for them, and they are satisfied with everything. They are not distressed or flustered by poverty that might befall them, or anything they might be lacking. It is enough for them to have their livelihood for as long as God resolves to allow them to live. Without a doubt,

96 As de Boer notes, Rouen (fol. 223r) has Porce for v. 3783. But see the context of vv. 3790, 3797, 3815, 3833. It appears to be a scribal error, and Force makes much more sense. 97 Book 4, Prose 7 of Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy provides an interesting backdrop for this passage, especially his discussion of how the wicked truly have no power, and only wrong themselves. Lady Philosophy reminds Boethius that the vir sapiens must enter into his battle with Fortune as fearlessly as a strong man (vir fortis) aroused by battle-cry.



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no one comes to earth or leaves it without having enough. They are rich, lacking for nothing, and fearing neither poverty nor shortage. [3846–3858] Continence expels and drives out every delight that ensnares the human heart. It restrains itself from present delights and does not desire those that are to come, but makes one drink and eat without excess according to natural need, only to sustain oneself. It keeps people satisfied and content with a little food. It does not want people to be intent on eating to delight themselves. It is hunger that must incite men and women to eat, not the delight or the savor of the dishes they choose. [3859–3872] Anyone who lives by continence must not have their heart set on some vain craving, but rather must be mindful to hold back everything98 in their mind. And if they happen to fall into one, they must not be entrapped or deceived by it, but must, if they can, following the divine example, draw99 the body toward the soul, and must love that which leads to salvation much more than that which is pleasurable,100 since the good is undoubtedly worth more than the beautiful. [3873–3883] And they must know the condition and life of all of their own household, and act discreetly toward their household, for they must not feign to be what they are not. It is not fitting for anyone who wants to be continent to act great or masterful, good or wise or rich, if they aren’t. They must not have a miserly or stingy heart, but, if they are of means, they should give with moderation, and if they are of little means, they should act well and graciously in public within the limits of their poverty, and may the little bit they have be enough for them. And they must take care that no one scorns them for being too simple or too soft, and take care not to be reckless. [3884–3900] They must not value the belongings of others excessively, or undervalue their own. They must shun all disgrace, and all sin must smell foul to them. They must fear themselves more than anyone, and take care that no base or vile words escape them, for it is from words, it seems to me, that base deeds are accustomed to come. They can entertain and support everything except baseness and disgrace and sin, for which God has no use. They should like good and profitable words more than beautiful and affable ones, and they should care less for flattering words than for righteous and truthful ones. [3901–3916]

98 Rouen (fol. 223r) has tout vs. tost in de Boer, v. 3876. The manuscript reading makes more sense given the context, and we translate accordingly. 99 Rouen has traire vs. attraire in de Boer, v. 3880. 100 Departing from de Boer’s leu saluable in v. 3881, we read l’en saluable, or l’ensaluable (“that which leads to salvation”), which makes more sense. For context on this entire passage, compare Aquinas, ST II–II q. 156, and Chapter 1 of Bonaventure’s Triple Way, that deals with the purging of negligence, concupiscence, and malice through the sharpening of the sting of conscience.

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Thus they are permitted to relax and laugh often, without baseness, without diminishing their modesty and their honor and their esteem. Continence hates and forbids the barrage of laughter from women and children, and the laughter of the presumptuous, and the false laughter of the wicked, and laughter occasioned by the misfortunes of others. Hence, in their amusement, they must conduct themselves honorably, so that they are not scorned or condemned or less esteemed or less loved because of their conduct. [3917–3930] They must be courteous without invective, and amuse themselves without levity; when they must amuse themselves, they will conduct themselves peacefully. They must laugh without mockery, and speak their piece without shouting. They must not be raucous101 in speaking, but must go their way in silence,102 without tumult. When the occasion arises, they must rest well, without laziness, and, while they rest, must have in mind some honorable project. [3931–3942] They must avoid flatterers and shun the praise of the wicked. The praise of the wicked must not be any more pleasing to them than to do wickedness themselves. They should consider the praise of the wicked to be a dishonor, and their condemnation to be an honor, and they should be glad if they happen to do anything that displeases the wicked. Above all, they must keep their distance from flattery and flatterers, and take care not to become flatterers themselves, no matter what happens, nor use such wickedness to seek anyone else’s grace or friendship, or to extend their own to others. If anyone calls on them, they should respond willingly and peacefully. [3943–3959] If they doubt something, they must refute it, and when anyone advises them for their benefit, they should willingly lend an ear to hearing good teaching. They should shun pride and foolish audacity, which have caused many fools to perish. And they must, without being too self-abnegating, preserving the honor of their dignity, abide in simple humility. If someone insults or challenges them rightfully, they should believe that it’s for their benefit; and if they find themselves wrongfully challenged, they should believe that it’s intended to be for their benefit.103 They must not fear sharp words, but rather soft and indulgent ones. [3960–3974] They should shun all evil and all malice, and they should not investigate too much the vices of others, or reproach others too sharply if they happen to be at fault, but should chastise them with civility, and forgive them readily.104 They must not hold anyone in too high esteem, or oppress or harm them excessively. If someone speaks, they should listen to what they say, and stay 101 Copenhagen

(p. 493) has criez de parler in v. 3937 vs. de Boer’s triez de parler, and this scribal variant makes more sense. 102 De Boer’s v. 3938 has Si doit cris in Rouen, but quoy in Copenhagen. 103 For affiter (our “challenged”), v. 3971, Copenhagen has afflicter (“afflicted”). 104 Compare Colossians 3:13–15.



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silent in the meantime. If someone asks them a question, they should take care to answer; and if someone scorns them, they should put up with it and not let on, and give them the floor without argument. [3975–3988] They must behave honorably, and rightly order their heart and body. If they see anyone committing a fault in secret, they must not openly denounce it or scorn the person; rather, it should be kept quiet, as if no one had noticed. They must be swift to act and not easily swayed, and should be stable without stubbornness. They must not hide what they know, but reveal it without annoyance. They should treat all people as equals. They should humbly comfort the poor, and live well and behave in such a way that they do not fear the high and mighty. They should be righteous in their duty, without negligence or malice. [3989–4004] They should be kind without fawning, and have few intimates,105 for they must treat everyone as equals, and shun all cruelty. They must reveal their goodness more through righteous action than righteous words,106 and more by their way of life than by appearance.107 They must be merciful in taking vengeance, and must not squander their good name, or condemn or reproach others the way the envious do. They must not be eager to believe gossip or slander or tall tales, if they’re told any, but should oppose the wicked who cause pain and harm under the pretense of innocence. [4005–4020] They should be slow to anger and quick to simmer down, and quick to forgive if anyone is at fault towards them, and they should be discreet in prosperity and steadfast in adversity. They must conceal their good works and not display them through vanity, and they must not value their belongings excessively, or hold the deficiencies of others in contempt. They should speak little and be quiet a lot. If others speak, it should not irk them. [4021–4030] And they should be worthy and truthful and covetous of knowledge: they should retain, and learn without any arrogance, and publicize their knowledge. And if they don’t want to be amused or laugh, they must not scorn those who are enjoying themselves. This is what continence teaches. Whoever exercises it108 is rarely109 at fault, and nothing will be able to disturb them. [4031–4039] If someone wants to found their heart and all their thought on justice, that is the moss, which is the proper seat of those who want to live safe and sound and escape the assaults of the world. Justice is a good and fine virtue, a bond of love and a divine law. Whoever wants to adhere to it can indeed come to rightful salvation. Justice does not show you or teach you to do anything that is not fitting. It causes us, without deception, to fear God and accept his love. 105 Copenhagen

(p. 494) has flater for chuer, v. 4005, and ait for oit, v. 4006. Proverbs 20:11, James 1:22, 2:14–26, and 1 John 3:18. 107 Copenhagen has plus en vivre qu’en fablance. 108 Rouen (fol. 224v) seems to have se garde for de Boer’s ce garde, v. 4038: “Whoever controls themselves.” 109 The expression à enuis (“hardly”) is idiomatic. 106 Compare

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It makes people diligent to seek people’s benefit and eschew causing them harm. It is not enough to shun wrongdoing; rather, they must ward it off and take vengeance on the harmful. Those who do no more than keep themselves from doing wrong are not just; rather, it is necessary for those who want to be known as just to do good and nothing else. The just must not seize anything; rather, they must reinstate what has been seized, chastise those who did the seizing, and punish the evil-doers, so that both they and others learn to keep from being at fault. [4040–4068] The just must not harm others based on some doubtful and vain words that are neither proven nor certain; rather, they must investigate the motive of whoever spoke falsely in the matter. The just must not merely say anything that they couldn’t state or affirm under oath. For the just must not use trickery; rather, they must make their words stable – as firm and as truthful without swearing as if they swore to it. For if anyone were to rely on them based on their mere words, if they lied to or misled the person, then they would be no better than gossips and oath-breakers and foolish tricksters. It is as if they had sworn on the saints, and God – who is a witness to, and knows and sees, everything that they agreed to –considers people like that to be perjurers. [4069–4090] Whoever violates and breaches the truth perverts the law of justice, and those who want to uphold justice must restrain themselves from lying. And if the just are forcibly constrained to lie, they should lie not out of falsehood, but to safeguard the truth of justice. And if the just are pushed to the point that to preserve loyalty they are constrained to lie, they must ask forgiveness and not make a habit of lying. In this way, they will be wise and discreet and will not reveal their secrets; rather, they will keep silent what should be kept silent, and say what must be told. In this way, they can have secure peace, without fear of misfortune. [4091–4108] Those who do what I am describing here do a good job of anchoring themselves in righteous justice. Such “moss” makes up the seat of God. No one can harm or disturb those who behave in such a way. They will live out the course of their lives without doubt and joyfully, and will not dread the current or the dire perils of this world. Those who want to moor their hearts on the cardinal virtues find a good rampart and a strong levee to deflect the worldly currents: those virtues are obstacles and retaining-walls to hold back the currents of the world. May whoever wants to go to heaven with God abide in virtue and leave the world, and may the world not carry them off. [4109–4126] Long ago, God’s saints abode in virtue. To reach paradise and the joy on high, they rejected the perilous currents and onrush of this world, and served God wholeheartedly. Hence many of them ate the bread of spiritual life at his table, and joyfully drank the wine of our salvation, as apostles and evangelists, who, with a heart that was true and not sophistical, with a will that was clean



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and pure, as Scripture testifies,110 took pains to serve him to show themselves deserving of his love. [4127–4142] Now I want to talk about the Echinades who, in order to scorn Acheloüs – that is, the world and its nonsense – became islands in the sea. These five ladies, the five virgins, the holy souls who, for the sake of God, their true gardener,111 “became islands,” thus resolved to exile themselves from the world and relinquish worldly vices. And they made gifts and sacrifices to God, the true and noble cultivator,112 offering him and returning to him double the talents that he had entrusted to them, thus they celebrated with his friends. [4143–4156] There are men and women who wisely navigate through the current and high sea of the world, that kills and drowns the foolish in the waves of dissolution, and brings them to perdition. They endure with good patience the bad as well as the good, without any distinction, and dismiss entirely the world’s vain delights, and the dire tribulations, dangers, or evils done to them there. Rather, they are so steadfast in God’s grace that they set aside everything, without it making them feel delight or woe, with a steadfast heart and steady thought, no matter what happens, good or harmful. These people, it seems to me, can be called firm and stable islands in the sea. They vigorously endure the assault of the worldly current and the dire tribulation without plunging into perdition. [4157–4180] {A}ny soul that, for love of the world, plunges and dives and drowns in the sea – that is, in worldly vanities and vile excesses with which it is so distracted, concerned, and delighted that its whole heart is earthbound – imprisons and confines its heart in greedy and gluttonous covetousness. This confines it and engulfs it so much that it cannot think of anything good. Rather, it employs all its thought in winning earthly goods, which slowly cause it to perish and bring it to confusion. Such a soul, can, by another interpretation, be called an island in the sea. It becomes accustomed to loving the world, which so seduces and attracts it, that it draws it into death and suffering. [4181–4200] {N}ow I want to explain the miracle of the hut and habitation that were transformed into a divine temple. And I will explicate for you the exemplum of Baucis and the hoary old man who became trees bearing leaves, flowers, and fruit, and of those who were destroyed because they had scorned the gods and had not deigned to lodge them. [4201–4210] {L}ong ago, God the Father, King of Paradise, Salvation and Savior of the world, came to earth in mortal form. And the Son, from whom all goodness abounds, concealed the “wings”113 of his divinity beneath our humanity. And, 110 Compare

the “clean heart” of Psalms 24:4 (Vulgate 23:4), 51:10 (Vulgate 50:12). Compare John 15:1. 112 Vrai gaigneor, v. 4153, can mean “a farmer” or “a profiteer/investor”: hopefully “cultivator” captures something of both possibilities. 113 This moralizes Mercury’s winged sandals. 111

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like a stranger, he asked for lodging in his rightful homes. But most people, out of ignorance, did not deign to receive him, or believe anything he might say, or do anything he might ask of them. And they threatened him heinously before they scorned him and drove him away. Those who did not believe his speeches shut the doors of their hearts. Oh God, there were far too many such people who denied their homes to him, and heinously refused to recognize him, and few were those who received him. [4211–4230] The rich in the eyes of God, the poor in the eyes of the world114 – simple and worthy and humble and pure, the patient and the devout, who carried out God’s will well – received him joyfully and served him humbly in deed and goodwill. And they were so full of goodness that God made his temple of their bodies. They conducted themselves according to God’s example: he showed them the way that leads to the true heavenly hill of eternal salvation. They were full of great kindness and mercy, and shunned the world, and patiently endured poverty, hardship, and penitence, and they were full of charity, without fraud or iniquity. They kept their bodies holily and lived honorably and well in this mortal life, and God, who wanted to reward their good deeds, never forgot them. After death he made them “bloom” and live eternally. Now they are saints, and are now honored and served everywhere just as they once served God. And those who will have served them will receive honor and glory for it. But those who won’t care less about God will be in great misfortune, plunged without hope of salvation into the stinking swamp of hell, where they will be eternally consigned to damnation. [4231–4268] {E}rysichthon represents the unbelieving, foolish people of Judea, who see nothing, and of Gentilisa, who doubt and disbelieve in God, who created everything. These are the people who carried off the holy “plant”115 of the Church and inflicted dire oppression on the saints, to spite the true Creator. But in the end, God took, and will take, harsh vengeance for it. [4269–4279] Those people’s hearts are full of ignorance and wicked unbelief, which oppresses and consumes them, and fills them with such hunger that no spiritual doctrine – which is life and food to the soul and is supposed to feed men and women, and nourish them spiritually to live eternally – can suffice to relieve the hunger that causes them to rave and languish. For it is not life, but disgraced and disgraceful langor, which brings the soul to eternal death, to live in damnable error, outside the faith of Holy Church, as do Judea and Gentilisa, 114 Compare

James 2:5. Jesus is often compared to the vine (and the Tree of Jesse), rather than the oak tree, there is nonetheless a scriptural connection here. In Scripture, oak trees signify God’s righteousness, beginning with Abraham who moves to the land God promises him and builds his altar at the oak of Moreh (Gen 12:6–7). In Hebrew, the same root word, El, can be used for God and for oak. It means “might,” “strength,” and “power.” Compare also Isaiah 61:3, where believers are described as the “oaks of righteousness.” 115 While



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who disbelieve in the divine law. Their unbelief is the hunger that cannot be appeased by any speeches spoken to them. The wretched body relinquishes the soul as tax for a hunger that never ceases, but rather increases and every day continues increasing, causing anguish to the woeful people until temporal death slaughters them. Then the second death rushes upon them, which destroys both body and soul. [4280–4307] {I} can, it seems to me, explain the tale differently in historical terms. It could be that in olden days there was a man – and there are still many like him, who act in such a way that they have no possessions left which they don’t entirely squander for the sake of their gluttonous bellies to which they are devoted. When the gluttons have sold, destroyed, and squandered everything and are not satisfied, then they sell their daughters or wives, if they have any, and satiate their lust by whoring them out as long as they find a buyer. When they have exhausted all means of provisioning themselves, they often resort to murder and robbery. In this way, through their lust they lose their limbs and then the whole body, and not only that, but the soul as well. Such is the man who, for the sake of his gluttonous belly, loses body116 and soul in such a shameful way. [4308–4328]

116 Reading

manuscript cors for de Boer’s sors, v. 4328.

Book 9

Acheloüs and Hercules1 [miniature, fol. 226r: hercules wrestling acheloüs in serpent form]

{A}bove, you heard the tale as told by Acheloüs: he was a snake when it pleased him, or turned himself into a river or a bull. But when he transformed into a bull, he was missing his right horn. He had lost it in combat. All because he was missing his right horn, he sighed and began to groan and his whole body started trembling. What made him groan, and why was his forehead injured? Theseus asked and questioned him about his horn. Acheloüs, his tangled hair wreathed with reeds, answered his question. [1–16] It’s a dreadful thing for me to tell of something for which I should feel ashamed. How can I speak of a battle where I was defeated? Still, without a doubt, I will tell you everything in order. I will never lie out of shame. It wasn’t so unpleasant for me to yield as it was a thing of beauty to struggle with a man so valiant and strong: I’m comforted by who the victor was. [17–26] {O}eneus was king of the city of Calydon and the whole surrounding realm. There was no prince or lord who did not owe him fealty. He held the land for many years, in peace to his satisfaction. He had a daughter, who was most well-bred. Nature had made her beautiful and gracious. She had invested so much care and attention that she could hardly craft such a beautiful piece of craftsmanship again. Her bright face, her beautiful shape, her forehead more luminous than an icicle, her long curly hair that came down to her heels, her blue-gray eyes, her arched eyebrows, her finely tapered chin, her lovely nose, her lovely little mouth, her teeth, her lips, the dimple in her chin, all the rest of her body – no tongue could ever describe it to you. The beauty was named Deianira. I don’t know if you ever saw her or heard anyone speak of her. She was most courtly and of great worth. Many men were seized with love for her, and so many dukes, counts, princes, and other men of high rank sought her as a wife. I, who am native to Calydon, and Hercules, son of Alcmena, sought her hand in marriage. Hercules tried to 1 See Endress (2020) for a new edition of vv. 1-1036 (308-409) and for extensive commentary on this section (196-274).

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win her by boasting of his prowess, his cunning, and his nobility. I boasted of my wealth. [27–64] “Good king,” said brave Hercules, “it will be to your honor and your great advantage if you marry her to me. The fame of my worth and prowess have spread throughout the world, for I am of most exalted lineage, a son of the god who thunders and flashes.” [65–71] On the other hand, I said that I had a much better claim to her, “for I have more wealth and property, and I am not from anyone else’s realm, but born in Calydon and wealthy both in honor and land. She will never have to travel to a foreign land to seek a husband. This man is very foolish and bewildered to say that he’s a son of Jupiter. He accuses his mother of whoring around by saying that, it seems to me. Is he now going to try and promote himself on the grounds that he is a bastard and she is a whore?” [72–85] While I was charging him with this, he glared at me fiercely, totally burning with rage. I thought he would go mad with rage: he could not restrain his fury. He spoke to me fiercely: “Vassal, curse you for taunting me, but I’ll never try to insult you or avenge my shame with words. I don’t want to argue with you; I’ll do a better job of advocating for myself with deeds. I’ll show you in a moment, without slinging insults, what I have in mind.” Then he rushed at me with no more delay. [86–99] Being courageous and bold, I braced myself for defense. I had taunted him so much with words that it would be unseemly for me if I fled, or if I did not defend myself, and instead did nothing but give up. I cast off the cloak from my neck to fight more freely. – We slammed together with great ferocity, since we were both very worthy. We grappled with each other hand to hand: one pulled, the other shoved. This struggle lasted a long time. Anger and rage had made Hercules change color and go completely pale. He bent down to the sandy ground. He picked up a handful of sand and threw it in my face. He assailed me mightily but still couldn’t manage to turn and throw me, since I weighed like a tower. Just as the waves of the sea are accustomed to batter rock, which is so ponderous that it scarcely feels the battering of the waves on account of its weight, Hercules was unable to shift or drag me in any direction, by any means he knew of. [100–128] We drew back from each other for a moment to draw breath a little. Then, without hesitating, we grappled as before. In all my life, I have never seen two bulls fighting over a cow in heat go at it more violently. Hercules attacked me three times, but made little progress against me. The fourth time, he clutched me so that he wrapped both arms around me. He held me between them and crushed me with such force that I would not have been any more confined, it seems to me, between two rocks. Sweat ran down my forehead, drenching me. I twisted and wriggled so much that I disentangled and freed myself. [129–145]



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Mighty Hercules got hold of me again. I struggled and labored hard. He did not let me catch my breath, and seized me by the head. He shoved and struck me so hard that, for better or worse,2 I fell to my knees on the ground. [146–152] Hercules jumped on my back. When I saw that nothing would avail me, that I did not have the strength to oppose him, I tried to deceive him with magic. I transformed into a huge snake and slithered around under him. With some effort, I got free, and started hissing at the top of my lungs. When Hercules saw my trickery, he couldn’t help laughing at it. “I have very little regard for your trickery. I’ve certainly learned to vanquish much fiercer serpents. I was able to use my own strength to subdue the vicious and loathsome snakes that my stepmother sent two of to kill me in my cradle. I was certainly able to defeat the Hydra, which was outfitted with multiple heads and had the power that whenever I cut off one head, two would grow in its place. I destroyed it – and this is how you think to intimidate me now?” With that, he rushed at me and grabbed my throat with both hands. He crushed and injured me so badly that I was convinced beyond a doubt that he was strangling me with a forceps. I thrashed around furiously. I tried to escape but could not. [153–184] Then I transformed myself into a fierce bull and readied myself once more for combat. Mighty Hercules rushed at me. He grabbed my body and smashed into me with such force that he smote me to the ground. In this fall that he inflicted on me I broke my right horn. The Naiads took it, and filled it with fruit and flowers, apples and good spices. They have consecrated it for their use. Now it is full of rich abundance. [185–197]

At that point, a maiden, with her hair unbound and wreathed with many different kinds of fruit, presented them with the full horn and offered it to them as an after-dinner fruit course. [198–203] The next morning, as the sun began to shine, Theseus made ready to travel directly back to Athens, his birthplace. He took his companions with him. He did not want to wait for the powerful currents of the deep, wide river, which remained swollen and overflowing, to subside completely. Rather, he set out, leading his followers to his domain of Athens. [204–214] Acheloüs remained there, hiding his face and horned head beneath the surging, tumultuous waters, and wreathed and adorned his brows with willow tendrils and rushes. The young man was furious over losing his right horn. His heart was so full of anger, woe, sorrow, and rage that it couldn’t even be expressed in words. But this harm was nothing compared to the shame he felt over being defeated by Hercules. He never went another day in his life with2

Lit. “whether I am sorrowful or glad of it.”

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out feeling shame and sorrow. But without a doubt, he felt even more sorrow over having lost the lovely Deianira. [215–232] Now I must tell you the meaning and the allegory that this tale represents. [232–234] [miniature, fol. 227v: the annunciation by the angel gabriel to the virgin mary]3

Moralization {T}hree very fearsome suitors are used to haggling and competing to capture and snare the soul: they are the flesh, the world, and the devil. And the world in particular is more outwardly enchanting, for it proffers its delights, its vain glory and its riches, its estates and its wealth, in order to capture and deceive the soul. But the beautiful, mighty battler4 is God, the glorious victor, the Son of the Virgin Girl, who by divine Annunciation, without natural reproduction or carnal contact, was conceived of divine seed. He who has power over everyone, who resolved to create the whole world, resolved to join and wed with human nature, out of love. He endured with bodily trauma the assault and battle waged by the world in order to win the soul. He won it with great valor, without a doubt, for he gloriously vanquished the world’s pride, and its wiles, and its transitory delights, and so gained the soul as his bride. [235–263] The water into which the world transforms5 can represent the mutability and the fleeting vanity of the world and its feigned pleasures. The snake represents its wiles, its betrayals and trickeries, its hoaxes and tricks, its fraud and deception. The bull6 represents the world’s presumption, pride, and hubris. But God and his most holy faith defeat the world and teach us to defeat it too, if we take care. Whoever wants to gain victory over the world must reckon pleasure, glory, wealth, and perishable goods as no more than sand,7 for worldly delight isn’t worth much. They must be patient in the face of malice, compassionate, full of charity, and full of true humility, in order to confront the world’s pride. In this way, they can successfully overcome the pride and the false malice of the world, and the false pleasure that is accustomed to delude the worldly. [264–289] The world used to have two horns, one on the right and one on the left. But now it has lost the right one, which the saints possessed long ago. It is now 3 Fols 35r, 119r, 179r, 227v (where Gabriel has no wings), and 287v have comparable miniatures of this. 4 Moralizing Hercules. 5 Acheloüs in his river form; “the snake” and “the bull” in the rest of this paragraph moralize his other forms. 6 Reading tors for cors in v. 272, as per Copenhagen (p. 502) and Endress (2020), 327, since Acheloüs’s third form is a bull. 7 This moralizes the handful of sand that Hercules picks up.



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in paradise, filled with fruits of honor and sincerity and sweet odor. The left horn represents pride and wicked living, which the world is full of; it has now become so unbelievably vile and shameful that it has lost all good grace. This is the defect that now obliterates the beauty that the good people who lived in the world once had, whom God has removed from the world and, by his pleasure, drawn to himself on his heavenly hill, filling them with goodness and joy. Now the world is “distraught,” since it has lost the saints who used to maintain it. It doesn’t know how to behave anymore, since it has lost God’s grace; rather, it “dives” and “hides its face” in the deep vanity of worldly prosperity, which is more vain and deceptive than flowing transitory water. And it soothes itself in vain delights, which it has chosen, like a wretch, in order to forget that it has deprived itself of God’s grace. But such comfort is of little use, for it leads to eternal death. [290–324] {N}ow I will tell you the historical interpretation, which is entirely obvious and true.8 The daughter of the king of Calydon was sought by Hercules, son of Alcmena, and by many others as well. Likewise Acheloüs, a powerful duke of that land, asked that she be given to him as his wife. And in opposition to him, Hercules no doubt wanted to compete for her in battle. He overcame him twice in war, on land and sea. At their third encounter, Acheloüs fortified himself in a tower of his, but Hercules destroyed it. He burned and seized and plundered the land. The tower was never rebuilt. Hercules had burned it down and reduced it to rubble, and after that it became arable land, fertile and fructifying, and the river that flowed all the way around it improved it greatly. [325–346] [miniature, fol. 228r: hercules aiming at nessus, who is carrying deianira]

Hercules (I) {I}n this way, in my opinion, Hercules won the bright-faced beauty by his valor. When he had married her, he wanted to take her away to his country. When they needed to cross a wide river,9 which was most horrible and fierce, they could find no bridge or ship or barge. Hercules was very anxious and in great perplexity about how to get his beloved across. [347–355] A centaur full of envy, who was called Nessus, was on the bank nearby. He saw the hero standing on the bank with his wife, whom he10 loved so much. 8 It’s less common to see a historical interpretation offered out of sequence, after the allegorical interpretation, but it does happen occasionally, such as at the end of Book 8. 9 Euenus, in Ovid (Met. 9.104). 10 Since love, as romantic or sexual attraction, can be an instantaneous effect caused by gazing at someone, it’s not clear whether the one who loves Deianira so much in v. 360 is Hercules or Nessus. There is no corresponding remark in Ovid.

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He longed to take the lady from him, and said: “Hand over this woman to me, since I see you’re so distressed about her, and I’ll take her over the ford, for I am strong and I know this crossing. And you are so full of might, you can come swimming after us.” Hercules’ heart rejoiced at what Nessus promised him. He set the beauty on his back. The lady was most fearful, both of the deep and dangerous waters and of the centaur’s ugliness. Hercules made the wolf a shepherd when he handed the beauty over to the demon, whose heart was incredibly inflamed with lust and sin. [356–377] The hero flung his bow and club across the river, and leapt into the ford with no hesitation, without even taking off his clothes. He forged through easily, without looking for calmer water. He was across in a flash.11 When he had crossed, and was bending down to pick up his bow, he heard his wife screaming loudly, for she needed help. The beauty was distraught at being carried off against her will by the demon, who meant to inflict shame upon her. [378–391] Hercules said: “How dare you try and take my beloved away from me, you scum? You won’t be taking her away like that. You’ll pay for this very dearly. Running will never save you. I’ll soon have caught up with you when it pleases me.” Then he fell silent. He drew his bow, which he had just strung, and did not wait any longer, but loosed his shaft at him. He shot him through the chest, so that the arrowhead visibly came out the other side. [392–404] When the demon felt himself struck, he burned with rage and anguish. He thought and said to himself: “I can’t defend myself, for the arrow is poisoned.12 But my death will be well avenged: I intend to make him pay dearly for it.” Then, with no hesitation, he tore the arrow from his body. The blood gushed out on both sides, staining all his clothes with the venom and poison that had mixed with his blood. Nessus called to the lady. “Beauty,” he said, “I will die for you, but I will never hate you for it. You love your lord very much. May god give you joy and honor by him, for he has a most fickle heart, as you would expect of a hero who goes in search of adventure, to and fro, all over the world. He’ll soon find a new beloved and leave you, I have no doubt. I can give you good advice about that: if you are willing to give him this shirt to wear, I attest to you without lying that forever after he puts it on, he will not take a new lover or love anyone but you. I’m giving it to you right this instant. With this gift, you’ll make him keep loving you for as long as you like.” [405–438] {W}omen in general are incredibly irresponsible and foolish, incredibly changeable and flighty, and incredibly gullible. And they would sooner believe with certainty in someone whose advice leads to loss and adversity for them than in someone who makes their benefit known to them. This woman believed that the centaur spoke truly. She took the shirt as he advised, and set it aside. 11 12

Lit. “in the time it takes to whistle.” Hercules had daubed his arrows with the venom of the Hydra after killing it.



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This was the act of a woman all too credulous of foolish and damaging counsel, who thought to use her enemy to keep the love of her beloved. [439–452] [miniature, fol. 228v: the devil carrying off a new addition to the hellmouth packed with souls]

Moralization {T}he soul that God had created to be his spouse and his beloved, and housed in his verdant paradise, was long ago deceived and enchanted by the wicked deception and foolish presumption of the traitor, the adversary, the devil, the centaur archer13 who never ceases shooting and aiming in order to attract the soul and drag it to perdition. His deception was so successful that the soul, to whom God had freely given the free will and autonomy and sense14 to cross the waters of the world, dared to disregard and violate the commandments God had given it. Thus the soul, through its own transgression, was given to the devil to carry. But the arrow from her beloved, that is, God, the handsome fighter and glorious victor, which was sharp and piercing, made it possible for the soul to be rescued from the devil and returned to her rightful lord. And the devil was humiliated and made to suffer permanent injury. Yet he still works and labors to deceive and capture the soul, using traps, temptations, and feigned submission, and make it transgress against God. [453–486] [miniature, fol. 299r: deianira supervising hercules making lace/weaving]

Hercules (II) {N}ow as the story tells us, Hercules was faithful to his wife for a very long time, without being intimate with another. To magnify his heroism, he traveled the world seeking adventure and conquering the lands and regions he visited. No wicked boar, no wicked lion, no rampaging monster did he spare; he killed them all. He killed many by his prowess, and performed many distinguished acts of nobility. He was wise and handsome and strong. He caused his exploits 13 Sagitaires, v. 460, would normally be equivalent to “centaur” (see Book 12 for many examples), but the primary sense here is “archer,” so “centaur archer” is a compromise. On the devil as archer, see Book 1, vv. 3389–3407. 14 This might also be read as three nouns, or as two adjectives with arbitre (‘discernment’). Copenhagen (p. 504) has franc arbitre de vivre, “(the) free will to live,” while Endress (2020) has cui Diex de vivre/Dona franc arbitre et delivre/Et sens aus mondains flos passer (334): “to whom God gave free will and autonomy to live, and (the) sense to cross the waters of the world.”

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and labors to be recognized throughout the world. When he had achieved so much up here that there was nothing left for him to vanquish, he went to wage war in hell. He broke into hell, and dragged the gatekeeper15 out of there in iron chains. [487–506] One day he was in Oechalia, where he had acquired the lordship. It was then that love, which attacks the strong, made a prodigious assault upon him, and, without lance or shield,16 defeated him with a single look. It took control of him completely. Love has vast authority, and its power is mighty indeed, for it turns lords into servants and humbles the proud. Now Hercules, who had never found anyone to rival him, had more than met his match.17 Love truly made him experience its power, setting him ablaze and spurring him on. It gave him a new lover, Iole, who was his captive.18 Hercules loved and greatly cherished her. For her sake he forgot about everything else. He no longer cared even about himself – only for the beauty with the shapely body. [507–527] The beauty had no other servant winding thread on spools for her. Love is very capable at forging its bonds and befuddling its subjects, and Hercules was altogether trapped. He was so befuddled by love that he had no recollection of his morals, his ferocity, his prowess, or his tremendous bravery. He had gone wild over a damsel! He was so fearful and scared of her that, in my opinion, he did not dare look her straight in the eye. Instead, he quivered and trembled all over when she looked at him angrily: that is how befuddled by lust he was, this man over whom goodness, valor, and wisdom once held sway. A fool is not to be blamed when it is love that makes him foolish. The beauty knew well how to dominate Hercules, and she did a good job of keeping him under her thumb. He often bent down like a servant to pick up her spindle. She had him so well-trained that he was now adept at braiding silk.19 He settled down to make textiles. You should know that he was not unhappy to be carding wool at the side of his beloved! [528–556] To make him lose his mind even more, the beauty had him take off his clothes, which she put on, and he put on her clothes: she outfitted him like a woman. She dressed him up very finely and adorned him with pelisse and mantle, hairnet and chaplet, coif, gorget, and wimple. She found him obediThe dog Cerberus. Here, as in other examples throughout the text (e.g., Books 11 and 12, with Ajax “jousting” against Hector, etc.), the technology/weaponry is anachronistic, as is often the case in the romans d’antiquité. 17 Lit. “found a master,” but this is how French expresses defeat; English “met his match” is the corresponding idiom. 18 Iole was the daughter of King Eurytus. The OM magnifies what Ovid says about Hercules avenging an insult done to him by Eurytus by saying that Hercules conquered his kingdom of Oechalia and took his daughter captive. Nor does Ovid say that Hercules actually fell in love with Iole, just that Deianira heard a rumor that this was true. 19 Lit. “at lacing silk” (lacier la soie). None of this is in Ovid. 15 16



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ent and meek in doing everything she commanded. And likewise the damsel outfitted herself like a man. She put on the skin of a mighty lion that Hercules had been accustomed to wear, and carried his bow and club and quiver full of arrows. [557–573] In this way, the two of them traveled through forests and plains while continuing their love affair. Faunus, full of frenzy, a wild and stupid god, who had the hooves and horns of a goat, had seen the beautiful Iole dressed in silk and cloth of gold, as befitted such a woman. He felt tremendous desire for the woman and wanted to have his way with her. In order to corrupt and deceive her, he came one night to where the two of them were lying side by side. They were clothed in such disguise that the beauty wore the hero’s clothes and he wore hers. Faunus, who felt the spark of foolish love overcoming him, entered their chamber and seized the hero, who was dressed in feminine clothing. He thought it was the girl. No doubt he meant to molest him, but Hercules beat him and struck him so hard that he almost died. Faunus got up in great pain, and ran off in great shame. [574–599] Rumor,20 which multiplies and spreads whatever news it hears, came to Deianira. She heard how Hercules was behaving, and was acting like a woman. A person in love believes things easily. Deianira declared herself to be wretched and woeful when she heard about it. No one could tell you the grief and anguish that she experienced. I don’t know whether anyone would be able to sustain such mourning who was not familiar with jealousy. But I will say this much: there can be no doubt that she felt great anguish in her heart. The grief that harrowed her was worse than a fever or toothache. [600–615] For a long time, she fell down in a faint: she had neither sense nor consciousness. When she recovered from her faint, she wailed and lamented greatly. “Hey,” she said, “you poor, wretched woman, how foolish women are, and how mistaken they are when they aspire to a love too far above them. In the end, none of them find fulfillment in it. Whoever wants to enjoy fulfilling love should take a husband of her own station. Much good it has done me now, and I’m held in such honor now, thanks to my lord’s nobility! A lower-class man would have loved and cherished me more. This one doesn’t love or value me. Because of his great worth, he devalues me. He never deigned to stay by me even for a quarter of a day. It is not an honor, no, it’s harmful to be joined to someone so exalted. I’ve got myself tangled up in a love too high for me. That’s why my husband disdains and devalues me, and doesn’t love me at all. Now he’s gotten intimate with a new beloved, and he wants to bring her here. But if I can get my hands on her, I will make her rue the day. There’s nothing more deserving of my hatred. She stole my lord’s love away from me.” [616–645]

20

See our introductory lexicon, s.v. renomee (p. 78).

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Deianira was most anguished, distraught, and anxious. In the end, she remembered the poisoned shirt that Nessus had given her when Hercules had killed him for her sake. The lady took the shirt. She went and gave it to Lichas21 and begged him to be off with it at once, to present her lord22 with this gift on her behalf. The lady thought she was doing a wonderful thing. By this gift, she undoubtedly thought to recover her husband’s love. But she did not realize the great misfortune and great grief that it had in store for him. [646–661] The messenger set off immediately. He looked for Hercules, and found him. As the lady had asked, he gave him the shirt on her behalf, and he took it without knowing the treachery. The noble man put it on. The venom spread, setting his entire body ablaze. Hercules was racked with suffering by the venom, which made him suffer unbelievably. But while he did his best to outwardly repress the pangs he felt, his great pain increased more and more. When he could bear no more, he bellowed and screamed exactly like a woman in labor. He tore and ripped the shirt, but could not remove any part of it without tearing off his skin along with it. The venom burned and broiled him completely. All his blood boiled and hissed like a bubbling hot iron, when it is thrust in the water to cool. Hercules had no idea how to treat or cure this burning, which tormented him beyond measure. The venom burned his vitals, bone-marrow, and guts. It cooked and shriveled all his nerves. The hero screamed and bellowed in anguish. He reached for the sky and raged against Juno: [662–694] “Juno, you horrible stepmother, I hope you can find some pleasure now in this torment of mine! Enjoy my suffering, and satiate your great anger with my calamity. But if you can have any mercy or compassion for your enemy, now laid so low – if you must consider me an enemy, and if I have angered you by anything I have done – take away this life I hate and kill me, please. I would rather death than life. If you carry off my soul, I’ll be grateful. A stepmother can certainly give such a gift to her stepson. God, woe betide my great valor, since I’m dying like this, in terrible pain, from a base and shameful death. There is no one who could ever harm or oppose me. I was able to defeat Busiris, who sacrificed pilgrims from other lands at his temple the way he’d sacrifice a heifer. And I destroyed the giant Geryon. And I dragged Cerberus from hell in thick iron chains. By my efforts I broke off the horn of mighty Acheloüs. I razed Troy to the ground. I conquered the city of Elis. The bull of

Hercules’ servant. This translation follows Ovid, but since the French possessive doesn’t distinguish gender, “his lord,” referring to Lichas, would also be possible. 21 22



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Marathon,23 the boar of Cremona,24 the monster of Parthenia,25 the lion of the Nemean grove, King Diomedes of Thrace, and Nessus and those of his race: I overthrew them all.26 I was able to resolve every difficult situation I encountered, all over the whole wide world. I conquered the realm of Oralie27 and the baldric of Feminia.”28 (And, as the tale tells, he recovered the golden apples29 from the treacherous30 serpent.) “I killed the Hydra and the Arcadian boar. I put to death Antaeus, whose power and strength doubled when I knocked him down, making him far more destructive. I bore up the sky on my head. I could never be defeated, nor could Juno, who was always intent on destroying me, saddle me with anything that I did not bring to an end. But now I have come to my end because of this venom, because of this torture, that burns and tortures my heart and body, so that there is no saving me from it.” [695–757] This is how the noble man cried out as he raced through the branching thickets like a starving beast. One minute he sobbed and groaned, the next he gasped and trembled. Now he tore at his clothes, now he splintered trees, now he crushed rocks, as if the burning, wounding venom had driven him stark raving mad. As he wandered on in such distress, he looked before him and saw the one through whom he had received the wicked, lethal gift: that is, Lichas, who had brought it to him. Hercules spoke to him: “Lichas,” he said, “you gave me this gift that is killing me, and thus you are no friend of mine.” At This was the Cretan bull that fathered the Minotaur. As his seventh labor, Hercules defeated it and brought it back alive to King Eurystheus, then released it in mainland Greece. It was killed at Marathon by Theseus. 24 de Cremone, v. 730. Hercules’ fourth labor was to capture the Erymanthian Boar of Arcadia, which is mentioned in v. 743 (however, it says there that he slew it; normally he is said to have captured it alive to bring to King Eurystheus). He is normally credited with slaying giants in Cremona. 25 Parthenia was where Hercules, as his second labor, finally caught up with the Hind of Ceryneia after pursuing it for a year. Although the hind had horns of gold and hooves of bronze, the description “monster of Parthenia” suggests a more threatening creature. The moralization mentions a fire-breathing giant not accounted for in this list of exploits. 26 Ai tous à martire livrez, v. 735. This could mean “I slew them all,” but Hercules is not normally credited with killing either the Cretan bull or the Hind of Ceryneia, which his labors required him to take alive. 27 It is unclear who this Oralie is. 28 The land of the Amazons. The baldric was a belt given by Mars (Aries) to the Amazon queen Hippolyta, which Hercules took as his ninth labor. The name “Femina” for the land of women is found in Benoît de Sainte-Maure’s Roman de Troie and other authors, including (ultimately) Chaucer. 29 Of the Hesperides. In Book 4, they are taken by Perseus, after he is rebuffed by Atlas and turns him to stone. But Hercules’ feat came first, since he held up the sky in Atlas’s place while Atlas went to fetch the apples. After Hercules brought the apples to Eurystheus as his eleventh labor, Pallas took them back to the garden of the Hesperides. 30 For volable, v. 742, Endress (2020) prefers veillable, as in Copenhagen, so this could also be the “vigilant” serpent. 23

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once he grabbed him by the hair. Lichas was terrified and helpless. He begged for mercy, but in this case no begging would do him any good. Hercules flung him out to sea: he sent him flying through the air farther than he would have traveled in a tempest. As he flew, his heart failed, and his whole body stiffened and froze like solid marble. He fell into the sea on the spot. For a long time after that, there could be seen a rock in the shape of a man: the local people named it Lichas. [758–790] [miniature, fol. 230v: hercules, head resting on his club, consumed by flames]

{H}ercules could not endure any longer, or withstand the dire torment. He lit a great pyre in the woods. He bequeathed his bow, his arrows, and his quiver to Philoctetes: he did not want them to be destroyed, for, as it had been said and prophesied, God had destined the city of Troy to be destroyed once again through them. Hercules lay down in the flames, with his club as a pillow. He wore a relieved and joyful expression. He made it seem that he was well pleased with the fire and death that awaited him. The flames consumed his body. [791–806] The gods trembled with fear that the earthly avenger would be consigned to damnation.31 Jupiter said: “I joyfully accept the sorrow and concern that you have for my son and me. For I have taken notice of all that he has done in my sight, whether good or bad, whatever he has done.32 But there is no need for anyone to be afraid about his death, for no doubt death will have no dominion over him. My son will never be able to die from the bite of bitter death, except for the flesh that he got from his mother. That part is corruptible and mortal. All the rest is immortal and everlasting, like me. It cannot be harmed or be put to mortal damnation. He will live eternally, and what death will have slain – that is, the body – I will resurrect from the dead. I will take it from the earth, free and clear, and raise it to godhood in heaven, where I will exalt it. The heavenly hosts will rejoice when they behold his exaltation. And if there is anyone who does not want for this to happen, and is aggrieved at his being made a god, they shall know with certainty that this promotion and this honor have been well-deserved, and they shall not let envy keep them from

31 An echo, perhaps, of Plato’s Myth of Er at the end of The Republic, in which the righteous and unrighteous souls awaiting reincarnation are judged and assigned to different afterlives (resembling a pagan heaven and hell), based on how virtuously they lived while on earth. Cicero takes back up this theme, especially the placement of the righteous and valiant warrior in the Milky Way, amidst the music of the heavenly spheres, in the Dream of Scipio, popularized during the Middle Ages in the fifth-century Commentary by Macrobius. 32 Or, taking à mon oeus as the same expression we have in à son oes eslis, “I consider everything he has done to be for my benefit.”



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praising him, even if it is against their will.”33 All the gods who heard him were in accord with Jupiter’s wishes. Juno herself, it seems to me, consented to it, except that she was secretly upset by the last thing he said. [807–847] The mortal flames consumed and ravaged the mortal part of Hercules, for he did not deprive death of anything he owed it, no more than any other man would have. Nothing apparent was left of him except the true form of his father. When the flesh had been duly paid to death, God34 resurrected it and made it wholly new. In the same way a snake regenerates its skin and sheds it at the same time, and that rejuvenation makes it fresh and glittering, more lithe and energetic, so by transitory death Hercules clothed himself with life and glory in eternity. So he took on great authority, and the god set him in his holy heaven. [848–867] Eurystheus, his enemy, was still not satisfied; rather, the reprobate strove to harass and persecute his sons, since he could no longer get at Hercules himself. [868–872] [miniature, fol. 231r: the devil tempting jesus in the desert]

Moralization {M}ighty God originally took Judea as his bride and remained faithful to her for a very long time, as long as Judea was in good standing.35 When God saw that error was abounding in the world, throwing it all into chaos and irredeemably consigning everyone in it to perdition, he resolved to expel all error from the world and have all of its people acquitted. And so God, in whom all goodness abounds, resolved to enter the world in the flesh. And he so loved one of his handmaidens, that is, the Glorious Maiden in whom God, for the sake of human nature, resolved to adopt fleshly “trappings” and cover his divinity with the “clothes” of carnality, and abase himself. And thus he set aside the “lion’s hide”36 which he had had before his nativity, and used it to

The double negative is glossed by de Boer as “Il sera bien obligé d’y consentir,” but that doesn’t clarify the syntax. Le in ne le lot could be for Hercules’ promotion or Jupiter’s decision (which seems to be how de Boer is taking it) rather than Hercules himself, in which case the translation would be “from ratifying it,” since louer works for both praising a person and approving a course of action. 34 vs. “a god.” Here, the boundary between the story and the moralization is fluid: the resurrection in the story clearly prefigures the resurrection of Christ, who retains the “true form of his Father,” and thus the whole tale about Hercules was to be understood as foreshadowing the coming of Christ in the same way as the Old Testament prophets. 35 Compare Jeremiah 11. 36 De Boer and Endress (2020) have le cuer dou lion, v. 892, and while Rouen does have cuer, Copenhagen (p. 510) has cuir, which fits the context better. Hercules famously wore the hide of the Nemean lion. 33

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clothe our humanity, which had previously been wretched and scanty in terms of strength and divine beauty, and he virtuously girded it with the keen-edged sword of judgment. For the love of human nature, the Savior of the whole world resolved to put on the “trappings” of one of his creatures. [873–901] When the one in whom all fraud abounds – the devil, the enemy – saw God couched in human form, that chief of iniquity thought that he was pure humanity, and did not perceive the divinity because the form deceived him. The vile goat,37 the horned beast, came all at once to tempt him, and tried through temptation to bring his God to perdition, and corrupt the Deity that hid beneath humanity. But the evil once, as I well know, incurred great shame in that attempt, and was greatly confounded by his foolish presumption. [902–918] The Deity set us a very great example of humility, when the Creator, who created everything, humbled himself like a serf at the feet of his chambermaid and suffered so much pain and misery: much anguish and much distress, hunger and thirst, poverty, sadness, many jeers, and many slanders. He was beaten and abused and vilely scourged, and he endured it all patiently for the love of his poor handmaiden. [919–931] Then it happened that Judea, whom God had loved first and had proclaimed as his beloved and his bride, heard the true report that God had taken up with a new beloved who was wise, courteous, and well-bred – that is, Holy Church, whom I can take Iole to represent. Her heart was full of rage and sorrow. She thought she had been forgotten, and presented him with the shirt as a reminder and a love-token. That was all that malfeasant, disloyal lady could think of to do. The holy flesh that God had assumed put on the present and the gift. The shirt Judea presented to him was in the Virgin, when the Virgin Mother gave birth, in whom God resolved to be born in the flesh to receive death and torment. [932–952] The flesh suffered the Passion which is described for us by Luke,38 who discusses the death of Jesus Christ in the Gospel that he wrote. God made him into a permanent sign in the world, which is what the “deep sea” represents. God resolved to give himself up to suffering in order to deliver everyone in it from every evil, every malice, every error, and every vice. The bull and lion represent arrogance and presumption, with which the world was filled. The giant who belched blazing fire from his stinking mouth represents the burning reproaches, insults, and mockery of smelly detraction, which always seeks to be contrary. Busiris, and Diomedes too, can represent those who deceptively commit treachery, murder, and robbery. The Hydra, along with Geryon, represent malice that attacks in three ways: one openly, one in secret, and the third 37 De Boer and Endress (2020) have li vilz bouz, v. 910, as in Rouen, but Copenhagen (p. 510) has ly vilz loup, “the vile wolf.” This moralizes Faunus, so ‘goat’ is preferred. The episode referenced here is Matthew 4:1-11, Luke 4. 38 This Lucas apparently picks up on Lichas from the story.



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way is even more despicable, for it does harm under a false pretense of love. The boar can represent gluttony. The baldric of Feminia, and Antaeus, can be understood as lust, which held no appeal for he who was truly both God and man; rather, he lived without being befouled with the filth of sin, with which all others have been stained. [953–988] He conquered every sin and every vice, every error and every malice, and to deliver the people he resolved to give his body over to suffering, and joyfully accepted death on the Cross for the salvation and the love of his friends. Through the machinations of his enemies, the flesh certainly died, but death never had dominion – nor did it have the power to have dominion – over what cannot die, namely his everlasting divinity, which is neither mortal nor corruptible, but like the immortal father’s.39 What was mortal, that is, the flesh, suffered pain and death, and God offered it on the Cross to pay off death. The Father resurrected it, and so the flesh was revived, exalted and glorified in heaven in eternity. [989–1011] Those who previously were his enemies and his opponents, the foolish malfeasant Jews, knew of his glorification, and the envious, full of treachery, prevaricators of the law, grieved mightily for it. Nonetheless they could not refute or deny or contradict the fact that the Son of God had deserved the glory of everlasting life and that he was rightly exalted. But in any case he was now where they could do him no harm. So, envious and arrogant, they have never ceased to rage against the Christian faith, and to inflict shame on Christians. [1012–1029] [miniature, fol. 232r: iole and hyllus]

{A}nd so, as the tale tells, Hercules became a god and was glorified in heaven on high. Before all the people could learn of his glorification, the news had spread everywhere concerning the manner of his death. Beautiful Iole mourned greatly over it. She was not slow to tear her shining face with her fingernails. But a woman’s mourning is not so consequential: since her heart stays joyful, she mourns greatly over nothing. She laughs in her heart and weeps from her eye, and even if her heart is filled with mourning, she soon gets over it. While a woman weeps for her beloved as he’s being buried, she is already thinking of finding another.40 The beauty mourned for Hercules, but she soon found a new love. [1030–1050] She got intimate with the son of Hercules, that is, Hyllus, who got her pregnant with noble and valiant stock.41 This Hyllus had taken Iole as his lover at the Pere mortel, v. 1003: Rouen does have mortel, but it is explicitly corrected there to immortel (as Endress 2020 has it), and Copenhagen has imortel to begin with. 40 D’autre guerre, v. 1048, apparently a typo: Rouen has querre. 41 It might be tempting to translate “who was of noble and valiant stock, and he got her pregnant,” but this follows Ovid (Met. 9.278–280): “At Hercules’ request, Hyllus, his son 39

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behest of his father Hercules, whose beloved she had been. The beauty found comfort with Hyllus and she was relieved of her great mourning. The misguided Deianira42 killed herself with Hercules’ sword. Alcmena,43 worthy and wise, had no one to whom she could speak her heart or who could comfort her in her grief and mourning except for Iole, who did comfort her. [1051–1065] Alcmena: Galanthis Alcmena commiserated with Iole, and she told her of the adventures and the harsh and cruel sufferings that her son had endured on earth to achieve praise and heroism, just as you heard in the tale. She told her how the great god conceived him without the seed of a mortal man, and how she carried him for nine months in her womb. And when it was time for the son of the great god of the sky to be born, she was so full and pregnant that she could not stand her burden, for the child, who was bigger than a three-year-old, really took after his father the god. When his mother tried to give birth to him, she was in labor for seven days and seven nights, never sleeping, and never ceasing to pray to god, and to cry and scream devoutly, with clasped hands, to the goddess of childbirth, that is, Lucina.44 But she had no interest in helping her in her extremity; rather, she wanted, if she could, to prevent the beautiful Alcmena from having a child. [1066–1092] The goddess had sat down at the door with her legs crossed and her fingers intertwined, and under her breath she had begun to intone a spell to prevent the birth, so that the child wouldn’t come out. Alcmena strained to push the divine child out of her body. Her heart was close to failing from her pain and torment, and all the while she called for help to the one who was harming her. Day and night, she never stopped screaming, bellowing, and wailing. One minute, she complained earnestly to Jupiter and cast aspersions on him. The next, she begged and flattered all the gods and goddesses, making vows and promises to them. No one could have had a heart so hard that they would not have felt great pity for her, seeing her there. Her female relatives and cousins, friends and neighbors, gathered around to weep for her, and to make vows and pray to the gods in hopes that they would give her some relief. But no help was forthcoming, no matter how much they promised and prayed. [1093–1121] In her household there was a chambermaid from a humble background. She had blonde hair and a shapely body. She was extremely pleasant and amiable, by Deianira, had taken Iole to his marriage-bed, and his heart, and had planted a child of that noble race in her womb” (Kline). 42 Dyanira, la male aprise, v. 1059: is she called male aprise because she followed the advice of Nessus, or because she committed suicide? Perhaps both. At the very least, the text would seem ambiguous on this point. 43 The mother of Hercules. 44 Greek Eleithyia. But Lucina was also an epithet for Juno and Diana.



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quick-witted and eager to serve. The girl’s name was Galanthis. She deliberated in her heart and guessed that her lady had some opponent who was not letting her finish ridding herself of the pain she felt in her belly. As she often went in and out between the residence and the street, she caught sight of the goddess, who was sitting outside the residence in a most horrifying posture. She was sitting with one knee on top of the other, and had clasped that knee with her intertwined hands. When Galanthis saw her, she knew for sure that she was interfering with her lady, and called to her, “Woman! Woman! Whoever you are, sitting there, don’t be angry in your heart. Be glad! Alcmena is delivered and free of her burden. My lady has had a child, a handsome boy: I saw him!” When Lucina heard that, she jumped up in shock. She let fall her hands and ceased her incantation. Then Alcmena had a handsome boy, subsequently named Hercules. He was mighty and renowned, and went on to do many deeds worthy of being written down. In this way, Alcmena was set free in spite of Lucina herself, the goddess of childbirth. [1122–1158] Galanthis started laughing, which caused Lucina great anger in her heart. She realized clearly that she had been tricked. She rushed at Galanthis without hesitation and grabbed her by her blonde hair, dragging her to the ground. She tried to get up, but Lucina made her fall, transforming her hands into feet. Her whole body shrank. She kept her noble nature, quick wit, and beauty. [1159–1170] [miniature, fol. 233r: alcmena and iole]

But she was different from before: as the author whose story I have translated tells it, she was cursed to become a weasel. And because it was by lying with her mouth that she had helped Alcmena to give birth, she gives birth through her mouth.45 She lives in and frequents distinguished dwellings, just as she was wont to do before. [1171–1179] {T}his is what Alcmena told and recounted to the beautiful Iole, concerning her son and the weasel, and she began to sob with pity. Beautiful Iole comforted her out of friendship, and said to her: “Lady, if you are so moved by what happened to a woman who was no relation, how about if I tell you the true story of the disaster that befell one of my own sisters? But my heart is so sad, and I have such an impulse to weep every time I think of her woeful misfortune, that I lose all eloquence to speak of it. Nevertheless, let me tell you the story.” [1180–1195]

This detail, already present in Ovid, is also picked up by medieval bestiaries. In Eliduc, Marie de France plays on the trope by bringing a weasel (and then a human woman) back to life through a small red flower (reminiscent of a communion wafer, since they are in a chapel in the woods) that is placed in the mouth of the weasel, and then the young woman. This “rebirth” thus also occurs via the mouth and simultaneously echoes the Eucharist. 45

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Dryope (Told by Iole) I had a sister by the same father, from another mother. She was older than me and no longer a virgin.46 She was a very beautiful and prized girl. Andraemon had taken her to wife. One day the poor wretch went to a lake, whose banks were rough. My sister, who made a point of giving garlands to the nymphs to wear as crowns, little suspected the dire and cruel thing that was about to happen to her. [1196–1206] She was carrying her baby, under a year old, in her arms, and breast-feeding him. To entertain her nursling, she plucked a flowering branch from a peach tree. Blood started pouring from the flowers and the branch. I was there myself, and, it seems to me, I was just about to do the same, when I saw the blood spray from the flowers and the tree shudder violently. [1207–1217] In the old days, it was said that the tree was a transformed nymph who had rejected the advances of Priapus. Lotos was the name of the nymph and the tree into which she had been transformed. My sister Dryope knew nothing of this when she cut the branch. When she saw the dripping blood, she was astonished and became afraid, utterly terrified. She turned to flee, but her feet were trapped, having become roots. She struggled in vain to get free. Her belly was covered in bark. When the wretch saw this, she felt great anger and great grief. She tried to tear and rip out her hair, and found herself tearing out leaves, for her head was entirely covered in green leaves instead of hair. Her breasts, where her baby suckled, hardened and dried up. I was there and I saw this, and it caused me tremendous anguish. I could do nothing to help her, to free her from the branches and the trunk, and truly, I would have wished to be covered up along with her. [1218–1246] Her husband, who marveled exceedingly at it, came to see this marvel. He saw his wife transformed into a peach tree. He kissed and hugged her. There was no part of her that wasn’t covered with wood and bark except her face, which could still be seen. She secreted tears all over her body, wetting all her leaves. [1247–1255] The poor woman lamented, saying, “I’m sure I’m suffering this torture undeservedly, and not for any sin that I’ve committed. I am without fault and free of transgression. I never caused harm or offense that would merit such affliction. If I am lying, may I shrivel, and may my branches be cut off and burned to ashes in a fire. Come and take this child from me. Don’t let him die with me. Find someone to nurse him. But bring him back often to play here beside me, and tell him how his mother transformed like this, so that he can greet me when he learns to talk. And tell him not to spend time around ponds, because that turned out so badly for me. Let him be taught and instructed that 46 Corrompue, v. 1198. In Ovid (Met. 9.331–333), Iole specifies that her sister had been raped by Apollo, and that Andraemon married her afterward.



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henceforth he must never pluck flower or leaf from any tree.” She commended her husband, sister, and father to god and asked us to defend “her” peach tree from being damaged or cut down. Then she asked us to kiss her and to lift up her baby to kiss and gladden her. Then there was no more delay or evasion: she ceased to speak and lost her sight. She was entirely covered in bark. I saw her disappear under the bark. [1256–1289]

Moralization Now I must explain these tales to you. [1290] [miniature, fol. 233v: a leader and his followers worshipping an idol]47

{L}et us take the beautiful Alcmena to be the Holy Virgin Maid who conceived the Son of God by the word that she received, when the angel greeted her as one who would bear the epitome of goodness, beauty, strength, and wisdom. And under the auspices of marriage, she conceived the Son of God, the holy medicine, from divine seed, by sovereign Annunciation, without any carnal copulation. And, against nature, she gave birth to her Creator as a created being, and, through her humility, she became a temple of the Holy Trinity. [1291–1306] In my opinion, she is the weasel who conceived the Son of the God of paradise “through the ear,” hearing the rejoicing angel greet her. She gave birth “through her holy mouth,” that is to say, she prepared herself to give birth and bring forth fruit when that most gentle and kind Maiden – the Holy One, the Virgin Mary, the Glorious One in whom fertile virginity and virginal fertility are wed, a virgin after giving birth – humbly responded to the angel: “May God do with me as you have promised. I am his handmaiden and his ardent admirer.”48 This humility gave her the privilege of conceiving and bearing the greatest son who ever was, who let himself be hanged on the tree and was willing to suffer death to save all people; it was he who rescued us from hell. The Virgin Mother recounted the truth of his birth to Holy Church and made it known. [1307–1332] {G}od – the sovereign Father, Creator of the whole world, in whom all goodness abounds – created two daughters by different mothers. The elder daughter was Gentilisa, and the younger was Holy Church. The latter was the daughter of truth, while the former was the daughter of incredulity, and 47 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 48 Chiastic with respect to Luke 1:38. S’abeesse, which looks like “his abbess,” seems to be from abeer, “désirer avec avidité, convoiter ardemment, aspirer à” (Godefroy).

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“was no longer a virgin,” for she had been mesmerized and deceived by the reasoning and the teaching and the base discipline of those who were philosophers at the time, which had led them into the foolish error of believing in and worshipping false gods, and venerating idols fashioned into various guises. This daughter worshipped created things and did not believe in the Creator. She believed that wood and stone and leafy trees were gods and had divine power, and so she naively worshipped them with offerings and sacrifices. [1333–1356] She had set her sights on the comfort and pleasure of the body, and was unconcerned with the soul. She abandoned the kernel for the husk.49 She provided sweetly for the body, while, in her sinfulness, she let the soul waste away in bitterness and die. Her heart was hard and full of malice, fraud, and deception. No good preaching could make her soften or hold back from foolishness, wrongdoing, or sinning. She was “transformed into a peach tree,” as the tale says. Peaches have a pleasant skin. They are sweet and delightful to eat. But they are all too squishy and perishable. Nobody should love such fruit. Rather, they should love the stone inside, with its hard and jagged shell. This is manifestly how the tale and its explanation fit together. Foolish is anyone who devotes their attention to preserving the body while losing the soul. [1357–1381] [miniature, fol. 234r: alcmena and iole]

Iolaüs and Hebe {A}nd so Iole told her lady the marvelous tale that you have just heard. Alcmena was greatly astonished by it. Iole wept, out of fondness and remembrance and pity for her sister who became a peach tree. Then Iolaüs appeared. He had been old and gray, but now he had become a youth.50 The ladies were thrilled to see him, and greatly astonished to see that, from such burdensome old age, he had come into healthy youth. This was the work of Hebe, the wine-steward of heaven. At the request of her husband Hercules, she had cured him of his old age, so that he became a sprightly young man thanks to the wine-steward of heaven. [1382–1400]

Le noiel lessoit pour l’escorce, v. 1360. Escorce “bark, rind” is challenging: it means the bark of the peach tree (vv. 1247–89), but the skin of the peach (v. 1372). 50 In Kline’s reading of Ovid (Met. 9.397–399), he is brought back to life, not just rejuvenated. This view seems not to be widely shared or unambiguously stated in the Latin. The resurrection of Iolaüs, or his return from the Underworld, is found only in other sources. 49



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[miniature, fol. 234r: people worshipping before a crucifix on the altar]51

Moralization {B}eautiful Iole stands for Holy Church. She feels great pity for Gentilisa, which in folly and hubris clings to false belief and the error of idolatry, and has become rooted and hardened in the wickedness and sin with which she has weighed her whole body down, so that she cannot motivate or bestir herself to do any good deeds. But Holy Church celebrates, rejoices, and takes comfort at the coming of her new lover, Hyllus52 – that is, those who have newly cast off the old fur cloak of malice and wickedness in which they had grown old. Now, they have acquired a new condition of innocence and purity, and they adhere to truth, to faith and belief in Holy Church and in the law. They have escaped the foolhardiness and senseless ignorance of their old unbelief, and, by the counsel of God the Father, they have joined Holy Church, who is their beloved and their mother, in faithful betrothal. To this rejuvenation they are led on by divine grace, without which nothing that anyone does can have lasting worth. It is by grace that these people come forth from their folly, whom God, full of mercy, reconciles and joins to his love. [1401–1436] [miniature, fol. 234v: iolaüs and three women (alcmena, iole, and hebe?)]

{I}t was for love of Hercules, and at his request, that the wine-steward of heaven rejuvenated Iolaüs and turned him from an old man into a young one. Themis said53 that soon there would come a time when Hebe would have to grant the age of young men54 to the sons of Callirhoë to avenge their father’s death. [1437–144555]

Fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v show comparable scenes of Christian prayer, which have similar composition to the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r. 52 This Ylus (v. 1413) conflates Hyllus son of Hercules (Ylus, vv. 1052, 1054), who married Iole, and Iolaüs son of Iphicles (Yolaüs, v. 1388), Hercules’ nephew and comradein-arms, who is resurrected or rejuvenated. 53 In Ovid (Met. 9.394–417), Themis is responding to Hebe’s incipient resolution never to intervene again as she did with Iolaüs. 54 Jouvencelin aé, v. 1448, which could be interpreted as restoring “youth,” but the facts of the story are that she has to age them from infancy so that they become young men. 55 v. 1444 is misnumbered in de Boer as 1449. 51

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The Seven Against Thebes56 Above, I told you about the mother who caused the death of her valiant son with the branch that she destroyed.57 And I told you about Thestius, who was complicit in her sin and in the death of her valiant son, as a result of which he was driven into exile.58 Now I want to say a little more in order to better render my subject matter. [1446–1454] [miniature, fol. 234v: tydeus meets polynices]

{F}or the death of the noble young man, the fugitive Tydeus went where Fortune led him. He rode out alone one night. The night was pitch-black, overcast, made deadly by the lightning and the wind. Rain, lightning, snow, and hail pelted from the sky. The wind howled with abandon. It was on such a night that Tydeus wandered out, not knowing where he went. The sky often boomed and flashed. He came to Argos, and there he stopped. [1455–1467] There was an archway right in front of him. He wanted to go inside it to escape the bad weather, but had not arrived in time: another worthy knight had already taken up residence there. That was fierce Polynices, son and brother of Oedipus, who had slain his father Laius and then taken to wife his mother, the beautiful bright-faced Jocasta. He had had four children by her, it seems to me. The first was Eteocles, and the second Polynices. These two destroyed the realm. The third was named Antigone, a lovely girl, innocent and wise. The fourth was bright-faced Ismene. [1468–1484] Oedipus lived with his wife for twenty years or more, I think, before it became known that she was his mother and that he had killed his father. Nor did his mother know anything about it. One day the lady was waiting on King Oedipus while he bathed. In the process, she noticed a mark on his feet that revealed the truth. The king had had his feet pierced when he was left hanging from the tree, abandoned by the three servants of King Laius, when they overlooked his order to kill the child forthwith. When they were about to kill the child, he began to laugh. The servants pierced his feet and left him hanging 56 Statius (i.e. his Thebaid) is named in vv. 1831–1838 below as the source for this section (vv. 1446–1838). See also the OF Roman de Thèbes (Burgess and Kelly, 2021). 57 See the story of Meleager in Book 8, vv. 2002–2736. 58 The name Thisdeüs (vv. 1449, 1456, 1465, etc.) is problematic. Again there seems to be a conflation of two characters. In the Meleager story we have Thestius, Meleager’s grandfather. Meleager killed Thestius’s sons Toxeus and Plexippus in the Calydonian Boar Hunt episode in Book 8, and his mother Althaea took revenge by destroying his life. But the character who meets Polynices at Argos and joins the Seven Against Thebes – their meeting is told here but not in Ovid – is normally Meleager’s brother Tydeus, not Thestius as here. It was this Tydeus who was exiled for murder, not of Meleager, but of another relative (uncle or brother; versions differ as to who it was), and went to Argos. We have standardized as Tydeus.



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alive from a tree. The king who found him hanging there59 fed and raised him until he was a full-grown man. [1485–1507] When the lady saw his feet, she was stunned and distraught. The thought crept into her heart that this was actually her son, whom the king had ordered slain. Then the servants were sent for, whom Laius had commanded to put the boy to death. They said they had not killed him. They pierced his feet, they said, and left him hanging alive from a tree. And so the matter was revealed, after being hidden for a long time. When King Oedipus learned it, it caused him great grief and sorrow. He felt he had been duped. He blinded himself, more than willing to suffer penance and give his body over to martyrdom. To expiate the sin of cutting down his father, he sealed himself in a cave.60 [1508–1527] His sons, the story affirms, trampled his eyes underfoot, which was a great sin. His two sons fought over the kingdom while he still lived. Each one wanted to become lord and rule the entire land. They were entirely at odds and divided. In the end they reached an agreement whereby they would take turns reigning over and ruling the entire kingdom, and the realm was never partitioned. Because he was the elder, Eteocles ruled first. Meanwhile, Polynices set out in quest of adventure. He certainly had his fill of it on that grim and dreadful night: never again in his life did he experience such hardship. [1528–1549] That was when Fortune led him straight to the aforementioned archway. He went in unopposed. [1550–1552] [miniature, fol. 235r: tydeus fights polynices at the archway]

{T}hen Tydeus arrived. He wanted to come rushing in, but Polynices was already there. They fought such a duel over it that one or the other would have been killed, except that King Adrastus,61 who was sleeping, was awakened by the noise, and roused his entire household. He came to the archway and found the two lords fighting one against the other. The king pacified their quarrel. After that, the two of them loved each other so dearly that they would not have loved each other less if they had been brothers. Adrastus asked about their lineage and gave them his two daughters in marriage: he had two very beautiful girls, noble and gracious. He gave the elder to Polynices and Tydeus got the younger. [1553–1572]

Polybus, of Corinth. Perhaps a metaphor for his blindness. Perhaps also an echo of the tragic heroine Antigone, who, moved by love for her brother and convinced of the injustice of the command, buried Polynices secretly. Creon ordered that she be executed and she was immured in a cave, where she hanged herself. 61 Of Argos. 59 60

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In due course, this lion-hearted Tydeus bore a message to Eteocles in Thebes, bidding him, on behalf of Polynices, to surrender his land and hand over the kingdom as he had pledged to do, or else Polynices challenged him to battle. Eteocles received the message. He was entirely consumed with anger and rage. He was full of pride and hubris. He said that he would yield not even a foot of his land under threat of war. Tydeus left him at once. Eteocles did not wait any longer: he secretly summoned his seneschal and advised him of the reason why. “Take fifty good men, and bring me back that envoy, either slain or taken: this I command you.” [1573–1593] [miniature, fol. 235v: tydeus fights off his attackers]

{T}he seneschal carried out his orders: he chose fifty of the best, most elite soldiers. He led them by a shortcut to ambush Tydeus in a ravine. There they assailed him. He fought back like a hero. He labored and exerted himself so much that he killed forty-nine of them. The fiftieth, he sent back, so that Eteocles could see him and behold the outcome of the treachery he had committed. Tydeus resumed his journey back. He forged on, day and night, until he reached Argos, wounded and weary. [1594–1609] Polynices was not happy about this, nor was Adrastus, it seems to me. They assembled their enormous armies. The lords from all the surrounding countryside flocked to Argos. Ipomedon, Capaneus, and the valiant Parthenopeus lent them handsome and generous aid, bringing many men. None of the lords subject to the king failed to come to his aid or bring their forces with them. [1610–1621] Amphiaraus – an archbishop, prince, and master of their law – held all his land from the king. He was a wise scholar and a good prophet; he was so learned in the divine oracles that no one knew more. He looked into the future with his magic and saw that it was not to his advantage that he should go and fight with the army in the battle, for if he went he would die there. He would not be able to return, for the earth would swallow him alive. In his heart, he said that he would never go. He hid in a cave under the earth. Adrastus sent for him and had him summoned. Many looked for him, but could not find him. They asked his wife, but she said she knew nothing about it. [1622–1639] Argea62 had a gold clasp63 that Polynices had given her on their wedding day. The clasp was marvelously beautiful, but its nature disturbs and awes me: everyone who saw it coveted it, and no mortal could possess it without incurring misfortune in the end. There were many whose possession of it went awry and who died horrible deaths. Cadmus was the first to have it, and experienced great misfortune as a result. Actaeon was devoured by his dogs. After that, madness 62 63

Daughter of Adrastus and wife of Polynices. Harmonia’s Necklace, forged – and cursed – by Hephaestus/Vulcan.



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struck Athamas and his wife,64 and Niobe, the fierce lady who launched a feud against Latona.65 I don’t think I’ll continue listing all those who possessed the clasp, but no one who had it escaped disaster. Oedipus had possessed it in turn. Polynices brought it with him when he first left Thebes, and he went on to meet with incredible misfortune. Argea got it; she still had it. When the lady Eriphyle, wife of the wise Amphiaraus, laid eyes on it, she desired it greatly in her heart. She went to Argea and spoke to her. She said to her that if she, Argea, gave her the clasp, then she, Eriphyle, would convince Amphiaraus to go to Thebes. Argea gave her the clasp according to the bargain she had struck, and Eriphyle’s husband joined the war-host. [1640–1675] The king had sent so many summons, here and there, that he assembled an enormous host. They set out for Thebes. In the land where King Lycurgus reigned, the army thought that it would die of thirst.66 From there, they marched to Thebes. On the first day of battle, Amphiaraus sank into the earth. The deadly war went on a long time after that. [1676–1685] [miniature, fol. 236r: mounted knights in melee]67

{T}here were great losses on both sides. Ipomedon, Capaneus, Parthenopeus, Tydeus, and Polynices too all showed their valor. A slave, if the story does not lie, killed Tydeus by shooting at him. I don’t think I’ll waste time telling of Polynices’ grief. He felt great sorrow and rage over the death of his dear friend, and exacted a terrible price for it. Ipomedon died in the water.68 [1686–1697] Then the two brothers who had so foolishly begun the war killed each other with their swords. After they were put in the ground, the opposing armies mustered and the forces clashed where their bodies lay. Both sides suffered enormous losses. The army of Argos was annihilated. Of the splendid expedition and of all the king’s troops, only three ever escaped, namely Capaneus, the king himself, and a man from Calydon. The latter was dispatched to Argos by King Adrastus to announce the disaster that had befallen him. [1698–1713] 64 See Book 4. Athamas was married several times; the wife referred to here is Ino, daughter of Cadmus, with whom he had two children, Learchus and Melicerta, who were killed by their parents, vv. 3922ff. 65 See Book 6. Latona is Leto, mother of Apollo and Diana, who avenged their mother by killing Niobe’s children , vv. 973–1378. 66 Nemea. Lycurgus of Nemea is distinct from Lycurgus of Thrace from Book 4. In Apollodorus, Library, 3.64–66, the army stops at a spring in Nemea, after which they celebrated the Nemean Games in honor of a child who was killed there by a snake (which was recognized by Amphiaraus as a portent of doom). In Statius, Book 4, the discovery of the spring happens during a drought, when the local rivers are dry and the army is indeed suffering from thirst. 67 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat. 68 He drowned. See Statius, Book 9.

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The messenger set out without delay. He reached Argos and delivered his message, telling of the harm and loss endured by the army, the king’s misfortune, and the slaughter of his troops. “Out of the entire host he led there, only three escaped: myself, Capaneus, and the king. Through me, the king summons you and bids you lend him aid.” The news, which was neither positive nor pleasant to hear, spread through Argos. Sobs, cries, and lamentation rose from the city. Such mourning has never happened since. [1714–1729] Amphiaraus had a son, Alcmaeon, who went mad with anger and grief. He knew that it was his mother’s cajoling that had cost him his father to the warhost, for he had been convinced to go against his will. In his grief, the young man chose a dreadful course. Anyone who commits such madness is – have no doubt about it – mad. He took grim and bitter vengeance: with his steel blade, he slew his mother. Phegeus69 was heartsick when he heard about his sister’s death at the hands of his nephew. He in turn took great vengeance for it, avenging the murder with murder. He hacked Alcmaeon limb from limb. [1730–1746] Callirhoe, the dead man’s widow, was very woeful over his death. She had two nursing children, too weak and powerless to avenge their father’s death. At the request of their mother, who had prayed to Jupiter for it so much that he granted it to her to comfort the woeful woman, the goddess of youth – Hebe, the wine-steward of heaven – turned the two infants into two young men, strong and fierce and full of valor. They killed their uncle Phegeus in great shame and great woe, to avenge the death of Alcmaeon. [1747–1762] [miniature, fol. 236v: theseus and the ladies of argos]

{N}ow, to better render my subject matter, I want to tell of the ladies of Argos, who mourned the great harm and loss of their lineage. They were very sad and devastated. Barefoot, in coarse woolen clothing,70 hair disheveled, the ladies went forth from Argos. They marched straight into Athens. They demanded that the king of Athens71 aid them in their war. The king was full of courtesy, and did not want to be remiss in helping them. Theseus had letters written. He called up all the forces under his authority. There was no one who owed him fealty who did not come with him to Thebes. The lords were assembled. The host of Athens began advancing from all across the surrounding kingdom. [1763–1781] Theseus sent the ladies on ahead because they were traveling on foot. They headed straight for Thebes. They ran into the king of Argos fleeing on a lathered charger. He had not relaxed his spurs, but was fleeing at a gallop, and Capaneus likewise. Adrastus and Capaneus were hurrying back when suddenly they laid eyes on Theseus’s army. [1782–1792] 69 70 71

Spelled Plegeüs, but Phegeus is standard. He was king of Psophis. En lange, v. 1768: probably to be interpreted functionally as “hair shirts.” Theseus.



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The ladies and the lords laid siege to Thebes. Theseus attacked those within. He repeatedly made many violent attacks on them. The ladies forcibly pierced the walls with steel pikes. They opened up a wide breach, through which the Athenians fought their way into the city. And if the author is telling the truth, when he bears witness that this is truly what happened, there was no scholar, priest, child, woman, or elder left whom they spared. Theseus put them all to the sword. They were all beheaded. He would not take a ransom for any of them. Then he had the city burned to ash and the walls leveled. Theseus certainly took thorough vengeance on it. [1793–1812] Adrastus had his men brought to him. He had them cremated and buried. He had the two brothers buried, but could not cram them in firmly enough to prevent the corpses springing from the grave. The bodies of the dead battled each other. [1813–1818] [miniature, fol. 237r: the two pyres being fed on a plain of skulls and bones]

On two hills distant from each other, he had pyres lit to burn up and consume the bodies. The plumes of smoke converged from the two hills to do battle. It was a dire omen. Their birth was beyond accursed, and they were born in an evil hour. Many a kingdom had been destroyed by them. Truly they were of cursed stock. Cursed was the hatred that they bore, that lasted even after they were dead and made them wage war after their death. [1819–1830] Whoever is looking for a detailed account of this war will find it in the book of Statius the great. I did not give myself much scope to translate the entire story. Statius was prolix in his treatment. Ovid passes over it briefly. [1831–1838] Moralization But now I will explain the allegory this entire tale represents. [1839–1840] [miniature, fol. 237r: jesus on the cross, flanked by mary and john]72

{T}o save the human race, God ordained and endured the death of his Son on the “precious branch” of the Cross. This fault was committed by the Jews, who, in their envy, used the Cross to put to death that life which brought the entire world back to life. They were emboldened to do this by the devil, the enemy. For this crime, he was ejected from the world and expelled by divine power from his long enjoyment of dominion and bondage over the human race. He was driven in confusion into the woeful land of hell, full of misfortune and

72 Fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v have comparable miniatures of this; see also fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall.

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shadowy darkness. That was “the shadowy, livid night”:73 murky, stormy, and dreadful, full of suffering and woe. For their treachery and folly, that night was shared by the wicked folk who had had a share in worshipping God, then damnably strayed into the shadows of unbelief. [1841–1867] Long ago, there had been discord and uproar between the Jews and the enemy. Now, they are friends and of one accord: the one does the will of the other. Now, they are couching their lances with their forces to do battle: to smite down divine worship and confound the holy faith. Satan, full of hubris, prince of suffering and darkness, fallen master of misfortune,74 who reigns in the city of pain: he is the one who leads, commands, and directs them. For a long time he slept, but now I believe he is awake. Now he spurs and gallops forth with a vast retinue, a vast horde, a huge army, to destroy all things. [1868–1885] And likewise the princes of this world should have been devoting all their care to worshipping God, and keeping the peace among the other common folk,75 and governing them in good faith. They are now so full of hubris, pride, greed and envy, gluttony and riotous living, and our princes and despots, whoever they are, ecclesiastical and lay, are getting so much worse now that soon the time will come when God, because of their dissension, must destroy everything, burn and consume it all, level it all and lay it all waste. And the people will be cut down and put to the edge of his sword: the poor, the rich, the fat, the slender, the tall, the short, the young, the old, for no one will ever escape it. [1886–1907] The devil will bury his own, in shame and in torment, in his shadowy graveyard. The false prophet, trickster, traitor, deceiver – whose deception by false preaching will deceive the ignorant people – will receive a dire reward. He must, in my opinion, be “swallowed alive by the earth” and fall into the damnable realm of sulfur and everlasting fire, full of misery and woe. The princes who, in their folly, will lay waste the land with their envious hostility, will slay each other by the sword. But not even when they die will the anger and rage and the rancor of their hearts subside; rather, the rancor of their souls will continue forever more in the infernal flames. [1908–1930] The one who had both feet pierced was the Son of God, who was crucified to bring true aid to the world. Those in whom all hardness abounds, who are harder than adamant, condemned him to death. Those were the Jews, full of envy. But God made him rise again to life and reign eternally. The enemy who had put the world to death was valiantly trounced and routed by him. He is the one who, by divine mystery, entered into his Mother’s chamber, that is, into Through which Tydeus rode. Or, “chief master” (mestre chiez, v. 1878). 75 De Boer has Et governee en bone foi for both v. 1889 and v. 1891. For v. 1889, Rouen has instead Et par cui l’autre gent menue, and we translate accordingly. 73 74



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the glorious cell that was the womb of the Virgin Maiden whom God made his Spouse and his Mother. Those who foolishly offend the eyes of his great majesty are both his sons and his brothers. And, in their greedy covetousness, which inflames and consumes their hearts, they attack and wage war on each other: and they will continue to do so until they bring complete destruction to themselves and the world. [1931–1955] Now I will explain to you the clasp, which was so beautiful and desirable, but so ill-fated and dangerous that no man or woman could obtain it without gaining death in the end. The clasp represents the bodies of men and women, with which the Creator ornamented their souls. And everyone wishes they could keep that ornament forever, but no one who possesses it can avoid coming, sooner or later, to death. Those who have had it, or who will have it, have all died or will die. Some wicked renegades will be struck down by lightning strikes. Some sons will inflict bitter deaths on their mothers and relatives, and many will die by a relative’s hand. [1956–1973] Some will be stupid and ignorant, weak and lacking in the power to do good. And they will have wallowed in unbelief like infants and dupes. God will give them power and strength to do good, and knowledge of his faith and his law. And so they will cast off their delinquency and foolish unbelief, and come to Holy Church, their good nurse and their mother. She prays to God the Father on their behalf, asking him to grant them the strength and courage and grace to escape the folly which brought death to their predecessors, who will be rendered up a woeful death and eternal punishment by their unbelief. These people will believe steadfastly in the faith. They will have victory over their opponent, for they will be virtuous and mighty, full of prowess and full of striving. [1974–1996] [miniature, fol. 238r: jupiter receiving the requests of the gods]

Hebe and Jupiter {T}he tale, it seems to me, has recounted how, at Jupiter’s command, Hebe, the goddess of youth, gave the sons of wise Callirhoe the age of young men. Now each of the gods presented to Jupiter76 their aged relatives and had them come to be rejuvenated. Ceres presented Iasion; beautiful Aurora, Tithonus; and Vulcan, Erichthonius.77 Each was eager to have their loved one rejuvenated, but this could not happen per the rule of nature. Each of the gods 76 For li, v. 2002. The pronoun is ambiguous. We translate “to Jupiter” based on the illumination above, but it could also be “to her.” 77 Jasona: her former lover, not Jason of the Argonauts. Tithonus was husband of Aurora, Erichthonius was son of Vulcan.

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grumbled and said that Hebe must certainly do this favor for her own lineage after doing it for strangers. [1997–2015] Jupiter broke up the quarrel, and to pacify them, spoke as follows: “I see you,” he said, “getting all too worked up, all of you intent on stripping Nature of her right. You all think too highly of yourselves. I, who rule over all of you, have relatives who are weak and old, whom I do not want to rejuvenate, nor do I want to compromise fate as it has been ordained. Themis has prophesied it and it cannot be superseded. Iolaüs was meant to be rejuvenated and to transform from old to young. The sons of Callirhoe were meant to go from their prior state of infancy to become powerful young men. Don’t now agonize over seeking something that cannot be. Follow your master’s example. I, who must govern all of you, must lead in accord with fate, never violating fate as it has been ordained. If, by faith, you must not have greater privilege than I do, you mustn’t let it upset you. If I could rightfully change the fates that have been fixed, I have three sons who are old and feeble: Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus. I would prefer to see them in the flower of youth, instead of decrepit with old age as they are now.” The other gods grew calm and were content when they saw Minos and the others, overtaken by old age. [2016–2053] Byblis Minos had once been greatly esteemed, as long as he was in good shape. But now no one respected him at all, not even those in his confidence. There was a powerful man full of hubris, of great nobility and exalted lineage, who was a son of the god Apollo. He was one of Minos’s vassals. But he was so proud-hearted that he did not deign to serve Minos in any way, and cast aside his fealty out of resentment and spite towards the king. With a great force of men and equipment, he set off from Crete, abandoning all his land, and crossed the sea. He arrived in the land of Asia Minor. There he founded a city. Miletus gave it his own name: its name is Miletus, according to the text. In that land, Miletus married a worthy lady. He had two children by his wife: one was a boy and the other a girl. The son was Cadmus,78 and the girl, who was incredibly beautiful, was named Byblis. Young women can heed her example and learn not to love with too much folly. [2054–2081] [miniature, fol. 238v: byblis trying to seduce cadmus]

{B}yblis, if the story does not lie, loved her brother beyond measure. But she kept it so secret79 that she did not see the harm in hugging and kissing him, or think it was a sin for her to do that. Don’t go thinking it was a small pleasure 78 79

In Ovid (Met. 9.453, 488–489, 580), Caunus. Lit. “had so little openness about it.”



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for her to adorn and beautify herself when she went to see her brother. She was incredibly eager to look beautiful and gracious. She put great care and effort into looking good, and if anyone surpassed her, she was riddled with envy and great anxiety. [2082–2094] But she still was not aware of her own perversion. She took no precautions whatsoever80 to avoid having her heart be inflamed and consumed with love for the young man. And though, while awake, under no circumstances would she contemplate such an enormity as whoring herself out to her brother, while she slept, she had visions of the one who put her heart in such distress. It seemed to her that she embraced him and had her way with him entirely. Even asleep, the girl was mightily ashamed. Afterwards, when she woke up, she was utterly bewildered and marveled at the dream she had had. [2095–2111] Keeping silent about what she had experienced, which had brought her such great succor,81 she reflected on it and said in her heart: “Poor wretch, what does this dream mean? I would never commit the error of making it come true in fact. Better I should be slaughtered this instant. How come I’ve had such a dream? I thought I was lying naked in bed in his lovely arms, and my delight was incredible. He really is so handsome. But it’s too foolish of me to look at him that way. I’m attracted to him, and if only I could be his lover – if only I weren’t his sister! – and take him according to the law of marriage. Now I’m losing him, because we’re related. The fact that we’re related bothers me terribly. [2112–2129] “Of course, I’ll never be able to bring my nocturnal dreams to fruition when I’m awake, but by my head, I would be so glad if I could always have him when I fall asleep. I find the dream incredibly delightful, and no one knows about it, only me. Oh, god, what joy and delight I’ve had, asleep in bed! If only it had lasted longer, I would have been so fortunate. The memory of it does me great good. But there’s no doubt daylight is too close, and the night will be finished all too soon, envious of what I have. Oh, if only I could change my name and be with him, for I would clearly be worthy of being his father’s daughter-inlaw, and he is worthy of being my lover and my father’s son-in-law. If only he could relieve me of the malady that makes me so despair. If only it would please the gods to use their power to make the two of us share everything, except one thing: the simple fact that we’re related. I truly wish he were a man of nobler birth than I.82 I’m incredibly despairing, incredibly distraught, for I dare not Compare Proverbs 4:23. Si grant oidive, v. 2113. Oidive is for oisive/oisdif (modern Fr. “oisif, oisiveté”) or aidif (modern Fr. “qui aide, secourable”). Since the dream is showing her the fulfillment of her subconscious desires, it seems appropriate to take it as a “helpful” dream and read aidif. The alternative translation would be “such great indolence.” 82 The basic point is for their stations in life to be different, because then they wouldn’t be related. That she wishes he were more nobly born (gentis) is an interesting twist: she 80 81

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think that I can ever have delight or enjoyment of my brother. He’s my brother – he’ll never be more than that to me. I’ll never have what my heart longs for. All I’ll have is this thing that torments me. [2130–2163] “Then what good is the dream I had? Dreams often come true. I have great faith in this dream of mine, that things could turn out how it says. But it makes me utterly despair when everyone agrees that dreams are only phantasms and lies. Would god that isn’t true! The gods themselves longed to possess their sisters. Just as I am desiring and craving my brother, Saturn desired his sister Cybele. The god of the sea, Neptune,83 wanted to make love to Tethys; he treated his sister as his lover. The god who has full authority to rule the firmament84 loved his sister the same way. – Wretch, what does that have to do with me? The gods are allowed to do whatever they want, wrong or right. A person would be an absolute fool to try to compare with or rival the gods. The way I’m acting now is wrong – reprehensible – when I compare myself with the gods. I must expel from my heart the foolish love that is hounding me, or let a horrible death destroy me. Even if I were then to die in childbirth, if only my handsome brother would kiss my face and mouth at his pleasure! This thing I desire can in no way be accomplished or brought to fruition without interest on both sides. If I want it to happen, he won’t; rather, he will probably consider it folly and excess. Macareus and his sister85 were lovers. They made love to each other. They never held back from merging because they were siblings, it seems to me. So what? Do I want to be like them? No; but I knew about them.86 Why am I bringing up such examples? What am I trying to accomplish here? Am I demented? I must drag my heart away from this foul and shameful love. I must not love him, it seems to me, except as siblings have the right to do. If I love him in another way, then I’m sinning. – But what if my brother were consumed with similar ardor and made the first move, hoping I would relent and take pity on him, and give him my love? When I took pity on him and we made love, by my faith, I could let him know my own torments. Could I tell him? Yes, in truth, I really could tell him of my torments. The power of love will make me do it. And if shame makes me hesitate to speak, I’ll petition him on wax.87 I’ll let him know in writing what is written in my heart. wants a Prince Charming. 83 In classical mythology, it was the Titan sea-god Oceanus, not Neptune, who had Tethys as his sister-wife. 84 Jupiter. 85 Ovid’s Metamorphoses (9.507) mentions only “the sons of Aeolus” marrying their sisters. But Macareus and his sister Canace are the subject of Heroides 11 (Canace to Macareus). 86 Cogneüs les ai, v. 2207. This looks like “I knew them,” but it seems not to be that she knew them personally; the corresponding passage in Ovid (Met. 9.508) is “Where did I learn that? Why do I have such ready examples?” (Kline). 87 Par cire, v. 2228: v. 2244 shows that she is writing on wax tablets.



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He’ll take pity on me then, perhaps.” This idea pleased her. Propped up on her left elbow, the beauty began to warm to the task. “Now it’s clear to me what I’ll do: I’ll tell him,” she said, “of my torments. What am I about to do, poor wretch? The fire that is kindled in my heart – where does it come from? What I am even thinking?” [2164–2239] In this way, Byblis mulled things over, to and fro. In the end, she decided to send him her thoughts. She took the stylus in her right hand and the tablets in her left. Trembling, she began to write, then rubbed out everything she’d written. Over and over, she wrote and deleted. She was terrified of what she was doing. Again she rubbed it out and smoothed the tablet. Love held her in terrible pain. She did not know what on earth to do. Now she had written shame and effrontery alike on her tablet. She wrote “sister,” it seems to me, then rubbed it out and deleted it. She found it ill-advised to write or send the word “sister,” and racked her brain to find a better alternative. She erased and smoothed out her wax, then began to write as follows: [2240–2260] [miniature, fol. 239v: byblis writing on her tablet]

“{C}admus, she who can have no joy or health, unless it comes from you, sends you joy and greetings. That is, I am the woman who loves you, and if you want to ask my name, though I would prefer you not to, I am she who will never willingly reveal my name until I truly know whether there is any way I can possibly achieve my desire. You would be able to perceive my suffering from my thinness, my pallor, my changing expression, my weeping eyes; my sweet and luscious kisses, which would not seem to be those of a sister; the sighing from the bottom of my heart; the way I would embrace and cling to you. It’s true, the torturous love that I’m experiencing almost drives me mad. [2261–2279] “And so I’ve put my care and thought into trying to subdue this love and getting it to leave my foolish heart, but neither force nor wisdom avails in that. I can have no power against love. It has vanquished me. I can’t hold out, or endure its assaults any longer. I beg you for mercy and rescue. I give myself wholly into your custody. I surrender myself wholly to your will, and at your bidding I must live or die. I beg your mercy. I bear you no ill will: I’m not your enemy. I am one who is already too close to you, but I desire you so much and love you so much that I want to be even more joined to you. If only we – you and I – were joined the way my heart would wish! [2280–2297] “Old folk know what’s righteous. They have to obey the law and act righteously. They can’t violate the law. That has no bearing on our situation. We’re young folk in the bloom of youth. We have no need for chastity. As long as we indulge within reason, without excess or indecency, we can do whatever we like, and follow the gods’ example. We have lots of time and ample leisure to do everything we please, without any shame and without fear, and engage in love-play. [2298–2312]

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“We have a good, kind father. He will never pose an obstacle to us, nor will he ever forbid this, nor will we ever be slandered by anyone for anything we do together. We lack nothing, it seems to me, except the will to do this. We can easily conceal this affair and do what we will on the pretext that we’re related. I have fine and ample opportunity to talk to you in public view, openly and in secret, without anyone ever asking why. No one will ever think I’m foolish if I kiss or hug you. No one will ever think ill of it. [2313–2329] “All I’m missing is your love. Have mercy on this poor woman. Know that I would never have entreated you, if it weren’t for the great torment that so distresses and torments me, so that if I don’t receive immediate aid, I won’t be able to postpone my death. Don’t be the cause of my death: send me some immediate comfort.” [2330–2338] [miniature, fol. 240r: byblis gives the letter to her servant]

{W}ith this final line that Byblis wrote, the tablet was filled with writing. She couldn’t add another line. Biblis went to seal the letter. She soaked the seal with her tears. She was so woeful that her mouth was dry. At once the wretch called for a servant of hers, who was loyal to her. “Friend,” she said, “deliver this seal and this letter for me. You’ll present them on my behalf to my – ” When she tried to say “brother,” she sighed so deeply that she couldn’t speak. Nevertheless she managed to say “brother.” She presented him with the text and the missive, but I should not forget to mention that when she tried to present the letter to the messenger, it fell from her hand. The beauty was very distraught about it, and in spite of that she did not want to abandon her course of action. [2339–2360] The messenger set off at once. He waited for a suitable time and occasion. [2361–2362] [miniature, fol. 240r: the messenger gives the letter to cadmus]

{H}e came to the young man, offered him the letter. Cadmus read what was written. When he perceived the perversion, he had, I think, no desire to laugh about it! His heart was very sad and woeful. He hurled the letter in displeasure, and came close to killing the servant. He railed foully against him: “You nasty pimp, get out of here! Pity would never stop me from killing you dead, but I’d be ashamed of your death!” [2363–2374] The fleeing messenger turned back, trembling and disheartened. He came to his lady, and told her the fierce response and the great shame that her brother had spoken to him. When Byblis found herself rejected, she turned pale and her blood and color drained away from woe. She became colder than marble. [2375–2383]



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When she regained consciousness, she remembered her grief and anger. She was barely able to speak a word. “Wretched woman,” she said, “he was right to turn me down just now. How did I foolishly dare reveal the trouble that tortures me, and make it known in writing? If I had any sense and understanding, before I propositioned him, I should have looked into whether he would ever deign to love me. Before I put to sea, I should have checked if the winds had died down. Without ever checking the sea or the wind, I contracted to put to sea, and now my ship has foundered and I am ashamed and humiliated. No one ever suffered worse misfortune. [2384–2403] “The moment I dropped the tablet, when I was giving it to the messenger, I could have known, if I were only that wise, that things would turn out badly for me. But the business I had in hand rightly miscarried.88 From then on, I should have completely abandoned that course of action, my love and my foolish thinking. If I couldn’t endure it, at least I should have put it off until I found a time and occasion to bring my task to fruition. Why didn’t I wait for some occasion or opportunity to go myself and pursue my ends? How did I dare entrust my madness to another person? How could I make someone else my messenger? I could have said it much better than I wrote to him on wax! [2404–2424] “Above all, he would have seen my sad, woeful face, and then he would have realized this wasn’t mockery: he would have seen how sick I am, the cause of my distress, and the pain that wounds me so. I would have kissed his mouth and eyes, and embraced him despite himself, and if he didn’t take pity on me then, he would have seen me look like I was dead, and he would have seen my great pains, my laments, my gasps, and my tears. He would never have been so hard-hearted not to soften towards me then. [2425–2438] “Perhaps it was my messenger’s deficiencies that did me in: he didn’t do his duty properly. Indeed, I believe and know for a fact that if I had propositioned him in person, I’d have won him over easily. He would never have been so grim and fierce. He isn’t made of iron or wood or stone or adamant. He’ll take pity on me for loving him. I’ll win him over with an eloquent entreaty. I want another go at him. As long as I have life in my body, henceforth I will never give up this assault, not until I have my pleasure of what I so desire to get from him, since I embraced so much of him before I started or revealed my perversion. [2439–2457] “Can I give up my folly? If I immediately gave up, and subdued my foolish heart, that wouldn’t make him any less aware, god help me, of my foolish effrontery. He would just think I was utterly fickle. That wouldn’t make me any less culpable. But what if I apologized, saying that I wanted to test him, or that I invited him to take me as his whore because of overwhelming lust?

88

Mes avenue, v. 2408, should be mesavenue.

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I’m too eager and intent89 on fulfilling the desire of my heart, and I anticipate little blame for it. Now I never want to give it up, since I’ve already acted like such a fool.” [2458–2473] In this way, Byblis thought, or talked aloud, fearful and perplexed. Her thoughts were incredibly discordant. She felt very sorry that she was ever so foolish as to undertake such a love affair, but since she did undertake it in this way, she had no desire to give up this undertaking. She preferred to try once more to see if she could get him to soften. [2474–2482] [miniature, fol. 241r: byblis approaches cadmus]

{T}he beauty came to him in person and spoke to him of love. She requested and asked for his love. Cadmus rejected what she asked for. The more he kept turning her down, the more Byblis kept beseeching him. She wouldn’t let him live his life or leave him alone. Cadmus could no longer stand the entreating and hectoring that Byblis assiduously kept up to seek his love. To have some relief from this conflict, he fled to a foreign land. [2483–2495] Now Byblis was in torment. Now her great sadness, woe, and distress doubled. She was sadder than she had ever been. This rejection drove her utterly insane. She tore her clothes and beat her breast, wrung her hands, scratched her face, and generally harmed herself. From then on she was openly mad and undisguisedly admitted her insane love, her insane passion. And since he had rejected her, the great madness she was in drove her to abandon her house and land, for she did not deign to stay there anymore. Rather, she ran off with her hair in disarray, sorrowful, heartbroken, and sobbing, in search of her brother, to see if she could find news of him anywhere. [2496–2514] She roamed and wandered across the whole world. She crossed many countries and many lands, even the great mountain of Chimera, to look for her brother. When Byblis had crossed Chimera,90 she was worn out from running and fell to the ground. And she wept and never stopped weeping, until she dissolved into pure tears. From where her tears fell, there ran an aquifer with a lively and uninterrupted flow.91 Byblis was transformed into a spring that Reading v. 2468, trop ai à faire, as trop ai afere. De Boer’s v. 2519 doesn’t rhyme with v. 2520 and anticipates the identical v. 2526. Rouen (fol. 241r) has Biblis quant Chimere ot passee, and we translate accordingly. 91 Dois, v. 2524. The etymology is apparently Latin ductus, and there is an example in Aliscans: A la fontaine, dont li dois sont courant, v. 697, translated tentatively by Ryding (1971) as “toward the spring with flowing conduits (?)” (75). Some dictionaries say that dois is basically “source, fontaine,” but the moralization here clarifies that the dois is what feeds the spring, not what flows out of it (for which it introduces ruisseau). Since the moralization needs the dois to be something that, like God the Father, arises of itself with no prior cause, “conduit” or “channel” are wrong since by definition they come from somewhere prior, and by implication they are above ground. The overall arrangement here 89 90



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gushes from beneath an oak tree in the valley, and it was called Byblis just as the beauty was named. That spring is very famous. [2515–2530] [miniature, fol. 241r: byblis dissolving into a spring]

Moralization {T}his tale can have a historical meaning, and it may very well be true that Byblis, all too beautiful and none too wise, was in love with her brother, and had someone propose to him to take her as his whore, then propositioned him herself. But Cadmus never gave in to her foolish thinking. In the end, he was forced to flee the land to have peace. When Byblis was unable to sway her brother to do as she wished, she felt great grief and great frustration. She could not rein in her heart; rather, she became a whore and made herself available to all men indiscriminately. Everyone could freely dip into and take from her, without any objection or opposition, like drawing water from a spring. [2531–2549] There is a more positive and wholesome interpretation. [2550] [miniature, fol. 241v: god giving the tablets of the law to moses]92

{L}ong ago, the name, glory, and power of God, the King of Paradise, the Judge of the living and the dead, were held in great reverence: they were feared and treasured. Now, the world has reached a state where he is neither feared nor dreaded. People have grown so “senile and aged” in their malice, the world is so full of vice, and the worldly are so abominable and vile, that indeed it seems to me that everyone has gone astray and has forgotten God in their wickedness and hubris. Even those who belong to his faith93 and swore him loyal homage – that is, the Christians who have acknowledged his name – no longer render him anything but scorn, and they disdain their homage and abandon their rightful estate, which they ought to hold in fief from God, that is, the kingdom to which, in the end, shall come those who serve him well, who have earned his grace and love: the holy, the clean, the pure, the undefiled. Instead, they wander through the world, and through vain temptation they enter into the dissolution of folly and vanity, and in the city of hell they establish their wretched landholding. [2551–2583]

is what the U.S. Geological Survey (see http://water.usgs.gov/edu/dictionary.html) calls a flowing well, fed by artesian water which is a type of aquifer. In the moralization, we translate dois as “aquifer,” which is accurate at the very least insofar as it is something clearly distinct from the spring and that gives rise to it. 92 Fols 241v and 314r have comparable miniatures of this. 93 There is a play on foi: earlier, those who were in Minos’s confidence; here, those in God’s religion.

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Cadmus represents the human race, which was full of empty ignorance. Byblis represents Divine Wisdom, which is more sweet and desirable, more delicious and more drinkable than wine, milk, or mulled wine.94 She was born, conceived, and consecrated in eternity before all other things, encompassing the sky and traversing the waves of the sea. She is the one who, by her Will, established the depths and the sky, and fixed the bounds of the sea. She is Divine Wisdom, who created everything and in her mercy placed her love in humanity so much – found it so pleasing, so attractive – that she considered it the supreme delight to join with the human race in kinship and marriage. The Creator and Mother of all creatures, she made the human race her brother. Against nature, she resolved to come together with humankind in the flesh and resemble a created thing. She hid that love as long as she wanted, and then when it pleased her, she revealed her plan to the human race. [2584–2613] First, she sent a messenger who carried the tablets and the missive where her secrets were written down. She resolved to write with her own hand the Commandments of the Law, and transmit them to the nation of Israel via Moses, her faithful servant, who presented them with the Scriptures. But they, being hard-headed, with hearts as cowardly and empty and fickle as a worthless, pliant bulrush rooted in the mud, turned a deaf ear, and pouted, and refused to enjoy her love or heed her Commandments. Rather, they scorned her, and, in their presumption, treated her messenger foully, with mockery and slander. [2614–2631] When she saw her messenger scorned, Divine Wisdom resolved to come down to earth in person from her royal throne, to solicit the nation of Israel and manifest her love. But no admonishment, request or entreaty, flattery or criticism, would make them abandon their stubbornness, or the darkness of unbelief that had entered their hearts. And so they traveled out of the land of peace and true doctrine, and scorned the discipline of salvific Wisdom, wandering in damnable ignorance, as ones unworthy to have God’s love or receive the Wisdom which offered itself to them. [2632–2651] When she saw that the fools would not stand for the good and the advantage she afforded, she surrendered her grace and love to the whole world indiscriminately, and raced the world over to offer her love to everyone – but she could not convince the Jews to care about her. That is the “clean, pure spring” which gave life back to the world again. That is the “aquifer” that was poured out on the Cross for our salvation. That is the very spring from which comes everlasting life, and which vivifies those who drink from it. God is a clean, pure spring, the purging of all filth, a spring overflowing with all goodness, filling 94 Piment, v. 2589, was a popular medieval drink, a mixture of wine, honey, and spices, served hot (TLFi, s.v. piment; see the note to Book 10, v. 3705). On “Divine Wisdom” and our use of feminine pronouns, see our lexicon, s.v. sapience (p. 78). Mirroring early theologians, the OM often conflates Wisdom (f.) with the Logos (m.) or Word and Son of God in John 1.



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the world with grace; a sweet, delicious spring; a lively, everlasting spring that no one can exhaust, no matter how much they draw from it. [2652–2674] Now, the spring arises from the aquifer and the creek flows out of the two of them combined, and, together, they make up a whole. The aquifer arises from itself, without anyone else making it happen; and the spring arises from it; and the creek, from the two of them combined. The aquifer is the aquifer, it seems to me, and the water ends up in the spring. The spring is no longer the aquifer, but it is filled with the water that comes from the aquifer. And the creek that flows out of the two of them is not called aquifer or spring. And all three are commingled: they are all made up of clean, pure water, that tastes the same and has the same nature, and all three of them are but one and the same thing. [2675–2691] Hence I can say, without a gloss, that the Son is everlastingly born of the Father, and similarly the Holy Spirit emerges thence,95 filling the world with its grace and extending everywhere, directing and taking hold of everything. The Father originates from no one; the Son derives from the Father alone. From the two of them comes the Holy Spirit. These three persons I have named have discrete qualities, but the same eternity, the same divinity, the same essence, the same nature, and the same power is in all three, and the three of them are, without a doubt, one God. Whoever doubts this is a fool. [2692–2708] {T}here is another similarity that explains why God, who created everything, is called a flowing spring. A spring is delicious, sweet, and healthy for those who are dying of thirst. It washes away and purges a person of the stains of befoulment. And it waters the land where it is accustomed to flow, so that it brings forth greenery and flowers and fruit. The grace of God does the same, washing away and purging and wiping out all filth and foulness, every stain of iniquity. For there is no heart so stained by the filth of sin that it is not rendered pure and spotless by the bestowing of God’s grace, which brings it to repentance, and waters the human heart so that it brings forth greenery and flowers and fruit, and causes it to bear a profusion of flowers of joy and flowers of gladness, flowers of fortitude and flowers of simplicity, humility, patience, chastity, continence, innocence,96 and purity; flowers of love and charity; flowers of peace and flowers of temperance, faith, and perseverance; 95 Li sains esperites en ist, v. 2695. Looking back at v. 2694, en seems to be for dou pere: but the description of the spring in vv. 2681 and 2686 specifies that the creek arises from both the spring and the aquifer, as if the Holy Spirit arises from both the Father and Son equally, which is what is then spelled out in v. 2701. This discussion is likely related to the filioque controversy, regarding how the Spirit proceeds from both Father and Son (or not). For context, compare Aquinas, ST I q. 36, and Bonaventure, 1 Sent d. 2 and d. 27; Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, q. 3, art. 2 and q. 8, art. 1; 1 Sent. d. 11; and Brev. I.3. See also Bray (2021). 96 For de Boer’s d’ignorence “ignorance,” v. 2735, Rouen (fol. 242v) has d’ignocence and we translate accordingly but compare Book 11, v. 1059.

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flowers of generosity and nobility, courtesy and largesse; flowers of goodness; flowers of moderation; flowers of reason and righteousness, wisdom and justice, and of every other good kind; and the fruit of doing good works, to set an example for the world. Thus, through his drink, he softens and satisfies and relieves the heart that thirsts for such a drink. This drink is so healthy and pleasant in itself, so delectable, delightful, and tasty, that a heart that finds itself drunk on such a drink – such a gift – is so healthy and full of gladness, that it does not grieve for any severe hardship that it may be forced to endure, or for anything else that might happen, resulting in worldly harm. The sweet drink of the spring, full of all sweetness, softens everything, relieves everything. [2709–2762] [miniature, fol. 242v: procession of isis before telethusa in bed]

Iphis97 {T}he spring into which Byblis had been transformed had great renown in Crete, and its renown grew greater still – but then a marvel took place whose fame spread even farther. This was the case of Iphis, a girl who was transformed into a young man. This event interfered with the renown of the fountain I am speaking of. [2763–2771] Between Phaestos and Crete, there once lived a lord who was both rich and noble.98 His name was Ligdus, it seems to me. He was known to many people but his name was not renowned. He was a prudent man, a man of his word, without baseness or hubris. He had a wife whom he had gotten pregnant. When it was near the time she was due to deliver, he traveled out of the country, but before he took leave of his wife, he said to her on his departure: “Lady, there are two things I ask for. The first is for you to give birth easily, without much suffering. The other is for you to have a male heir, for women come with too many problems. I never knew of such a burdensome thing. Women lack strength and worthiness. Many men suffer thanks to women. For this reason, I pray god that it may never be his will for me to have a daughter, which would make me sad. But if you have a girl anyway, take care that I never see her, but have her killed at once. I’m sorry to have had to tell you this.” [2772–2798]

97 The OM’s treatment of this story is discussed in the first two chapters of Traub, Badir, and McCracken (2019), by McCracken and Billings, respectively. 98 This shows either misunderstanding or revision of Ovid. In Met. 9.669, the setting is “in the Phaestos region, near royal Knossos” (Kline), that is, in Crete, not between Crete and somewhere else. Then in Met. 9.71–72, the father of Iphis is said to have “wealth no greater than his fame” (Kline): he was neither rich nor famous.



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At these words, Ligdus and the lady both wept bitterly. And yet, Telethusa’s husband comforted her and begged her to be at ease in her heart. That had no effect, since his words did nothing to lessen her desire for the girl not to be destroyed. She stayed behind, terrified, and her pregnancy advanced until she was close to giving birth. She reflected on the cruel stricture that Ligdus had imposed on her, to abort her offspring if it was female. The lady, who was of noble birth and compassionate, was very afraid. [2799–2815] One night, as she slept, she saw Isis pass before her bed with a huge retinue. She stopped in front of Telethusa, with golden ears of grain on her head. The goddess had, it seemed to her, a shining crescent moon99 on her face. She bore a crown and scepter. She held herself like a queen. Anubis, who barks and howls like a dog, was part of her retinue. With him was the blessed priestess Bubastis, who used to sing mass and perform the rites, and Apis, who was many-colored, and the cantor who gestured for silence and took up a hymn,100 to which all the others responded. There were instruments playing. Osiris, who is sought in vain, and the serpent from a foreign land, who bears sleep-inducing oblivion, were part of that company. [2816–2838] Telethusa woke up and saw Isis and her retinue. The goddess very softly spoke to her: “Telethusa, good and beautiful sister, abandon your care and worry, and don’t be distressed, I pray you. Do not do as your lord commands, but, when you’ve given birth, whatever child you have, let it live in all confidence, and trick the father out of his sentence; nurse it like a good mother. [2839–2850] [miniature, fol. 243r: telethusa giving birth, and isis directing the baby being given to a nurse]

“{I} am a helpful goddess, merciful and compassionate. You were right to call on me, without a doubt. Let us act so that my aid does you good. You will have help from me.” Isis left the room. Telethusa joyfully got up and devoutly raised her hands and face to the heavens, praying to god to make the vision she had just seen come true. [2851–2861] At full term, the lady had a girl – unbeknownst to the father – and pretended she had had a boy, and turned her101 over to a nurse. Ligdus believed it, for he did not think that there was any malicious intent. There was no one in the world who knew the truth except the woman who nursed her. The father was overjoyed, for he had hoped to have a male heir. He made offerings and gifts of his possessions to the gods as he had promised. He named him after his grandfather – I mean the grandfather of the girl: he was named Iphis, and Lit. “two horns of the moon.” god Harpocrates, whose gesture of holding a finger to his lips was understood as signifying silence. His cantor status and hymn-singing are not in Ovid. 101 Si l’envoie à norrice, v. 2865, doesn’t show the gender of the object pronoun. 99

100 The

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she would be Iphis, since Ligdus thought she was a “he.” The mother was heartened by this name, which was equally suitable for both male and female: she was very pleased the child had such a name, which could be flattering for a woman. That way, without anyone being the wiser, she could speak her own name truly. In this way, the lie stayed hidden. [2862–2885] The girl was dressed as a male child, which suited her mightily well, and her face was such that anyone who saw her was equally likely to say she was a girl or boy. She was beautiful both as boy or girl.102 The beauty was thirteen years old103 when the aforementioned Ligdus, her father, betrothed her and promised her a young wife, the fairest in the land: that was Ianthe, born in Phaestos. Her father was Telestes, an Athenian of great renown.104 Iphis and Ianthe were equal in age and beauty; they received the same education and took part in the same activities,105 which was how they got to know each other, and came to love each other equally. But they had different expectations and hopes for the marriage that was planned. [2886–2907] Ianthe, the daughter of Telestes, loved Iphis and truly believed that he was a man whom she was to have as her husband and act as a wife towards. Iphis loved her in return, but the girl made her despair, for she did not think she would ever enjoy her beloved or be able to couple with her. This increased and multiplied the ardor for the beautiful Ianthe that consumed the girl Iphis. [2908–2918] Iphis lamented greatly and was in great distress, and tenderly she wept. “Poor me,” she said, “what will I do, or how can I figure this out? What can possibly become of me? Who ever saw any woman devote her care and her hope to such a foolish aspiration? I’m not worthy of such love.106 If the gods had been well-disposed to me, they might have kept me from this folly; and if they wanted to use love’s foolish madness to destroy me, why couldn’t my heart be set on obtaining an appropriate love? What cow is used to courting other cows, or what mare to hitting on other mares? Ewes are fond of rams, and cows are intimate 102 We

kept the translation very literal here, to preserve the chiasmus. “three years and ten.” 104 In Ovid (Met. 9.717), he is Telestes of Dicte, a mountain in Crete. 105 Et d’un meïsmes mestier sorent, / Et uns meïsmes mestier orent, vv. 2901–2902. In Ovid (Met. 9.718–719), “and had received their first instruction, in the knowledge of life, from the same teachers” (Kline). The verbs are savoir and avoir. In d’un meïsmes mestier sorent, mestier could be for mestre(s), “they learned from the same teacher(s),” because if not, the literal translation is “they knew, i.e., learned, from the same education.” Mestier is annoyingly broad, and uns meïsmes mestier orent could be read as “they engaged in the same activities” (meaning I.B.1 in DMF), “they had one and the same need/desire” (meaning II.B.1) or even “they had one and the same level of sexual experience” (meaning I.B.3), or else “they belonged to the same social class/milieu” (meaning I.A). Since these are noble children, translations involving trades and craftsmanship are probably not right. 106 De tele amour, v. 2927, is perhaps significantly not spelled de tel amour, and so might be amour de tele: “the love of such a one.” 103 Lit.



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with bulls. Thus every female, for her part, seeks to be joined with a male. No female would ever contemplate or be inclined to join with another female in the name of lust. But that is what I want, misguided as I am! I wish I had never been born, for having such foolish hope. [2919–2945] “All misfortune comes from Crete. Crete is where Pasiphaë was born, whose heart was aflame for the love of a bull. But, wretch that I am, my own love exceeds hers in folly and madness – and instead of love I should say frenzy! Pasiphaë, for her part, loved better than I, the fool, do now. It seems to me that she did, in fact, make love to the bull.107 The female joined with the male, and she cleverly deceived him using fraud and entrapment, but there is nothing that could make woman and woman a fitting couple. My desire can’t take place. I can’t become male, and neither can she who expects to be my wife. Woeful Iphis, what is your heart after, embracing such a love that inflames and ensnares you? And if there is no way for you to carry out what you desire, and nobody can talk you out of it, you must take heed, and be vigilant in casting this folly and madness out of your heart! Don’t deceive yourself, misguided one! Take heed of the purpose you were born to. Be reasonable, and ask for something you can suitably obtain – something that would be fitting for you. Do not recollect such a love that puts you in foolish hope. [2946–2979] “What thwarts you, what hinders you, is that you are by nature not worthy to be joined with such a creature. Your sex alone thwarts you. – I can go to her and come away in safety, whenever I want, without the least thing standing in my way: I have no fear that any hostile father or strict guard will keep me from her, or that I might make her husband jealous. I can embrace her as often as I want. She herself wants to be made love to, since she’s not at all opposed to it, and nevertheless I can’t take advantage of that. All I can do is fool around with her a bit; there’s nothing that would help me to achieve my foolish aspiration. I cannot fulfill my hope, even if the gods are kindly disposed to me, and it has been their pleasure to grant me a large part of what I desire. [2980–3000] “My father and my lord and my beloved are not at all opposed to what I want; the only one who objects, it seems to me, is Nature, opposing everyone: it contradicts what we all think I should do, and it can do more than all of us combined. Now comes the desirable time of our marriage, which I yearn for, and beautiful Ianthe will be mine. But what good will that joy do me? In the midst of water we will die of thirst, for I will not be able to bring myself to do what a husband must do with a wife. Hymen and Juno, what business do you have coming to such a wedding? Who ever saw a wedding without a groom? We will both get married and be without a husband!” [3001–3018] here has to mean “had sex.” The idea that Pasiphaë’s love was reciprocated – something like “The bull, it seems to me, loved her back” – is not an option since le tor is not subject case. 107 Ama

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Beautiful Iphis wailed and lamented in this way, and the other girl was no less consumed by love; rather, she directed her lamentation and outcry at time, which delayed and dragged on interminably, so that she thought she would never see the moment when the marriage would take place, and she prayed to god to hasten the day when it would happen. But Iphis’s mother intervened and impeded matters, looking for delays and pretexts to postpone the wedding. At one point, she convinced the family that Iphis was overcome with illness and was not up to celebrating, or to the rigors of getting married. This provided them with an excuse. She held out as long as she could, without a doubt. But at last she could not keep it up, and the day approached when the two young people must perforce be joined. [3019–3038] Now it was only one day until the wedding. Telethusa and her daughter went to the temple of Isis, with their hair disheveled. Telethusa devoutly grasped the altar and humbly cried out and prayed: “Isis, goddess, this woeful sinner calls to you with fear and dreads. Isis, goddess, it was you who went surety for my daughter, at the time when I beheld your portents. I saw the beautiful company that formed your retinue. I saw the torches burning and heard the instruments play. I saw the scepter you held, when you came to comfort me and commanded me not to kill my daughter before she could be nursed. I remember well what you said to me. I remember well how you promised me your aid and help, without fail. Now we must rely on it. Now save us, in your mercy! By your counsel, until now my daughter has lived in hope. Now I beg you to intervene without delay from now on to save her, and to take care in doing it, for I am at my wits’ end to deal with this, if you don’t choose to intervene.” She said all this, and wept very hard. [3039–3071] [miniature, fol. 244v: iphis and telethusa praying to isis]

{T}hen Isis, to show that she should take comfort, appeared in the same aspect, the same manner, and the same clothing in which she had appeared to her previously, or so it seemed to her. The goddess had a crescent moon on her forehead; the instruments sounded, and the temple doors and the altar were seen to shake violently. [3072–3079] Telethusa left the temple gladdened by the signs she saw. Her daughter Iphis followed her with longer strides than she was used to taking. Her white hands had hair on them that she had never had before.108 Her strength and ferocity increased, and her hair was shortened. Her whole body felt lighter, and she felt far more vigorous than she ever had in the past – more so than any woman could feel. She had changed her whole state of being and her feminine 108 In terms of DMF headwords, the word spelled viaire in v. 3084 is not viaire (“visage”) but viaure (“toison”). Interestingly, nothing here says there is a change of skin color, whereas Ovid specifically states in Met. 9.787–788 that Iphis has “no whiteness left in her complexion” (Kline).



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nature, and taken on a masculine one: the girl Iphis had become a boy! Of that, they could be sure and certain. It was manifestly the truth, with no lie or deception. He went to make offerings and perform abundant rites and offer gifts in the temples,109 and then everyone, great and small, knew that the girl Iphis had become a boy. [3080–3102] The next day, at dawn, the young man Iphis got ready to make Ianthe his wife. A good time was had by all, and there was singing. The gods of marriage were all present at that celebration, as was their duty: Hymen, Juno, and Venus. Not one of them was absent, male or female. Iphis was glad and full of joy. He took Ianthe as his own. [3103–3112] [miniature, fol. 244v: male iphis marries ianthe]

Moralization {N}ow I want to explain this tale historically, since it could be true according to a historical interpretation. It could be, rather it undoubtedly was the case, that there was a woman in olden days who seemed to be a man by her dress and behavior, and was thought to be one by everyone who saw her in such dress. And her mother lent credence to this by bearing witness that it was true. And there may have been some girl who found her fair and fine and handsome in her man’s dress, and truly believed she was a man, and so became eager to have her as a lover and a husband. The first girl, whose heart was foolhardy and daft, pledged to take her to wife. [3113–3129] Despite the fact that she lacked a penis or any member suited to the purpose, the first girl was nevertheless eager, against right and against nature, to satisfy her love and lust for her in the flesh, despite having an impediment unbeknownst to the other girl, who was her wife and true beloved. She lamented and carried on until, tempted by foolish love, she had recourse to the arts and expertise and advice of a madam, by which I mean a vile, filthy pimp, and this enabled the foolish girl to carry out the wicked desire that she harbored. She married the woman whom the law of marriage forbade her to have; and to carry out her marital duty, she deceived her by using a counterfeit member. When the bride found out, the matter was no longer hidden; rather, it was openly revealed, and everyone took notice of it, and the foolhardy woman was put to shame, and her shame was well deserved. No one wants to get involved in such matters, for they are all too damnable and vile. [3130–3157] I can provide a more positive interpretation, it seems to me, via allegory, and gloss the text in such a way that the girl comes off more lovable. [3158–3161] 109 Aus temples, v. 3100, is apparently plural (cf. ou temple in v. 3041). In Ovid (Met. 9.764–797) there is only the temple of Isis, so where does the OM think Iphis is going? Hymen, Juno, and Venus, assuming they have temples, would be appropriate. In Ovid, Iphis presents a votive tablet in the temple of Isis, stating that he has had a sex change.

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[miniature, fol. 245r: a penitent kneels before a confessor]110

{I}t ought to be widely known – and it truly was – how especially for humankind, the Sovereign Wisdom deigned to humble herself to join and couple in love with it. Now Sovereign Wisdom is “a true and flowing spring” from which all goodness derives, a spring that revives the dead, the one that replenished the earth when God111 came down from heaven to seek out and take on our humanity. For our iniquity, he endured much suffering, and for our sake he hung on the Cross and shed his blood to bring us from death to life. God did us a very great courtesy, and we owe him great thanks, when he resolved to shed his blood for us to redeem everyone living and dead. But a greater act of grace, it seems to me – nor could there be any greater one – is what God, the heavenly Father, did for us in his grace and mercy when he resolved, out of true love, to give heavenly joy to the sinful soul and make it queen of a festive eternity. [3162–3189] Now I will tell you the truth I perceive in the allegory of the tale you have heard. Ligdus, the pious father, is God, loyal and true.112 He had a wise and well-bred wife, Telethusa, that is, Holy Church, whom God abundantly fills with new progeny. God, the spiritual Father, the loyal and true Judge, issued a bitter and harsh sentence against “feminine nature,” that is, against the sinful soul, which sins and never ceases sinning, for it seeks after worldly delights, riches and fond trifles, flirting and riotous living,113 favors114 and displays of wealth. And it is so weak and careless, so lazy and wretched, that it does not undertake to do anything good, or wish to restrain itself from evil, nor does it care about saving itself. This is what God has sentenced to perish. This is what God has eternally sentenced to mortal damnation. [3190–3216] But Holy Church, our mother, finds it all too bitter to have such a sentence of destruction passed on her “daughter,” that is, the soul which is regenerated 110 Fols 29v, 153r, and 245r have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by the confessor’s use of the rod. 111 Neither la sapience souveraine nor the vive et vraie fontaine will do as an antecedent for il in v. 3172, so we supply “God.” The gender-shift here matches theology, as we move from Gk. sophia (f.) to logos (m.). 112 It might make more sense to blame the constraints of poetic form and read “Ligdus is God, our spiritual father, loyal and truthful,” since it is hard to see how Ligdus himself qualifies as a peres esperitables (“pious” is already a stretch to describe him). But of course the French doesn’t say that. 113 This translates bouffois, v. 3207, which would normally be “arrogance, hubris.” But meaning B in DMF is “comportement ostentatoire, tapageux” (and meaning C is “faste (?)”), while Godefroy (s.v. bofoi) gives the example “Et pour la joye et le deduict que en icelle tour on faisoit chascune nuit par jonglerie et par aultres esbatemens fust elle nommee boffois, et est encores boffois en la contree appellee.” 114 L’envoiseüre, v. 3208, means either “joie, gaieté, plaisir,” “faveur, bienveillance,” or “objet qui est fait pour égayer, objet décoratif” (DMF). “Favors” seems to have about the same semantic range, from sexual favors to personal favors to party favors.



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in the holy font by baptism, and born from the body of the Church, and which has entered into confession.115 When it acts contrary to the vow that it made during baptism, and, woeful thing that it is, sets its heart on folly and vanity and vain wretchedness, and clings to mortal sin, then the soul is condemned to death by the sentence of God the Father. [3217–3231] Nevertheless our good mother raised it in good hope that it placed in true penitence, which was supposed to aid and help it and commute the sentence. Nor does Divine Mercy, which is conjoined with God the Father and our compassionate mother, lightly agree that those who are predestined to be sons of God, meant to possess the realm of great spiritual joy, should be subject to eternal death as soon as they commit a mortal sin. Rather, it endures and waits benevolently, and postpones its vengeance upon them to induce them to repent. Hence it gives them time and opportunity, and sprinkles them with its grace, and awakens them from the shadows of wickedness where they have slept like fools, and illuminates them with its divine splendor,116 so that they recognize their transgressions and the evils they have done and their wicked folly, coming to true repentance and righteous confession. [3232–3259] Isis with her retinue can represent true repentance, confession, and penance, which reconcile the sinful soul with divine mercy and cause it to live in good hope of escaping the harsh sentence that the righteous Judge handed down against the soul disposed to evil. That is the queen, that is the lady who rescues the sinful soul from eternal death and helps it to obtain glory in that court. The sinful, guilty soul, which abandons its sin in dread of eternal damnation, wears confession on its head as golden ears of grain, a garland or crown that constantly pricks the soul and spurs repentance of the transgressions and dire crimes it has committed. And, in its repentance, it must wail and sigh bitterly to purge all the filth of its former befoulment. Without further shaming or staining itself, and without contemplating any further sin, the soul must spur its conscience to swift repentance. [3260–3288] Confession must also have, it seems to me, two shining horns on its face. The one casts its light so that the evils that the soul used to commit are recognized and made manifest. The other lights and prepares the soul to hold to the right way, so that it can approach and attain to the delight of heavenly joy. For this, it must carry in its right hand a staff of true discipline. It is right that after confessing and abandoning its folly, the soul should submit to penance and mistreatment for the sake of the sins it used to commit; thus it offers itself as a sacrifice to expiate its wickedness. [3289–3306]

115 Et est entree en son aveu, v. 3223. Here, the moralization underscores the importance of admitting one’s fault as a part of the sacrament of reconciliation. 116 Compare Ephesians 5:14, Isaiah 51:17, Isaiah 52:1, Isaiah 60:1, Malachi 4:2, and Romans 13:11.

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And, like a watchdog117 on the alert, it must always stand on guard and watch out, in case the devil comes in secret to overcome it and make it fall back into sin. The soul must thoroughly equip itself so that the devil does not befoul it, for he is always lying in wait for it and spying on it with fraud and deception. Therefore it must bark at the devil with devout prayers, to put to flight the ravening wolf. This is a wolf you drive away by praying. [3307–3319] And it must paint and color itself with good and charitable works.118 It must sing devout and laudable hymns, full of laudatory praises, to our Lord. And to avoid vainglory, which brings many fools to grief, it must perform its acts of penance, prayer, and austerity in secret, so that its left hand never knows what its right hand is doing.119 Whoever does this can be sure that God will not remember any malice or wickedness they ever committed in their life;120 rather, God will undoubtedly release them from the sentence, which the soul dreads, of those who will be on his left.121 Instead, he will grant them heavenly glory and joyful immortality in a festive eternity, unless wickedness robs them of it. But perhaps that will not be happening so soon, before they have expiated the errors of their wicked life. [3320–3344] When the soul, with great contrition, has entered into confession, which purges and erases its sins, and it enters into a state of grace and is on the way to salvation, it often rises to lofty thought through contemplation. And it fixes its intention on the great delightfulness of a glorious eternity. And now it seems, to it, to be acceding to this joy, possessing it, or it seems as though it ought to possess it already. And it takes delight in recalling this, and in the sweet and delightful thought of the spiritual joy that it contemplates and aims for. [3345–3361] Then what happens is that it thinks again and returns to its conscience,122 and it remembers the folly, vanities, transgressions, and excesses that it once committed: it judges itself to be foul and frail and unworthy of paradise, and to have committed so much folly that in all its life it will never be able to pay off the evils it has done. How could it – a sinner, culpable – ever purchase the great eternal joy it lost through ignorance? It will never be worthy of having the great delight it yearns for, not unless God extends his mercy, for it could never serve God enough to deserve such a reward. Thus it weeps and laments 117 This

is the moralization of dog-headed Anubis from Isis’s retinue. refers to many-colored Apis. 119 This all seems to refer to “the cantor” (Harpocrates) holding a finger to his lips. The right hand/left hand contrast is from Matthew 6:3. 120 Compare Hebrews 8:12. 121 At the Last Judgment. See Matthew 25:31–46. 122 In his Commentary on the Sentences, Bonaventure discusses the topics of conscience and synderesis. For Bonaventure, we possess both innate moral knowledge and an inclination towards achieving the good. The former is associated with conscience and resides in the intellect. The latter is associated with synderesis, and the will. 118 This



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and humbles itself, and repents of its folly, and is in a state of fear and trembling. This makes its love increase and multiply, for a source of joy becomes far more attractive when one despairs a little of achieving it. The more fearful the soul is, the more ardent and eager it is not to lose hope, and so it strives, it struggles, it fasts and endures austerity, affliction, and penance, and prays to the divine grace to be granted time and opportunity to live by mending its ways. When God sees its repentance, its good work and good intent, he resolves to bring it unto gentle rest. [3362–3398]

Book 10

Orpheus (I) [miniature, fol. 246v: aristeus pursues eurydice while a “serpent” bites her heel]1

{A}bove, you heard the tale of how the girl Iphis became a boy and took a wife. To his wedding came Hymen, the god of marriage, with great pomp and joy. From there, Hymen traveled at great speed through the air, gowned in yellow, to Ciconia, where he was summoned to an unusual wedding. Orpheus had summoned him there. He was supposed to take as his new wife the noble, young, and lovely maiden Eurydice. Without bringing any good fortune, and with no sign of rejoicing, Hymen came to the wedding, but remained sadly withdrawn and made signs and indications that grief and misfortune would come to the bridal pair. But the outcome was even worse than the signs had shown. [1–22] The new bride, reveling in the springtime, went barefoot in the fields full of scented grass. A handsome and merry shepherd – that is, the esteemed Aristeus – saw the beauty, and entreated her love, but she refused him to grant him her love and favor. For she did not deign to abandon herself to doing anything he asked, for all the entreaties he made. Instead she ran away, and he followed her. As the beauty was fleeing, a snake bit her on the heel, whereby the beauty was put to death. [23–37] It was a great sorrow and a great blow to Orpheus, when by sudden mischance he had lost his bride. Much he lamented, much he grieved. When he had mourned her amply in this world, he resolved to go down to the realms of hell and find out whether he could have his bride again and move the infernal beings to give her to him. He took his harp and his bow and, harping, sang a song that went like this: [38–49] [miniature, fol. 246v: orpheus stands before the hellmouth packed with souls, playing his harp to pluto (portrayed as the devil) within]

1 Fols 246v and 294v have comparable miniatures. The “serpent” in both is a minidragon the size of a dog.

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“{Y}ou, O god of the shadowy dungeon, where every human creature comes and descends either late or soon, such that nothing takes them from you: if I may be so bold as to say so, I have not come to visit this empire, nor to see you in person, nor to submit to your tortures, for I have no interest in any of that. I’ve come about another matter. Eurydice, whom I had just taken as my wife, is the cause of my coming. I ask nothing else here below. A snake injured her on the foot, and of that injury she died. Now she is in this shadowy dungeon. Indeed, I tried in vain to endure her fatal mishap without grief. I won’t deny that I tried my best to forget about her death, but I’m not and never will be able to, for love so assaults me and combats me that it has vanquished me, truth be told. This god in great authority is thought to be the sovereign here, yet I doubt that this can be so, and that he is such, as I make out: both of you were swept away by love, and it brought you together. If rumor does not lie, Pluto carried off Proserpine for love as soon as he saw her. By the fear, by the darkness, and by the great misfortune, and by the flames and by the cold that abide in this shadowy dungeon, I beg you to give my wife and my beloved back to me and restore her to life. In doing so you’ll suffer no loss; when she lives out her appointed time, you will have her again at that point. You cannot lose her at all; for every mortal man comes down here, sooner or later. It is their final domicile, that you possess of old2 and will possess forever. I ask you only for a little enjoyment of my wife, only for the moment, and make no other claim.” [50–101] [miniature, fol. 247r: orpheus reaches for eurydice as she retreats inside the hellmouth]

{S}uch was the lay that Orpheus composed. The souls in the sorrowful palace wept because of the sweet music, and forgot their pains. Tantalus forgot his thirst, and Ixion let his wheel rest beside him, and even Sisyphus set down the stone that so torments him. Prometheus stopped resisting the birds of prey that ate his liver.3 And without having emptied the fountain, the Belides set aside their screens and sieves. And, if the rumor is true that causes me to understand and believe this, the Eumenides4 wept, when they heard the sweetness of the song, something which can never happen again. The queen could not restrain

Lit. “in inheritance.” Here, Ovid (Met. 10.40–54) lists Tantalus, Ixion, Tityus, the Belides, and Sisyphus. The OM substitutes Prometheus for Tityus: Prometheus had his liver eaten daily by an eagle, Tityus by two vultures; aus oustours (v. 112) apparently conflates their situations. There is a similar sequence in Book 4, vv. 3766–3867, where Juno visits the underworld and sees Tityus, Tantalus, Ixion, Sisyphus, and the Belides. 4 “The Kindly Ones,” a euphemistic name for the Furies. 2 3



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her eyes from weeping, and nothing could have made the king of hell deny Orpheus what he asked. [102–124] The queen and the king commanded that Eurydice be summoned. She was in the shadowy vale among the women who had recently come to perdition. Eurydice came limping, because of the wound she had on her foot. When Orpheus saw her coming, he was joyful. Eurydice was returned to him on condition that he would lose her beyond recovery if he turned and looked back before he was outside the infernal tenement. He must walk in front, she behind, or she would never come forth from there. [125–140] They walked along a steep and narrow path, filled with silence and harshness and bewildering obscurity – the one in front, the other behind – and they were nearly out of the infernal prison when Orpheus was overcome by love. Wanting to see his beloved, and afraid that she was not following, he turned to look at her. And immediately, without delay, she was swallowed up again by hell and vanished before his eyes. He stretched out his hands and tried to catch her, but caught nothing but the vain empty air. So she, dying a second death, parted from her husband, but she could not condemn what he had done, unless she were to complain of his loving her too much. She bid him one last farewell, which he barely heard. Orpheus grieved mightily for her double death, and wanted to go back to seek his dead wife, but he found the gate barred and the gatekeeper watching over it, which obstructed his progress. Never would he have her again. When he saw that he could not enter there any more, he stayed for seven days on the edge of hell, bewailing the death of the unfortunate woman.5 He lived without drinking or eating, brooding on the sorrow he endured; his tears and his sorrows sustained him. He considered the gods of hell to be wicked. [141–175] Then he traveled into the Rhodope Mountains. For three years he remained without a woman – without a wife or concubine – and so shunned all feminine love. He spurned all women. Now, I do not know why this was, whether it was because he had made a promise to the one he had loved so much, or because misfortune had befallen him, but the result was that he hated all women. Nevertheless many women loved him, but they won little of his love and could get no satisfaction from him, for he did not deign to listen to any of them. And so they bitterly lamented. It was he who first taught the Thracians to withdraw from feminine love and to make young males their delight, and henceforth the Thracians have been inclined to this practice. [176–195] [miniature, fol. 247v: a man and woman embracing, presumably the “historical” orpheus and eurydice]

5 La mort de la chetive, v. 171. Alternatively: “of the woman who was [once again] held captive.”

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Moralization {T}his tale can have a historical interpretation: it could be true, as the story tells it, that Orpheus took the aforesaid Eurydice to wife, and that during the wedding, the lady died of a snakebite, whence the poet, at her death, grieved so immoderately that he never again cared for any woman. He avoided the love of women, and rejected all women. But to assuage his grief, he turned to males, whom he used in place of a woman, and so lost himself, body and soul, as you can hear from the story I previously told you. Such a love is too unbelievably cruel, in which, contrary to nature, a male is made feminine, without any hope of offspring. It is wrong to carry on such a love; it can bring you to a bad end. [196–219] [miniature, fol. 248r: five rivers flowing from a full frontal hellmouth packed with souls]

{O}rpheus can rightly signify the ruling, rational part of the soul, and his wife Eurydice, the sensitive part.6 In humans, these two things are wedded to each other. The shepherd who importunes the bride and entreats her to be his lover can represent the virtue of living well,7 which should charm and pursue the soul to draw it towards virtuousness. But when the sensitive part of the soul foolishly moves too far away from rational understanding, it becomes such that virtue vexes it, and it rejects and flees from such love. Thus it goes running unprotected, “barefoot in the green grass” – that is, amid the malice of earthly delights, upon which it foolishly indulges, and treads of its own free will upon the serpent of mortal sin that lies in wait beneath the vain delight. This serpent “bites it on the foot” and poisons it and puts it to death as a result of freely chosen sin. Then the soul falls woefully into the shadowy darkness of profound misfortune. This hell is found within it, for a wicked heart is an abyss filled with torments and filled with pain, which torture and afflict a sinner woefully, day and night, and, if Macrobius does not lie to me, in this evil and distressing hell there are five rivers, loathsome and horrid. [220–257] The first river8 is that of forgetting, for a perverse conscience forgets all good things. A wicked heart has no recollection of anything good or profitable or potentially salvific. Rather it is full of such great forgetfulness that it forgets The translation of regnable entendement (v. 221) and La sensualité de l’ame (v. 223) is based on Aquinas, ST I q. 78, on the powers of the soul, which follows on Aristotle’s De anima. The word regnable as applied to the rational part of the soul is reminiscent of Plato’s allegory of the chariot in the Phaedrus, where reason acts as the charioteer who directs the soul in its (conflicted) entirety. 7 Per Aristotle, eudaemonia (“happiness”) consists of doing something, not just being in a certain state or condition. It is the condition of human flourishing, and living well; an alignment with one’s ultimate end. 8 The Lethe. 6



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even itself, and all the good things it might have received before it fell into such a hell, and there God lays it low in indifference and oblivion. [258–269] Nearby flows the hateful Styx, the foul, furious river that harrows and infuriates the soul and puts it into a welter of hatred, to the point that it can love nothing good. This venomous river, full of bitterness, makes one despise and flee from all good things and wrongly hate their neighbor; and thus the heart is thrown into great distress. [270–278] Nearby runs the river of sadness,9 which swamps and drowns the wretched soul, and robs it of spiritual joy. Then runs weepy Cocytus, which makes the sad and woeful heart melt completely into tears and sobs. Great is the wrath and woe of the fifth river,10 which is full of fiery heat, anguish, and misfortune. This river breathes upon the heart and stokes the ardor of wrath and covetousness. The soul intoxicated by these rivers is rendered up to misfortune. [279–291] In this hell there are many torments which mightily torment the soul. He who perishes of hunger and thirst, Tantalus, has before him bread and water that touch him on the chin, near his mouth, and yet he cannot quench his thirst nor appease the hunger which inflames and harrows and infuriates him. He signifies ardent covetousness, that ignites and inflames a wicked heart and so harrows and starves it that it gets no benefit from anything it has. Rather, the more it has the less it is satisfied, and the more it hungers to acquire even more. [292–306] Sisyphus, who heaves the massive rock upon his shoulder up the sheer side of a mountain, then stumbles so that it rolls back down from the high mountain to the valley floor, represents the anxious care, the suffering, and the misfortune that torment the tyrants on earth, as they strive for temporal honor. Many are tormented in this way. They devote heart, body, and will – all their thought and all their care, and their entire lifetime, however long it lasts – to acquiring privileges and worldly honor on earth, such that they attain great dignities, great honors, and titles. But the higher they climb, the sooner they stumble from the high pinnacle of prosperity into the valley of shame and baseness. In this way Fortune scowls upon them. [307–328] The torments of the infernal wheel that rack Sisyphus11 represent those who riot along, without sense, without counsel, and without care, without forethought and without moderation, such as happenstance directs them, and Fortune, which treats them according to her variabilities filled with decep-

The Acheron. The Phlegethon. 11 Li torment de l’infernal roë / Qui Sisyphun vont tornoiant, vv. 329–330, recte Ixion. The wheel is constantly spinning. In Ovid (Met. 10.42), “Ixion’s wheel was stilled” (Kline), so it would have been appealing to translate “the infernal wheel that spins Sisyphus around.” But the subject of vont tornoiant is li torment, plural. 9

10

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tions. And then, because they are without forethought, they often have woe and misfortune, and their lives are worse than death. [329–340] The vulture that gnaws and bites the heart, the liver, and the intestine which Tityus12 unceasingly presents and offers to it, undoubtedly represents the remorse of conscience, which every day pricks and bites and gnaws at a person who commits an illicit act, for which their conscience upbraids them. This is the torment and suffering which harrows the heart of a sinner so that they can get no rest. Anyone who receives sin into their heart does evil. It then gnaws and bites whoever commits themselves to the doing of it, and so allows them neither to rest nor to think good thoughts nor to speak good words, nor does it let them have any desire to give up their vice, their wickedness, or their malice, whose cruel bite so confounds them. [341–360] There are those who try to empty the river using vessels without a bottom – and, despite every effort, they cannot draw from it so much that any of the elusive and fleeting water remains in their vessels. They represent the damnable sloth of gluttons and lechers, drunkards and drinkers, who, to satiate their bellies, want to take and swallow all worldly goods, which are more fleeting, perishable, and elusive than water continually flowing. These gluttons go about devouring everything. Every day they want to gulp wine and ingurgitate meat to fill up their “bottomless vessel.” They exert so much effort and accomplish nothing, for no matter how much they engorge, they will never be satisfied. They have never drunk so much at night, or gotten so drunk, that the morning finds them satiated, and that even greater hunger does not overtake them, and they have to start everything all over again. So a person who takes pains to fill their belly can make little progress, and wastes their attention and effort, since nothing can remain there. One must not devour too much, to satiate one’s gluttonous paunch, but must eat what is needful to sustain one’s life, no more, and not because of gluttony. [361–395] “Orpheus descends into this unpleasant and foul hell to seek Eurydice his wife” when, it seems to me, in order to drag a sinful soul out of the sin which holds it prisoner, rational understanding comes to the heart, where there is so much wickedness, to make it comprehend its vice, and the peril it is in, and its misfortune. Then understanding refutes the sin of the heart “with the sound of the Apollonian harp” – that is, of divine inspiration, that visits and inspires the harp13 – so that it shows it its sins, one by one, and makes them known to it. And in this way it makes it comprehend the perils to which the soul is exposed if it is Recte Prometheus based on the tale, although Tityus too has his guts eaten by vultures. The harp itself is not allegorized as divine inspiration, since the human intellect doesn’t possess it, as Orpheus might be said to possess his harp. It is the sound of the harp that represents the human intellect visited by divine inspiration. According to Aquinas, ST II–II q. 8, human knowledge or “natural light” penetrates only so far and must be perfected by “supernatural light,” the Holy Spirit’s gift of understanding, a topic Bonaventure takes up in Brev. V.5. 12

13



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not retrieved and set free by penance or confession. And the sensitive part of the soul abandons its wicked lifestyle, and strives to follow reason, which must lead and guide it. In this way, the soul to which God gives the grace to do so should come back to life. But when the soul once more surrenders itself to wickedness and baseness, and when the sensitive part of the soul, which ought to come last and follow reason, comes first, so that reason is turned about and bent back and twisted round, for the sake of foolish love, or foolish desire, to follow carnal pleasure and vain fragility, which is full of iniquity, the soul slips down again into woe, shame, and wickedness – into such a hell as it emerged from. And this latter error is worse than the former was, for the relapsed soul can expect no refuge or rescue, because it has locked out reason and holds the gate of the heart hardened shut against it, so dark, so overshadowed, that it wishes to receive unto itself no knowledge of the truth. [396–443] Allegorically, I can provide another interpretation for this text. [444–445] [miniature, fol. 249r: jesus rises from the tomb, stepping over the sleeping guards]14

{W}hen God married our humanity to divinity, to make humanity master of glory and of the heavenly kingdom, and the flesh that had died through envy was resurrected from death to life, which caused the Jews to lament, the Son of God rose up flying through the air, “gowned in yellow,” that is, stained with a bloody stain, to the heavens, where all peace abounds.15 This Creator of all the world made the joining of the body to the soul, and the marriage of man to woman, but neither the one joining nor the other was so refined or pure that many did not later fall into misfortune, and afterwards endure many obstacles. [446–463] From the very first people, one can manifestly see that this is true. The serpent that dispossessed them was the devil, who so tempted the first mother long ago in delightful paradise, when he, by his insinuation, made her wickedly agree to eat the damning apple, which she gave to the man to eat. That is the “venomous sting” which made every human creature subject to the torment of hell. And this mightily grieved God, who had predestined the soul to be his beloved and his spouse. To set the soul free and retrieve it, God resolved to come from heaven to earth, and to descend into the shadowy dungeon of hell, to pull human nature out of the infernal prison and save it. He recognized his own right away and pulled them out at once. And those who would have had to descend into hell because of the deception practiced upon them by the bite from which the first people died, were also saved and delivered by him – if they truly held Fols 60v and 249r have comparable miniatures of this. The analogy here is with Hymen, wearing a saffron-colored gown, at the start of Book 10. The rhyme of envie “envy” (v. 450) and à vie “to life” (v. 451) could be described as deliberate wordplay. 14 15

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themselves in the love of their true lover, and if after their deliverance they kept to righteous belief in God, without backsliding, until they were out of the ambit of hell and had passed beyond the world. [464–498] Oh, God, how many people there are now who, because of mortal sins with which they are grievously stained, must incur the harsh sentence of hellish misfortune which awaits the dead sinners. And they persevere in sin until God, in his mercy, calls them to himself, and reconciles with them, and rescues them from this misery. But afterwards they backslide, and lose themselves forever by the evils they again lay hold of until the soul takes leave of the body. Then devils take the soul for their own, and lock it up in the shadowy tower without hope of return. From then on, God never has any more friendship, or mercy, or pity for it. Never more will God rescue anyone after he has gone down there once. Now, everyone who goes down there is forbidden to return. Let those who might misunderstand – those to whom God has given, by his grace, so much respite and leeway that they have come to repent of their initial foolishness – beware of further fault! Let them think upon the lasting prison where the woeful will remain, who die in mortal sin! They should dread relapsing, for that is what the wicked do – they return to their filth, like a dog to its vomit. God will rescind his vengeance for the initial foolishness. And if, in relapse, people are overtaken by their earlier sins, for both the latter and the former sins they will be condemned to dwell in the infernal prison with, it seems to me, no hope of salvation. If death strikes them down at this stage, there is no further deliverance possible for the soul which the devil carries off, since it has passed beyond the gate which is henceforth shut and barred. And there, the soul remains shut up and will never be ransomed. Never will God enter hell for them – we know this to be true – nor will he ever bring a soul out of there. The gatekeeper keeps the gate barred, which keeps the condemned ones locked up, and God has ascended the heavenly hill of great delightful joy. [499–557] Now, he “hates feminine nature,” that is, all of those who devote their care to vain cogitations and to the base delectations which the soft feminine ones16 16 Li mol femelin, v. 562: compare the note to Book 4, vv. 2220–2221, especially the quotation from Isidore’s Etymologies X.M.179. This moralization would also seem to evoke molles in 1 Corinthians 6:10, translated as “the effeminate” in Douai-Rheims and often taken together with the following masculorum concubitores (“liers with mankind”). Boswell (1980, 106–107) discusses the range of the original Greek term (malakoi), found with the sense of “unrestraint” in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics 7.4.4 (see also Howie 2007, 78–79); Edwards (2009, 63–97) and Williams (2013) discuss the concept of mollitia in ancient Rome. Notwithstanding Boswell’s arguments that “the unanimous tradition of the church through the Reformation […] has been that this word applied [primarily or solely?] to masturbation [as opposed to homosexuality]” (1980, 107), it clearly has much broader application here, although with a similar sense of fruitless self-gratification.



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expect: those who seek worldly delights and do not wish to direct their hearts to the doing of any work of virtue. But the “males of young age,” those who retain their virginity, who are pure and full of ignorance, and undertake from childhood to live virtuously, and offer themselves enthusiastically in heart, in body, and in desire to do God’s will:17 those he loves, in those he takes delight. These are his joy and his delight when they present themselves to serve him in the fullness of their youth and strength. [558–577] Orpheus (II) {A}bove, you heard about the death of she whom the snake bit, who descended into hell, then was returned to her husband, on condition that he would lose her if he cast a backwards glance at her. He lost her for that very thing, and then the gate of hell was shut to prevent the one who had brought her out of there from ever reaching it again. And you heard how he mourned her for a long time, and how, out of excessive love for her, he shunned all feminine love, and engaged in the masculine kind. Now you will hear how he behaved after he came out of hell. [578–593] [miniature, fol. 250r: orpheus harping in the field on the hill, amidst a grove of trees]

{O}n a hill there was a field full of lush grass. There was plenty of room on the field, but there was no shade when the poet sat down, and, taking up his harp and bow, made the strings resound. Trees, coming from all directions, gathered there to offer shade when they heard the sweetness of the sound, and filled the field: sorb trees,18 medlars, wild lime trees, and laurel; dogwood, ash, and bramble; chestnut, palm trees, willow, and maple; and evergreen boxwood, Boswell adduces Aquinas, ST II–II q. 154, art. 11, and Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum doctrinale 4.162, to support the claim that “[a]t least from the time of Aquinas on, all moral theologians defined ‘mollitia’ or ‘mollicies’ […] as masturbation” (107n55). It would seem more accurate, with respect to how mol(le) and mollices are deployed in the OM, to argue that Aquinas recognizes masturbation as one category of behavior that, for some, qualifies as mollitia. He lists it along with bestiality (bestialitas) and sodomy (sodomiticum vitium) as varieties of “the unnatural vice” (vitium contra naturam). Specifically, he says: Uno quidem modo, si absque omni concubitu, causa delectationis venereae, pollutio procuretur, quod pertinet ad peccatum immunditiae, quam quidam mollitiem vocant (First, by procuring pollution, without any copulation, for the sake of venereal pleasure: this pertains to the sin of “uncleanness” which some call “effeminacy.”) 17 Lit. “the divine pleasure.” 18 That is, trees of the genus Sorbus, either Sorbus domestica, “(True) Service Tree,” or Sorbus torminalis, “Wild Service Tree.” By comparison with the trees bearing cormes (the fruit of Sorbus domestica) in v. 615, we can deduce that alies in v. 605 refers to the fruit of the Wild Service Tree, known in England as chequers.

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peach trees, and hardy, slender broom; and the tree that yields balsam; fig trees, beeches, yews, and firs; date trees, elms, and cypresses; and many others of diverse appearance, bearing nuts, sorb-apples, and cherries. The palm tree and the pine alike came to this gathering: Cybele had loved Attis, who was transformed into a branching pine. The cypress came too: once it had been a boy, and had recently become that kind of tree. Phoebus had loved him tenderly for as long as he lived. Now you will hear how and for whose sake that boy took on arboreal form. [594–626] [miniature, fol. 250r: cyparissus riding the marvelous stag]

Cyparissus {T}here was a stag of marvelous origin, a large and beautiful and gentle beast. It had antlers on its head more bright and more golden than any pure refined gold; they cast a huge shadow about them. Around its neck was hung a clasp of glittering gems. It had a silver insignia, fair and pleasing, on its forehead, connected to straps of fair appearance that jingled when it moved. Around the temples it had two berries19 of equal beauty, that hung from its ears. It was sacred to the nymphs of Carthaea.20 The stag did not take fright nor did it lower its face or visage, but was so tame, I believe, that it wandered everywhere, freely and in safety, through houses, towns, and fields, and used to allow anyone who wanted to, to pet it with their naked hand. It came to everyone who called it, like one who fears no one. Cyparissus, the boy Phoebus loved so much, loved it more than anyone. He used to pet and scratch the stag. Sometimes he fed it; sometimes he led it to drink, and made it garlands out of fresh flowers in various colors. He utterly loved and cherished it. Many times, so he could ride it, he put an ivory saddle on it, and a bit with crimson reins, so that he led it around, enjoying himself, and galloped on it joyfully. [627–666] One day, around noon, it was hot. The sun was on high, in Cancer; so the earth was boiling. Under shady foliage, the stag went along, frolicking under a tree in the lush green grass. Cyparissus, in his innocence, shot at the stag, and struck and wounded it with a sharp and potent arrow. When the boy saw the stag bleeding, and realized that he had wounded it unto death, beyond healing, by a foolish mistake, he felt great grief and sorrow about it. Phoebus felt great pity for him because of the great grief he was manifesting. And, if he could have, he would gladly have comforted him. But the boy had no interest in comfort. Instead he wept and lamented mightily, for he could not be cheered up; rather, he wished that he were wounded unto death. And he prayed and beseeched God 19 20

Deus baies, v. 640. In Ovid (Met. 10.115–116) these are “pearls of bronze” (Kline). On the island of Ceos.



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to allow him to grieve and weep forever, every day from then on, endlessly. The boy wept for so long – without avarice, without mockery21 – that he lost his blood and flesh, and his limbs turned green. His head, which had previously been covered in blond locks, combed and hanging down over his white forehead, grew spiky; his hairs began to stand on end, directing him toward the heavens: the youth became a tree that has since been called “cypress.” Phoebus was overcome with sadness and grief when he saw that transformation. Out of the great pity he felt, he said to him: “You weep and will weep, and will give those who live after you grounds for weeping. Those in mourning will have you with them.” [667–707] [miniature, fol. 250v: jupiter as eagle swoops down and carries off ganymede]

Orpheus Sings to the Trees {S}uch a crowd of trees gathered around the poet, it seems to me. He sat in the middle of the field now full of wild beasts, and trees and birds as well, and he carefully tuned his harp and harmonized his strings. Each string had a different sound, but all were in harmony, so that there was no disharmony at all. And he began to recount aloud the love affairs of the great gods of the heavens who loved young men. He touched the strings with his bow, and sang, while he harped a song that went like this: [708–723] I wish to tell of the love affairs of the great gods. This is my song and my subject matter, and those of Jove first of all. Muse, mother, guide me from the beginning and give me your grace to recite such a song that will please the god who has sovereignty over all others eternally. Once I sang – I remember it well – the contention and discord of the gods and the giants. Now I want to turn my Muse to a new subject.22 I will recite a more delightful song, lighter and more pleasant. [724–737]

Orpheus Sings: Ganymede {J}upiter, king of paradise, god over all other gods, once fell in love with Ganymede, the Trojan youth. And so this god, master of everything, resolved to apply his attention and effort to taking on an appearance other than Selflessly and sincerely. En autre fueil, v. 735: lit. “to another leaf.” So translated in Hindley-Langley-Levy, surely on the basis of a manuscript leaf (turning to a new page, etc.): “Now I want my Muse to join me in turning over a new leaf.” But here there could also be an arboreal pun. 21 22

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his own. The Almighty, the heavenly king, desired to become something he had never been before and has never been since:23 he resolved to fly down and descend from heaven, and so he deigned to take on the form of an eagle. He grabbed and seized Ganymede. He carried him off to heaven and installed him there, making him heaven’s wine-steward.24 [738–752] [miniature, fol. 251r: apollo lifts the body of hyacinthus killed with the discus]

Orpheus Sings: Hyacinthus {P}hoebus loved another young man,25 and would have made him a constellation in heaven,26 if he had been allowed to, but fate did not allow it, crushing the youth before he could raise him to heaven. But Fortune, though it harmed him, did not harm him so much that it prevented him from becoming everlasting: Phoebus made him into a lovely yellow flower which is born anew every year, when spring flourishes and is reborn, and the sun rises in Aries.27 [753–765] {A}t the time when that boy lived, Phoebus, who loved him so much that nothing could keep them apart, used to hang around Eurotas and Sparta for the sake of the young man, who lived there. He28 used to run the hounds on their leash across the fields and valleys there. The effort of carrying the tethers and hunting nets didn’t displease him. He did not feel like playing the harp, as he was used to, nor did he have any more interest in shooting. He had given up everything for the boy, to whom he had become a friend. He was always in his company, and the love that inflamed and ensnared him was nourished by long familiarity. For him he neglected all of his duties. He was attached to nothing so much as to this boy, whom he loved completely. [766–786] One day it was just after noon. Phoebus and the boy undressed. They slathered their bodies in oil, preparing to compete at once in discus-throwing. Ovid (Met. 10.157–158), with a rather different emphasis, says that Jupiter did not deign to transform into any bird but the eagle. 24 Bouteillier du ciel, v. 752. Although Ganymede is named in some sources as Jupiter’s cupbearer, and it would be tempting to suggest a parallel with the cup at the Last Supper, the bouteillier (whence the word “butler”) is really the wine steward to whom the échanson “cupbearer” would report. 25 Hyacinthus, “descendant of Amycles” (Amyclides), in Ovid (Met. 10.162). He has not been named yet in the OM. 26 Ovid (Met. 10.683–684) says Phoebus wanted to give Hyacinthus a place in heaven, but it seems unlikely that he wanted him to be a constellation. Rather, like Ganymede, he would have had a place on Olympus. 27 The French is li solaus monte en l’Arest, v. 765, where Arest might be read as arête, meaning something like “to the zenith,” but Ovid (Met. 10.165) specifically mentions Aries. 28 From context and by comparison with Ovid (Met. 10.171–173), this must be Phoebus. 23



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Phoebus went first. He picked up the discus and threw it. He hurled it straight up to the clouds. After a long time, the discus fell down again. The boy was utterly delighted by this game that Phoebus was teaching him. He was eager to try it himself, so he took the discus and threw it.29 He threw it high in the air. On the way down, it landed on hard ground, and rebounded into the boy’s face, smashing his whole face in. The boy fell unconscious on the spot. [787–804] Don’t suppose this game pleased the god, when he saw the boy wounded! He took the boy in his arms and raised him up, wiping the wound clean. Using herbs he restrained and delayed the soul, which was trying to depart. The boy’s suffering made the god suffer terribly, but nothing weighed on him more than that the boy should not die. No herb had the power to heal him, and no medical intervention could cure him, for the wound was incurable. Like the flower of the violet that is uprooted or picked, or like a lily or a poppy whose stem is snapped, which cannot be taken back or reconnected,30 but wilts and droops, so the boy’s head drooped down over his shoulder, for he had lost so much strength that he could no longer hold it up. [805–826] When Phoebus saw the boy grow faint, dying in the prime of his youth, he lamented, wept, and raved, and said: “Young man, through my folly I have caused you loss and suffering. No one but I killed you: I alone am the cause of your death. It is by my fault and my sin that I have injured you and made you die. Then again, what fault is mine, exactly? This game, and the fact that I loved you, can hardly be called a fault and a sin! I committed no sin in your death! Of course, if it were possible, I would wish to die with you, the same way, right now, but that’s not something that can happen. I am a god and will never die, but I will mourn your death forever, and you will always be with me. You will never leave my side. Always I will have you still in my memory, and you will have great honor and great glory. Always from now on I will remember you in all the songs that I compose. And so I will make you into a new flower, which will represent my tears and my woe and my distress, and the time will come when mighty Ajax, full of prowess and valor, will be transformed into that flower. On the petals of the flower will be letters that spell out your name and his as well, and also my sorrowful lament.” [827–861] As Phoebus spoke these words, the boy’s blood which lay spilled on the ground clumped together and became a beautiful crimson flower,31 richer and more resplendent than crimson cloth expertly dyed. It looked like a lily, except that a lily is silvery white. “Y A,” a cry of woe, could be found

In Ovid (Met. 10.183–185) it is the rebound of the god’s original throw that kills the boy. Ne puet estre arriere reprise ne rejointe, vv. 821–822, is itself disjoint: the act cannot be taken back; the stem cannot be reconnected. This flower comparison, also in Ovid, anticipates his metamorphosis into a new flower. 31 Flor porprine et bele, v. 865. 29

30

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inscribed on the petals.32 Hyacinth33 is the name of this beautiful flower, which is reborn and renewed every year, and it used to be the custom to celebrate its reappearance, to dance and sing songs in memory of the boy Hyacinthus, who was transformed into it.34 Sparta should never reject the glory that accrues to it from Hyacinthus, who was born there; nor was it ashamed of Hyacinthus. [862–881] [miniature, fol. 252r: venus turns the cerastae into bulls]

Orpheus Sings: The Cerastae {B}ut if anyone asked Amathus35 whether it was pleased to be the birthplace of the mad Propoetides and the prideful Cerastae, it would answer frankly that both weighed heavy on it. Before the gates of the Cerastae stood a site sacred to Jupiter, but no place so bloody or vile or full of such great cruelty was ever seen. The Cerastae used to sacrifice the pilgrims who came there. [882–895] Venus hated this sacrifice, and because of this cruel malice, the goddess resolved to abandon the region where she was worshipped. Then she said that the land itself was transgressing through the malice and transgression of the inhabitants: “It’s undoubtedly better to punish the mob that committed the error, by exile or imprisonment, death or some other harm.” Then she put twin horns on their heads, and they became fierce and vicious bulls.36 They are still called Cerastae, that is, “horned beasts,” because of the horns they have on their heads. [896–911] The Propoetides scorned the goddess Venus and said that she was neither a goddess nor powerful. Venus was terribly hurt by this. She became terribly angry and enraged by the slander she heard spoken. She took savage vengeance, turning them all into forsaken whores, so wanton and horny that they rushed through farmland, towns, and fields to submit to every man. They became so vile, in short, that just as if each one was a sculpture made of stone or wood,37 each one lost all shame. [912–928] “AI AI,” in Ovid (Met. 10.215). For Jacintus, v. 872. 34 In Ovid (Met. 13.217–219), the Hyacinthia festival was celebrated by displaying the flower in a procession. 35 A city in Cyprus. 36 In Ovid (Met. 10.222–223), the human Cerastae already have horns on their foreheads, and this inspires Venus to turn them into bulls. 37 This is a reversal of Deucalion and Pyrrha in Book 1, and, in a Christian context, of Ezekiel 36:26 (“And I will give you a new heart, and put a new spirit within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and will give you a heart of flesh”). In Ovid, it 32 33



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[miniature, fol. 252r: pygmalion sculpting a woman]38

Orpheus Sings: Pygmalion {I}n this land of Amathus39 lived a rich, renowned man, Pygmalion by name. He was wise and well learned, exceedingly rich and highly esteemed. Because of the vices, the foulness, and the great iniquities he had witnessed among these foul women, because of the condemnation and reproaches he had heard tell about them, for a long while he held off taking a wife. He lived much of his life without a wife, in chastity. [929–941] While he was living alone, since he was so skilled, he began carving in white ivory. He put so much into it and worked on it so intently that he created the likeness of a woman.40 He carved her so skillfully that no more beautiful woman was ever born. Such was her face that no one saw her without saying that she must be alive. The creation, being so skillful, made the one who had created it marvel at it. He was astonished to have created such a creation so skillfully. He looked at it most intently, and as he looked, love seized him and overcame him with new love. Doubtless it was new love that so inflamed and besotted him that he devoted all his thought and care to what he had formed, the likeness he had made and depicted with his own hand. [942–963] He often caressed her, and checked if she were a statue or a real woman. He never thought she was just ivory: love made him think and believe that he could have her at his ease and that she would return his kiss. As he kissed her, he spoke to her; he praised her constantly and embraced her gently, so as not to hurt her. He sought out and provided her with whatever could please young girls. He gave her roses, lilies, violets, mallets and colored balls, doves and lovely turtledoves.41 He made her many beautiful

seems that they actually turn into stone (Met. 10.239–242): “For this, because of her divine anger, they are said to have been the first to prostitute their bodies and their reputations in public, and, losing all sense of shame, they lost the power to blush, as the blood hardened in their cheeks, and only a small change turned them into hard flints” (Kline). 38 The illumination suggests a parallel between Pygmalion sculpting and God forming Eve from Adam’s rib. 39 Rouen has De matonte. But this clearly corresponds to Amathus in Ovid (Met. 10.227). 40 The word “image” is used throughout the OM to refer to idols, such as l’image Beli, and Narcissus’s reflection as image. See the notes associated with these lines, Book 1, v. 2490 / Book 3, v. 180. 41 The list is a little different in Ovid (Met. 10.259–263): he “brings it gifts that please girls, shells and polished pebbles, little birds, and many-coloured flowers, lilies and tinted beads, and the Heliades’s amber tears, that drip from the trees” (Kline). Thus the game with mallets and balls is an innovation, and appropriate to a courtly, medieval setting.

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adornments of clothing and accessories. Love made a fool of him! He gave her brooches, and necklaces for her neck, gems for her fingers, earrings for her ears. The clothing suited her marvelously well when she was dressed in it, and she was very beautiful naked. He laid her down beside him in beds spread with scarlet and green coverlets, stuffed with downy feathers. He called her his beloved and his wife. [964–989] [miniature, fol. 252v: pygmalion praying to the golden statue of venus]42 {O}ne day there was a celebration of the feast of a renowned goddess: Venus, the goddess of love. There was celebration in Cyprus that day: the poor and the rich celebrated, and no one was miserly or stingy in making gifts and sacrifices. The ceremonies and festivities at the temple of Venus were magnificent. Pygmalion came there. He placed his offering on the altar and began a prayer, pitifully and fearfully, like someone who greatly feared and dreaded that he would fail in what he sought. He was very troubled at heart. [990–1005] “Venus, I come to you with an entreaty. To you, lady, I bring my complaint against you, who have put me into such misery. Because of you, I am a lover without a beloved. Your arrow, which has wounded me, has caused me grief and distress by carrying off my heart. It has nowhere to turn. Lady, if you’re not going to take pity on him,43 make this woeful man happy. My lady, if I do not find mercy in you, I truly don’t know where else I can seek it. I turn in prayer to you and to all the gods, for all of them can indeed help me. Grant, lady, that the girl who seems to be ivory may be my wife.” [1006–1021] He did not say it was an ivory sculpture! Venus made his request come true. She was very kind to him and gave him a clear sign that she had granted it. The sign comforted him: the unlit torch he carried flamed up three times and caught fire on its own. [1022–1029] Pygmalion returned joyful and content to his statue. He lay down beside her in a bed and kissed her eyes, face, and mouth. It seemed to him that she was growing softer. He kissed her again and worked his hands over her. He felt her breasts grow soft, and the rigidity of the ivory left it. Just as wax softens in the sunlight and melts when someone works it with his fingers, so the ivory yielded to his fingers when he touched it. He was astonished,

42 Note the similarity of the posture of Venus to the posture of Pygmalion’s sculpture in the previous illumination. Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 43 As in, if she’s not going to remove his love, she should satisfy it.



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but very pleased, but he really thought it was only a dream, all trickery and lies. He was very afraid he was being deceived. In the end, he realized she was both body and soul together. Her veins pulsed, it seemed to him: he felt it well under his thumb. Venus clearly showed her power when the ivory statue became a real woman and had sense, understanding, and reason, if the author does not lie.44 [1030–1055] Pygmalion felt great joy. He gave profuse thanks to Venus: “Lady Venus, I worship you: for the great grace and the love you’ve shown me, I thank you. I worship you, I thank you, and you’ve well deserved it, for you’ve served me generously by giving me what I desired so much. I was in great distress for love. Now you’ve brought me great delight. Now I have a beloved, now I am a lover! Now there is nothing that displeases me. Now I have pleasure, joy, and comfort.” [1056–1069] Then he ran to kiss his beloved. The maiden felt his kiss: she was embarrassed, and blushed. At the temple of Venus, Pygmalion took his beloved as his wife. Nine months later, the girl gave birth to a noble and renowned son: at his birth he was named Paphos. The island was named after him: it was called Paphos in his honor. [1070–1079] [miniature, fol. 253r: myrrha and cinyras]

Orpheus Sings: Myrrha {O}n this island named Paphos there was born a lord of great renown: those of his neighbors who knew him by name called him Cinyras.45 He ruled over all of Paphos. Cinyras was a very worthy man. His life would have been richly blessed if he had been without offspring. He was valiant and of great worth. He married a woman of high rank. With his wife he conceived such an heir as would later make him suffer grievously. It was a daughter. Woe that she was ever born! It would have been better had she been aborted!46 What evil stemmed from her, how misfortune befell her father, seems cruel to tell, but since it falls within my subject matter, I choose to tell it. Get you hence, young ladies, so you do not hear it. But if it delights you to know it, then do not believe that this tale is true. If you do believe it, then be assured that she received a cruel comeuppance, for, no lie, Nature would

44 This phrasing recalls the prologue in Book 1: “If Scripture does not lie to me.” But this time, the authorship/creative act in question is the bringing to life of an idol, or brazen image of a girl, and a perverted form of love. 45 Ovid (Met. 10.297–299) specifies he was the son of Paphos. 46 The OM, which espoused De Vetula’s position on abortion (see Book 2, vv. 1751– 1778), would presumably not share Orpheus’s sentiment here.

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never have deigned to consent to such a sin. [1080–1105] I rejoice for Ismarus, my homeland,47 where this event did not take place, for it is far away from the land where such a girl was conceived. Although that land is rich and lovely, and yields galangal48 and cinnamon, incense, ginger, and yellow turmeric,49 the land would sooner have remained bare of all its fine spices if it could also have been without myrrh and without the wickedness that came about through myrrh. Myrrh is not so valuable that the land would ever wish to have borne such an heir. [1106–1119] The girl’s name was Myrrha. She had little wisdom50 and all too much beauty. For her beauty, her wealth, her reputation, and her noble birth, she was sought after by many high lords. But her interest lay elsewhere: she had such wildly excessive love for her father that she cared for nothing else. She loved him so excessively that it was not appropriate for a maiden to love her father in such a way. To hate one’s father is a sin; but this girl’s love for hers was far more hateful, far more to be condemned. It is only right to love one’s father, but no more than is right, for excess is never free of vice. This girl loved her father beyond what is right. Love had her hopelessly in thrall. [1120–1139] It was not love, but madness, that entered her heart, that inflamed and consumed her completely. Love instructs, love teaches lovers all courtesy. Love hates all vulgarity. Love loves rightness and moderation. Love despises senselessness. Love urges lovers to do nothing dishonest, hence I say truly that it was not love, but frenzy and folly that drove her to such madness. She could not restrain her thoughts, no matter how she tried. This ardor made her heart melt. This ardor caused her anguish and suffering. In her heart, folly and reason were waging a tremendous war. On one hand, folly stirred and urged her on to commit such a woeful act: it offered her her father’s fair body and handsome complexion. But reason interceded to chastise her, rebuking and chiding her for such a shameful undertaking. [1140–1165] “Hey, fool! What have you come up with? Restrain your heart and thought from thinking of such wickedness! Do you want to commit fornication with the father who bore you? It will bring you only shame and suffering! Before you do it you must repent of it! God would never agree to let me commit such a wicked act. – But what would be wicked about it, if I want to love my father? It’s not right for anyone to blame or reproach me, it seems to me. The bull mates with his daughter; so does the filly with the horse who sired her; and no blame attaches to them. We would be for-

47 48 49 50

In Thrace. The narrator is Orpheus. Rhizoma galangae, “an aromatic stimulant drug” (Encylopedia Britannica). Also called zedoary, from Arabic zadwâr, curcuma. Poi fu sage: sage of course could mean decorum, self-restraint, good conduct, etc.



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tunate51 if it pleased the gods that we should be allowed to do likewise, and that it were according to nature. “Woe betide all creation, that made this the order of things and forbids us to do likewise. The law and what is right prohibit what nature offers us. Nevertheless I have heard tell of a land where one can do as one wishes with no condemnation: a mother can lie with her son, a daughter with her father, a sister with her brother. In this way, their affection is doubled. Oh, wretch, why wasn’t I born in the land where this was allowed? I would have been able to find relief from the suffering that wounds me so deeply. My land puts me at a disadvantage. My land harms and grieves me since I can’t fulfill my desire. It weighs on me that I was born here! [1166–1204] “Ah, poor foolish misdirected thing, what are you thinking? Are you rabid, to be whorishly in love with your father? Give up this foolish hope that puts such a burden on your heart. You should love him with proper love,52 and not by committing such foolishness. Perhaps if I weren’t his daughter, I could love him romantically,53 now I am losing him because he is mine.54 It really weighs on me that he is related to me in any way. Hence, since I cannot have my way with him, my heart bids me withdraw. Withdraw? As long as I see him, I will never be able to hold back my heart from him. His innocent face, his gentle gaze send a burning arrow through my heart that completely burns and inflames me. His great beauty, when I look at it, worsens my sufferings. [1205–1224] “To alleviate this suffering I need to flee this land. But if I fled my country, it would be agonizing to part from it, and still it would do nothing to cure me. Never will I be able to alter my heart or to exile love from my heart. It is said that a foreign land does not alter or change the heart,55 so it would not be able to change mine, and love would cause me even more torment if I went away. Leaving would bring me more discomfort than relief

Reading buerné as buer né, “born into fortunate circumstances, i.e., fortunate,” the opposite of mal né. (If it were one word it would have to be the past participle of borner, “placer qqn dans certaines limites,” or of berner, “vanner (des céréales), d’où faire sauter en l’air, secouer (une pers.)” (DMF), either of which would sort of make sense but would be difficult to square with the rest of the sentence: the meaning would be something like “We would be prevented, punished if we chose to act as a god does, according to his natural urges,” except that doesn’t actually work.) 52 Par bone amour, v. 1210, that is, the kind of love she owes her father. 53 Par amour, rendered here as “romantically” to distinguish from the type of love she owes her father. 54 That is, he is already “hers” as a family member. 55 Cf. Horace, Epistles 1.11.27: Caelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt (“They change their skies but not their hearts, those who cross the seas”). 51

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or pleasure, nor could I ever extinguish the cause56 of the fire that mightily consumes me. So it would be better to stay here in my father’s company, where I can see him day and night and kiss him whenever I like, and, since I can at least do that, I can alleviate my misfortune with the comfort of good hope.57 [1225–1247] “Comfort? Indeed, I’ve never heard of such a thing! It’s great folly and great baseness for such foolish love, such foolish madness, to have ever entered my heart. Hey, fool, back off! I must! I would never offer my mother such an insult as by fornicating with my father. Am I going to be my son’s sister and my brother’s mother? No way! I would rather be dragged behind a horse than for this plan to come to fruition! Will I shame my father and myself? No, Myrrha, you must realize that you can never consummate your foolish undertaking, by my head. But sin or shame won’t ever make me give it up. If only I could! But I can’t. I’m utterly mortified. I’m completely stymied and unsettled by the fact that my father’s such a strait-laced man: he has such sense and reason, is so well versed in laws and what is right, that nothing would make him consent to such betrayal or madness. It’s very painful for me to realize just how strait-laced he is, for I will pay all too dearly for his sense. If he could feel the suffering I feel, he would be all the more eager to grant my desire. His great sense makes me incredibly woeful.” [1248–1277] [miniature, fol. 254r: myrrha and her nurse] {I}n this way, Myrrha lamented and raved, so invested in the pursuit of her shame and defilement that nothing else held any sway with her. Love had sent her into a wild frenzy. She felt such passion for her father that no one else held the slightest appeal. She was often cold, often hot. One moment she sweated, the next she shivered more than an aspen leaf. She often shuddered, often started. Love had her under heavy attack. She was in great distress over her father. [1278–1290] Cinyras knew nothing of this, or of what his daughter had in mind. But he gave great care and consideration to arranging a noble marriage for her. He was being asked for her on behalf of many high lords, and by many of the lords themselves. He went to her and let her know which nobles had proposed to her, and told her she must choose as her lord the one who pleased her best out of all of them, and promised her that he would do all her pleasure without objection. She dared not say what she was thinking. She sighed and wept with tenderness as she looked at him intently. She admired his eyes and his fair face. She focused her care and her attention on him. The De Boer amends chose to force in v. 1240, against the manuscripts: there seems to be no reason for it. Šumski keeps chose. 57 The perversion of the theological virtue of Hope is glaring in this context. 56



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more she looked at him, the more she was ablaze. The father had no suspicions. He did not see her guile, for her innocence deceived him.58 She was afraid, it seemed to him, and he wiped her face, her cheeks. He thought she was weeping out of fear. It wasn’t; it was out of the power of love, which had completely mastered her and held her in its thrall. [1291–1316] “Father,” she said, “if I had my will in this, I would want to have a lord of beauty and morals like yours. I would love him well and passionately.” Her father heard her words, but did not understand what they meant. He thought that she was speaking out of goodness. He praised her very much, but he had no idea what she concealed in her words, and took her in his arms and kissed and embraced her. The beauty was glad and joyful about it. “Daughter,” he said, “may you always be so compassionate.” Myrrha, who knew what she was hiding, didn’t dare look at her father. When she heard him speak of compassion, she was racked by guilt about her crime. She knew very well that compassion had nothing to do with it. [1317–1335] {N}ight came, and day departed. Love bestowed a heavy burden on the girl he had ensnared. She had no joy or comfort. She suffered by day and worse by night, for her thoughts harassed and gnawed at her as she lay in bed, a place where she found little joy or pleasure. Her thoughts were killing and confounding her. The deeper she sank into her thoughts, the more the fire set her ablaze and consumed her. The love she had sealed in her heart enslaved and ruled her with such force that she could not sleep or rest. Her suffering enslaved and tortured her. One moment she was lying on her back, the next on her side, the next face down. Her pain was worse than toothache. All her thoughts were on her father. She was distraught and despairing not to have her will of him. The distress made her suffer worse than the ardor that enslaved her. She greatly sighed and greatly lamented. She was in a state of woe and misfortune. She did not know how she would ever carry out the business she had undertaken. She was stymied and obsessed. [1336–1363] {S}he took herself to task: [1364] “Myrrha, you fool, what perversion or madness do you have in mind? You will never enjoy the fruition of this thought. It wouldn’t be right for you to enjoy it. It will turn out badly for you, you can be sure of it! I am sure of it, woe is me. I’m aware of my own folly and yet I can’t snap myself out of it. Love has led me so far astray, putting me in such foolish hope. I’ll never have what I hope for. Won’t I? I certainly could, if I revealed to him the pains that I’m suffering for love of him. He is full of so much compassion that nothing could make him endure me or anyone else dying for his sake. That is, her outward innocence, following Ovid (Met. 10.361), “virgin shyness” (Kline). Or since the French possessive doesn’t show gender, it could technically also be his innocence that deceives him, but that is less likely. 58

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I’ll confess to him the woe that I suffer for his love. I’ll beg him for mercy and forgiveness. [1365–1384] “Forgiveness? Wretch, am I going mad? I’ll never commit such madness as to proposition him for fornication! He’d reject me on the spot. He would shame me by his rejection, and it would be a terrible loss to lose his goodwill. I would rather suffer my discomfort than say anything that might displease him and make me lose his goodwill. Suffer it? This is too much to suffer! Who could suffer for so long, or offer up one’s body to such torture?59 I’ve suffered so much I can’t bear any more, and yet I’ve found no cure. Love is punishing me too hard, and I think I’ll die from it. It’s grief and torment for me to live so long. Come on, death, and set me free! Set me free from this pain, and from love, that pains me so much – from the pangs that love causes me to feel. God would never choose to consent for me to live any longer, to be in such wretchedness! Death is better than a bitter life! God, why was I born of a mother? In me she had most wretched offspring. It would have been better if she had aborted me, before I had ever seen my dear father, or known him. What a tragedy, you wretch, you good-for-nothing! It makes me very unhappy to be living so long. Death pleases me and is attractive to me, but it is too slow in coming. Its delay is nerve-racking. Hey, death, come on and run me through! Free me from this pain, and from love, that pains me so deeply, for I can see no relief from my sufferings except death. Death can end my sufferings for me, but it’s too slow to come. Wait – death? Why do I want that? That’s cowardly and wicked! Anyone who desires death is a coward! I could kill myself, in spite of death that scorns me. Why don’t I kill myself right now? If I choose to do that, in spite of death, I’ll be free of all this hardship. I must go through death because of it.”60 [1385–1436] This thought came willingly to mind. She hated her life, she coveted her death. At once – immediately – she contrived a way of doing herself bodily harm. She took her belt and tied it to a beam above her head. She meant to hang herself from the noose, but first she said, weeping: “Dear, sweet father, alas that I ever saw you! Love for you has stolen my heart away. I’m dying for you, but you have no idea. May god watch over you.” With these words, to do herself harm, she went to put the noose around her neck. [1437–1451] She was overheard by the old woman who had nursed her and watched over her. The woman started up in terror. She came into the room, and saw the noose that Myrrha was using to try to kill herself. The old woman tore her hair and wrung her hands, grief-stricken and bereft, and then she screamed, tore her clothes and beat her breast. She scratched her face and Torture, or even martyrdom. This apparent perversion of suffering for God’s love is addressed in the moralization when the relationship is glossed as Mary’s relationship with God. 60 Correcting v. 1436 to Par la mort passer m’en convient (as in Šumski). 59



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cheeks. Enraged, she broke the noose, and clutched the girl in her arms. She kissed her on the mouth and eyes. “Dear girl, why do you want to die in such a horrible way?” [1452–1466] Myrrha was silent; she dared not say a word. She looked down at the ground from shame. She could not bear having taken so long – before she could be taken by surprise, she would rather have killed herself.61 The old woman wouldn’t let her be: she was most insistent in questioning her.62 “Dear girl, by the great trust and for the great love you have for me, by the breast with which I fed you, by the arms that held you while you slept, I’m begging you to tell me the cause of this great frenzy.63 Dear girl, you can confide in me about anything. It will help you if you tell me. I’m so wise in word and deed that there is nothing you can ever ask for that I won’t be able to help with. Don’t scorn me for my age, because I’m still tough. I’m tough and I’m even more clever. If it’s frenzy or madness, I know so many herbs and roots that I can make you treatments that will cure you quickly. Or if you have been enchanted by the evil eye or a spoken curse, I’ve been trained as a wise-woman, I know so much about the magical arts that no curse or baleful glance can ever do you any harm. If you’ve angered some god who is making you suffer this torment, prayer and entreaty wipes out the wrath of the gods and goddess. I’ll do so much with my pledges, my prayers, and my offerings that you’ll soon be forgiven. I can’t think of anything else, except to suspect that you might have amnesia. Your lands are prosperous and well-protected. Your family and all your friends have good and favorable fortune. I can’t believe that they could have enemies who’d cause them so much harm that you would be this stressed and have your heart this blackened by sorrow. Your mother is well, thank god, and so’s your father, god save me.” [1467–1516] Myrrha shook, Myrrha startled at being reminded of her father. Her heart and all her limbs felt faint. She wept and sighed, it seems to me. Her face was soaked with tears. Her mortal wound had reopened. The mention of her father was incredibly painful to her as she remembered him. The old woman had not yet realized the depth of her perversion, but she clearly recognized through her cunning, from all the weeping, sighing, and lamenting, that it was a great force of love that had the girl so overwhelmed and stricken and overcome that she was incapable of sense or moderation. [1517–1532] “Dear girl, I know and sense well that it is love that has you so perturbed. Tell me what’s in your heart and mind. It will help you, I give you

61 Mien in v. 1470 is a clear typo for mieux. De Boer notes that his vv. 1470 and 1471 are “inverted” in Rouen, but Šumski’s edition adopts Rouen’s order. 62 We disregard de Boer’s punctuation as we read no enjambment. 63 Lit. “wrath.”

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my word. Don’t hide anything from me, for hiding it would be useless. You’re in love: I see it clearly. Tell me and reveal your thoughts, and have no fear of doing so, for, by my head, I promise you that I will venture to use all my sense and skill to get you everything you crave, and it will never become known, nor will your father find out.” [1533–1547] When the beauty heard her father mentioned, it renewed her great suffering. Her heart constricted with pain. Her eyes blurred with tears. She fainted and then spasmed from misery. She fell into the old woman’s lap: she was so anguished and distraught that she could not stand upright. She lay face down in bed, where she had little joy and delight. She groaned and sighed from an anguished heart. She snapped angrily at her nurse: [1548–1559] “Leave me be. Don’t keep haranguing me to divulge my shame and my indecency. It’s great wickedness and great shame. What difference does it make to you, this thing you want to know? You won’t be able to achieve anything. Get out of here, leave me be, for you shall never know what I desire.” [1560–1566] The old woman was afraid. I don’t marvel that she was frightened for the girl – so it is with everyone who sees the one they love in pain. The old woman thought and knew for a fact that the girl would irretrievably perish unless she got treatment and help in time, for whatever it was that ailed her. She trembled with fear and old age. With clasped hands she fell to her knees at the girl’s feet. She begged and cajoled her a great deal: [1567–1578] “My sweet girl, tell me now the cause of your frustration, or you can be sure I’ll denounce you. But if you tell me, I’ll help you, so that you achieve your goal and your desire in love, with no more suffering.” [1579–1585] When Myrrha heard this promise she lifted her head and was glad. The promise put a dressing on her heart that drew out much of her suffering. What was this dressing that assuaged and relieved the pain she felt? Hope, which never lets a lover desist from loving faithfully, regardless of the pain it brings. The promise that she offered her relieved the pain she suffered from: it was the dressing that soothed her greatly. But still the wound deepened and widened tremendously. How did it widen? Because of how inflamed she was by the desire and covetousness to have what was promised to her. She wanted to reveal her thoughts to the old woman, but she didn’t dare. Didn’t she? No, for shame castigated her, encouraging her not to reveal anything, or to open her mouth to say such shameful words. [1586–1609] “Fool, do you want to bring shame on yourself? For if this were to escape your mouth, it would bring you shame and reproach. If this were known, I give you my word, everyone would point fingers at you and make you the butt of their gossip. So what? Is shame going to keep me from pursuing a cure for my malady? I can hardly get rid of my madness if I expect to find a cure and feel healthy without revealing the ill that wounds me and



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worsens my condition. There is no physician in the world, no matter how much he knows about medicine, that he can use an herb or root to bring health to me or to anyone else who might conceal his illness. So I must tell her the cause of my disease, if I want her to help me recover from the dire pains that plague me. [1610–1629] “{H}elp? Wretch, what am I saying? That’s utter foolishness that I’ve come up with, to think she can help me. The man who is the object of my foolish thoughts is too wise and rational that I don’t think anything anyone might say to him could ever make him engage in such perversion or madness. And if he knew my foolish heart, he would despise me so much that he would kill me with his own hands when he found out what I have in mind.” [1630–1642] In this way, Myrrha alternated between thought and fantasy.64 She could not decide which impulse to obey, to conceal, or to confess. She would have been more than willing, if she were able, to conceal it so that no one could learn of it. But the old woman swore and affirmed that if she did not speak out, divulge, and reveal to her in short order what love she harbored in her heart, she would denounce her foolishness to her father and her mother. Myrrha was sad and furious. Shame was vanquished by fear. She would have to speak, much as it weighed on her. She felt great shame and distress. She buried her face in her gown. Weeping, she said: “I think my mother is in a good marriage. I would be lucky if I could have a husband like that.” From this alone, the old woman truly understood and realized the full extent of her depravity. Her hair bristled and stood on end. Her whole body trembled and her skin crawled. Gently, she counseled and chided the girl, and reproached her for her foolish thinking. [1643–1668] The more the old woman condemned her, the more passionate the girl became, and the more firm she was in her conviction. She would never be healed or find peace: she was so overwhelmed with love that, unless she soon got help to consummate her desire, she would be forced to die on the spot. It was obvious to the old woman that scolding her would do no good, since neither scolding nor begging could do anything to banish the love from her heart, and that she would be dead before long, if she was not soon healed. She strove to comfort the girl. When she saw that scolding would be useless, she said, “Dear girl, take heart. Don’t be worried or afraid, because I can do everything that’s necessary to ensure that you can take your will and pleasure of the object of your desire very soon, before much time has passed.” The old woman, who was in no way deceiving her, solemnly swore by the gods to make good on her promise. Their conversation ended there. 64 The translation follows DMF for pense et despense, v. 1643 (“[Dans un jeu de mots] ‘Faire le contraire de penser : oublier ou imaginer, rêver’”).

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The old woman, for her part, considered how to achieve what she planned. She was waiting for an appropriate time and place. [1669–1697] [miniature, fol. 256v: the queen and ladies praying to the golden image of ceres]65 {O}ne day, it happened that the country held a festival in honor of a lady of great renown: the goddess named Ceres. She is the one who causes rye and wheat and other grain to grow and thrive in order to sustain the lives of men and women. In honor of the renowned goddess, the noble ladies of the land held a great ceremony in which they wore wreaths made from ears of wheat. They performed rites. They avoided the company of men: for nine days in a row they had no contact with their husbands. The queen – the mother of the girl Myrrha, still tormented by love – was at the ceremony. Now the old woman had the time and leisure to deliver on her promise. She devoted great care and attention to deceiving Myrrha’s father. She gave him a potion of mulled wine and herbs to drink. The potion was so strong and so potent that no man under heaven was wise enough to take two sips of it and resist being snared and seduced. [1698–1727] Cinyras, who was unaware of the deception in the potion, drank so much that he couldn’t help becoming drunk. He forgot everything he knew and lost all self-control. The old woman spoke to the king. She began to speak to him of love. “You’re most abstinent,” she said. “I’m amazed. Young men of your age are usually fretful and staying up late, to make love as often as they can, but you lead a most chaste life.” [1728–1740] “{O}ld woman,” said the king, “by the gods we pray to, a man goes without eating if he has nothing to eat. For the moment I’m forced to be chaste – I could hardly make love if I wanted to, since my beloved wife has gone to do the sacrificial rites.” [1741–1748] {T}he old woman, to further fan the flames of love to overwhelm the king, said: “If you have a mind to make love, you’d be better off doing whatever pleases you, while milady is away. If it holds any appeal or attraction for you, I know a virgin girl – there’s none so beautiful or courtly or well-bred under heaven. She’s so overcome with love for you, and loves you so far beyond measure, that no living thing ever loved like that before.” [1749–1762] The old woman spoke the truth and did not lie: the girl did love him beyond measure. “No maiden was ever so consumed with love,” the old woman went on. “God help me, if you’re interested, you can have your way 65 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition.



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with her at leisure. Nothing can possibly forbid you.” “Old woman,” he said, “how old is this girl who’s so taken with me?” “My lord, you should know that her body is no less voluptuous than Myrrha’s; they are the same age, and just as beautiful.” “Send for her.” “In just a moment I will have her naked in your arms.” [1763–1778] At once the old woman went to his daughter. She brought her comfort in her great anguish: “My dear, don’t be distraught. Be happy. Take comfort. The wait is over: this very night you will have the pleasure you so long for.” There’s no point in asking whether Myrrha was happy when she heard this promise – she was absolutely thrilled. But if only she had known the trouble, the woe, and the pain that she would reap when it was done! More grief and sorrow was in store for her than she felt happiness or joy. But the girl did not know that. And yet her heart somehow guessed at the misfortune that encompassed her – it fluttered and trembled so that she could not control herself. She was frightened – terrified. She felt joy and fear at the same time. From joy she laughed, from fear she trembled. Her thoughts were in chaos. She was shocked and anxious. She couldn’t tell which she should side with: the fear or the joy. And yet, she stuck to her plan. Now, all was at rest. [1779–1807] [miniature, fol. 257r: myrrha led by the nurse to her father’s bed] {I}t was around one o’clock in the morning.66 No one made a noise or sound. The sky was clear, the night serene. The moon was shining to illuminate it, and the stars, too, shone brightly in the firmament. Myrrha made no more delay in setting out to commit her perversion. Now, the moon in the sky was eclipsed, and there was no star that did not flee from the firmament. Of course, the Great Bear was left, and it felt wretched.67 It could not flee; it could only contemplate the scene, but blanched and grew pale, and withdrew into the clouds: it did not want such utterly loathsome depravity to be seen by its light. [1808–1824] The night, complicit in Myrrha’s crime, thickened and grew murky. But these omens never made the wretched girl flinch from her purpose. She stumbled three times on the way – small wonder that she had the jitters. An owl screeched at her three times, a sign of misfortune. Myrrha was hardly feeling confident, but no omen she witnessed would prevail on her to abandon her route. She forged on boldly through the dark that hid her de nuit endroit le premier son, v. 1808. The oldest surviving mechanical clocks in Europe are from the late fourteenth century; since even Dante mentions clocks (see Moevs 1999), the OM author would have been acquainted with some kind of clock. 67 This is because, as described and moralized in Book 2, vv. 2025–2087, Juno arranges for the Bear (Callisto) never to dip in the sea. 66

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misfortune. She felt her way with her right hand. She held her nurse68 by the left. They felt their way forward until they reached the bedroom door, and opened it. [1825–1841] When the girl entered the room, her heart grew faint and all her limbs quivered. The fear she felt made her fall to her knees. The blood drained from her and she blanched. She had done a foolish thing, she thought, to ever undertake such perversion. She felt lost and bewildered. The more she panicked, the more fearful she became. She repented of her folly. She wished she could have gone back before she was noticed. While she delayed, too cowardly and hesitant and wavering, the old woman grasped her hand and said, “My lord, I am leading your lover to you by the hand. Have your way with her.” And she left them in bed together. [1842–1861] The king embraced her tightly. He kissed her eyes and face. The frightened girl was trembling. Her father soothed her, softly and lovingly: “Dear daughter, sweet girl,69 don’t be frightened. Take comfort; don’t be afraid.” He only called her “daughter” because she was his daughter’s age. He didn’t think that that was who she was. Myrrha answered him, “Oh, daddy.” And in doing so, she revealed her perversion, but her father thought nothing of it. They made love, with the result that the daughter conceived by her father. She came there a virgin, and left pregnant. [1862–1877] The next day, as night approached, Myrrha, to her shame, returned. She enjoyed and relished the lust and the criminal delight70 so much that she could not stand to go without it. In the end, Cinyras had a great desire to see his beloved plainly, but it was too late for that. He should never have waited so long: it’s too late to shut the barn doors when the horse has bolted!71 His transgression appeared before him in the light, and he realized how Myrrha had deceived him. He turned greener than a leaf in a garden. His heart clenched with great woe. He felt such woe that he could not speak a word. Consumed with indignation and wrath, he seized the sword that lay by his bedside. If Myrrha had stuck around, no one could have saved her from being killed on the spot. [1878–1900]

Mere “mother” in the French. This anticipates the moralization of the nurse as humility, the “mother” of virtues. 69 Two renderings of belle fille in the French – of course fille means both “girl” and “daughter.” 70 La lecherie et le delit: lit. “the lust and the crime,” or “the lust and the delight.” This sex is inherently taboo; what is unclear from this phrasing is whether the taboo itself excites her as much as the sex does, or whether it is only incidental to her physical enjoyment. 71 Lit. “when one has lost the horse, it’s too late to close the stable,” which likely becomes the English proverb “It’s too late to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted.” This saying dates back to the thirteenth century, and until the late nineteenth century, was most commonly used in the form “too late to shut the stable door after the steed is stolen.” 68



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[miniature, fol. 258r across both columns: cinyras brandishing his sword, myrrha fleeing, myrrha turning into a tree] {M}yrrha fled and he pursued her, but in the end he lost her trail in the shadows of the night. Myrrha had escaped, and so she fled. She fled all the way to Arabia. In her ninth month, she arrived in Sabaea. She was so weary and constrained by her effort and her pregnancy, that she could not go on. In Sabaea she was forced to stop. She loathed the life that sustained her, but she feared the prospect of death. She sighed and wept tenderly. She had great repentance in her heart. She begged mercy for her sin: [1901–1914] “God, if ever you took pity on someone who begged for mercy and rejected their sin, help this worn-out wretch. It’s great woe for me to go on living. I have transgressed too much, it seems to me, that I can’t help corrupting both the dead and the living with my iniquity, staining them with my foulness. Take away my life without bringing me death. I am more than willing to do penance to expiate my sins. Change my form and my body for me.” [1915–1927] {T}here has never been a sinner so evil, or one who has committed so much sin or harm, that they would not find mercy from God if they implored it wholeheartedly. Myrrha asked for it. He did not fail her. She hadn’t even finished her prayer when the earth gaped under her and covered up her feet and legs. [1928–1935] {I} don’t know why I would waste time or prolong my subject matter to describe her transformation: no matter how briefly I tell it, she transformed faster. Her bones transformed into wood. The marrow congealed. Her blood transformed into sap. Her arms and fingers became branches: this was the will of the sovereign gods, who manifested their power in her. Her skin was transformed into bark, and had already covered her breast. Now there was only her face showing, which the bark was eager to cover. She couldn’t stand the delay. This was taking too long, it seemed to her. She lowered her head toward the bark and tucked and hid it away inside. She lost her body and her consciousness. And still she wept, drop by drop. The tears that dripped from the tree, and the tree itself, were called “myrrh.” It will never cease to be spoken of. [1936–1959] [miniature, fol. 258r: birth of adonis from the tree]

Orpheus Sings: Adonis (I) {T}he child, so tragically conceived, grew inside the bark until it reached the proper time and instant to be born. It sought a way to leave there, but found none. The tree had to crack and split so that the child could be born. Nymphs attended his birth: they took him and lifted him up and washed him

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with myrrh. The child was as handsome as anyone could wish. His body and face were so attractive that even Envy would be forced to praise him. No one could see him without thinking that he looked like the god of love, if their clothing were not so different. [1960–1975] Time, which transforms all things, moves and shifts; nothing can match its speed. Not long ago, the child conceived in betrayal and woe, his own sister’s son, his own father’s nephew, had been under the tree’s bark72 and came forth as a newborn. Very soon he was a young man, charming and handsome above all others. The lad’s name was Adonis, and he was truly of great renown. Venus became consumed with love for him. In this way, Adonis took revenge for the great shame and the transgression that Venus had caused his mother to commit when she made her fall in love with her own father. Now Adonis was avenging his mother. [1976–1993] One day, Venus was most lovingly kissing her son, the god of love, and the child, having embraced her, accidentally wounded her under one breast with one of his love-arrows. She who was stuck with that dart was not easy to cure. The tip of it was made of pure, bright gold, sharper than a steel razor, and sharpened so that it would pierce better. The wound was narrow and deep. Venus was anguished and distraught when she received the injury, but she was reassured and soothed by the fact that it seemed so small. She scorned it because of its size, but the more she scorned it, the more she was consumed with love, and the more her heart burned and blazed. When even Venus, the mistress of love, finds herself powerless against love, only a fool would try to resist it. Venus was in love. There was no denying it. And therefore she decided she should choose a lover who was worthy of having such a lover as herself. [1994–2018] She loved Adonis, who was in no way her inferior in beauty. Adonis thrilled and delighted the goddess with his physique.73 Love instructed and incited her to follow the commandments that she herself commanded to true lovers. Now she cared nothing for her dignity, her honor, or her divinity. She forgot everything for the young man. There was nothing on earth or in heaven that pleased her as much. She embraced him, she kissed him, she took pleasure in his company and sported with him. She traveled with him over hill and dale. She enjoyed the physical exercise, when previously she had had no interest in exerting herself. She no longer devoted her attention and care to grooming and beautifying herself. Now she had no interest in lying at her ease.

72 Souz l’arbre, v. 1982, has “under the tree” where we might have expected “inside the tree,” but “under” makes sense if read as “underneath the bark.” In Ovid (Met. 10.510–511), Lucina, the goddess of childbirth, opens the trunk to deliver Adonis. 73 Lit. “form.”



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The goddess hitched up her skirts like a huntress. Through valleys and mountains, forests and fields, she carried hunting nets and wrangled the hounds. She went to all this effort for love of Adonis. She had never learned to exert herself before. [2019–2046] Together they caught many stags, many deer, and many hares, but never any lions, leopards, boars, wolves, bears, or panthers, or any animals with natural weapons. Venus begged and warned her lover – as if warnings ever did any good – never to confront such savage beasts. “Beloved, youth and beauty will do nothing to dissuade them, for they are too full of rage and aggression. Don’t pursue them, dear one. My heart would be in mourning, if you were ever hurt on such a hunt. Don’t court harm to you and me for a smidgeon of vain glory. Remember my warning. Hunt the animals that flee from you: such hunts will never you do you any harm. And keep from ever hunting those that do not have it in their nature to flee – rather, they have learned to fight back. They can boldly turn against the boldest hunter with fearful consequences. You would do better to turn coward and flee in safety than carry on the hunt to your misfortune. This is why I’m begging you, beloved, not to be so foolish or senseless as to seek your own suffering. Don’t go after naturally aggressive animals, and especially not lions – I hate them more than anything in the world. Why? Because they have transgressed against me. [2047–2081] [miniature, fol. 259r: venus sitting with adonis in the grass, and presumably telling him the story of atalanta below] “{L}et’s sit here on the grass in the shade of this poplar tree, for I’m exhausted from all this exertion, which I’m not used to. Let me tell you why I hate lions more than any other wild animals, and where this hatred comes from.” Then Venus sat down on the grass, but she certainly did not decline to have her lover sit near her; rather she found him thrilling and delightful. She rested in his lap and began her tale. [2082–2093]

Orpheus Sings: Atalanta (Told by Venus)74 {I}n Greece there lived a maiden who was such a fast runner that she could never find a man who was willing to race against her or would try without her beating him. She gained great fame and praise for this. Her speed was a marvel, but her beauty was even more so. In all the world, I don’t believe there was a woman so beautiful or graceful as to body, hair,75 and facial features. The maiden’s name was Atalanta. [2094–2105] 74 75

Italics to indicate Venus speaking within Orpheus’s speech. Lit. “head.”

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One day, she discovered through divination whom she should have as her husband. The gods informed her by the omens that she had no need to take a husband. No need had she to take a husband, and yet she would not be able to prevent herself, no matter what anyone said to her, from having a lord in the end. And she would live to see such a time when she would not have dominion over herself. The maiden was stunned by this response that she received, and after that she would not consent to take a husband, not for wealth, nor possessions, nor love, nor entreaty; rather, she was so cruel and so proud that she rejected all suitors, but this just made her all the more desired and beloved and sought after, because people have greater covetousness for a thing that is forbidden to them than one that nobody denies them. She was loved all the more for the rejection. All the noblemen of that land flocked to her to ask for the hand in marriage of she who rejected them. She would never marry, she said, except on one condition – and that led to the death of many, which was a loss and a detriment. This was the rule that she laid down for her marriage: that she had no desire to take a husband unless he ran a race against her. If he could outrun her, he could have her; if he was beaten, he could be sure that she would have him put to death. [2106–2142] Many of those who had come did not abandon their original intent even over this condition, nor did they fear death, but they showed up to run the race, which risked turning out very badly for them. Her father and all the nobility76 came to watch the race. A young man born in Thebes, the handsome and charming Hippomenes, had come with everyone else. He was a descendant of the sea-god.77 The young man started criticizing those participating in the race, who were putting themselves at risk of death to seek a marriage so dangerous and destructive. And so he derided them out loud, and considered their love foolish. [2143–2161] But when he looked the maiden, so graceful and lovely, full in the face, which was brighter and more shining than ice, whiter than a hawthorn bloom, redder than a delicate rose – flawless in body and undressed – his heart was blinded by love. He was stunned and perplexed. His thoughts were completely transformed. It stopped his mockery cold. Love had him checkmated in the corner.78 He no longer felt the need to criticize the others; now he begged forgiveness and was sorry he’d ever reproached them. “Obviously I didn’t re76 Li peres is translated with reference to v. 2337 below; the father is not mentioned here in Ovid. 77 Specifically, he is Neptune’s great-grandson. 78 According to Heyworth and O’Sullivan (2013) with respect to Les Eschéz d’Amours, “‘Mater en angle’ is idiomatic, designating an inescapable situation, a complete and utter rout […] The word ‘mat’ alone has a broad semantic field: it can signify not merely ‘checkmate,’ but ‘emotional devastation,’ ‘death by violence’ or euphemistically ‘little death’ or ‘detumescence,’ while as an adjective it can mean ‘foolish,’ ‘deceived,’ ‘insane,’ or ‘irra-



Book 10 709

alize the value of the great reward they were after. Oh, they would be blessed if they could obtain such a prize, for there is no more beautiful lady on earth; there never has been and never will be.” [2162–2182] The more Hippomenes praised her, the more he burned and blazed with desire. “God,” he said, “may it please you to help that beautiful woman and ensure that no one beats her in the race. I will have to die if I lose her. My heart was sadly misguided and I made a hideous mistake when I reproached those young men who dared to undertake a challenge for her sake that was so dire that it would place them in mortal danger. They would die sweet deaths indeed if they died for her love. What am I waiting for? Why am I hesitating to join in this race, to try for such a noble reward? Without deserving her, how can I think to have such a woman serve me? I must put myself at risk to deserve such a creature.79 I must run that race. God always lends his aid and succor to the bold and courageous, but a cowardly wretch loses countless good things through his cowardice.” [2183–2208] While he was engrossed in these thoughts, that obsessed him, the maiden Atalanta ran faster than an eagle flies. The young man was impressed and taken with her great speed, but he was even more thrilled and delighted by the beauty with which she was endowed, for a scarlet, blooming rose was never of such a fine color. She became far more beautiful than she had been before, from the heat of the race and her exhaustion. On her tender, perfectly proportioned body, whiter than snow or lily, there appeared a fine scarlet blush, coloring and illuminating the whiteness. Her hair flew back over both shoulders, brighter than pure gold and so long it reached her heels.80 [2209–2229] While he was gazing at the beauty who pleased him so much, the maiden had won the race. The defeated suitors were put to death, but Hippomenes never felt deterred. He stood up in front of everyone. He looked the virgin full in the face, and said: “Maiden, it seems to me you win but little honor by triumphing over these wretches you defeat, for they are feeble and lack skill. But if you wish to win true praise, test yourself against me, if you dare. If Fortune does me the favor of letting me outrun you, it will be no shameful or vile thing for you to become the wife of such a handsome young man. I would exalt you greatly, since I am descended from great lineage. I am the tional’” (127n2). In the thirteenth century, Gautier de Coinci writes about God checkmating the devil and his followers in the corner (see Hunt 2007, 57). 79 There would be other ways to translate des(s)ervir in both these sentences. In v. 2200, sans desservir could mean “without acting wrongly, doing harm, doing anything dishonorable,” and in v. 2203 pour deservir could mean “in order to zealously serve.” But since in this case marriage represents possession of Atalanta, and the race involves winning her as a prize, courtly love-service is probably not what the OM has in mind here. 80 Ovid mentions that her hair flies back (Met. 10.592), but not the length of it.

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son of Megareus the fortunate, and descendant of the esteemed god who rules over the sea. If I can distinguish myself no less by my strength and prowess as I do by my great lineage, and if you can snag me, you would receive an enduring name for it.” [2230–2257] While the youth was saying all of this, so deranged by love that he dared to make such a bold move, the maiden looked him over carefully from top to toe. She said in her heart: “For what sin, what presumption, and what offense does this young man want to get himself killed and make me suffer? I am not so valuable that he should suffer any harm for me, or offer up his body to be slain, for he is too handsome and amorous to contemplate undertaking a desperate act to win my love. For sure, I really feel sorry for him, not on account of his beauty, but because of the young man’s age – the wretch seems so young to me, and is born of such a noble line. Neptune is his great-grandfather, and the young man loves me so much that, in order to have me, he dares to undertake such an act as to court death, if he doesn’t have Fortune’s help. Young man, go away, leave the track, for you’ll never prevail against me. I’m not saying this because I’m rejecting your love, for there is no woman, nor ever was, who would not deserve reproach if she were not consumed with love for you. But I am telling you that it will be folly if you die for me in such pain. That would be an evil kind of love indeed. [2258–2292] “Hold on – where is all this pity coming from? I was never so pityprone before! A woman has such an inconstant heart. Since when have I been so gracious? What do I care about his death? It makes no difference to him – he hates his life, since he wants to die. So let him die, because it makes no difference to me. It leaves me neither hot nor cold. He should really have been daunted by the others that he saw put to death on my account. Oh, if such a creature – a young man full of such good morals – were to die because he’s in love with me, he would have such a wicked reward;81 rather, such a victory would be poorly spoken of, if I were to have vanquished him or had him put to death. I would incur great blame for his death. And wrongly so, I swear on my head. I bear no responsibility or sin for it. What he is asking weighs on me. He is bringing his own misfortune and death on himself in this confrontation that he has initiated. This is all love’s doing, for it has ambushed him.82 I wish it were god’s will that he could beat me in this race! Oh, young man, fair form, most innocent of creatures, cursed be the beauty of your body. You would be worthy to live on. It weighs on me that you ever saw me. You’ll pay dearly for the sight. Fortune makes me suffer horribly. Certainly, if it were my will to take a husband, or my choice, Trop avroit ci male merite, v. 2308. The translation follows Šumski, who has cil. Ce fet amours, qui l’a sorpris, v. 2317. “Which has overwhelmed him” would also work, and is elsewhere the only reasonable translation for sorpris. 81 82



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there’s no man, no matter how wealthy, I’d love better than you.” This is what the maiden thought and said to herself, as love took control of her. Little by little she relented. She was most uncertain and bewildered: she loved, and didn’t even realize it! [2293–2335] Now her father and all the nobility83 gathered around to watch the two of them race. Hippomenes, without hesitation, called on me with great devotion: “Venus, lady whom all lovers must call upon from near and far, help me in this hour of need. I came to be in love like this through you.” I came to help him without delay. I set out swiftly. In the fairest place on Cyprus I had a meadow that was named Tamasus, and consecrated in my name. There is a tree there of great value. The tree and its fruit are all made of gold. I picked three of the golden apples. I went to the young man and told him what to do with them – how he should throw them to distract the maiden who was such a fast runner. [2336–2357] The trumpeters trumpeted on their trumpets, and the runners took their mark. They ran so fast that it seemed certain they were flying like two birds. The young man greatly rejoiced, for the crowd called out to him: “Quick now! If mishap doesn’t pluck her from you, you’ll get the girl!” He heard that. He rejoiced marvelously; so did the maiden Atalanta, who was not slow at running. It often pleased her to hold her body in check so that she could watch the boy. It weighed on her very much when she left him behind. [2358–2372] Now the young man was breathing hard, like one who had made his body weary. The action was a long ways ahead, for the maiden had gone past him, since she ran faster. Now he needed one of his apples to save him. That’s when he threw it, and when the beauty saw it, desire gripped her: she left the track and retrieved the apple. Then there was a great noise and clamor: the entire audience howled with joy when the young man passed her. [2373–2384] But she, who was not weary, accelerated so that she caught up to him and passed him. And he grabbed the next apple and threw it. The maiden stopped to grab and take possession of the apple. He passed her without delay. The maiden had no sooner noticed his lead than she swiftly encompassed it. [2385–2393] The young man was profoundly exhausted. They had run two-thirds of the course, but the longest third was yet to come. “Now choose to help me, Lady Venus,” he said, “in my need.” Then he threw the third apple a long way off to delay the maiden. I saw the maiden waver, unsure what she should do about it, whether she should take it or leave it, and by a small margin she thought to leave it. But I compelled her to submit, and forced her to take the fruit. Meanwhile, the lad was going all out, and in the end 83 Li peres, v. 2337, is clarified by Ovid (Met. 10.638): “Now her father and the people were calling out for the usual foot-race” (Kline).

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he passed the girl, performed the feat, and won the beauty, thanks to my help and my gift. But I never heard a word of thanks, and after that he never remembered me. Now you’ll hear how things went badly for him as a result. [2394–2413] I felt great bitterness and spite towards the young man who scorned me, and I fiercely took my vengeance. I made him pay dearly for my vexation. He was returning to his homeland. With him he had his wife in tow. As they traveled through the wilderness84 they came across a temple to Cybele, tucked away in a lovely recess far off the beaten track. Hippomenes took the fair one there to rest in the shade, since they were tired and oppressed by the heat of the summer sun. They stopped in the temple. I contrived to make him have sex with his wife there. The lady Cybele, whose temple it was, was deeply offended. She took cruel and fierce vengeance for it and brought chaos upon them: she transformed both him and her into lions. They are most umbrageous beasts. And that’s why I’m warning you not to mess around with those animals, dear beloved – lest you perish on account of your pride. [2414–2437] {I}n this way Venus warned her lover, but no bold man could ever let his heart be daunted by a warning. Whoever could have seen them embrace each other then, kissing each other’s lips and faces, would, it seems to me, have been more than justified in saying that each was loved by the other. They covered each other with tender kisses and gifted each other sighs, for as long as they were there together. Venus parted from him with very great pain. She went to Cyprus, to her domain. [2438–2449] [miniature, fol. 261r: venus mourns over adonis’s dead body, with the boar in the background]

Orpheus Sings: Adonis (II) Adonis went into the woods. He encountered a huge wild boar maddened by hounds. From as far away as he caught sight of it, it charged him. He drew his sword. He never paid any heed to the warnings that his beloved might have given him. It was an act of folly and a great transgression of him to ignore his beloved’s commands. It would turn out badly for him, I have no doubt. Adonis struck the pig. He wounded it. The pig charged him fiercely, ran him through, and flung him over backwards, dead. [2450–2463] Dying, the young man lamented. Venus heard the lament from afar. She came back and thus found him dead. She extravagantly mourned 84 The word lande is the heath or moorland of Arthurian romance, and is translated more loosely (as “wilderness”) here.



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his death. She tore her hair and wrung her hands. “Ay, Fortune, for what wrong have you taken my beloved, so dear, from me?” said Venus, who was suffering so much. “My heart is sad and forlorn, dear beloved, now that I have lost you.85 I feel great grief, great affliction. Never will the mourning that so afflicts me ever depart my heart. Every single year it will be renewed. I will transform your blood into a flower that will reveal my sorrow and the grief that has destroyed me. Persephone turned women86 into fresh mint, and I will make your blood into a flower, and so I will transform you.” [2464–2483] In this way, the goddess lamented and mourned. Then she sprinkled the blood with fragrant balm. It was not long before the blood birthed a flower, which is like blood in color. The flower has a central boss. The center of the flower is full of seeds. Its name is Adonis,87 it seems to me. The slightest breeze makes it bend and tremble. [2484–2493] [miniature, fol. 261v: orpheus playing to the trees and animals]

Moralization (I): Orpheus and His Harp {N}ow I want to explicate these tales in order, starting with the one about the poet, the harper, Orpheus, the fine singer who resolved to travel into hell below the earth to seek Eurydice. She was returned to him because of his song, and then he lost her through looking at her – never to see her again, eternally. And then, after he had mourned, he left hell and came up onto the meadow full of lush grass, and made a vast audience of trees, birds, and wildlife gather around him on the hilltop in response to the sound of his Apollonian harp. [2494–2509] [miniature, fol. 261v: orpheus playing to two young men]

Quant je l’ai perdu, v. 2473. The translation follows Šumski, who has t’ai. L’ai would be “now that I have lost it.” 86 Parsephone des feme fist / Nouvele mente, vv. 2481–2482, i.e., Proserpine. De Boer has a note explaining this an allusion to Proserpine transforming “nymphs” into mint: “Allusion à l’histoire de Proserpine changeant des nymphes en l’herbe qu’on appelle ‘menthe’, cf. Mét., X, 728, suiv.: ‘an tibi quondam femineos artus in olentes vertere mentas, Persephone, licuit.’” But while Ovid’s femineos artus ‘female limbs’ (Met. 10.728) is grammatically plural, it refers to the multiple limbs of a single woman (femineos is an adjective agreeing with fourth-declension artus). Ovid says that one specific woman, Menthe, was turned into the mint, and this is confirmed by Oppian’s account of the transformation in Halieutica 3.123– 124. The OM could have made the same mistake as de Boer in reading Ovid’s Latin, or exploited the indeterminacy of “female limbs” to facilitate the moralization. 87 “Windflower: anemone,” in Kline’s gloss of Ovid (Met. 10.738–739). The Greek etymology of anemone, “daughter of the wind,” explains the effect of the wind in the following sentence. 85

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{T}he historical interpretation goes like this, as I understand it. When the poet had spent a long time mourning the death of his wife, who could not be recovered no matter how much he wept and wailed, he set his mourning aside, for he wanted to live joyfully in the world and spend the remainder of his life in pleasure. But never again at any time did he want or desire feminine love. Through his wicked teaching he attracted and incited many fools to, for the first time, sin mortally against nature and law. And to worsen his betrayal toward the foolish people he had drawn to him by his example,88 he recounted the wicked love affairs practiced by those whom fools took to be gods,89 who made love to young men and disparaged the love of women. Thus he bore witness in his teaching that the love of men was more valuable than that of women. His wicked teaching pleased the fools who sported by his side and took advantage of young men: they were base-born, lower than trees or wild beasts. [2510–2539] Allegorically, I can provide another interpretation of this text. [2540–2541] [miniature, fol. 261v: jesus on the cross, flanked by mary and john]90

{G}od was crucified and went down living into hell to seek the soul and set it free. And for its sake, he resolved to let himself be killed and suffer many horrific pains. But the wicked, for their folly, stayed damned in hell forever, and are still held captive and confined there. Then God came out of hell and ascended to the lofty meadow which was full of everlasting greenery, but was not yet filled with the saints who have now been planted there. This Prophet, this good Harper, this delightful Preacher installed his deputy, his apostle, his spokesman the Holy Father,91 and all the others – the one standing for them all, and all of them, it seems to me, on the high summit of Holy Church. And he entrusted them with the power of binding and loosing, absolving and As opposed to “to cement his wickedness in the eyes of those he had drawn to him,” etc. Delloi (= desloi) can mean either betrayal or wickedness. The idea seems to be that he is betraying his followers by offering them what they think is delightful, but actually is soul-destroying; they are not attracted to him because they think he is wicked. There is a clear warning here against the sin of false counsel (for which Ulysses is condemned in Dante’s Inferno, canto 26). Here, the poet has misused his gifts of creativity and song, and in the illuminations visually recalls David, the psalmist (and his fall from grace but ultimate repentance). Compare Matthew 7:15–20 and 2 Peter 2:1–6 on false prophets. 89 Interestingly, in the Commentary on Scipio’s Dream, Macrobius gives false gods and stories of adulteries amongst the gods as examples of what do not correspond to narratio fabulosa, his instructive “fabulous narrative” that has the air of a fable but is nonetheless true: see Murray (2008), esp. ch. 1. 90 Fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v have comparable miniatures of this; see also fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall. 91 Saint Pere in the text (v. 2560): read as “Saint Peter” or “the Holy Father.” With St. Peter as the first pope, these would have been one and the same. 88



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excommunicating. It is they who wield the harp and the bow. It is they who sang to us the lesson of the Christian faith.92 In those days, there were not many people in the meadow of the Church, but soon afterwards93 it was full of trees, birds, and wildlife due to the sweetness of their teaching. God taught us, and so did those who took his place, how to ascend to the lofty meadow full of everlasting greenery. [2542–2577] {H}ear how someone who wants to be a good harpist and sing along harmoniously has to set up the harp. The instrument has to have seven strings that sound harmonious, with no discord or dissonance, for although the tones are all different they have to be in harmony with one another, without having any discord among them. [2578–2587] {H}is harp is the communal faith that Christians must hold to, and so must all those who want to reach the meadow of the Church that was once empty: now it is completely filled with trees of various kinds. [2588–2592] Now I want to explain the design of the seven strings used to string the harp by the harpist who showed us how to string it. Every string is securely attached to twin pegs,94 which are used to anchor and tension the string. [2593–2599] The first peg is the way that God, our Spiritual Father, resolved to unite and join his Son to our nature in the womb of the Virgin Maiden, which was a temple and a divine chamber. That was the chamber in which God resolved to place himself, without doing his Virgin Mother any harm, to take on our humanity. On the day of his Nativity, the bridegroom came forth with his bride from the chamber of that virgin girl without violating her virginity. [2600–2612] {T}he next peg is the marriage that the Church, following this example, established and commands us to practice: of one man and one woman in the flesh. These two pegs are properly used to tension the first string, namely chastity, which God adjusts with the tuning-pin95 of Divine Wisdom. It is the OF leçon is singular in v. 2567. One might translate “lessons,” plural, but it’s also possible to see the “lesson” (singular) of the Christian Faith here as being that of Christ rising from the dead. 93 Puis en grief terme, v. 2571, is corrected by Šumski to “en [brief] terme.” 94 Double afiche, v. 2598. Instruments of the psaltery type had strings with a hitch-pin at one end and a tuning-pin at the other, while the Anglo-Saxon lyre, Scandinavian bowedharp, lute, rebec, etc. had tuning-pegs at one end and a tail-piece at the other. This harp, though, seems to have two afiches and a dois per string – apparently two hitch-pins and a tuning-pin. Thanks to Christopher Page (University of Cambridge), an expert on medieval musical instruments, who comments that he has never seen the word afiche used in this context and that the OM’s depiction of this instrument is more likely to come from the allegorical tradition associated with the harp or cithara than to be based on any actual bowed harp of medieval France. 95 This word occurs as doit, dois, and doi. “Tuning-pin” is what the setup of a medieval instrument suggests. The closest dictionary word is doisil (“fausset d’un tonneau, robinet, cheville ou clé de robinet, petit bondon”) in Godefroy, which seems to give the appropriate sense of a peg or pin. It could also suggest the “finger” of God plucking the string to tune it. 92

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inspiration that moves the soul to be sincere and clean and pure, and to flee all lust that disturbs the soul and makes it discordant. This tuning-pin adjusts the string, which is unbelievably sweet and delightful, lovely and pleasing to God. It is this soothing string that keeps the soul in harmony, true peace, and reason.96 It sings with a relaxing sound: “Blessed are those who will love peace, for they shall be called sons of God.”97 [2613–2633] The next peg is of great goodness. By his innocent will,98 without having any need for it99 and without having any obligation100 to circumcise himself – since he was born without sin or stain, pure and wholesome, of a Mother, and as his Father’s equal – the Son of God offered himself up for circumcision and so released us all from circumcision of the flesh, which the Jewish people had been commanded to practice. In that way, he, the one in whom all mercy abounds, showed that he had resolved to come for the salvation of the whole world. For this reason he resolved to make himself known101 so that everyone could see he was our Savior and Salvation, that he had come to drag from the swamps of misery and damnation, and mercifully rescue, those who yearned for his salvation and would circumcise themselves in their hearts, not in the flesh.102 [2634–2658] {T}he next peg is the ordination of priests, to whom God gave his place on earth. And he ordained them to perform the divine office and celebrate his sacrifice103 for the collective salvation of all. And they must pray devoutly to God for those who have trespassed against God, so that those who need to

Compare James 3:17. Perhaps what Orpheus is getting wrong here is brotherly love. Matthew 5:9. The conventional translation starts “blessed are the peacemakers.” 98 See Aquinas, ST III q. 18, on Christ’s unity of will. While Monothelitism does exist, Aquinas argued for the two wills of Christ. There is an ongoing and lengthy tradition of disputing the question of Christ’s two wills in scholastic theology. See, for example, Albert the Great’s On the Incarnation q. 2, and Commentary on the Sentences III, d. 17, as well as Bonaventure and Aquinas’s Commentaries on the same section of Peter Lombard, and, further, Barnes (2012). 99 Recalling the central argument of Anselm’s Cur Deus Homo: that God became man not because he had any need for it, but because humanity needs him to do it. On the fitness of the Incarnation, see also Aquinas, ST III q. 1, and Bonaventure, Brev. IV.1. 100 De Boer and Šumski agree that the manuscript reading is esceüst, but Šumski corrects it to esteüst. We read esteüst in the first place. This is very clear from the Geneva manuscript, fol. 234v. 101 Tel nom avoir, v. 2650: we take nom as reputation, not his actual name (or by implication of his name, his status as a Jew). 102 On circumcision of the heart, see Romans 2:25–29, prefigured in Deuteronomy 10:16, and Jeremiah 4:4. Compare Genesis 17:10. 103 Here “sacrifice” seems to be the Eucharist, not the Crucifixion: we read “[[perform the divine office] and [celebrate his sacrifice]] for the collective salvation of all,” not “[perform the divine office] and [celebrate [his sacrifice for the collective salvation of all]].” 96 97



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seek and implore mercy can find it through them. This, it seems to me, is the fourth peg. [2659–2670] Between these last two pegs, sincerity or graciousness, that is, the string of charity, is stretched and tensioned. The one who has strung it, the gracious Tuner, tunes it with the tuning-pin of his holy mercy. This tuning-pin brings the soul into friendship with God, making it sincere and gracious. The string is of a sweet disposition and makes a sweet melody. It loathes all forms of wicked envy. Blessed are the gracious, who have no truck with envy, for they will take possession of the promised land. [2671–2685] {T}he following peg is of great nobility: how, in order to redeem us debtors and extricate us from the ancient debt to which the first man committed us under pressure from the devil, the Son of God, full of generosity, resolved to be baptized in the river and wash away the sins of the world. He resolved to spread his grace through the water, so that anyone might partake of it, the poor as well as the rich, without being denied. [2686–2696] {T}he sixth peg is mighty indeed: it is our baptism in the faith. That requires one, with no deception or disloyalty, to give oneself entirely to God, body and soul, completely. Whoever receives this baptism tricks and swindles the devil by escaping from fealty to him, and pledges and vows their service and their good love to God, with a humble heart, with sincere fear. And God forgives their sins and gives them his grace and love. [2697–2709] These two tension the third string, which is generosity or mercy. This good and decent string is tuned by God, our spiritual Father, with the tuning-pin of temperate counsel. He is the master who teaches the soul to be generous and charitable. This tuning-pin loosens the purse-strings to make donations to the needy, and help those in shameful circumstances. Mercy is generous and good. It makes allowances, offers loans and gifts. It comforts the sorrowful, the depressed, and the suffering. It visits prisons and the sick. It relieves suffering debtors. It clothes the naked and shivering, feeds the poor and starving, and quenches the thirst of those who are parched to death. All these find good comfort in it. It is without fraud or malice. This string drives out avarice: it vibrates sweetly, “The merciful will faithfully receive mercy in turn.”104 That is the sweet sound of this string. [2710–2735] {T}he next peg is the Passion of Christ: the shame and derision, the shouts and jeers, the vile oaths and imprecations, the blows and threats, the spittle in the face and finally the death – so shameful, bitter, and torturous – that the Son of God endured for us, when he graciously submitted to whatever was done to him by those who crucified him out of envy. [2736–2747] {T}he next peg is the Sacrament of the Altar, which is a reminder and an everlasting prompt for us of that Passion which God resolved to go through 104 Compare

Matthew 5:7.

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for our sake. We must recollect that Passion and inscribe it on our hearts, for we owe repayment to Jesus Christ for his grace and kindness: that is, to endure with calm resolve, willingly and without complaint, whatever shame, abuse, wrong, harm, and adversity, and every persecution that he resolves to do to us.105 For we should lament with contrition the pain and death that he endured for us, and afflict ourselves with austerity and penance. [2748–2766] {T}he strong string of patience is stretched between these pegs, which are so precious and valuable. God, who advances the soul in all good things, tunes it with the tuning-pin of knowledge. This string is of great value. It allows us to endure every misery, every harm, every affliction, every persecution, every distress, and every martyrdom, without suffering, peacefully and with good countenance, for the love of God. This string dispels impatient wrath, and sings delightfully: “Blessed are those who will peacefully suffer persecution for the sake of justice, and will weep while it is time to weep. Hereafter – it will not be long – the weepers will be comforted, and as for those whose hearts are steadfast in enduring persecution, austerity, and tribulation for the sake of justice, the heavenly kingdom must and will be at their disposal.” [2767–2791] {T}he next peg intelligibly stands for God’s glorious Resurrection from death to life. He came out of hell with his followers, whom he had recalled and redeemed and extracted from that place of shadows. [2792–2797] {T}he next peg is confession, penance, and the contrition that a sinner must have when has, through ignorance, committed a mortal sin, which puts the soul at risk of death unless God rescues it. The heart of the sinner106 must take refuge in this peg when they know107 that they have been stained by one or many mortal sins. They must run there and cleanse themselves through repentance and pray to God that he reconcile them to himself and redeem them and rescue them from mortal damnation and lead them to true repentance. [2798–2812] Abstinence is the string that rightly runs between the two of them. God tunes this string with the tuning-pin of holy understanding. This is the string that teaches us to avoid excess, all sin, all filth, and all vile villainy. It drives off gluttony, regulating men’s and women’s diet. It makes the soul healthy and clean, and keeps its thoughts in good order. It sings audibly: “Blessed are those who make clean their hearts, for they will see God face to face.”108 [2813–2827] 105 See

2 Timothy 3:12. vv. 2804–2805, de Boer and Šumski have A ceste affiche doit le cours / Li pechierres querre secours, but compare ly cours in Copenhagen (p. 577). On reading “heart,” compare v. 2826. 107 For v. 2806, de Boer has quant il sent and Šumski has quant il set. Copenhagen (p. 577) has quant il scet. De Boer lists variants fet and sent. Thus “when they sense” would be an alternative to “when they know.” 108 Compare Matthew 5:8. See also Genesis 32:30 and 33:11, Deuteronomy 5:4 and 34:10, Numbers 12:8 and 14:14, Judges 6:22, Ezekiel 20:35, and 1 Corinthians 13:12. 106 For



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{T}he next peg is the way God the Son openly rose to heaven on high, where he sits at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory full of delight, and reigns in eternity. Through his holy Ascension, God gave us an example and a guide: now we must follow his example, increase in virtue and good works, spiritually abandon the world and rise high in holy devotion. [2828–2840] Then comes confirmation. [2841] {T}hat is, I believe, the twelfth peg. It confirms and fixes us in the Christian faith. It makes a person desirous of acting well and doing good works in order to obtain lasting joy, a thing to which the lazy never aspire. [2842–2848] This peg and the previous one secure the sixth string situated between them: that is gladness, or hunger for righteousness.109 This string of double thickness is tuned with the tuning-pin of fortitude. This string is of great comfort. It makes the soul confident and strong in desiring to do all good things, and makes it feed and fortify itself with the bread of spiritual life. This string is firm and stable. This string is glad and joyful. This string expels, destroys, and annihilates moping and lazy sloth, and sweetly sings: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for in the end they will be filled to satisfaction and full of spiritual life.”110 [2849–2867] The next peg, it seems to me, is how the Son of God will come fiercely to judge everyone, the dead and the living. Then, everyone who will have angered him will see him openly, and good and bad will be meted out to everyone according to the acts they once committed, for which they will have to give a final accounting. Works, words, and thoughts will all be taken into account. The good, the blessed chosen, will have eternal delight alongside the Judge in the heavenly kingdom. The wicked will be set aside on the left,111 and forever consigned to damnation alongside the devil, with no hope of redemption. [2868–2884] {T}he next peg is the unction with which the sick are anointed. It is the medicine and ointment with which the soul anoints itself and makes ready to appear beautiful and pure and eager for the wedding of its true Lover. It humbly teaches us to cleanse ourselves of all filth, stain, and foulness that might dirty our souls. Instead, it teaches us to outfit ourselves with the white gloves and shoes and elegant attire that wedding guests112 must have. The imbecile who ignorantly comes without the appropriate clothing will be seized and locked in the tower of shadows and darkness full of misfortune. [2885–2903] Attached to these pegs is a gentle, simple string, called humility. The Deity tunes it with the tuning-pin of holy dread, which is forthright and full of love. 109 Lit. “justice,” but justitia in Medieval Latin is conventionally “righteousness,” and that translation seems to fit the context better. 110 Compare Matthew 5:6. 111 Compare Proverbs 4:27. 112 Noçoieurs, v. 2989. It seems these would be the people attending a wedding, not necessarily the ones getting married: compare Matthew 25:1–13.

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It humbles a person and makes them submissively entreat God’s mercy and ask that he deem it acceptable to receive their service and do them the honor of having them do what suits him. This humble and lowly string confounds arrogance and vainglory and sings a song that is humble and true: “Blessed are those who, without fraud and guile, are poor in heart and humble, for they will be exalted in the kingdom of heaven, and there they shall reign.”113 [2904–2921] {T}hat is the most worthy harp. The wood it is made from is steadfast hope, joined to pure charity. In truth, it is the very harp that David – that is, God’s succor – used to bring healing and comfort to Saul – that is, humanity – in the face of the devilish madness that tormented him when he had fallen into sin by his betrayal.114 [2922–2931] As for the bow that strokes these strings, that was the precious mouth of the Son of God, who preached the Gospel to us – that was him playing them. Thus the bow is also the tongue of the doctors of the Church, the teachers and preachers, which each of them uses to populate and illuminate Holy Church through his doctrine. They have spread their sound everywhere. So many have heard them harping that, through their preaching, the whole ecclesiastical “meadow” is “filled with trees, birds, and wild animals,” that is, people of various backgrounds. [2932–2945] The “wild beasts” are properly understood as those who have ascetically dismissed the world. They have focused their will entirely on living like wild beasts in the forest, as hermits, far away from society, and have become poor and indigent to serve God with all the more alacrity, being unencumbered. [2946–2955] The “birds” are those who have properly devoted all their understanding, heart, and intelligence to theological study. Through contemplation they find fellowship in heaven, and they dwell with the saints on high, nor do they have any regard for this world. [2956–2963] The “trees” are laypeople, and produce different kinds of fruit for God, some sweet, some bitter. The ones that give sweet fruit are those who are not too enamored of this world and the goods it contains. The goods that they have in abundance, they consume in moderation, and generously distribute to those who are suffering, to the indigent. And they help poor people in their poverty, in their discomfort, in their sorrow, giving them sustenance from the goods that they have in abundance, for the love of God, mercifully. They act soberly 113 Compare

Matthew 5:3. 1 Samuel, Saul does not entirely follow Samuel’s order from God to destroy the Amalekites, which is understood as a betrayal. God sends the prophet to anoint David as Saul’s replacement. Then “the spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him” (1 Samuel 16:14); but “whensoever the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul, David took his harp, and played with his hand, and Saul was refreshed, and was better, for the evil spirit departed from him” (16:23). 114 In



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on earth, avoiding excess, and never slacken in their longing to possess the delights that will never die. These kinds of people can thrive in this life and the next, living in the world in charity, without pride or envy, without hatred or avarice, and without every other mortal vice. They are steadfast in adversity, and no matter how prosperous they are, they never become proud or self-congratulatory, or forget God in favor of the goods they owe to him. [2964–2993] {T}he trees that give bitter fruit are properly understood as those who live bitterly in the world, in pain and in want, in sourness and sorrow, and choose to bear it all calmly, solely for the love of God. [2994–2999] {T}here are other trees that bear no fruit. These represent the people who commit to living in holy chastity, and go their whole lives without breaking the seal of their virginity. Their condition is extremely praiseworthy, for, even if they do not become fruitful and multiply, their holy life is made evergreen by their good behavior. [3000–3008] I could well, it seems to me, offer another interpretation of this tale. For it is incredibly disappointing how people live today compared with how they lived then, when Holy Church began. They have changed so much since then. Holy were the harpers, the apostles, the preachers who converted the people; and holy were those who emerged from misfortune and error through them, coming to the most holy faith. The early Church was, God be thanked, well populated and in fact filled with the people I’ve just mentioned, who are and will forever be renowned for their good lives. [3009–3026] Now, the harpers and preachers are full of pride and envy; they blare on a trumpet and have cast aside the harp. Now, Holy Church is populated with people who are full of cruelty, senseless anger, treachery, and a taste for extortion and plunder. These people are like wild beasts. Others are full of avarice, gluttonous as birds and full of vice. [3027–3037] The trees collectively represent good and evil in their various aspects. Good people are the good trees that bear good fruit. The bad trees that bear bad fruit are the wicked, intent on doing evil of every kind. And the barren ones are people who live without profit and without good works, idly. [3038–3046] Now I want to explicitly address and more specifically share the explanation for several of the species of trees in the text, and what meaning one might correctly attribute to them. [3047–3051] The ones most favorable to interpret are the pine,115 the ivy, and the laurel,116 which are evergreens. They represent those who take care to preserve the purity of their virginity forever. But the ivy shows us that, just as the plant 115 Note that a positive moralization of the pine begins at v. 3053, but a negative one begins at v. 3180. Much like medieval numerology, which considers a positive (“for good”) and negative (“for evil”) meaning for each number, it appears our trees, like the pine, can yield a positive or negative interpretation, depending on context. 116 Compare the moralization of Daphne in Book 1, especially vv. 3191–3214.

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cannot stand up or grow properly or climb to greater heights without support, so it is with virginity; if it is not conjoined with charity, which supports it and bears it up, it cannot reach the delights of heaven on high. But with charity to set it straight, it rises and grows strong, and in that way it illuminates and embellishes the entire body where it resides. [3052–3070] {O}r the ivy even teaches us that whatever virtue or grace or good works a person may possess cannot be pure and steadfast unless charity supports them. [3071–3075] The linden, the elm, and all the rest that flower without bearing fruit represent those who start off every day with the intention of doing something good but shrink from accomplishing their goal or putting their plans into practice. Instead, they keep on asking for more time and leisure, and delay while still expecting to follow through on their good intention. Until death comes, which lays bare their pretense and strips them woefully of both their good intent and their capacity to act, for it leads them away to be damned in hell, beyond redemption. [3076–3089] {T}he Scotch broom represents the phonies, the foolish hypocritical plaster saints whose green is deceptive and whose flowers are a false front, since they bear no fruit. To deceive people, they outwardly feign solicitude, gentleness, honesty, and compassion, and strive to act rightly – but it is only an act, since they do it to gain empty praise, and not for any other reward. Their hearts have taken root on baking, dry, and desert ground, and thus they may not hope for any plenitude of goodness or perfection, for all the good that they are seen to do is lying fiction, not rightly for God. By false appearances, they seem to practice virtuous conduct and feign holy living. But whatever good their bodies do, their hearts are false and void of grace. But, then again, no matter what they are thinking, they still demonstrate the proper way to escape the world and hold it in contempt, shun worldly pleasures, and reach the heavenly hill, and eternal joy. If we choose not to linger with them, doing simulated good deeds, then we must be well disposed to enter into virtuous living through goodwill, without falsity or fabrication, and then we can reach the heavenly hill of that eternal joy. [3090–3127] {T}he oak and suchlike trees, which bear fruit of little value that is only good for feeding pigs, are those who satiate the body and live for pleasure. [3128–3132] The palm tree represents those who lead a perfect life, who are not corrupted or inane, bear leaves and flowers and fruit: leaves of good affection;117 and flowers of fellowship, exemplary behavior, and good doctrine; and good fruit of pure charity. Meanwhile the fig tree, which bears good fruit without flowering,

117 According to Aquinas, the passions are movements of the sensitive appetites, and affections are responses of the intellective appetite: see Dixon (2003), 26–61, and Miner (2009).



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represents the holiness of the holy lives of those who live well and in holiness, but on their own, apart and in secret, without edifying others. [3133–3146] The myrrh could represent those who practice true temperance and live with continence. The grapevine specifically represents those who want to live a holy life and bear fruit more acceptable to God, which is beneficial for everyone, choose humble poverty and opt to live in austerity, penance, and discomfort, away from earthly delight and comfort. Within these religious orders, they avoid possessing any temporal goods. They could not manage to support themselves, having nothing and being without the wherewithal to live, if they were not endowed, maintained, and supported by the rich, who make charitable donations of the temporal goods that they have in plenty in this world, and thereby sustain them. The rich and powerful, who have never learned to do penance, can, by sustaining these people in doing good, use their goods on this earth to obtain heavenly goods. [3147–3173] Those who seek high rank, high honors, and riches, which are injurious and damning, however sweet and pleasant they may seem, and who misuse those things and take a vain delight in them, are like the tall and lofty pine tree, which bears beautiful fruit that is completely worthless. They have primacy in the world, which stickily ensnares and deceives them. They delight in it so much and become so attached to it that they lose themselves, body and soul. [3174–3185] The fir tree, producer of resin, possibly represents those whose hearts are full of avarice, deceitfulness, and malice: the fraudulent, the treacherous, the false, and the corrupt, with whom no one can rub shoulders or fraternize without loss, for they try to corrupt everyone. Or, the fir represents those who devote their attention and care to the wicked pursuit of lust, and also those foolish women who are full of seductiveness, deception, and falsity. A foolish woman seduces, entwines, attracts, flatters, and contaminates a man worse than resin. Whoever makes a detour to the house of a foolish woman is a fool; in so doing, he shames his body and soul. [3186–3205] Moralization (II): Cyparissus The cypress, and other trees that weep, represent specifically those who weep out of repentance, and feel grief and heartache for the violations and transgressions and evils they committed. And so they repent of the sins with which they were stained, and by true confession, with tears and contrition, they rightly amend their lives.118 Such people are now inextricably bound to the faith of the Church. [3206–3218] Now it is right for me to explain to you what the tame stag represents. The son of the Virgin Mary, who is likewise the Son of God, whose coming was for 118 “Their

lives” added for clarity.

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our salvation, is compared in Scripture to a stag and a thicket of branches:119 he is the stag that, contrary to nature, became a friendly creature, and was our Creator. He is the gentle stag that permitted and allowed everyone to touch it. He is the one who resolved to come down from heaven into the world, indiscriminately, and for the common120 salvation of human nature he offered himself as a sacrifice, and endured pain and suffering for the sake of all people. He is the peaceful and gracious stag who covers the whole world in the shadow and protection of his body. He is the one whom no one fears and everyone loves as a righteous Father. He is the one who brought us comfort, carrying our sinful nature in his body and bringing it out of misfortune. He is the one who wipes away our sins. He is the stag that was full of grace and innocent friendliness, that because of the noon heat on a summer day that made the whole earth boil, took refuge in the shady grove of the body of the Virgin Maiden who was so delightful and beautiful, a virgin and fruitful at the same time. [3219–3256] The heat of the sun ascending in Cancer was, it seems to me, the diabolical malice that had taken over the hearts of people who were so consumed by error and so naive that the worse things they did, and the better they felt about their crimes, the closer they foolishly believed that they were coming to a life of glory. But they were all the farther from it, the more intent they were on acting foolishly. It was to draw these people out of ignorance and lead them to true understanding, to redeem and unburden them all, that this gentle stag resolved to cover himself in the shade of human nature and then die for his creation, which he loved most perfectly. [3257–3274] {C}yparissus can rightly be understood as the sinners for whom God deigned to hang on the Cross and suffer mortal pangs, to draw them back from their foolishness and return them to salvation. As a result, most of them devoutly turned to true repentance and lived a life of penance, setting an example for us all that we too should find penance pleasing to us. These people had no truck with anything dainty, adorable, or winsome; they made the skin under their clothes turn sallow and thin from penance and asceticism, fasting and great mortification, and they lifted their heads121 and raised their hearts to God. They were made strong by patience and righteous by righteous conscience. They were the cypresses of Holy Church. God wholly loved the kind of people I am telling you

119 A cerf et à boischet ramage, v. 3225. The stag represents Christ according to the bestiary tradition: among other things, it is supposed to trample or eat snakes, representing victory over the devil. Ramage can mean a rack of antlers, and the seasonal regeneration of antlers corresponds to resurrection per the bestiaries. Here, though, boischet ramage, a branching thicket or grove of trees, is a separate image alongside the stag. We take it to be the Tree of Jesse. 120 Or, “universal.” 121 Chiez avoient hericiez, v. 3292, corresponding to the way a cypress tapers upward. Lit. “they made their heads (of hair) stand on end,” which could be a reference to Job 4:15.



Book 10 725

about, and they loved him likewise. And God, through the compassionate122 teaching of his Divine Wisdom, drew them out of foolish judgment and, through his preaching, put them in position to do good. [3275–3304] {N}ow it is right for me to declare to you what song the harper sang – the delightful preacher, the Son of the King of Paradise. In all his sermons, it seems to me, he was seeking the glory and honor of God, the Father and Lord, who reigns eternally. And those who undertake to play the harp – that is, to preach – must do likewise. Our teachers and priests must not seek their own glory, but solely that of God. And that is why they must begin by invoking divine grace,123 for without that, there is nothing that is pleasing or can be profitable to anyone. [3305–3322] “Once I used to recite,” said Orpheus, the good harper,124 “the quarrels and wars of the gods and the giants. Now I want to turn my lyre to a new subject, and so I will sing of their friendship,125 their love, and their benevolence.” It is true that in the Old126 Testament, God sang and showed how God himself – King, Father, and Sovereign – was at war with the first men, and how they lost his favor through the fraud and deception of the devil, who led them astray when Eve took his counsel, and ate the damning apple and then gave it to the man to eat. That was why God disinherited them and cast them out of paradise and put them on the earth, where they had to dwell in pain thereafter because of their folly and disobedience. After that, it tells how God took terrible vengeance on man and on the whole world, which he destroyed with a watery deluge, and then annihilated Sodom and Gomorrah, and how God inflicted many dreadful forms of adversity on many people for their foolish deviant behaviors, making war on them, because it seemed he hated them so much. But now the war has been appeased, and they have given each other the kiss of peace. There is love and harmony between them, as is told and set down for us by the Son of God, who appeased the discord and reconciled them. He teaches us about this love and extends it to us in his New Testament,127 without a doubt. [3323–3361] {N}ow I will tell you about the young man who was appointed the wine-steward of heaven, after Jupiter, in order to seize and snatch and carry him away, came down from heaven to earth and took the form of an eagle and flew down and grabbed the young man. [3362–3367] 122 Lit.

“sweet, gentle.” Orpheus did by invoking the Muse, vv. 727–731. 124 Although this is oratio recta, it is not word-for-word the same as what Orpheus says in vv. 732–737. 125 In this (mis)quotation of Orpheus, acointance as “friendship” is based on a shift away from erotic love: lor amour et lor bienvueillance (v. 3329) is not the erotic les amours des grans diex (v. 724), but a Christlike friendship. 126 Lit. “First.” 127 Lit. “new law.” 123 As

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[miniature, fol. 266v: jupiter enthroned128]

{J}upiter was a king of Crete, who, according to the pagan text,129 was venerated as the god of gods, served and feared and worshipped. Jupiter, this Cretan king, went to war against the Phrygians when Tros130 was king of Troy. Jupiter and the army he led – brave and skilled fighters, without a doubt – defeated the Trojans in battle. He happened to capture a young boy in the process, a most attractive creature. Jupiter found him young and handsome. He abducted him from his father Tros. He brought him to his country, and countless times took his pleasure of him in the name of lust, contrary to law and contrary to nature; and despite the presence of his wife, he made him his majordomo and wine-steward at court. [3368–3387] {T}here is another meaning that can be glossed and explained based on natural phenomena. Just as the ancients say,131 Jupiter is the upper air, which is blazing hot and burning. But it becomes well moderated by moisture from the young man, that is, Aquarius, a sign of the zodiac, which is cold and full of moisture. For this reason, the ancient authorities claimed that he was, it seems to me, the lover and wine-steward of Jupiter. The eagle is hot, it flies high. Jupiter is an element situated above all others and hotter than all others, and thus, as the tale says, he turned into a hot, high-flying eagle. [3388–3405] {T}hrough allegory, I can provide another interpretation for the text. [3406–3407] [miniature, fol. 266v: the virgin mary enthroned, being crowned by god enthroned beside her, holding an orb132]

“{J}upiter,” God, our Father and helper, the almighty sovereign Creator who created every creature, for the love of human nature resolved to descend from the heavens and come to the world, and deigned to become what he had never been, namely, a man. And he embraced the wretchedness of human nature, and flew up to the heavens like an eagle, bearing the flesh that he had assumed, and sat it on his own high throne: that is the wine-steward, it seems to me, a 128 Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have comparable miniatures of human kings which are similar to the various images of God enthroned: fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God with images of the Evangelists; fols 193r, 278v, and 315v show him holding an orb; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary (which closely parallels this image of Jupiter); and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia. 129 la paiene geste, v. 3369. On Jupiter as king of Crete, see Book 1, vv. 515–657, 859–922, etc. 130 Son of Erichthonius (see Book 2, vv. 2221ff.) and father of Ganymede. 131 Si com distrent li premerain, v. 3390. On Jupiter as the upper air, compare Book 1, vv. 719–722. 132 This image is similar to the various images of God enthroned: fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God with images of the Evangelists; fols 193r, 278v, and 315v show him holding an orb. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384v have similar depictions of human kings (there is an obvious parallel with Jupiter on 266v), and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia.



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true god and true man in one, who waters and feeds his chosen with spiritual delights. He is the one from whom all good things abound, who spreads his grace throughout the world. [3408–3425] [miniature, fol. 267r: phoebus and the fleur-de-lis]

Now I will tell you about the young man that Phoebus would have taken up to heaven, but Fortune did not let that happen, for it crushed him all too soon. He turned him into a beautiful purple flower that is reborn and renews itself every year. The people are accustomed to celebrate at the time of its birth, when spring is beginning to flourish and the sun rises in Aries. [3426–3435] [miniature, fol. 267r: saints of the early church (paul with the sword, and – longinus with a spear? james with a staff?)133]

{H}yacinth is the gladiolus that blooms in springtime, when April begins and March concludes. The hyacinth is of a purple color and in appearance resembles a lily. The sun causes this flower to be born, and many others as well.134 [3436–3442] I now explain the tale otherwise. [3443] {H}yacinth, without misunderstanding in any way, can be understood as the apostles and martyrs, whom God so loved that he proclaimed them his friends, his sons, and citizens of paradise. In the old days, they had such love for God and were so filled with his grace that no matter what friendly overtures or threats or promises or bribes or flattery or insults they were confronted with, they did not omit any prince or king, and spread the word of God openly throughout the whole world and, for the love of God, joyfully endured every slander, scorn, and insult. They were the wise hunters who put out the nets of the holy faith to ensnare sinners, to draw them out of unbelief and away from error, and to capture them safely, bringing God acceptable game from out of the devil’s hunting park. And God kept company with them, guiding them all their lives and showing them how they should act in order to endure suffering and martyrdom for his sake, just as he resolved to suffer for them and offer his holy body up for death. And they, set aflame by his love and keeping his commandments as though founded on solid rock, in order to gain heavenly glory, which was their sole intention, offered themselves up to pain and suffering for his sake with joyful devotion. And they suffered death for it, and to bring souls to God they let their blood be spilled on the ground. [3444–3483] But God did not forget the saints who died for him. Though their bodies died on earth to gain eternal life, their souls could not die. Rather, God makes them 133 Compare

the miniature on fol. 304r, which also seems to depict Paul. is the historical level of interpretation, where Phoebus is glossed as the sun as in Book 1, vv. 3065–3074, and elsewhere. 134 This

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flourish in heaven and live there joyfully in peace. Their tears and their groans, their blood, their lives, and their victory are remembered eternally, and the saints dwell in glory and honor with our Lord. God made his friends the flower of the world, and gave them a name that mentions and bears witness to their most holy passion and the martyrdom that they suffered when they offered themselves up to death for love of him. To honor and glorify them and commemorate their names, every year “at their nativity” – that is, the day they flowered in heaven and escaped the world to live in the kingdom on high – in those places where the saints were born and are best known, it is the custom to make express mention of them every year, and to hold a festival and procession and celebrate a mass in their honor. And such is the custom of Holy Church, who commands and desires that we do so, once God, who illuminates the virtuous with his love and his doctrine, has manifested his grace. [3484–3519] [miniature, fol. 267v: a saint in the pulpit preaching to a seated crowd135]

{T}he Cerastae and the Propoetides represent the wicked murderers who, in their wickedness and hubris, sacrificed the saints like ewes, at the time when they were traveling the world and instructing people in the new faith. This was done with scorn for the God whom the saints feared and about whom they preached to their audiences. The unbelieving scoundrels were made “horned,” that is, they were full of wrath and rage and anger, and like forsaken whores,136 they had devoted their attention, their hearts, and their affection to every kind of dissolution. And God punished them brutally, humiliating them for their sins and inflicting everlasting shame upon them. In this way, the tale is consistent with the truth. [3520–3539] Or, if anyone would rather gloss it otherwise, I can provide another interpretation. The arrogant Cerastae were the angels who scorned God and sought to become his equals, and so God took away their beauty and damned them to perdition for their foolish presumptuousness. Now they are steeped in misfortune. They are horned and full of ugliness, and they are what whores imitate when they make horns for themselves and wander the streets like cattle, heads held high, to swindle the dupes who have wealth to steal or to give away. And they think the horns they wear make them look more beautiful and charming, but they don’t. In this way, the foolish women encompass their undoing. [3540–3559]

135 Fols

67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. shift from anger to prostitution here is clarified by v. 3551: horns are bestial and so signify wrath, but also, prostitutes “give themselves horns” by arranging their hair into points on their temples, which was a popular fourteenth-century hairstyle. See the note to Book 1, v. 3933. 136 The



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Moralization (III): Pygmalion {N}ow without delay I will tell you the allegory and the interpretation represented by the ivory statue that was transformed into a real woman, whom her craftsman married and loved so much that he made her lady over his realm and his wealth. [3560–3566] [miniature, fol. 267v: a priest performing a wedding (of the girl and the lord in the moralization)]

{S}ome great lord might have in his household a young girl who had been poor and miserable, ill-clothed and scorned, brought up in ignorance, but with good manners and a beautiful body. The nobleman, finding her beautiful, clothed and raised the maiden, who was stupid as a statue, and taught her until she became wise. When he found her wise and discerning, he loved her so much that he pledged himself to her and took her as his wife and his spouse. Then by the girl he had a handsome son, valiant, wise, and of great renown, who was plausibly named Cinyras, and whose daughter deceived him to such an extent that she lay with him and conceived by him a young man, a baby, who was very beautifully formed. [3567–3585] [miniature, fol. 268r: god creating eve out of adam’s rib137]

{T}here can be another meaning. The Craftsman full of knowledge, from whom all knowing abounds,138 the Craftsman of the whole world, crafted our human nature in his form and in his image through his Divine Wisdom and gave it “an ivory body.”139 The matter which God infused with human form was mud. The matter was base and contemptible, but God infused it with a most elect form. By his goodwill, he filled it with sense and goodness, with beauty and good morals, and then loved it so much that he made it his beloved and his spouse, and “lovingly embraced the girl with the kiss of his holy mouth” and “laid her beside him on a bed covered and decorated with beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers.” [3586–3607] One time, when it suited him, he “saw her naked and exposed,” and, exposed, she was beautiful. When it seemed good to him, he “clothed and dressed her in costly clothes and rich accessories,” and she was very beautiful when clothed: just as beautiful as when she was naked, or more so. Human 137 Fols

206v and 268r have comparable miniatures of this. knowledge, or creativity, we derive on this earth is in the image of the ultimate Creator, God, who is our only source of truth. Thus, as Tolkien will note in his poem to Lewis, Mythopoeia, human beings are but “sub-creators” (Tolkien 2001). 139 “Form” is used here in the Neoplatonic sense and is a synonym for the image of God. God is pure form because he is not matter, except in the case of Jesus. On the union of soul and body, see Aquinas, ST I q. 76, and Bonaventure, Brev. IV.2. 138 Any

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nature, it seems to me, was beautiful naked and unclothed before the first sin, which stained its “face”140 forever afterward. Humanity was more beautiful when God clothed it with his divinity and his nature and removed its stain. Precious is such clothing, and pleasant is the accoutrement with which God adorned his spouse, clothed her well and arrayed her well, and the jewels are of great value. [3608–3628] God, overcome with love for her, gave her – to comfort, delight, and entertain her – the lily of pure virginity and perfect integrity, the violet of humble temperance and peaceful continence, the rose of pure affection and steadfast perfection, the dove of sincere humility, the turtledove of pure charity, righteous behavior, and true dilection. He also gave her painted balls and round and lovely mallets which signify, as I expound it, perseverance in good purpose; brooches of righteous intention and necklaces of holy affection; gems on her fingers of good works, to which God raised and instructed her. He gave her gilded and enameled earrings, and silver and colored rings, which represent holy doctrine and divine preaching, which are gilded with wisdom and silver-coated with eloquence. Sometimes he embraced and kissed her, as he filled her with his grace; others, he struck and manhandled her141 as he disciplined her with severity. [3629–3659] {T}he Creator’s spouse is beautiful. Her ornaments are good and rich. The holy, pure, and elect soul is the spouse in whom God delights and finds loving enjoyment. And the spouse conceives by her lover, through great devotion, true mortification of the flesh by holy penance. And from that, without a doubt, is born bitter contrition, glorious remorse. When contrition comes together with penance, it seems to me that this bears delightful fruit, which fills the blessed soul with sweetness and fragrance, setting the soul on fire with good love. [3660–3677] Moralization (IV): Myrrha, Adonis, and Venus {N}ow I want more particularly to provide an alternative explanation of the myrrh,142 who deceived her beloved father so that she became pregnant by him and bore a handsome son, whom Venus loved. People called him Adonis. When the sun spreads its rays throughout the world, and its heat reaches a sufficient level and warms the earth’s moisture, but not excessively, trees begin to grow and bear fruit, and all good things multiply. For this reason, the sun was called the “father” of trees. And it was “loved immoderately” by the 140 This moralizes “The maiden felt his kiss: she was embarrassed, and blushed” (vv. 1070–1072 above). 141 Autre hore la taste et manoie, v. 3658. This moralizes Pygmalion’s caresses (see vv. 1030–1055 above), using verbs whose semantic range will allow a shift in meaning here from caressing to beating. 142 Myrrha.



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myrrh, for the nature of myrrh is such that it has more desire and longing for the love of the warm sun than of moisture. The myrrh-tree becomes so swollen and fecundated by the sun that it yields an aromatic gum, which gives a subtle and delicate odor and is named myrrh, a delicate perfume. Their union takes place in August, when most of the moisture has evaporated. [3678–3701] {V}enus, mother of the god of love, fell in love with the son to whom Myrrha gave birth, Adonis. Myrrh is dissolved to make a mulled wine which is unbelievably hot and has aphrodisiac properties.143 [3702–3707] I believe Adonis represents sweet indolence or delight. He was beautiful, and he delighted in his beauty. “Venus was his lover,” for lustfulness comes to dwell in a beautiful body that is too much given to delight. The man “was a hunter,” for a lustful person is ever a hunter of their own death and damnation, bringing their body, soul, and property to ruin. Anyone who engages for long in such a pursuit, from which they take such grievous harm, is incredibly lacking in knowledge. “Venus warned Adonis, her dear beloved,” and begged him not to hunt animals that were too aggressive, treacherous, or savage – so he should not hunt bears or lions or leopards or tigers or wild boars144 or panthers. This is because lust wants to be slothful and has no interest in effort and labor, for it prefers to lead a life of ease, for it is sloth that ushers in lust. “The boar killed him”: that was the filth of lust and lechery, which he indulged in all his life. His great beauty came to nothing. Adonis became “a little blood-red flower,” which is a base person, it seems to me, who contaminates those who keep them company and follow them and live by their example. For whoever keeps company with the wicked cannot possibly benefit. Such a flower “droops and quivers in a light breeze” because beauty, it seems to me, is soon frittered away by stress or sickness or old age. [3708–3747] There can be another interpretation which is more positive145 and more worthy of knowing. [3748–3749] {T}he bitter myrrh represents our Mother, Blessed Mary, the Holy, the Virgin Maiden, who was the daughter and handmaid of God, so beautiful and lovely and gracious and friendly that many men courted her, but she was so 143 Lit. “gives appetite for lust.” Here the historical level of interpretation of Venus and Adonis is dealt with in a sentence. The next sentence (“I believe Adonis represents sweet indolence or delight”) passes to the moral level of interpretation. Un piment té, v. 3705: see the note to Book 9, v. 2589, on piment. Té is the past participle of terdre, which has the basic meaning “essuyer, frotter, sécher, nettoyer” (Godefroy and DMF), but can also mean “purifier” (Godefroy). The actual procedure was to dissolve beads of myrrh in alcohol, which might then be strained or purified. According to Mark 15:23, Christ was offered wine mixed with myrrh to dull the pain of the crucifixion, and refused it. 144 De Boer has porc, sengler, v. 3727. We follow Šumski, who removes the comma. 145 Mieudre, v. 3749, does not mean “better” in the sense of more correct, rather in the sense that the OM discusses in the General Prologue: this interpretation showcases something positive that we should imitate, as opposed to something bad that we should shun.

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ardently consumed with love for God, whose daughter she was, that never in any way did she choose to devote her thought or effort to loving any created being. Her love was steadfast and true, so perfect and complete that no love so true ever existed. For the love of God, she rejected all earthly loves. She was replete with good morals, grace, cheerfulness, innocence, and great purity; she was of honest continence146 and filled with great patience, abstinence, and charity, and above all, with humility. Truly, she alone possessed more virtues than any other created being could. [3750–3776] As a Virgin most holy and most pure, her great humility surpassed all things and made her more beautiful and pleased God, her Father. That humility was the nurse and mother147 that closely guarded and watched over her. God considered it supreme among his daughter’s virtues. It was the obliging old woman who brewed the powerful potion full of healing and comfort, whereby God resolved to become confined148 in order to redeem and deliver everyone. It was that humility that made God choose to truly form a carnal union with his daughter, which he did in secret, by surprise. And from this holy union was born the gentle, charming, delectable, sweet “Adonis,” in whom all beauty abounds – the Lord of the world, the Savior and Redeemer who delivered all his kindred from reproach and sin. He is the one whom “the frenzied boar, charging from the thickets” – that is, from the dark inner hearts149 of the foolish Jews – put to death. But the grace of God caused the dead man whom the Jews had put to death to be reborn, to fructify and flower; that is the delectable and wholesome flower, full of sweetness and perfume. [3777–3809] {T}here is another possible interpretation, which is highly consistent with truth. Foolish Myrrha represents the sinful and shameful soul of a Christian, priest or layman, who, contrary to right and law – led on by the devil, who takes pains to deceive him and bring him to perdition – has the wicked presumptuousness to approach the altar with a murky conscience, without confession and without repentance. The altar is the bed where the body of God rests and lies, and so he seeks carnal union with God, and receives the body 146 That

is, properly restrained in her behavior. fu la norrice et la mere, v. 3781. La norrice “the nurse” refers to the character in Ovid, and la mere “the mother” to theological tradition. That is, the nurse is not Myrrha’s mother, but she is glossed here as humility, and while Aquinas, ST II–II q. 161, art. 5, acknowledges Charity as the supreme theological virtue (as does Bonaventure), Humility was said by Augustine to be the mother and foundation of all virtues. Bonaventure dedicates Chapter 2 of his Holiness of Life to the topic of true humility. See also Brev. V.6 and On the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, Conf. 1. 148 In human form, in Mary’s womb, analogized to Cinyras in his bedchamber after he drinks the nurse’s potion, since Mary’s womb is often glossed as a kind of bridal suite. 149 That is, the tenebreuses entrailles “dark viscera” of the Jews – their inmost heart (which is within the semantic range of entrailles) – are the thickets from which the “boar” of their violence emerges. 147 Ce



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of Christ without dignity150 at Easter, the Creator’s feast-day. That is when a blessed soul, the blessed people, prepare themselves to give a profuse and eloquent confession and achieve repentance, and do good deeds and penance, in order to receive the body of Christ151 with all the more dignity, for their salvation. Thus they avoid the delights of the flesh, not even sleeping in their own beds, and flee all fleshly contact and mortal contamination. But the foul and sinful soul approaches God in a shameful way, and receives him in a way that damns it, which it does with great fear and trembling; for, at least the first time, the human heart quails in dread to receive its Creator without confession or dignified preparation. [3810–3845] But if it ever comes about that a soul has approached the altar in a state of sin, unconfessed and unrepentant, it will never give the act a second thought: instead, it lapses into mere indifference. But it would have to suffer for that, if God, in his holy pity, did not look on it in friendship, illuminating its darkened heart with his divine light and showing it its folly and the sword of his vengeance, with which he threatens to humiliate it and punish it with damnation unless it comes to repentance. Then the wretched soul flees to salvation through bitter contrition and true confession, and thus it arrives at proper repentance, relinquishes its folly, and escapes the death sentence through penance, with which it mortifies itself. And thus it purges its transgression through weeping and humble prayer, and unburdens itself of the sin with which it has loaded down its wretched body. Like Myrrha,152 it lets fall the heavy bellyful with which the wretch was encumbered, and by weeping it cleanses itself and is reconciled with God, who is full of mercy. Then it yields the aromatic fruit, which suffuses it in divine love. [3846–3877] {N}ow we give a different explanation of this tale, supposing that, as our author says, there really was a woman so crazed and full of wickedness that she fell whorishly in love with her father and slept with him and became pregnant by him, as the tale says of Myrrha. There never was a woman who was ever so guilty or ever committed such a grievous sin – if she was sincere in her desire to renounce sin and make confession and do devout penance – that God, who wants sinners to repent and reform more than he wants to damn them, would refuse her soul a happy ending. This is clear from the ultimate fate of Saint Mary Magdalene, who had been an utterly vile sinner, to whom God gave remission because she felt contrition and repented for the sins with which her whole body dignement, v. 3825. That is, it detracts from the dignity of the sacrament: see Aquinas, ST III q. 80. Bonaventure discusses the Eucharist in Brev. VI.9, but focuses on the worthiness of the recipient as described in 1 Corinthians 11:29. 151 Lit. “of God.” 152 “Like Myrrha” is meant to convey the use of the feminine pronoun to refer to the soul (l’âme, feminine in French) throughout this passage, which makes the connection to Myrrha entirely natural. 150 Non

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was stained, and so came to true penitence. Myrrha perpetrated a wicked deception when she deceived her father and acted so as to become pregnant by him. She yielded to a great evil, but in the end she repented, and cried out for God’s mercy. And she so mortified her flesh through tears, afflictions, and grievous tribulations that God willingly accepted her suffering and forgave her for her folly, and she was stripped bare of all wicked things. [3878–3916] That is when she was “transformed into myrrh,” which is a tree of great value. There is no mortal person under heaven whose flesh will rot if their dead body is anointed with myrrh. For myrrh is used to make an unguent for anointing the dead when they are buried, so that the corpse does not rot or give off a foul odor. Anyone who keeps a deathgrip on sin is “dead,” having given their soul over to death. Myrrha was dead from sin, for her heart was dried out, stiffened by folly, and frozen by deadly cold. But she anointed herself with such an unguent that keeps the dead from rotting: that is the bitter remorse, while making sweet satisfaction (for her sins), that she felt for as long as she lived. [3917–3936] Adonis was born of Myrrha: he represents the consolation of good works. There is no sinner, if they act in this way, upon whom God will not have good mercy, no matter how much they may have transgressed against him. Whoever despairs of God is a fool, for our compassionate Father has so much patience and compassion, so much kindness, so much friendship for us, that he always prefers to have a sinner repent and be reconciled with him than to mete out death and pain. And he rejoices far more over a single sinner who repents and reforms and commits to doing good than over ninety-nine righteous people who have never been sinful.153 [3937–3953] Moralization (V): Atalanta and Hippomenes {N}ow I will tell the explanation of those who became lions. [3954–3955] {I} can take swift Atalanta, who was so beautiful and delightful that many men raced for her and died from their attraction, to represent the delights of this world, which abounds with all vanities and fleeting, changeable things. That is a delightfulness that can never stay in one fixed place. It is always “running away,” and so it never ceases to destroy and deceive those who strive the most to have it. Many “run after it,” many covet it, but they do nothing, achieve nothing, but confound themselves and waste their time. No one trying to hold it back will ever be able to run fast enough to ever succeed, no matter how much effort they might expend, or to have perfect enjoyment of it. It exists only to provide distraction for fools. Anyone who wants to invest more time in this pursuit will find, as they round the track, that their body and soul are irreversibly lost. [3956–3979] 153 Luke 15:3–7, the Parable of the Lost Sheep. A repentant sinner is cause for rejoicing, but this does not mean that God prefers people to sin just so they can repent.



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Hippomenes of Thebes, who thought that those who were foolishly running after earthly delights, even to the point of dying, were out of their minds, but then became even more ardently obsessed than those he reproached – he can represent the clerics and priests, preachers and teachers who have set themselves up to serve God only to further their love of self. These people teach the world; in their preaching they admonish those whom they see wasting their time by becoming subsumed in vain delights. And yet they themselves are now the stingiest and most eager for wealth, to the point that they do not care whose money they take, as long as they end up rich in property. Some gain a following by using their intellect and knowledge. Others have important relatives who are willing and eager to see them get rich and gain preferment. Others advance often enough by their own prowess and energy: they work so hard at scrimping and saving day and night, and that way they get richer, never mind who it inconveniences. When these clerics have all moved up in the world and have at their beck and call all earthly comfort and the pleasure they have chosen for themselves, their arrogance increases, and they forget about God, who gave them all these goods. They have abandoned their hearts to anger and treachery, malice and cruelty, and are more filled with presumption and pride than any lion. They pull the chariot of greed,154 one wheel of which is malice, another is incontinence, another is faint-heartedness, and the last is impetuousness or undue haste. These are the wheels of that chariot, full of greed and derision, upon which Lady Covetousness rides. She goads and inflames the heart into doing all kinds of disloyal acts. God has no use for such lions, who scorn him and his grace. Rather, he forbids following their tracks. [3980–4033] I can understand the tale in another way. Atalanta can be taken to mean Holy Church, the bold, beautiful “virgin” who is “swift and eager to run humbly,” without hubris, on the “racetrack” of faith in God. She is the one who guides her friends and shows them how to run the course of belief in Jesus Christ and of the commandments that God has written.155 Those who let themselves be beaten by Holy Church because of their faint-heartedness, and concede loss and defeat before they have won the race,156 will be in hell in great confusion, condemned to a death from which they die forever. And those who run faithfully, to whom God resolves to lend his aid so that they can 154 The

lions formerly known as Hippomenes and Atalanta now draw Cybele’s chariot; though fierce to everyone else, they are tractable to her. This is in Ovid (Met. 10.704), but was left out of the OM’s retelling above. 155 Et des amans que Dieu escrit, v. 4043. The translation follows Šumski, who has Et des commans que Dieu escrit. To make sense of the line in de Boer, we would presumably want the special sense of amans as those who love God (“Ensemble de ceux qui aiment Dieu,” DMF), while escrit could refer to the Bible, or to the Book of Life of Revelation 20:12. 156 1 Corinthians 9:24: “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.”

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win the race and gain victory: they will be crowned in glory alongside Holy Church, in paradise. Once there were many “runners” who strove faithfully for the law of God, whom they loved, and for Holy Church, even to the point of courting death. And they would rather have spilled their blood and died on the racetrack of Holy Church than live on in sordid cowardice. The fools who saw them dying in the faith foolishly believed that God had forgotten about his champions, his dear friends who were willing to die for his love. Rather, he makes them flourish in holy heaven, and, for their worthy victory, they are crowned with honor and glory. [4034–4071] Hippomenes I can understand as those who once used to persecute the “runners”157 of Holy Church, like Saint Paul and Saint Dionysius – the one who was a contemporary of saints Christinus, Tiburtius, and Augustine.158 These men had initially been unbelievers and treated the saints who held to the faith of God as criminals. And in their ignorance, they condemned those who were more eager to offer their bodies up for martyrdom than withdraw from the racecourse of the faith. Later, they abandoned their arrogance and foolish unbelief, and came to the faith of the Church, wanting to win on that racecourse. And God came to their aid with the three golden apples, that is, three resplendent virtues, which are more precious than gold and of more precious fragrance, for anyone who might be able to savor them well, than any apple would be. Without these three apples, no one can attain heavenly glory, nor can one win victory on this racetrack without the help of the three. One is faith, the second is hope, and the third, which sets everyone ahead, is true charity. Truly, whoever seeks eternal glory must have these three apples. Otherwise they will never get there, but, beaten and defeated, they will surrender themselves to shame and shambles, to damned perdition. These three precious golden apples, these three resplendent virtues, were in the possession of those saints, those champions, those proud men, courageous lions who sneered at the unrest and arrogance of dukes and kings, and at every threat and confrontation, for they were steadfast in God’s grace, and would rather die for God than have power and mastery in the world. They considered worldly honor to be base. This is why it is said that they “draw the chariot” of earthly honor – because they pray to our Lord for the sustaining of the world. The time for everything to be destroyed can’t come soon enough 157 Now

in the sense of “messengers, couriers.” and Augustin are the apostle Paul and Augustine of Hippo. Denise, v. 4075, would be Dionysius the Areopagite of Acts 17:34. Tiburtius was a Roman martyr (along with Valerian and Maximus) associated with Saint Cecilia. Cristin, v. 4076, is more challenging. A Christinus was the addressee of Augustine’s Letter 256, but wouldn’t seem to have the name recognition of the others here. The best-known Christinus is Saint Christinus of Gnesen, who was martyred in Poland in the Middle Ages, making him seem to be a poor fit with the list of Mediterranean Church Fathers. Alternatively, Saint Crispin, martyred under Diocletian, would be an excellent fit. 158 Pol



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for him, and it would have been destroyed already, if the saints and their prayers had not existed.159 [4072–4127] Moralization (VI): Persephone {I} still have to gloss Persephone, who turned female bodies into mint that smells good. This tale refers to the saints who, by setting a good example, lead effeminate ones160 who have never learned to do good away from frailty, weakness, vanity, all sin, all filth, and slothful indifference.161 The saints guide and inspire them to do good works, so that they can gain a “good-smelling” name for themselves, which they are hot and eager to do. [4128–4140]

159 Compare Abraham’s conversation with God in Genesis 18:16–33, (explicitly referenced in a similar context in Book 1, 1748–1760), where he tries to intercede for Sodom and Gomorrah on the basis of the righteous people living there. 160 Les femelins, v. 4136. Compare the moralization in vv. 558–577 of Orpheus choosing to love young men, which rejects spiritual “femininity” in favor of spiritual “virility,” or passionate desire to love and serve God. 161 Pereceuse froidure, v. 4135, lit. “slothful coldness.” This could be understood with reference to Matthew 24:12–13 (“Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved”). It does seem to indicate a certain spiritual indifference or lack of zeal (which is what makes it slothful), contrasted with Anselm’s exhortation to “be on fire with love” for God, the idea of the Holy Spirit as “fire of love” in Richard of St. Victor, William of St. Thierry, and Peter Lombard, and the OM’s rough contemporary Richard Rolle with his Incendium Amoris “The Fire of Love.” The gendering of this coldness as feminine, referred to in the previous note, might owe something to Aristotle’s binary thinking in On the Generation of Animals, where the female is identified as cold and wet and the male as hot and dry.

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Death of Orpheus {A}bove, I told and recounted to you how the poet, through his singing and his teaching, had drawn trees, woods, and wild beasts to himself on the mountain where he was situated, thanks to his song that was so sweet. It was so sweet and pleasing, melodious and delightful, that even the rocks were moved by the sweet song and followed him. [1–10] [miniature, fol. 271r: orpheus being attacked by the women]

{W}hile the prophet sang such a song and enchanted everyone, there came the Ciconian women, full of fierce wickedness, who had covered their mad breasts with the skins of wild beasts. They spied the poet who, as he sang, enchanted the crowds and drew them to his teaching. They rushed upon him with hostility, calling out loudly, and saying to each other: “See, now, our adversary, our opponent, the traitor, the misbegotten one who goes about deluding the crowds, denouncing us and our deeds, and who scorns us and considers us beneath him. If we suffer him to be alive much longer, we’ll all be disgraced, confounded, and shamed. We will never again be held in any regard, but be base and degraded in everyone’s eyes.” [11–32] Then one of them threw a spear, but it did not harm or wound him. He picked up the shaft, which had become covered with leaves because of his sweet music. Another hurled a rock at him instead of a spear, in vain, for it was overpowered by the sweet melody of Orpheus’s song; and the rock fell, as though to humble itself and beg for mercy, at the feet of the harpist, poet, and singer. [33–44] Then the great frenzy, rage, and madness of the false women, full of anger, multiplied. When they saw the rocks bounce back because of the sweetness of Orpheus’s lyre, in order to quash the melody and prevent anything from hearing him that might be able to be stirred up against him, amongst themselves they made such a shrieking, uproar, and clamor, and they blew their trumpets1 so loudly, that no one could have heard god himself thunder. Then they threw a barrage of rocks at him that now, for the first time, turned red with the poet’s 1 In Ovid (Met. 11.16), “the huge clamour of the Berecyntian flutes of broken horn” (Kline).

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blood – for since they could not hear his sweet song, the rocks could not contrive to spare him in any way, but rather did the worst they could, just like the women who were flinging them, whose hearts were full of envy. [45–64] The poet with his teaching had drawn many birds, serpents, and wild beasts around a great hill. They snatched them all from him, they took them all away, they overwhelmed them: their master was betrayed.2 Then, the women rushed at him in turn without mercy, wickedly, to abuse him vilely, and they did not hold back from abusing him. They gathered round him and attacked him. Just as birds beat up an owl that wanders amongst them during the day, tearing out its feathers and skinning, beating and assaulting it, so the prophet was beaten. He was like a stag struck down among dogs, close to death, dragged by one and bitten by another. [65–82] In this way the women tore Orpheus to shreds: they struck him with clubs, sticks, rocks, hard stones, and inflicted many other abuses on him. So that they did not lack the weapons to do the worst they could, to better feed their frenzy, there was a farm nearby, where oxen were plowing and farmers laboring, intent on sowing their seed and expecting a prolific harvest. The fools rushed there in a mad dash, and when the farmers saw the women moving against them, they fearfully fled, unwounded and unmaimed, and abandoned outright all their work and profit. [83–101] Their equipment was scattered everywhere, and the madwomen helped themselves to it as they pleased. One went and grabbed the coulter, another the plowshare, another the wheel, another the axle or whatever she could find, another a sickle, mallet, or pickax. They carried it all away, whatever was there, and the false, mad women broke the horns off the oxen. Then they rushed angrily back to see to the death and destruction of the prophet who was waiting for them. [102–115] The good prophet was stretching out his arms and pleading, in case someone might listen, but nothing he said could sway the fools. They were unwilling to show him any mercy. They murdered him: that was to their great disgrace. Oh, God, through this holy mouth, accustomed to charming birds and beasts with its sweet singing, his soul was separated from his body.3 [116–125]

De Boer notes variants for v. 69. Rouen (fol. 271v) has Tuit l’esprent lor mestre est tray. Compare Ovid (Met. 11.39–43): “As he stretched out his hands, speaking ineffectually for the first time ever, not affecting them in any way with his voice, the impious ones murdered him: and the spirit, breathed out through that mouth to which stones listened, and which was understood by the senses of wild creatures – O, God! [lit., in Latin, “Jupiter”] – vanished down the wind” (Kline). We might have expected fole to correspond to madness in Ovid, rather than impiety, but the choice of word reflects foolishness with respect to God. This is also an example of where the OM substitutes the Christian “God” for Jupiter, even when a classical figure is speaking. See our introductory lexicon, s.vv. dieu, fol(e), pp. 74 & 75. 2

3



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The nymphs who knew Orpheus wept many tears for him. The trees and woods wept for him. The birds and wild beasts, and the rocks – hard by nature – made signs and displays of grief and sorrow for him; and the rivers grieved and wept so much that they swelled up. The scattered limbs of the poet of great renown came to rest in many places, in different locations. One river, named Hebrus, received his head and his lyre. It was marvelous, I dare say: the lyre sounded as it floated along. The tongue put forth a mournful lament, and the dead man put forth a great murmur, complaining of this affront. The banks of the river resounded, putting forth a mournful response. [126–146] The lyre and the head floated so far that they were launched into the deep sea. They washed up in Lesbos. A cruel and fierce snake found the prophet’s head there, lying face-up on the sand. The evil, infamous beast slithered up to it, mouth gaping. It was about to eat and devour it. [147–155] [miniature, fol. 272r: phoebus holding the head and spearing the snake down the throat]

{B}ut Phoebus came without delay to rescue the head of his dear son. Just as the serpent tried to seize it, Phoebus transformed it4 into hard stone of the form and shape it had been in before its transformation. [156–161] Without further ado, the prophet’s soul went down into hell, where he saw the dark valley and the realms he had once seen – he recognized the places well. Amidst the pitiful crowd, he found his companion and beloved, whom he had desired for a long time, and he embraced her lovingly. Now, he looks at her with confidence, without fearing any ill-fortune and without any harmful stipulation. Now, it is no longer necessary for him to go ahead of her; instead, he lets her go first, in front of him, without fear, loss, or suffering. [162–176] Moralization {A}s I said in the other book, Orpheus manifestly represents: [177–178] [miniature, fol. 272r: arrest of jesus, who is being kissed on the cheek by judas; peter stands by with sword half-drawn]

{J}esus Christ, the Divine Word, the teacher of good doctrine, who had attracted and converted people from many nations through his preaching. The wicked Jews, full of envy – indolent and “feminine” with respect to doing good, wicked and hostile and misbegotten, full of folly and wickedness – came in madness and disloyalty, which filled the heart of each of them, to debate him publicly in order to reprove and deceive him. But through their 4 Serpens is feminine in this passage, while the head (le chief) is masculine, so this “it” (la, v. 159) has to be the serpent, which is consistent with Ovid (Met. 11.58–60).

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argument, he, full of divine knowledge, was able to refute the scoundrels who opposed him and considered him a traitor, false, a deceiver, mad, and a befouler. [179–198] When they saw themselves stymied and confounded by his wisdom and reason, the envious scoundrels thought treacherously about how they could undermine him. They secretly sent men-at-arms to seize and destroy him. But the Son of God compassionately showed them good mercy, and taught them about their salvation, so that he caused the messengers, who were coming to harm him, to beg his forgiveness and mercy and humble themselves before him. [199–212] Then their anger and rage multiplied, and the scoundrels thought in their hearts about how they would kill him. At one point, they threw stones at him to viciously abuse him. The Son of God peacefully endured whatever they did to him: without his permission, they could not have had the power to do him harm. [213–221] The misbegotten scoundrels did more: through false persuasions, gifts, adulations, promises, and threats, they fraudulently took away from him the crowds that he had drawn to him through the miracles he had performed and through his exhortation. And they were so successful in their deceits that they moved those very crowds to do their worst to him, and they began to scorn the sermons he was accustomed to give them. And those who didn’t have the heart to harm or injure him in any way hid for fear of the others, and professed not to know who he was.5 [222–238] But it was not enough for them themselves to commit the crime of condemning to death the Son of God. The good-for-nothing sons of the devil made those who were most especially chosen to plow the heavenly kingdom, and sow the seeds of the faith and belief that leads to eternal life, flee and scatter fearfully in dread of them, leaving their master ensnared, and abandoning all their rich tillage. And they submitted one of them to their will, as the Gospel recounts: Judas Iscariot, his disciple – and they made him both master and slave.6 [239–256] With lances of iron and wood, and without his being guilty, they abused him viciously, then shamefully killed him. The elements then took notice of his death, and profoundly grieved for it: it made the bright sun go dark, dark hell grow bright, the hard stones split, and the tombs open and many of the dead come back to life. The daughters of Zion, who thought he had perished, wept for him. The prophets and the holy souls lamented over his death and mourned very mightily over it. [257–272] This could also be read as “told false tales,” but it likely has in mind Peter’s confession of faith (see Matthew 25:35), denial, and repentance (see Luke 22:54–62). Compare also Titus 1:16. 6 Si le firent prince et menciple, v. 256. See Exodus 21:32, where thirty pieces of silver is the price of a slave. 5



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The serpent that wanted to deceive the “prophet’s head” through its wickedness represents the dragon, the gluttonous beast, the devil, who engulfs the soul. When he could not catch any more of them, he tried to seize the divine soul, but the Deity thwarted him.7 The Son of God drew out and freed from hell his beloved and his spouse, that is, the holy and glorious soul, for which he resolved to let himself be rendered up to death. Then his friends, who were held captive and had waited for him a long time, were redeemed and set free. [273–286] [miniature, fol. 272v: midas touching trees]

Midas and the Golden Touch {A}bove, I told you in the other tale about the wickedness and great shame that the Ciconian women inflicted on the prophet out of envy, killing him. Bacchus was angered by the death of the prophet, who had exalted his rites, and he took harsh vengeance on them for their wiles, punishing them shamefully for their guilt and their crime. Those who committed the murder, having fully consented to it, all became trees, and they were each bowed to the ground and affixed to short roots. [287–303] Bacchus was not satisfied with that, nor was his ill-will appeased. He and his worthier followers left forlorn the land where the murder and vice had been committed, and deprived it of his rites. He transferred them to the vineyards of Mount Tmolus, and to the river Pactolus, which was not yet golden, or gilded in golden hue. Rather, their land was sandy; later it would be golden and fertile.8 The satyrs and priestesses9 followed him there in great throngs. [304–316] De Boer’s la deïtez l’enescha, v. 279, is clearly le nescha in Rouen (fol. 272v). De Boer cites C with nel laissa. Copenhagen (p. 597) has le venga, “took vengeance on him/for it.” L’enescha would make sense as “the Deity hooked him,” evoking the “bait and hook” theory in St. Gregory of Nyssa and St. John Damascene. See for example chapter 24 of Gregory’s Great Catechism: “[I]t was not in the nature of the opposing power to come in contact with the undiluted presence of God, and to undergo His unclouded manifestation, therefore, in order to secure that the ransom in our behalf might be easily accepted by him who required it, the Deity was hidden under the veil of our nature, that so, as with ravenous fish, the hook of the Deity might be gulped down along with the bait of flesh, and thus, life being introduced into the house of death, and light shining in darkness, that which is diametrically opposed to light and life might vanish; for it is not in the nature of darkness to remain when light is present, or of death to exist when life is active” (trans. Moore and Wilson 1893). 8 This varies from Ovid (Met. 11.87–88): “though at that time it was not a golden stream, nor envied for its valuable sands” (Kline). 9 The Bacchantes. During the cultish rites associated with the worship of Bacchus (or Dionysus), the revelers, known as Bacchantes, whirled, screamed, got drunk, and engaged in debauchery. The festivities involved wild dancing to loud music, including crashing cymbals. 7

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But Silenus wasn’t there yet: at that time he was in Phrygia, stumbling with age and wine. Some country folk had found him wandering around Phrygia, and led him away captive. They presented him to King Midas. Midas diligently inquired whence he had come, where he was going, who he was, what he wanted, and for what reason they had captured him, and he learned from Silenus that he was one of those who celebrated the Bacchanalia and practiced the rites of the god of wine. Midas himself, having been introduced to them by the prophet Orpheus, held such festivities in his land and worshipped the god of wine just as Orpheus had taught him. When he realized that Silenus was one of those who celebrated the Bacchanalia, he welcomed him honorably and celebrated joyfully for ten days and ten nights in honor of the god, his master and lord. When the eleventh day came, Midas delayed no further: he came to Lydia, where Bacchus was staying. He took Silenus with him and returned him to Bacchus, and Bacchus thanked him, saying that on account of the courtesy and honor he had done him, for which he thanked him, Midas might ask him for whatever he wanted and the god would give it to him. [317–350] Midas was covetous and rejoiced when he heard the promise. His heart was full of avarice. He openly asked the god that whatever he touched and held might turn completely into fine gold. Bacchus gifted it to him, and was very sorrowful that he had not asked for something more courteous and beneficial. Midas thanked the god for his harmful and damning gift and set out, desiring to see through a true, manifest trial if his promise was genuine. To try out his gift, he picked a leafy branch off a low-hanging oak, and the branch he was holding immediately turned to gold. Midas rejoiced and marveled, and did not know if he was sleeping or awake. He still believed he had been duped, and did not believe what he had seen, and really thought what had made his heart rejoice was a dream and a complete fantasy and lie. [351–375] He continued testing it out: he took a stone and laid hands on it, and right away, it turned to gold. Then, Midas took a chunk of turf,10 which turned to gold in an instant. In the nearby fields he gathered ears of wheat that had begun to sprout: both the husks and the grains turned to gold, it seems to me. He picked an apple from a tree and it turned to gold the same way. He held an apple in his hand, and it turned to gold as well. He used the ivory door-pillars to test yet again if the marvel was true, and the pillars turned to gold and were colored with a golden hue. In short, whatever Midas held turned to gold by his touch alone, even the water where he washed his hands, and the clothes he wore. [376–396] The fool foolishly rejoiced of the gift that turned to his misfortune, and on account of the wealth he had in abundance, he thought he was worth the 10 For a discussion of OF gleste, see Thomas (1912a), esp. 74ff. Citing examples from the OM, Thomas settles on the meaning of “motte de terre” and “toufe de gazon.”



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whole world. And he delighted and fed and nourished himself with the gold that so pleased him. But along with that food, he needed some other fodder, for there is no one whom hunger does not overcome, and who does not need to eat, when a natural hunger sets in. Indeed, all the wealth of this world cannot alleviate the hunger of someone who has nothing to eat. [397–411] When he remembered that hunger, Midas commanded that his table be set. There were certainly some who were willing to undertake to do as he commanded. The table was set immediately, just as the king commanded; it was covered with wines and food, as was fitting for a royal table. Nothing necessary was missing. Midas sat down at the table: the cloth and the table turned into solid gold when he touched them. Midas grabbed a bite of food to bring it to his mouth, and it likewise became gold and so hard that he could not make use of it. Now Midas could waste his time at the table and consider himself deluded!11 [412–429] His hunger multiplied; it intensified more and more. When he saw how he couldn’t have anything to eat, in spite of all his wealth, he grabbed his golden cup and tried to drink, and right away the wine in his mouth was turned to gold, as soon as his lips touched it; and drops made of gold dripped from his nostrils and glittered in his beard. Then Midas was not glad or joyful, when he saw that no riches could alleviate the distress of hunger that kept on growing, and of the great thirst that afflicted him. He was poor amidst abundance, and he knew that he was rightfully suffering misfortune, due to his wickedness and his wicked greed. The wretched man began to hate himself and his gold, and if he could have fled somewhere – wherever it might be – he would have taken flight to leave behind the gold that caused him such trouble. [430–452] He repented of his folly. He humbled himself before the god Bacchus, who had given him this gift at his request, and the woeful man prayed to him that he not hold his fault against him; rather, that he pardon him, and let him live, and, in his pity, deliver from the beautiful harm he was experiencing. [453–461] When Bacchus saw the woeful man repenting and humbling himself, rejecting his folly, and humbly begging him for mercy, he generously pardoned him and restored him to his original state. And so that there might be no remnant or trace of the damnable gold in him that might ever cause him harm, Bacchus told him to go wash and purge himself of the beautiful harm. He was supposed to go up the banks of this river, and maintain his course until he came right to the source of the river, and plunge his body and head into it. The king arrived there and without hesitation, in order to purge himself from end to end, he plunged into the water, body and head. The water drew the force and nature of the gold unto itself, and the king was left pure and spotless 11 This usage of musart and tenir pour musart recalls the description of Narcissus as he falls in love with his own reflection in Book 3, vv. 1580–1592.

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thanks to the sand and waters, that in turn became golden, and were so afterwards, and still are! Then the power of the gold was spent. [462–487] Now I will explain these tales to you without delay, in due order. [488–489] [miniature, fol. 274r: jesus on the cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall]12

Moralization {B}acchus can rightly represent the divine wrath and vengeance that most woefully punished the misbegotten Jews, full of rage and cruelty, fraud and disloyalty, because they wickedly murdered Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and, out of envy, hung him on the Cross. The “good poet,” the “prophet,” worshipped “the god of wine,” that is, God, who planted the vine and made it bear fruit in order to bring people joy. And to spill forth the sweet wine, he had the grapes pressed and hung in the press of precious wood, where the Son resolved to have his flesh pressed and hung for us. [490–507] But he sold his life at great cost to the false Jews full of deception, and their unfortunate race. God punished them definitively, and will punish them with damnation. They are the trees, full of hardness and bark and wickedness – wicked trees, with hard tips, bound to a twisted root. A person has a twisted root when they go astray and stumble out of the proper path. When the false Jews, full of ignorance, stumbled, in their false unbelief, out of the path of truth, they did not want to believe in good faith in the true humanity that the Son of God resolved to take to wife for the salvation of every soul. Rather, in their great hubris, they fixed their hearts in false iniquity. And because of their incredulity, God and the saints, it seems to me, abandoned both them and their homeland,13 and transferred his rites to better and more promising14 people, and he established and installed his faith and Church elsewhere than it had originally been. [508–535] Now God has set his sights on Rome, which in olden times was vile, shamed, and scorned: now it is precious and golden, honored above all lands. And the land of the Jews has remained ruined, waste, and desolate, and their tabernacle has fallen on account of the sin of those accursed people, and they have lost their rites. [536–545]

See also fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v for comparable miniatures of Jesus on the Cross, flanked by Mary and John. 13 Eulz et lor estre ensamble, v. 530. Per Godefroy, lineage is an alternative for estre, but v. 541 seems to disambiguate. 14 De Boer’s En gens mieudres et plus perpices, v. 532, expands an abbreviation in Rouen, and notes that only perpite “very pious” is a known word. Copenhagen (p. 600) spells out propices. 12



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Silenus represents novices, held captive and bound in dire sin with which they were stained. They were “weak and staggering” with respect to the faith held by those to whom God the Son had delivered it, and so they seemed like drunken people. The masters received them well, due to the love they had for God,15 and brought them out of ignorance, and showed them the faith and the articles of faith, so that they rendered them pure and holy – without stain or hubris – to God, to whose service they were committed. [546–560] {M}idas can represent the rectors, apostles, and theologians who guided the simple folk and upheld the communal faith that the Son of God had bestowed to them, and had decreed and established. And they upheld his sacraments and holy precepts and commanded that these be kept. They turned the various peoples throughout the world “into gold,” that is, made them wise and holy and pure and spotless – at least the ones who approached them and whom they “touched” with their teaching. And as they “turned more of the people to gold” and bettered them through their sense and their teaching, “the hunger multiplied all the more” and they had even greater desire to bring people to do God’s pleasure: that was the food they sought, with which they could not be satisfied. [561–582] It may be the case, per the text,16 without any allegorical interpretation, that God bestowed such grace and honor on one of the apostles that he turned the green branches of an olive tree into gold,17 and the water and rocks of the riverbed, and then made what was gold revert to its rightful nature. [583–590] {T}here is another possible interpretation that is well in accord with truth. Midas can represent to us the hearts of misers, whom no wealth or possessions can satiate; rather, they burn with pure covetousness. They always accumulate and hoard,18 amassing grain, wines, and treasure. They engulf and gobble everything, and the more they have, the less they are satisfied; they covet more as they gain abundance. The wretched misers of this world think only of acquiring wealth; they don’t care about anything but whether they can have it, regardless of where it comes from. Oh, what a bad deal a person makes when, in order to win great wealth, they cause their woeful soul to perish and be lost for eternity. [591–609] Nowadays, all the ministers of Holy Church are just like that: so full of covetousness that they can have no heart for anything but riches. That is 15 The subject of qu’il avoient, v. 554 (i.e., those who had the love for God), is likely the novices rather than the masters, given the analogy with Silenus. 16 According to Callimachus (Hymn 4.249), at the birth of Apollo, the olive tree, river, and even the foundations of Delos turn gold. Compare the two olive trees flowing gold in Zechariah 4. 17 Compare Copenhagen (p. 601) for vv. 586–587: A l’un des apostres que ung jour / Mua les vers raims de laurier. 18 We translate entasser here as “to hoard.”

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now the activity in which they are engaged. They ask nothing of God but gold and silver in plenty, and cannot satisfy their will with any goods they possess, but, the more riches and honor they have, they demand and bellow for more, and they turn everything into gold: croziers, miters and palliums, prebends and prelacies, and admission to churches, the rites at the altar, blessings19 and cures, confessions and burials, funeral rites and baptism, weddings and chrism, and all the goods of Holy Church. And the more they have, the more the hunger and the desire for wealth inflames them; and no amount of gold or riches will appease the raging of their miserly dropsy, which intensifies their thirst. [610–637] To escape this dire suffering, which burns hearts, pains bodies, and leads souls into torment, many people are accustomed to renounce the world and the wealth they have in abundance, coming to true repentance: they purge themselves through penance, and through confession come to saving absolution. Then they distribute their gold and silver to poor people and spread it around, making many people rich and prosperous with the wealth that was harmful to the stingy. [638–650] [miniature, fol. 275r: apollo and pan competing before the judge tmolus, who points to apollo]

Midas and the Ass’s Ears {I} told you about King Midas, the rich miser, who went to jump in the river in order to wash himself off and leave behind his rich misfortune. From then on, he took to fleeing the world and hating riches, and to living in the woods, the empty fields, and the wild mountains. But despite frequenting woods and wilderness, he could not probe his foolish heart, or leave behind his foolish intent, or slim down his fatty wits; rather, his heart was crude, naive, and stupid. [651–663] Between Sardis and Hypaepae, there was a mountain named Tmolus.20 No one lived there but nymphs, satyrs, and people who lived in solitude and avoided the world. Holy Mount Tmolus had two peaks. There sat Pan, god of the animals, holding a set of reed pipes; the young man piped and played a strange tune. Stupid Midas, hearing and noticing the strange music, rejoiced, and said he had never heard such sweet music. He took delight in the sound and was riveted. Pan piped, and boasted about the Cornish pipes – and Pan, entertaining Midas, said that his pipes were, without a doubt, better than the Given the context, we translate benefices, v. 627, as “blessings,” not “benefices.” Rouen (fol. 275r) has Thinolus in v. 665; de Boer says “the manuscripts have ‘Tinolus’.” His garbled Ou saint mont mhTolus, v. 669, is Ou mont Thenolus in Rouen (fol. 275r). 19 20



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harp that Phoebus had. Pan was ready to await a verdict and have the holy mountain be the judge. [664–684] When Tmolus heard that he had been chosen to judge between Pan’s pipes and Phoebus’s lyre and say which had a better sound, he disencumbered his ears which were overshadowed with trees, and banished every tree from himself except the acorn-laden oak. That alone he chose to keep. Then he sat down and had Pan come forward, and ordered him to compete. And Pan started piping on the Cornish pipes, but there was nothing like it: Pan piped strangely. Midas listened to him eagerly, taking great delight in listening. He praised the sound of the pipes. [685–702] After Pan, Midas turned towards Phoebus, who had dressed appropriately to come and hold up his end of the competition. He wore a mantle of sanguine scarlet that trailed on the ground. He held the bow in his right hand and cradled the lyre in his left: it was made from white ivory and well-decorated with gems. He tuned his instrument, and delightfully sang a tune full of great melodiousness. Tmolus, having heard the music, was delighted by the tune full of melody,21 and he judged outright – rightly – that the lyre was better than the Cornish pipes. Pan set his pipes down. [703–721] Midas started to hold forth and condemn this judgment: he said Tmolus had judged falsely, for indeed he dared to affirm and say the pipes were better than the lyre. Midas was alone in this dissent, for all the others, with one accord, considered Tmolus’s verdict to be trustworthy and good, and they agreed, without anyone denying it, that the sound of the lyre was better. The fool, who was the only one to criticize it, considered the pipes better. [722–734] Phoebus grew angry and enraged toward the fool who condemned the lyre. He took marvelously dire vengeance on him: he elongated Midas’s ears for having crude taste,22 and took away their human semblance. He covered them with gray hair and made them move incessantly. His ears made Midas look like a stupid ass, and when the wretched man realized this, he covered his shameful ears with miters and scarlet fur-trimmed caps. [735–746] But the barber who saw them when he cut his beard and hair could not conceal this shame, and yet did not dare reveal it. He was eager for everyone to know what kind of ears Midas had. So that no one might hear him, he whispered into a hole he had dug in the earth, saying something no one knew: what kind of ears his lord had. Then, he closed up the earth over it without telling anyone what he had said. But the words were not long kept secret; rather, they were revealed just as the barber had spoken them, because, as 21 De Boer has Ou son de melodie à plain for v. 717, but Rouen and Copenhagen both have de melodie plain, and we translate accordingly. 22 Literally, this is a relative: “which were of crude intelligence,” the “intelligence” of ears being the ability to appreciate good music.

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the author recounts, rushes grew thickly around the trench, accusing Midas. At the end of the year, when they were fully grown, and when the wind blew through them, they whispered the words that had been covered up, and in this way – by the echoing of the rushes – it became known that Midas had an ass’s ears. [747–770] [miniature, fol. 275v: a franciscan and a dominican sitting with books]23

Moralization {M}idas represents the rich miser who, in order to purge and cleanse himself, goes to confession and distributes his gold and silver to poor people, and goes to live in the “wilderness” of religion, among religious people who withdraw from the world, reprimand evil-doers, and teach the ignorant people how they must behave if they want to become hermits. But no living in any hermitage could change his foolish heart, his reason, or his understanding. [771–785] Some people appear to leave behind the worldly delights, honors, and benefits that have deluded many of the deluded, after making wicked use of them for a long time. Then, they enter religion, but they will never abandon their foolish intent or their foolish heart, and they will be no better off because of it. The place does not make the person become wise, holy, and good, unless their heart sanctifies them; but the holy person of holy life makes the place where they live holy. Nor do the clothes make the hermit, but rather the good heart, when God gives it to him, and the good work to which he commits himself, makes the hermit and justifies him.24 [786–803] Holy Mount Tmolus represents the mountain of contemplation and holy religion. The holy religious people, fervent and eager to know God and serve him, are there, and they choose to subject their bodies to fasting and mortification to glorify their souls. There are those who avoid the world, and live religiously; and they flee the world’s misfortunes. But the mountain has two peaks, for there are two types of people who dwell in religion, one holy, the other perverse. And just as no one can find people who can be more rightly praised, or less reproached or reprimanded, or who better deserve paradise, than the good people who are a credit to their order, so too is it, it seems to me, that there is no one more false or faint-hearted than those who have failed 23 Fols 166r, 168r, 275v, and possibly 87v seem to depict Franciscans and Dominicans in their characteristic brown and black habits. As noted in our Introduction, these illuminations mitigate against the OM’s having been received as a purely Franciscan product. 24 “Him” here is based on the idea that l’ermite would have referred only to men, even if there were also female recluses: see Cirino and Raischl (1995), especially the articles by Pasztor (1995) and Casagrande (1995).



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in the order and whose only hope is to live in true penitence, and who lack the inclination to do good.25 [804–829] Between them “Pan sits and pipes,” deluding and befouling them. Pan represents false hypocrisy, which leads such people under its sway like beasts on a tether. Pan’s pipes, if I dare say it, are the vain glory and the public praise that foolishly delude and delight a hypocrite’s heart: those are the pipes that Pan plays. False hypocrisy deceives and makes its apprentices believe that they must all be intent on earning and seeking such praise, and that it is better for them to have honor and glory on earth while they live, and that they are better served by being in the world than they will be when their bodies, which will never leave it, are dead. [830–848] What good is praise after death? Anyone who is bent on doing good and laboring, fasting and keeping vigil, and who subjects their body to distress, penance, and austerity, is foolish and naive if they do so only to make everyone know it, to have glory and honor, so that all the people love and esteem them! In this way, hypocrisy, by “piping,” deludes and spurs on those who go about revealing their deeds in order to have glory and praise in the world. [849–861] But the holy, pure, and spotless men26 – who purely, for the love of God, want to live well and holily in religious orders, and whose whole intention is to do works that might please God – couldn’t care less for such praise, for glory and human adulation that leads souls to torment. Rather, they consider those who abandon eternal glory, full of joyous delight, for such vain, transitory praise, to be bewildered, deceived, and betrayed. They carry out without fraud or malice – for God’s sake, without any other intention – the good fruit of religion. They are true monks and true hermits, who seek no other reward or glory for their service than that which God has promised to those who, for him, are willing to undertake suffering, penance, and doing good. [862–884] They wear the mantle of good deeds, trailing down to and covering their “feet,” that is, their devotion. I say that they “wear the trailing mantle” when the intention and desire of the heart are in accord with the works of mercy and of true religion, without any kind of pretense and without pulling back or withdrawing from doing good and doing good works; rather, they persevere with a pure heart and profit until the end, full of grace and divine love. [885–898] And they “carry the bow and lyre” when they uphold well, without resistance, all the articles of faith. And in simplicity – without arrogance, deceit, or fiction – they “make this lyre sound rightly” through true predication, and Compare James 2:20, and the notion that “faith without works is dead.” Specifically “men” (rather than our general “people” or “human beings”), based on v. 879, specifying “monks and hermits.” 25 26

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in their preaching they make apparent, without any hypocrisy, the works of their holy life, not in order to obtain vainglory, but to move others, through teaching and example, to cast aside evil and do good. And they flee transitory praise in order to obtain eternal glory. [899–914] That is the only thing in which anyone who wishes to live and profit in religious orders must delight, for holy contemplation has no use for pleasing people, since no one who wants to please the world can be a true servant of God. But follow the example of Saint Paul, who fled all glory and delight, except only one that he chose,27 that is, the tree of our salvation, the Cross, that had great value in the world and that brought us back to life. By that Cross, Saint Paul was crucified to the world, and the world to him. This glory was pleasing to him. The heart of the true hermit and perfect religious person rejoices and delights only in that. [915–933] But the fools who are eager for “the sound of the reed pipes” – that is, the praise of flatterers who delude and deceive them in such a way that the idiots don’t notice it – delight in vain glory, and it makes their false hearts believe that the glory of the world is worth more than the glory in which all joy abounds. And they nourish their crude hearing with the delight of vain adulation. Their intellect28 is certainly bitter and crude, and so by analogy they were said to have ass’s ears, miters and scarlet fur-trimmed caps, for some of them are bishops, cardinals, or archbishops, and they conceal their crude deceit under the honors of Holy Church. [934–952] But he to whom all is revealed, from whom nothing can be hidden no matter how secretly it is done, on considering the tracks they leave, sees their crude intention and ass-like behavior, which is now concealed in their hearts. And he will make it known in the end, and will reveal in public the secrets of their conscience, which will give them cause to be embarrassed. He will come to scratch out and cut off all vice, iniquity, and excess, and render unto everyone – monk or hermit, cleric or layman – according to their merit. [953–968] [miniature, fol. 276v: apollo flying over the sea]

Laomedon and the Walls of Troy {I} told you about stupid Midas, who had ass’s ears because he scorned the lyre and prized the pipes. Phoebus had taken dire vengeance on him for having scorned his lyre. When he had avenged himself on the poor man, he left Tmolus: he went flying at great speed through the air to Phrygia. [969–977] Tmolus rejected all of the trees, except the oak. In what follows, the “Cross” by which St. Paul dies to the word is metaphorical. Historically, St. Paul is believed to have been beheaded in Rome. 28 For Bien ont le sens, v. 945, Copenhagen (p. 605) has les sens: “Their senses are...” 27



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Beyond the sea of Hellespont, between the sea of Sigeum on the right and the sea of Rhoeteum on the left, there was an old altar, it seems to me, consecrated in honor of Jupiter. Phoebus came and stopped there. He saw Laomedon, preparing to build the new Troy. But the king who undertakes such a project needs more than a little money. Phoebus took human form. He and Neptune both headed there. They told the king that they knew well how to build such a town and that, if he agreed to pay them on completion, they would build it for him well and in little time. The king promised them a pile of gold as their wages, if they were willing to do it. On account of the promise they heard, they fortified and built the city. [978–998] When the city was built to perfection, the king said he had not promised them any gold; rather, he swore and affirmed, thereby increasing his trickery, that he had no agreement with them. Neptune grew angry towards the unfortunate man who was lying and deceiving them, and said: “Foolish oath-breaker, your lies and falsehood, and the gold you refuse to hand over to us, will be most dearly bought.” Then the god unleashed his sea so that all the land was submerged, and he covered everything in the deep sea. He drowned all the animals and people, but that was not enough to satisfy the god, who was taking dire vengeance on the wicked man who was at fault towards him; rather, he had his daughter hung and tied to a rock in the ocean, to be eaten by a sea monster to spite the barbarous liar.29 [999–1020] Hercules, who had heard the news, came there to save the maiden, King Laomedon’s daughter, and as a reward, her father promised him spotless white horses, if he delivered her from the shackles in which Neptune had bound her. When Hercules had set her free, he asked for his pay, and the king swore and began to deny the wages he owed him. When Hercules saw the oath-breaker deny the money owed to him, he took very harsh vengeance on him: he attacked the city by force, and captured and sacked it. Telamon, a knight of great ability, son of Aeacus, king of Aegina, took part in its capture. He took as his wife the maiden Hesione, the king’s daughter. [1021–1041] Moralization As briefly as I can, I will tell you what this represents, and I’ll explain the allegory contained beneath the tale’s surface. [1042–1045] [miniature, fol. 277r: noah and his family in the ark]

{A}lmighty God, who thunders in the cloud, King of the earth and of the deep sea, and King of heaven, founded the world in his Divine Wisdom, which made and illuminates everything. And he set human nature to rule over every De Boer’s punctuation suggests taking v. 1020 with the following lines about Hercules, but Hercules initially comes to help Laomedon. 29

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created thing. It owed him purity in return. But all human nature was so full of harshness, wickedness and malice, covetousness and avarice, and was so false, treacherous, and oath-breaking towards God, that it possessed no purity or ignorance.30 [1046–1059] God took very harsh vengeance on it, for he made the flood swell up to submerge the whole world: it destroyed and laid waste, confounded and destroyed, killed and put to death everything. But all of this harm did not alleviate the divine wrath; rather, human nature still remained indebted and bound in the snare of sin, to its misfortune – condemned to the death that awaits them in hell. But the Son of God, the True Deliverer, the true friend, the Comforter, resolved to come down from heaven for its sake, resolving to render up his flesh to death to redeem and deliver it. And he redeemed human nature and left it free and clear, hoping that for such a reward human nature would apply itself to living well, and render humanity unto him without stain or blemish, holy and just, full of righteousness. [1060–1082] But nowadays there is no one who inclines to that, or renders themselves clean and just. In the world, there is no more loyalty, faith, righteousness, or equity. Rather, there are people living wicked lives, false, and oath-breaking, and full of envy. And so, God will come a second time to wreak destruction on everything; and the foolish and recreant soul that does not believe in the faith of God will be damned by its folly and delivered unto lengthy suffering. And the clean, pure, and spotless soul that will conquer the world’s vices will achieve eternal glory through its glorious victory. [1083–1098] [miniature, fol. 277v: king aeacus enthroned]31

Peleus and Thetis {I}n the city of Aegina there was a king of great nobility: Aeacus, son of Jupiter and of bright-faced Aegina.32 Aeacus was very praiseworthy: he was a very good judge and, if the tale does not lie to me, he is the one who sends the foolish sinners to their damnation in hell and turns them over to the flayer; and he metes out misfortune to the wicked according to how much they have sinned. [1099–1110] 30 De Boer gives purté n’ignorence, v. 1059, without variants, and we translate accordingly. Although Rouen does have ignorence, Copenhagen (p. 607) has ignocence, “innocence.” Both would make sense given the context: “ignorance” (arguably the lectio difficilior) could be the ignorance of sin before the Fall. Compare Book 9, v. 2735. 31 Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have comparable miniatures of human kings which are similar to the various images of God enthroned, such as on fols 193r, 278v, and 315v. 32 The mother’s name is given as Ginele, v. 1102, although Copenhagen (p. 607), at least, has Egine. We normalize following Ovid (Met. 7.474).



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King Aeacus had three children. The youngest was named Phocus and another of them was Telamon, who carried off Laomedon’s daughter when mighty Hercules destroyed Troy through his efforts. He took her as his wife or as his concubine. He was lord of Salamis. The lady gave him a powerful son, who later re-subjected Troy to ruin. He was bold and well-renowned: his name was Ajax, son of Telamon. [1111–1122] The third son was named Peleus, to whom the god of the sea, Nereus, gave his daughter in marriage: Thetis, the bright-faced beauty, who was wise and well-mannered. Jupiter would have joined himself to her either by marriage or in love, for she pleased and attracted him greatly, but Proteus, who knew of things to come, had told him that she would be a mother and bear such a son that he would surpass his father in strength and prowess, valor and distinction. And so that no man might be brought into the world who might be greater than and surpass the sovereign father, Jupiter could not join himself to such a mother, who would conceive a man greater than he, so he wished for Peleus to take her in love or by marriage. [1123–1143] {I}n Thessaly, on the seashore, there was a bay, of a crescent shape and very wide. It resembled a port, and it could have been one, if there had been deep enough water there. But the sandbank was so high there that it was impossible to access it by boat. It was easy to get there without a boat: there was a solid bank33 to hold up those who came and went there. No one who ever came or left there, or who stayed there, could be found by their footprints. There was neither water nor rock in that place.34 There was a cave in the middle, dug by art or nature, warm and of good temperature. Around the cave, there was a field, and a big thicket full of myrtles, bearing berries of two colors. Thetis was accustomed to come there to relax and revel. On a dolphin with a flowing mane, she had come there to enjoy herself. [1144–1167] Thetis was sleeping there completely naked when Peleus came and seized her, thinking to have his pleasure with her. At first, he wanted to win her over and soften her by eloquent entreaty, but the goddess contorted herself this way and that, not wanting to find solace with him. But he clutched her in both arms. [1168–1176] He tried to force her and would have done everything he pleased with her, but the beauty, who was cunning, used fraud and ingenuity to avoid the delight that annoyed her. At one point, she transformed into a bird, and nonetheless the beloved could not escape her suitor through such fraud; rather, For Tort rive, “a crooked bank,” v. 1152, Rouen has Fort rive, which matches Ovid. Ovid (Met. 11.232–233) specifies “the shore is solid earth, that takes no footprints, does not hinder a passage, and has no seaweed covering it” (Kline), so it might be reasonable to think that aigue “water,” in v. 1157 should have been algue, but Rouen, at least, clearly has aigue. Meanwhile, Copenhagen (p. 608) has n’avoit que oliviers en ce lieu, “there were only olive trees in that place.” 33 34

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he held the bird tightly. To escape the young man and the place, which displeased her, she in turn became a tree and weighed so much that he could not rouse her to the delight he wished to have, and nonetheless he clung fast to the tree and did not let it go. The third time, Thetis transformed into the guise of a striped tiger. When Peleus beheld and saw the terrifying form she had, he was frightened, so he loosened his grasp and let her go, and Thetis escaped him. [1177–1198] {W}ith the veins of animals,35 wine, and incense, he made an offering to the prophet of the sea, wanting his advice about the woman who thought she was too good for him, over whom his heart was in distress. The prophet lifted his head from the sea and said: “Don’t be upset, for you will have the pleasure of your beloved. She won’t be able to disguise herself enough. When you know she’s sleeping in the cave in secret, hold her and grasp her tightly and take care that she doesn’t deceive you, no matter what form she adopts, even if she takes a hundred of them. And don’t ever let yourself be deluded, but whatever happens, hold and clutch her until she comes round to her rightful face and has taken back her rightful appearance.” When Peleus had been well instructed, the prophet dove back into the sea. [1199–1219] That night, Thetis came to her cave, as was her wont, wishing to rest there. Peleus seized and grabbed her, just as Proteus had instructed him. Thetis changed and transformed herself, but no matter what different form she took, Peleus refused to let her go; rather, he strove to dominate her. When she saw that he held her by force, struggling to vanquish her, and that she was contorting herself in vain, the beauty spread her arms wide and surrendered to her lover. Sighing, she groaned and said: “Beloved, you have vanquished me through divine insight,36 I sense it well.” Then she returned to her rightful face. Peleus held her, embraced her, and fulfilled his desire. That, without a doubt, was when bold-hearted Achilles was conceived. [1220–1242] The Wedding of Peleus and Thetis37 Out of love for the young man, Jupiter summoned to this marriage the gods of the earth and those of heaven. He came, as did his wife Juno, Phoebus, Pallas, Mars and Diana, Mercury and Latona, Bacchus, Ceres, and Aurora, Lady Hope and Renown, Fortune and blessed Peace, the god of love and

35 De vaines de bestes, v. 1199: as de Boer notes, C has de sanc (“blood” instead of “veins”). 36 In Ovid (Met. 11.263), “Not without some god’s help have you won” (Kline). 37 From v. 1242 here to v. 2534 below departs from Ovid. The judgment of Paris is covered in the Vatican mythographers (see Pepin 2008, 89, 195–198, 314–316) and elsewhere, but not in Dares or the Roman de Troie.



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Vulcan, Vesta, Pan, Themis, and Janus, Hebe, Cybele, and Vertumnus.38 Old Saturn was not there: he was sick, and so he did not come. Silvanus and his entourage, the nymphs of the fields and woods, came there in great splendor, and many others I do not wish to name; and there was Neptune, the god of the sea, Triton, Doris, and Proteus. With them came Aegeus. These were the relatives of the bride. [1243–1263] The beautiful Galatea was there, and Priapus with his big penis. When the god saw the goddess, who was so white and beautiful, his member became erect with the lust he felt for the beauty. He became so insanely aroused that his penis cast off his clothing and stuck out like a pikestaff. Some marveled and laughed, some reproached him and spoke ill of him and ordered him to leave. The goddess of love, without a doubt, covered her eyes with both hands so that she might not see him, but nonetheless she separated her fingers and held them apart to get a better view. When Mars, Venus’s lover, saw that, he was afraid she might want to be intimate with him because of his big penis. [1264–1283] Silenus, the old drunkard, was at this wedding: he drank so much that he was dripping and vomiting wine from his mouth, and could not move from his couch. The wedding was grand and beautiful. Trumpets, drums, horns and viols, psalteries, fiddles and rotes gave out many different notes. There was great joy there and great entertainment, but everyone rejoiced more over the great erect penis and the old drunkard vomiting what he had drunk, than over any games they had there. [1284–1298] Unfortunate Discord was not invited to these games, for there was no call for her presence at this affair. The feast was kept secret from her. Because she never came to this gathering, she felt great sorrow and spite, and said: “Since they scorned me and are having their gathering without me, I will tear it apart. I will avenge myself for this scorn and end their joy in suffering.” Woeful and envious, malicious Discord spoke true. She later broke them up with great suffering. But first I will explain, if I can, what this tale represents. [1299–1315] [miniature, fol. 278v: god enthroned, holding an orb]39

38 For de Boer’s Neptumpnus, v. 1253, we read Vertumpnus in Rouen. Vertumnus appears in Book 14 and we translate accordingly. 39 Fols 193r, 278v, and 315v have comparable miniatures of this. Fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God enthroned with images of the Evangelists; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have similar depictions of human kings, and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia.

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Moralization {G}od, King of eternal life, the trustworthy Judge who can destroy body and soul in the infernal flame and make the wicked suffer, had three children of great worth, just as the tale recounts: one, the body; the second, the spirit; and the third, humanity regenerated, so refined, so pure, and so purified, as it must be for all eternity after the Judgment. [1316–1326] The body was created from earth, and it was conjoined and “married in companionship and in love” to “Thetis,” that is, watery moisture, since God took earth that was damp and muddy and gave it human form, equipping it with all its limbs, and gave it the spirit of life. Thus the first man was created, and was conjoined and married to the woman whom God had drawn and made from the man’s rib. And God gave them instruments – “hammer, anvil, and iron” appropriate to their nature – to have human offspring, which have multiplied throughout the world. It was prophesied of the woman that she would conceive and be the Mother of a Son who would surpass his Father in valiance, distinction, lordship, and prowess: that is, the Son of God, who was to be born and be better than the first man. [1327–1350] I’ll pass over this lightly and explain it in broad terms, as briefly as possible, so that I do not reveal everything the tale represents: may no one consider it shameful! I believe that the inlet in the long curved arc, the shore and the field, the thicket full of myrtles that surrounds the place, and the cave in the middle where Thetis was accustomed to rest, can be understood and explained as the “cave” in which human nature comes together to produce offspring. But there is so much opposition there, that the man often sows his seed and labors in vain without accomplishing work that bears fruit. For sometimes the woman is too hasty, other times too slow and tardy, so that she cannot conceive at all. [1351–1373] For it is not right for a man to achieve that, or to plant a seed that bears fruit, if God does not bestow his grace on him to do that. He knows how to go about this task only when God is willing to advise him: then the semen can take effect. Then he can expect an heir. Then the joining comes about in harmony, without dissension or discord. Then the seed creates itself in the womb and takes form and takes on human form, just as God, without whom no one could accomplish such a thing, acts through nature. [1374–1388] The poets living long ago, who deceived themselves and the world, did not believe in God the Creator, and believed in created things. And they caused people to believe a fiction that was untrue, for, as was affirmed by the masters who set out to explain this, each part of the human body had its own god, which it served. And so they rendered divine honor to each of them as to a lord, and named them by various names. [1389–1401] They called fire Jupiter, Vesta, and Vulcan, but there was a difference, in that Jupiter represented the pure and heavenly fire; Vesta, the material fire we



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all use to make ourselves comfortable; and Vulcan represents and signifies the fire of lightning and forging. It may have been the case, to be clear, that some people wanted to take one for the other. Fire is hot and dry, no doubt. Juno represents the warm, moist air. The cold, dry earth was named Cybele. The tale called the cold, moist water Neptune. [1402–1417] {T}hese four elements, dissimilar and of discordant natures, came together harmoniously, when it pleased God, to generate humans; and in human creation all four joined together in moderation, in due proportion, “in intimacy and in love.” From this came the four humors: blood and choler and melancholy40 and phlegm, and each marries with the others in moderation. [1418–1429] And to such a marriage came Phoebus, who illuminates the eyes; Pallas, who has dominion over the brain; {M}ars41 in the chest; Bacchus in the hair; Priapus in the man’s penis. Mercury brings forth the tongue and the mouth in correct speech. Venus is in the navel and kidneys. This is how primitive people claimed that various gods worked in various ways in the engendering of man and woman, and they lied. [1430–1441] They had little sense of the Creator who, in his most holy goodness and through his bounteous will, makes everything, conjoins everything, gives form to everything, and gives it perfect form through Nature, which he has made responsible for this, and has set up for this purpose in such a way that she could bring forth and make creatures that were similar, but different from each other. God conjoins the temperaments42 and in equal proportion balances the properties and different qualities of the elements whose joining results in human offspring. [1442–1456] A person enjoys health and well-being as long as there is no discord among them, and when revulsion and discord arise among them, then the body must break down and the person dies.43 [1457–1461] Now I have told you in broad terms what meaning the tale can have. Anyone who wants to understand it more deeply can look elsewhere and find someone to explain the rest of it to them. I do not want to speak of it any more here; rather, I will proceed with my subject matter.44 [1462–1468]

Choler is yellow bile, melancholy is black bile. For Mars, v. 1433, Rouen (fol. 279r) has Pars, with an illuminated majuscule P. We assume the P is a mistake by the scribe or illuminator, so we report it as {M}, but in any case it’s hard to make sense of a paragraph break here. 42 Les complexions, v. 1451. 43 This passage anticipates the long speech by Pythagoras in Book 15, vv. 211–1228. 44 Our sentence division here takes into account the majuscule at the start of v. 1469 in Rouen, which makes De Discorde … the start of a new sentence or heading, separate from ma matire in v. 1468. The translation according to de Boer’s punctuation of the text would be: “rather, I will proceed with my subject matter of Discord, the base and shameful one, who, out of wickedness, broke up the feast and the games,” etc. 40 41

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Juno, Pallas, and Venus Compete for the Golden Apple {R}egarding Discord, the base and shameful one, who, out of wickedness, broke up the feast and the games in which those who had come to the wedding were participating. When she saw she had been refused and that the feast was proceeding without her, the unfortunate one felt spiteful about it, and to trouble the wedding guests, she threw into their midst an apple poured from pure gold, and managed to trouble and divide the company through ill-will and rancor. [1469–1480] [miniature, fol. 279r: paris, holding the golden apple, hears out the three goddesses, starting with juno on the left]

{T}he apple was so pleasing and attractive, and so desirable, that the gods and goddesses who saw it coveted and hungered for it. She who had cast the apple had inscribed this inscription on it: “I am to be given to the best, the most beautiful woman.” That was the dispute, that was the cause and action that stirred up the controversy through which the feast, assembled in great joy, was interrupted, for each goddess and god wanted to have the apple that was worth so much. [1481–1494] {M}ercury took it first, and he greatly praised and loved and treasured it. He read the text aloud. There were three ladies present, each of whom especially claimed a right to the apple by judgment: Juno, goddess of wealth and power,45 Pallas, goddess of strength and wisdom, and Venus, the goddess of love, who sets hearts aflame with love. These three demanded it, disputing with each other about their beauty, their worth, their valor, their nobility – and each one called herself the greatest and the most beautiful by right. [1495–1510] Pallas said she must have it, for she had more strength and knowledge,46 and was no doubt more beautiful. There was no use arguing about it: she must have the apple without opposition. “Do you really think you’re going to have it given to you?” said Juno. “You judged hastily. But I will have it, because I am more beautiful, powerful, noble, and wealthy.” Venus said: “I couldn’t care less for your sense and your wealth; if you’re of great nobility, mine is even greater, it seems to me. In body and face you’re nowhere near as beautiful as me. I will have it; anyone who judges correctly won’t deprive me of it.” Juno replied angrily: “I have great disdain and scorn for how this tramp scorns me and how she compares herself to me. I have no equal in wealth or rank on 45 Deesse de richesce, v. 1501. This translates riche in two ways: see our introductory lexicon, p. 78. 46 De Boer gives Qu’ele a plus force et plus avoir, v. 1512. While Rouen does have plus avoir (“more wealth”), Copenhagen (p. 613) has plus savoir, which seems correct. Compare v. 1539, force et savoir in Rouen, for the correction we make here.



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earth or in the heavens. Give it to me, noble youth. I’m not a cruel stepmother to you, but am kind as a mother. I fed you at my breast.” Pallas said: “Being more beautiful and having more strength and knowledge, dear brother, I have a better claim to it.” Venus said: “But as for me, dear beloved who so many times promised me your service and your favors were I to do as you pleased, my body is all yours if you give me the apple. You will have my love and my favor.” [1511–1547] Mercury did not know what to do, when he saw the discord among the ladies. He would willingly have brokered an accord about it, if he could have, but that could not be. He sent them to the heavenly king, Jupiter, for him to render judgment to them in this matter, for he did not want to lose the love and favor of two of them to please one. He wanted to keep the love of all of them. They were in accord to come to Jupiter to hear judgment on this discord. Mercury took them there himself. [1548–1560] Juno was first to address Jupiter: “Dear sweet brother, dear sweet beloved, for god’s sake, tell us your opinion about who best deserves to have this apple. I have more riches and more wealth. I’m your sister and your wife. I’m a queen and a powerful lady. I have more gentility and worth than these other two. Theirs will never be equal to mine. Therefore it stands to reason for me to have the apple.” [1561–1570] Pallas said: “It hasn’t yet been decided that you deserve it more than I do. I’m more powerful and wiser. If you’re of high rank, I am of no less nobility or honor. I’m better than you and more beautiful, and I don’t value your riches and wealth one bit, compared to my strength and knowledge. Wealth runs out, the intellect remains. Many people can amass wealth by inheritance or chance, which soon runs out and doesn’t last them. Strength and intellect are worth more, it seems to me: fire can’t burn it or thieves steal it. Every fool can acquire wealth but few people have great knowledge. Your power stems from wealth; mine, from strength and wisdom. And strength and understanding are worth far more than amassed wealth. Therefore, without a doubt, I must be more deserving to have the apple.” [1571–1594] “Whatever,” said Venus, “and she will settle down.47 It should be, and will be, mine, for whoever wants to render rightful judgment. What do I care about your wealth, your strength, and your intellect? The judgment has to be made on another basis. No one’s supposed to get the apple for riches or knowledge; rather, it’s for whoever has the most beauty. Dear lord, judge fairly which of the three of us is the most beautiful, and neither this one nor that one will have it. I will have it, being the most beautiful. The text says – for I read it – that it must be given to the most beautiful. No one so beautiful has been born under 47 For vv. 1594–1595, we translate the reading in C (Vaille que vaille, / Dont dist Venus moie sera) as a clearer alternative to de Boer’s more challenging “Baille li, baille, / Dist Venus, si s’apaisera”. Cf. Le mystere de Saint Remi, v. 5563.

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heaven. I can rightfully boast that. It stands to reason that I deserve it more than both of them or any other living thing. [1595–1613] “But now they’re competing with each other based on their lineage. I’m not of low rank, and I don’t value at all their great riches, their strength, or their wisdom compared to the power I have. Their power and worth don’t amount to a rooster’s beak compared to mine. It’s great folly for them to challenge me. I alone am worth a hundred of them. [1614–1624] “Juno is rich, I don’t deny it. That’s spot on: throughout the whole world she is honored, feared, worshipped, and held dear – more for the sake of her wealth than herself. I’ve never seen or known of such a base churl in the whole world, who, when abounding in riches, will not be considered a person of worth, no matter where they might have come from. Wealth, it is said, makes rank. Pallas is very strong and wise. Her strength isn’t to be scorned, and her understanding is to be valued. But nothing measures up to me. No woman can rival me in power or nobility, valor or gentility. I am the one who exerts power over everyone.48 No man or woman could tell or imagine my great might, any more than one could count the drops of water in a well. No one knows it, unless they have felt and experienced what my strength is like. Anyone who strives against me is a fool, for no one can oppose me. I make the wise turn foolish, and I make fools subtle and wise. I’m the one who makes hearts think of amorous delight. I give sickness to the healthy and healing to the sick as it pleases me, thanks to my medicine.49 [1625–1658] “I have power over all people. I can turn lords into servants and raise the station of the humble. I make quarrels begin. I am the cause of massacres, wars, and battles. I distress the rich and weaken the powerful, and make the poor influential and rich. I make the miserly and stingy become generous and courtly. I have power over princes, kings, and people of all ages. I cause chastities to be violated, and vows to be broken and abused. I cause hearts to boil and melt. I make people tremble and sweat. I cause hearts to change. I make the fat become thin. I cause the wicked and bitter to be humble and mild and amiable, kind and obliging. I make the prideful bend and bring their hearts low. [1659–1682] “I cause hatred for all baseness, and love for all courtliness. I cause the stupid to be witty and polite, and the sad to be glad and jolly – and I can make a free creature of a peasant, contrary to their nature, when I hold them in my snares. Just one of my solaces is worth more to those whose hearts call to them than all the wealth of this world. There is no one so rich, or so strong, or so wise that they cannot be brought underfoot by my power. If I wanted to recite Alternatively, “surpasses everyone.” For par ma poison, v. 1658. Rather than referring to “poison,” she clearly seems to be referring to her powers and “potions,” or “medicine.” 48 49



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word for word all my power, courtliness, and worth, it would take too much time. Therefore I demand, and I have the right to, the apple, which must be mine.” [1683–1701] Jupiter said: “If I could, I’d willingly give each her pleasure, but only one of you can have what you are asking for. I’ll tell you what you’ll do. I’ll turn this decision over to Paris, and if he can broker an accord among you, I’m all for it. If he can’t, then let him judge as he pleases. I appoint him judge to settle this quarrel. Let him give the apple to the most beautiful, and whoever will possess the greatest excellence. May everything be as he wills it. Whatever he does – good or bad – I won’t meddle with him in any way, for I don’t want to show any prejudice towards any one of you in this matter.” [1702–1718] Paris was chosen as judge. Now he must take great care to decide how he would judge, because he could not give each her pleasure. If he tried to please one of them, he would incur the ill-will of the other two. If he judged awry, it would go awry for him. [1719–1724] {T}he three of them, at Jupiter’s bidding, went off to see Paris, also known as Alexander, who must render to them the judgment they sought, and said they wanted the apple to go to the one he decided to judge the most beautiful. But before I tell you about the judgment, I will tell you about the ancestor and the life of Paris, the shepherd of Troy, just as it is conveyed in the text that bears testimony to us about it. [1725–1735] Paris’s Lineage50 Great, lion-hearted Atlas had a graceful and beautiful daughter: Electra was the maiden’s name. She was very courtly and of great worth. Jupiter, consumed with love for her, conceived Dardanus by her. One of his nephews, named Tros, founded Troy. When he had founded the city, he named it Troy after himself. Tros was the son of Erichthonius. Ilus, the founder of Ilium,51 Ganymede, and Assaracus were the three sons of King Tros. Cappus, Tros’s nephew, was the grandfather of Aeneas, to whom Priam gave Creusa. Laomedon was the son of Ilus, and he had two other sons as well: Polydamas and Japestour.52 [1736–1753] Hercules destroyed and killed Laomedon in battle. Priam became king after his death. He was his eldest son; he ruled over Phrygia. He had all of De Boer’s Introduction (1915, 37) points out how Machaut borrows directly from this section. 51 Cil qui fist Ylion, v. 1746. This assumes that the OM considers Ylion and Troy to be somehow different. If not, the reading would have to be that it’s because of him that Troy came to be called Ilium. 52 Ilus was the eldest son of Tros of Dardania (by the Naiad Callirhoe), and brother of Assaracus and Ganymede. It’s unclear who “Japestour” is. 50

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Asia under his dominion. King Priam was very praiseworthy. He was very fierce and of high rank. He had thirteen legitimate children. Deïphobus, Ilione, Troilus, Polyxena, Hector, Cassandra, Chaon, Euriphilus and Helenus, Polites and Martomyris,53 Alexander, known as Paris, and Polydorus were, if the story does not lie, his children of rightful marriage, born of brightfaced Hecuba, not including the youths and maidens he had had with other concubines.54 [1754–1774] The story gives us to understand that, when Alexander’s mother had conceived him in her womb, she saw in a dream one night how a flaming torch, that would burn rich Troy and Ilium, came forth from her womb. She told the king of this vision. The king summoned his counselors. He asked them all together what this dream meant. Among them was a wise interpreter, who explained the dream to them and told them in few words: “The burning torch represents a son, through whom Troy will be brought to ruin.” Priam said they would kill him when he was born, before he could do further harm. [1775–1792] In due course, the queen had a son. Never before had anyone been seen so handsome, charming, attractive, smiling, and amiable. His mother found him so charming that for no amount of money would she let her child lose his life. She sent him to a shepherd in the woods, and asked, prayed, and instructed him to take care to raise her handsome son. He raised him as his own, and nothing could induce him to tell anyone whose son he was, but he took him as his own. To have Hecuba’s favor and the reward that would come from it, the shepherd raised him well. He told everyone he was his son. The shepherdess said likewise. [1793–1810] Paris believed it was true; he did not think he had other parents. He honored and loved them greatly. He called one father, and the other mother. Yet he did not resemble them in any way, neither in behavior nor in looks: he was descended from royal lineage, and he clearly reflected his parentage in intellect, strength and fierceness, boldness and beauty – and it was marvelously easy to see this. No one saw him without marveling how peasants could have such a child. [1811–1823] The good people sent him to the fields every day to watch over the livestock. Without a doubt, he was still a shepherd, keeping the animals, when he was saddled with giving judgment on the three competing ladies who were demanding the golden apple. [1824–1831]

De Boer gives Marconiris, v. 1767. Rouen and Copenhagen both appear to have Martomiris. Martomyris or Marcomyris is the ancestor of the hero of the twelfth-century OF romance Partonopeus de Blois, referenced in Book 13, vv. 1423–1441 below. 54 Missing and possible candidates are: Pammon, Antiphys, Hipponous, and Laodice – Priam’s most beautiful daughter. 53



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Paris Judges between Juno, Pallas, and Venus {M}ercury brought them there. He was the first to address the shepherd. “Listen to me, shepherd, my friend. These three ladies have brought a dispute to you: you’re their choice. They want to know from you which of them has the most beauty. They’re prepared to believe your will about it. Now take care, truth be told: of the three, the most beautiful must have this apple. I give it to you to gift to the most beautiful lady.” [1832–1842] Paris said: “And I’ll think on it and in good faith conclude this decision and this charge, since I have been charged with this matter. But meanwhile, each of you now tell me what is her trade, and tell me and let me know why she wishes to have the apple – then I’ll render my judgment.” [1843–1851] Juno spoke first. “I am the lady and queen of the world. Everyone serves me, everyone bows before me, everyone shows me reverence. I am so rich and have so much power that everyone esteems and honors, serves and fears and worships me. I have servants and laborers engaged in various kinds of work, exerting themselves in various ways. Some sew, others cut; some weave, others braid; some fish, others hunt; some sell, others buy, and some cheat and swindle. Some are shoemakers, some gather in their barns wines and grains to sell with interest; others apply themselves to cultivating the land, others to practicing the law, and are lawyers and notaries, and others are bowmen and archers. Some prepare hides; some, to adorn my body, make jewelry of many kinds: brooches, chains, rings, purses, wimples, gossamer, and head-dresses. Others prepare squirrel pelts, gray and gray-blue, to cover me with fur in the wintertime and bedeck me in the summer. [1852–1883] “Others fill up my coffers with various merchandise and trades of all kinds. I have no use for slothful people. I have no disciple or servant who doesn’t practice a trade. Some are blacksmiths or carpenters, others are involved in baking bread or keeping inns. In sum, only through me can anyone have whatever is suitable for the human body. Those who love me, I make rich; those who hate me, I leave indigent. No one can do without me. Therefore you must offer me the apple and find for me in this dispute, for I am so rich and so beautiful. If you decide to give me the apple, I’ll gift you with wealth and riches in plenty. No matter what rich gift you long to ask me for, I’ll give you an even richer one.” [1884–1906] {T}hen Pallas stepped forward, began her speech, and said: “This one makes a big deal to us about her wealth, but it amounts to little. What good is wealth, what good are riches, what good is worldly gentility? All is vain, all is variable, all is fallible and deceptive. She who has become attached to that is a fool. But a woman who fears and esteems god: she is worthy of praise. What does it profit to obtain wealth, which burns hearts, pains bodies, and leads souls into torment? How does it profit, in what way does it advance, rich fools

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devoid of wisdom? It’s better to be poor, simple, and knowledgeable, than rich, foolish, and ignorant, living always to wallow in stupidity. [1907–1925] “It’s better to take little and fear god, than to have a great sum of treasures that can’t satisfy a person. How Juno delights in riches yielding little profit! I have no use for such delight. I have a greater and more elect purpose, from which I don’t want to remove my heart. I’ve devoted my heart to fearing and serving god, for he is undoubtedly the fount of all wisdom. I’m the lady of wisdom. I’m the one who fills man and woman with discipline and knowledge. My intellect is worth more than any wealth. It’s more sweet, more delightful, more precious, and more desirable than any riches she might have: there is no gold that can measure up to me. [1926–1944] “I am a lady of great renown. No one is wise except through me. All counsel, all loyalty, strength, prudence, and equity are in me, and through me, those who practice my discipline find them. All glory, all riches, all honor and all nobility reside in me. Whoever wants to be rich should make me their friend and master. My riches cannot perish and my glory cannot die. I will enrich those who love me and fill their treasuries with pleasing and profitable fruit, and eternal riches. I am the one who illuminates my followers with wisdom and teaching. I am the one who governs and guides the whole world by my wisdom. I want justice and truth. I have no use for iniquity, cruelty or malice, treachery or avarice, fraud or trickery, violence or robbery, and I have no use for vanity, foolish sloth, vain delight or entertainment that does not bear profitable fruit, lust or folly, drunkenness or gluttony, in which the disciples of these two ladies lose and confound their souls. [1945–1978] “Whoever want to learn to live in the world without committing fault and to keep his body safe, without loss or hindrance, should come to me. Whoever believes in me will never commit fault. If you believe me, it will serve you well: your soul will be blessed because of it. Give me the golden apple, and I will make you wise and strong, full of wisdom and might. For the golden apple, I promise you strength and knowledge, and I make you a promise that I’ll keep: I’ll give you such a beautiful reward that you’ll never die by the sword. You’ll be able to ride here and there, against all men in all lands, and conduct battles and wars. Above all others I will make you strong and wise, full of prowess and heroism.” [1979–1998] {P}allas fell silent. Venus spoke: “I am the schoolmistress of joy and amorous delight, gladness and gaiety. I am the lady and queen of love. I am the one who illuminates the world with courtliness and worth. By as much as jasper surpasses gold, and the lily surpasses the flower of the rushes, and the rose surpasses the fresh poppy, I have surpassed these two in lordship and generosity, power and gentility, valor and nobility, honor and lordship. I’m held more highly in regard than anyone for pleasure and delight. [1999–2015]



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“Juno is so full of ardor, covetousness, and greed, and she knows so much of fraud and malice, that those who crave her favors have no love for themselves or their lives. They’ll never have any rest or respite; rather, they work night and day, and are anxious and preoccupied to find what I give out, but they’ll never have the ease and enjoyment of it. Under heaven, there is no work that pleases me. [2016–2026] “I have no use for worrying, learning, or studying, because it’s a big headache. I want to engage in revelry and celebration and live in peace without working. I don’t know how to fast or keep vigil, or save or be rich: that’s what the miserly and stingy do, who don’t know how to take it easy. The rich watch over their wealth and their treasuries full of money, but I don’t care, as long as I can do what suits me. I ask for nothing but to take each day as it comes, and live in idle ease. [2027–2041] “I want complete enjoyment of the fields, rivers, and woods. I love all pleasantry and all jesting. I want all the ease and delight of wine, food, and bed – all pleasure, all courtship, all entertainment, all singing. I have no use for distress of any kind. I want to pluck the rose in May and wear garlands of little flowers, amaranths, and violets. I want to be elegant and pretty, cheerful, open, and polite, and I want to live in joy and pleasure. My disciples are wellversed in all this, having no will or intent but to be at ease and at rest, living the good life. [2042–2059] “If you have the inclination and desire for such a good and beautiful life, you’ll give me the golden apple that is promised to the most beautiful, and I’ll give you news that will give you plenty of strength and intellect, riches and wealth, and let you live in joy and gladness. Don’t concern yourself with the wealth Juno proposes to you, or the intellect on which Pallas focuses, which has undone many a worthy person through great study, without profit. A person who wants to study has far too much care and wakefulness, penance and travail, and has to worry too much. Great studies clothed in rags make fat skins grow skinny! You’re better off living pleasurably and joyfully in peace. Whoever does not have the body, has nothing at all. [2060–2081] “You’re the son of rich King Priam, the most powerful man in the world. He has all riches in abundance. He’ll give you lots of land and riches, you’ll have plenty of strength and wisdom, and I promise and grant to you, if you don’t fail to live up to your nature, the love of the most beautiful lady who could ever be born to a woman. Without Juno, you’ll have plenty of wealth, and without Pallas, you’ll have strength and knowledge, but without me you won’t amount to much. In exchange for the apple I so desire, you’ll have a lover according to your will, the best you could ever choose: that is, beautiful Helen with the bright face. Is there any greater paradise than to have a beloved to one’s liking? You’ll have a wise and worthy beloved, full of delight and generosity, courtliness and nobility, full of sweetness and

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kindness, the most innocent, the most well-bred on this side of the sea or beyond, with all the other good qualities she has – she in whom all beauty abounds – and all the wealth of this world doesn’t measure up to the pleasure of loving.” [2082–2109] [miniature, fol. 283v: turning away from juno and pallas, paris presents the golden apple to venus]

{P}aris said: “Whoever might choose to refuse such a gift deserves great reproach, for never was there such a rich gift. For such a gift, it seems to me, one must cast aside all other paradise.” The third goddess had spoken so that she had seduced the fool with the delights she promised him. He cast aside and paid no heed to what the other two had promised him, in order to become Helen’s beloved. He agreed to the third goddess’s gift – Venus held him well on her leash, when he refused riches and knowledge to possess a vain delight. He had no desire for anything as much as having his foolish pleasure with beautiful Helen, with the gleaming body. He cast aside all other goods for her, and settled the quarrel: he judged Venus the most beautiful, and gave her the pure gold apple. [2110–2132] Juno addressed him harshly: “Lousy fool, unfortunate fool, wretched fool, woeful fool: what folly has deceived you, or what vain thoughts have moved you to place love ahead of riches? Venus isn’t my equal – not in beauty, or prowess, or worth, or rank. This decision will cost you dearly! Curse you for making it! Never before have you committed any outrage that would cause you and your descendants such great harm. You’ve scorned me for a tramp who delights in vain love. If you had such hunger for a wife, you could have had her through me alone. There’s no woman in the world so beautiful that she couldn’t be conquered through me. You alone committed the folly, but you’ll be far from the only one to drink it down: those who aren’t even related to you will pay for it on your account. May your father keep safe his riches, lordship, and nobility, in which you place so much hope. There’s never been such great power of wealth, land, or friends that isn’t laid low in the end. He’s a rich king and lord of Asia, but before he dies, he’ll suffer.” [2133–2162] {P}allas, the courteous and good, addressed him very frankly: “Friend, you have judged foolishly. I had promised you a richer gift than this lady did. So the love of a woman is worth more than strength or knowledge? It’s often said – and it’s very true – that whoever discards good to choose evil will suffer for it. You’ll pay all too dearly for this beloved. You’ll regret it, I have no doubt. You won’t enjoy her long. You’ll die by the sword and tragically, and all your friends likewise. Curse you for ever making this judgment. Your folly pains me, but, since foolish love binds you, so that you believed foolish counsel and disbelieved my wise counsel, which would have been good and profitable to you, sudden misery and death will come



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to you, about which I’ll rejoice, and I will laugh over your loss. Fools don’t believe until it is so:55 the more they’re mistaken, the more they rejoice, and they think whatever they do is sensible.” [2163–2189] Venus Teaches Paris the Art of Love Paris paid little heed to the threats made by the two ladies, who threatened him harshly. He delighted in his vain thinking. Only Venus comforted him: [2190–2194] “{P}aris, dear friend, don’t be afraid. Thanks to you, the apple is mine. You gave it to me, and I’m grateful to you for it. Now I want to raise you to high degree and deliver on my end of the bargain. Now listen, and I’ll teach you the articles and commands I make to true lovers. If you want to become a true lover, you must follow my wisdom and teaching. Now listen to how I instruct you. [2195–2206] “You’ll become witty and charming, but will conduct yourself humbly, without pride or wickedness. Avoid all baseness. Don’t speak ill of anything anyone does. Blot out the blame and slander attached to women, if you hear someone speaking ill of them. You will be generous and serviceable, gentle and well-spoken, but you must never be inconstant, secretive, or a foolish boaster, and take care not to be a liar. You must be cheerful and fun-loving. [2207–2219] “If you want to take me as your teacher and enjoy the pleasures of love, you must flee jealousy. Love without fear or dread. Jealousy is a mad perversion of love. From jealousy come hatred, anger, vexation, and hostility. A jealous person will never have peace or joy. It is right – as god is my witness – for you to love your beloved and trust her, and not to mistrust her in any way: then love is complete and joy is pure and perfect. [2220–2232] “Love all women for the sake of one, and act in a friendly way toward each of them to deceive the slanderers, so that those who wish you ill on her account won’t be able to tell which of all of them you love, when they see you put on various acts, acting friendly toward all of them. But never, no matter what act you put on, be the kind of man to transgress against the one who’ll have your heart. The beauty will clearly perceive, if she has any sense or perception, that you’re doing this as a cover, and that, to put her out of suspicion, you’re trying to cast suspicion on all others, and she’ll appreciate you more for it, no doubt. But take heed and beware of acting toward her in a way that’s apparent, except where that is called for. [2233–2252]

55 Attested as a proverb c.1400–01, as documented by Hassell (1982), 121–22. Note also that Rouen has sielt for de Boer’s scet, v. 2187.

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“If you see the beauty with the shapely body in the street or a place in public view, act like you don’t see her, unless she’s the kind of woman you need to speak to regardless, and you have an excuse to speak to her openly. Then, speak to her so wisely that those who will hear you speaking to your beloved won’t perceive it in the least. When you have her in secret, don’t ask what for or how come, but have all your pleasure with her, if you have the ease and leisure. [2253–2266] “And never leave her out of cowardice or for anything she says to you, for she would think much less of you for it. But I make you this recommendation, at least, to watch out for her expression, to make sure your solaces don’t displease her, and not to be so forward, whether she’s blonde or brunette, as to force her against her will. I don’t value in the least the kind of delight that’s gained by force and grudgingly. True love must come from the heart. If it displeases her, wait, endure it, always be present and willing to endure it as long as it pleases her. At least it will never displease her for you to steal a kiss, I believe, but I want you to learn this much: I don’t value in the least kissing on the lips if the pleasure doesn’t touch the heart; but that which comes from the heart is sweet. And know well that, if you can kiss her with her consent, you can look forward to all the rest. [2267–2290] “{F}urthermore, I teach you and impart to you this wisdom, not to get a messenger to carry out your business if you can do it yourself. No man or woman should know about it: love only lasts as long as it’s kept hidden. You can invite harm by speaking of it, for loves that circulate by messenger are seldom not betrayed. And it’s not a big mistake to reveal your counsel – rather I command and counsel you to do it – but it should be to such a person who is loyal, wise, and good, and who can assist you if you can’t do it alone. A friend of yours can be a great help to you in this business. [2291–2308] “Now, you’ll need to choose someone to whom you dare speak your counsel faithfully in confession, and who will not be deceitful toward you in any way regarding your beloved, and who won’t seduce her – but he’ll be very difficult to find. If you can prove him to be such, you can go ahead and reveal yourself to him. But to conceal your business, have your conversations in secret, so that no one ever knows what you’re talking about, and never show them any sign of love in public regarding this business, for one seldom sees a gathering where baseness is not to be found. [2309–2324] “{T}here are many other commandments that I now wish to tell you. If you want to keep and uphold them, you’ll be able to achieve great delight. You’ll go to your father in Troy; you’ll be received joyfully there, but you mustn’t stay there long. Immediately prepare your journey to go and fetch the noble Helen, and don’t be inept in achieving your task, and don’t let embarrassment prevent you from telling her everything you want. It can be of no matter to you if she’s resistant to the first assault. As god is my witness, there’s no woman who doesn’t exhibit such behavior and manners whenever anyone solicits her



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love – whether it suits her well or displeases her – as to make trouble in the beginning. It is their habit to refuse, but nothing they happen to say should make the suitors give up on their undertaking. [2325–2348] “Anyone who wants to gain a beloved needs great boldness. It’s a great act of chivalry. Love has no use for moderation. Anyone who loves well without deceit must put themselves at risk beyond reason or moderation. Love aids the bold, but the wicked coward loses much by his negligence. You must patiently endure it if she says anything that displeases you, and, whenever you have the opportunity, you must incessantly reveal to her and proclaim the sufferings you experience for love of her. Don’t give up out of cowardice. Whatever she tells you, she won’t be so wicked or vicious not have mercy on you, because I will intervene with the help that I’ll provide. That’s it. I commend you to god. But strive to keep my commandments, and you’ll have loyal and true loves, if you yourself don’t lapse from loyalty.” [2348–2372] {W}ith great devotion, Paris set his heart and attention to learning these commandments. Whatever the outcome might be, he committed them to memory with great diligence, then replied amiably: “You have taught me well, my lady. My heart is so illuminated and inspired by your grace that no man alive will better carry out the commandments you have taught me. Compared to your gift, having strength or intellect aren’t worth a piece of straw to me. I never want to tend livestock again. From now on, I’ll do your bidding. Never at any time will I be false to good love, to which I’m devoted. As god is my witness, I’ll never transgress your commandment, no matter how bad it makes me feel in my heart or how much harm it causes me. I eagerly depart with your permission.” [2373–2394] Paris went off to see his father. I fear he will pay dearly for the pronouncement and judgment that he foolishly delivered, like a fool. And so he will, that’s obvious: Troy will be burned and laid waste over it! [2395–2400] Moralization Now I will explain the allegory that this tale represents. [2401–2402] [miniature, fol. 284v: adam and eve, covering their genitalia and both holding fruit, flank the tree with the forbidden fruit with the serpent in it]56

{W}hen God first joined together man and woman and gave them by nature the power to have offspring, they were in the earthly paradise, where they took sweet delight in great joy, and would have been even more sweetly Fols 183v, 209r, 284v, and 340v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether Adam and Eve are both holding fruit and whether they are covering their genitalia. Also note the image on fol. 21r of God walking a naked Adam through the garden. 56

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delighted in peace, in joy, with everything as they willed it, without any cause for suffering. But the leader of anger and discord, who hates peace, joy, and concord, and felt great sorrow and great envy at their life of delight, disrupted their joy and gladness and turned it to woeful sadness, because of the beautiful and pleasing apple of which he made them a deadly gift. [2403–2420] [miniature, fol. 284v: ladies practicing the active, voluptuous, and contemplative life]

{T}hese three ladies who were competing, and demanding the golden apple, can clearly be understood by us as three different ways of living. Juno represents the active life, and Pallas the contemplative, and Venus, the voluptuous life, which is preoccupied with and attentive to seeking out every carnal pleasure. [2421–2429] Whoever chooses the active life is attentive to many matters. He or she who lives such a life has much to pay attention to and do. They exert themselves and take great pains, but will never be able to stay awake enough to pray and work and confound their soul and body, that they won’t find still more to do. Through this way of living, one can acquire riches and earthly wealth. [2430–2440] The next way of living, the voluptuous, is very damning and harmful. To feed the flesh, it causes the woeful soul to die woefully. [2441–2444] The next way of living is more profitable, much better, and more desirable – that is, the contemplative life. It is attentive to and preoccupied with only one thing: all its understanding is devoted to knowing God, to praying to God, to serving God, to praising God. That is the only vocation it chooses. It avoids all vain delight, vain glory, and vain enjoyment, and all worldly riches, and wants to live on earth humbly, so as to obtain eternal life. [2445–2458] {G}od made freely available to people these three different ways of living, giving them the free leisure of choosing and undertaking the best or the worst, or the one that pleased them the most. For that reason, he made it so that they might freely lose or win, for, if God had forcibly constrained people to pick one, he would have taken away from them the leisure and the power of free will. And they would have been able to complain and lament about being forced to follow one of the three ways. Against their will and in spite of themselves, they would have done, perhaps, evil or good. Under those circumstances, the wise and the foolish would have been equally deserving, neither having the advantage: and it would seem to be wrong and prejudiced to equate the wise with the idiots. [2459–2478]



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For that reason, God resolved – and he was right to do so – that people should choose what they would prefer: they can select good or evil.57 And he gave them discernment to know what they should choose, what they should reject, and what they should scorn. Above all, he made them know what profit they would have from doing good and shunning evil, and how they would suffer misfortune and incur divine wrath by picking evil and scorning good. [2479–2490] And God gave them “the golden apple,” that is, the talent, the treasure that God, in Holy Scripture, commanded them to invest with interest to obtain multiple fruit, and that the foolish servant hid in the ground, with unfortunate consequences – that is, rational understanding. That is, I believe, the golden apple – the fruit that God bestowed on people, commanding them to give it through judgment to the best, the most beautiful. But people misjudged the dispute: because of vain pleasure, which distracted them, they picked evil and refused good. They scorned two, to have one. [2491–2507] This verdict is now universal, because everyone universally wants to live voluptuously. Everyone has devoted their attention and care to gluttony and lust. Everyone, great and small, has chosen this way of life, which brings great harm and great sorrow. I see these wretched delinquents and young boys who already subvert58 their chastity and, without natural appetite, sample the pleasure of lust before they know what it amounts to, and they don’t fear either God or shame. Rather, those who do it the most enjoy themselves the most, and think themselves the most deserving, and are the most feared and held dear. [2508–2525] This is what the world has come to now! But do you know what will happen to it? The time will soon come when God will destroy the whole world because of the wickedness that abounds in it. He will come to wreck and lay waste everything, set ablaze and burn everything and judge the whole human race. [2526–2533] [miniature, fol. 285v: ceyx receives peleus]

Ceyx Tells Peleus about Daedalion {I} have described to you the wedding of Peleus and his wife. He and the lady had a son, who was very valiant and renowned. The child was named Achilles. When Achilles came of age, he had so much strength and heroism, chivalry and boldness that, if the author does not lie, there was in Greece De Boer has Bien ou mal à selection, v. 2481, but the accent is not necessary. Copenhagen (p. 625) has froissent (“break, abuse”) for de Boer’s falsent (“subvert”), v. 2518. 57 58

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no man as strong as he. By his efforts, the bastions of the city of Troy were destroyed.59 [2534–2545] Peleus was very prosperous because of this marriage, and because of his lion-hearted son, he was greatly feared and exalted. But no one is ever so far along that they don’t run short of something. He would have been most happy, without a doubt, and nothing would have bothered or harmed him, if he had not murdered his younger brother Phocus. For that deed, he lost his kingdom. He fled to a foreign land, seeking refuge and a place to live. [2546–2558] He came to Trachin,60 where Ceyx, son of Lucifer,61 was ruling, and was in great mourning and great lamentation for his brother Daedalion, whom Phoebus had turned into a hawk. Peleus, who had been exiled from his country for his crime, entered Ceyx’s city, wretched and pensive, with very little retinue. He had left his livestock, servants, and harness outside the city, in a fenced enclosure. When he had a chance to speak to the king, he spoke to him without affectation or excess, and sought his help. [2559–2573] Ceyx asked him his name and homeland, from what family he was from, and why he was traveling in such a manner, exiled, in a foreign land. Peleus told him that he had left his country because of war. He wasn’t appalled to make things up:62 rather, he did not tell him the truth about his family or his name. He asked him to give him, by his grace, enough land and space to build his home, for he very much wanted to stay there. [2574–2586] The king willingly granted this to him, and said: “Friend, I wouldn’t know how to deny my land to anyone. It pleases me very much, and I find it fine and grand, to receive you and your company, since you are of noble birth. And you may have part of my land as it is, and it would please me so much better if there were a better part to give you.” Ceyx wept as he said this. Tears ran down his face. Peleus and his followers, seeing him weeping, asked what was wrong. [2587–2599] {C}eyx said: “Whoever happens to see the hawk wouldn’t believe it had ever been different. It used to be a man of great power, cruel and fierce and of great courage, full of prowess and heroism, combative and adept at war above all men in his land. He wanted to wield power, rule, and be master over everyone. He subjugated many kings and princes. He was my brother and my friend, but we had different values. My brother Daedalion was a fierce man, full of violence, and I devote my attention and desire to living Li fort de Troie la cité, v. 2545. This could also be “the strong men of the city of Troy,” which would match the story better. 60 En Trace, v. 2559. In Ovid (Met. 11.269) this is Trachin, a city in Thessaly, but the OM might be thinking of Thrace. 61 The morning star, not Satan. 62 For de Boer’s N’est pas de trouver esbaïs, v. 2580, Rouen (fol. 285v) has N’est pas a controuver bais, “he was not inclined to fabricate.” 59



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in peace, joyfully, without suffering and disorder, and to safeguarding my marriage. [2600–2618] “My brother had a daughter of high birth, who was very beautiful. Chione was the girl’s name, and she was ready for marriage. She was only fourteen, and she was in demand and sought after by many men in many ways. One day, perchance, it so happened that Phoebus, coming from Delphi, and Mercury, coming from Mount Cyllene and carrying his sleep-inducing wand, simultaneously saw her, and were simultaneously consumed with love for her – and each had the desire to have his pleasure with her. [2619–2633] “Phoebus held out until nightfall. Mercury, regardless of whom it might offend, could not hold out or delay: he went to see the beauty right away and put her to sleep with his wand. He deflowered his beloved as she slept. He left her pregnant and with child. Then, that night, Phoebus slept with her, disguised as an old woman. She did not refuse him anything he wanted, and he impregnated her a second time. [2634–2644] “When it came time to give birth, she became mother to two different children, each of whom resembled his father. One was full of deception, fraud, and cheating; an enchanter, and full of ingenuity; and he knew the entire art of thievery: he did not shame his father, Mercury, who was a thief, and who had taught his heir to make black seem white and white, black. Autolycus was the thief’s name. Phoebus’s son was a viol player: Philammon63 was his name, who was accustomed to find great pleasure in hearing beautiful sound. [2645–2659] “My niece was very shapely and beautiful, and she was a very noble maiden, held in great esteem and with a great reputation, loved by two great gods, and mother to two handsome and noble sons. But glory harms many people, and it did her, it seems to me. Because of the great beauty of her face, she scorned and slandered Diana, who took very cruel vengeance for it. Diana felt great scorn for the beauty who had scorned her. She drew her bow, nocked the arrow, and let fly a deadly shaft with which she hit the ill-spoken tongue, and it pierced it through and stained Chione’s throat and chest with bright blood. The rest of her life was brief. She lost her life and her blood. [2660–2678] “Now my heart was utterly bereft because of her death, which displeased me, but even more because of the grief of my dear brother, whose daughter she was. When I saw his grief and misery, I tried to give him comfort, but there was nothing I could say to move him to comfort or joy, and he became so consumed with anger that he would rather have been burned or tortured, and like a bull stung by a fly, he ran around wherever anger pointed him, more quickly than he was accustomed to run, and indeed it seemed to me that he 63 Philemon, v. 2658. This is not the same as the character in the story of Philemon and Baucis, and Ovid (Met. 11.317) spells the name Philammon.

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was flying. He climbed Mount Parnassus and threw himself off. He would have died falling from the summit, but Phoebus turned him into a hawk, a flying bird with a curved beak. Phoebus curled his nails. He had been cruel and fierce and he still is – his strength is bigger than his body. He is full of rage and predation. To this day, he doesn’t cease or give up dominating the other birds and waging war on the doves.” [2679–2705] Moralization Now I will explain the allegory this tale represents. [2706–2707] [miniature, fol. 286v: a man digging, a woman spinning]

{W}hen God had made man in his image and joined him to woman in marriage, and placed them in the earthly paradise, of which he had made man the guardian and master, they lived joyfully, at ease, and in delight. The body of man would have been very blessed it if were not for the damning apple of which the serpent made it eat, and by which it caused its soul to be condemned to death. Because of the biting of the bitter apple, the wretched body strangled its brother: because of the bite it bit, it caused the spirit to be subject to eternal death. [2708–2721] For that sin, for that outrage, it was thrown out of the sweet inheritance of the joyful estate that it possessed, and it became an exile and a fugitive, and it went away, wretched and pathetic, in pain and suffering, on earth, to seek a foreign refuge {i}n this world full of suffering,64 full of misery, and full of tears. This world65 is the one that deludes the worldly. It is the one that refuses no one, rather it receives everyone indiscriminately, but it receives more joyfully those who are of noble lineage: to the body and the company of successors that followed it, it offered such goods as it had. [2722–2739] The world, son of Lucifer, the master and the prince of hell, had a “brother” full of cruelty, wickedness, and evil: that is pride, which subjugates and brings shame to many dukes, kings, peers, counts; and many whom Fortune has raised high it has, through its excess, brought low and cast into perdition. [2740–2748] Vainglory, or presumption, is its “daughter,” and she is sought after by many men in many ways. One sees few people nowadays who don’t seek her love or intimacy: priests and laymen, the learned and the loquacious. They have truly “been intimate with her,” and “made her pregnant with different sons”: guile and boasting. The latter is attentive to the speech of whoever fawns on him and flatters him with the praise of flattering people. The former is full of cunning, Another unexpected majuscule in Rouen (fol. 286v), likely due to a miscounting of lines for the text during the preparation of the manuscript. 65 C’est cil, vv. 2732–2733, refers to the world on the basis of v. 2742. 64



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treachery and deceit, ingenuity, caviling, fraud and deception. He is accustomed to stealing people’s hearts, and makes evil seem good, and makes people shun good for evil. No one can gain anything by him. [2749–2769] {I}ll-bred presumption angers and scorns God. But God has drawn his bow, after waiting a long time for the fools who, out of presumption, offend the Divine Majesty, to make amends and self-correct. When he sees that they are in no way amending their behavior, he shoots a deadly arrow at them, with which he seizes and sticks them, and so he confounds and destroys unto death a prideful tongue, which is given to slander and speaking ill. [2770–2782] When pride sees itself laid low and its presumption confounded, it would like to burn or melt with anger, and tries even harder to climb, to make itself fall even more basely, and it throws itself off its own tower. Pride is “transformed into a hawk,” for, just as the hawk flies high and oppresses the little birds, so too does pride want to fly high and oppress the simple folk, and the people who fear God and hold him in high regard are more oppressed, abused, and ill-treated, both now and in olden days. [2783–2797] [miniature, fol. 287r: ceyx, peleus, and the shepherd bringing the warning?]

Peleus and the Wolf {A}bove, you heard the story, as told by King Ceyx, about the man who was turned into a hawk. At once there appeared one of the shepherds that Peleus had left to keep the livestock in the enclosure. He shouted loudly and called out: “Peleus, I bring you news full of sorrow and weeping, pestilence and woe.” Peleus commanded him to reveal whatever it was, without hiding anything. All the same, he was very frightened. King Ceyx shook with fear. [2798–2811] “Right at noon,” said the shepherd, “I had driven the livestock and the bulls to rest on the shore, and some of the animals were lying down on the sand, others were frolicking in the fields, enjoying themselves here and there, and others were swimming in the sea. There is a temple on the shore, without gold or marble – rather, it is dark and shady, built from thick timber and shaded by the woods. A willow grove, dense and wide, full of mud, is right next to the temple. It’s muddy because of the influx of water and the sea that surrounds it. [2812–2827] “From there, a ravenous wolf, filled with rage, leapt towards the shore, faster than a lightning bolt descending. Its eyes seemed to be burning coals. The bloody mouth of the evil, treacherous beast was gaping, and it came to attack our livestock. We obviously tried to defend and rescue the livestock, but our efforts were worthless. It killed a good deal of our friends. It wounded

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and killed all the livestock and destroyed them all. It caused such an effusion of blood that the whole shore turned red. You won’t ever have the benefit of your animals again, if you don’t hurry right away to rescue those that remain before it kills and destroys them all. Now, quickly, let us all assemble! Let us take weapons and steel javelins to hunt the ravening wolf and we will rescue the cattle!” [2828–2850] Peleus heard what great harm the wolf was causing him by its rampage, but he discounted it and it made little impression on him: what made him more sorrowful and came more readily to mind was the crime for which this was happening to him. He knew well that this plague and this deadly misfortune were being inflicted on him by the sea-goddess Psamathe, who had no love for him on account of her son Phocus, whom he had killed. Now she wanted to make him pay dearly for his death! [2851–2861] Ceyx commanded his people to arm themselves and make haste, and rescue the livestock. He wanted to go himself, but his wife Alcyone began to wail uncontrollably. She embraced him and begged him with great tears not to go, and to instead send some of his household to save, with one body, two souls. Peleus saw the lady crying – she was very afraid and distraught. He took pity on her and comforted her: “Lady,” he said, “don’t cry. I thank you, but I have no need for your lord or his household. I don’t wish to bear arms here. I have a better chance of winning through prayers and by appeasing the divine wrath.” [2862–2879] On the shore, at the summit of a tall hill, they went up to a beacon where the weary ships arrived, and from there they saw the dead and disemboweled bulls, that the wolf, filled with bloody blood and rage, had devoured. When Peleus saw this destruction, he stretched his hands out toward the sea, to appease the divine wrath that had set the rage of the wicked monster66 upon his bulls. He humbly began to call upon the sea-goddess Psamathe so that she might hold back her wrath and anger and pardon him her ill-will. Peleus would have prayed in vain for a long time without softening Psamathe, who did not love him at all, but Thetis, his wife and his beloved, made a special appeal to her on his behalf and entreated her very devoutly. Thetis obtained mercy, and Psamathe extended her peace and concord to Peleus. [2880–2903] But the wolf, full of rage and anger, did not desist from killing the animals or from the harm it was causing, because of the sweetness of the blood it had tasted, which was pleasing to it. Rather, being full of wickedness, it wanted to ravage everything, up until it killed a heifer that it wanted to destroy and deLa mal belue, v. 2891. Ovid calls it a belua vasta (Met. 11.366). OF belue can mean specifically “sea monster,” as in Book 4, vv. 6586–6861, and this wolf might qualify since it comes out of a marsh, sent by a sea-goddess. As such, it might be reminiscent of the first beast of the apocalypse, arising from the deeps (Revelation 11:7). The beast’s appearance is described in detail in Revelation 13:1–10, and some of the mystery revealed in 17:7–18. 66



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vour. At that moment, without delay, the wolf was, by divine will, transformed into marble. It now has the color of stone, but still has the appearance, bodily shape, and ugliness it had before. The color alone shows that it no longer has leave or license to cause harm or evil to people, and that one must no longer fear the enraged and gluttonous beast that was accustomed to bite and devour everything. [2904–2924] Peleus did not have leave to remain any longer in that land. He went off to Magnesia to seek, if he could, through prayer or gift, penance and forgiveness from God. Woeful and full of repentance, he sought penance so much that Acastus assigned him penance, and pardoned and purged him of the grievous sins with which he felt himself stained. Then, he owned his kingdom free and clear through the help of the holy hermit.67 [2925–2937] [miniature, fol. 287v: the annunciation by the angel gabriel to the virgin mary]68

Moralization {W}hile the body of man was deluded by the world, which it misused after being cast out for its sin, the enemy – that is, “the gluttonous and ravenous wolf, the enraged and destructive wolf, that jumped out of the shady mire” – destroyed human nature without hope of salvation, and there was no hauberk or armor it could use to escape it. The enemy wanted to destroy and gobble everything and cause it to perish, and tormented the whole human race without any intermission. He devoured its “blood,” that is, its soul, and could never get enough of killing and maiming everything and subjecting it to eternal death. [2938–2956] But the merciful divinity of the Son of God, who had joined himself “through marriage” to the human race, appeased the divine wrath. However, the wolf’s rage and hatred could never be appeased until he seized the “heifer” of the Son of God, to tear him to death. When the devil, who was intent on destroying human nature, saw the flesh and the cover under which the Deity was concealed, he tried to seize it, to his great loss, and he lost the right or the customary due he had over the human race, and, through this fault, he was bound in the infernal prison, from which he cannot escape, and he no longer has leave or power to destroy humanity unless they consent

In Ovid (Met. 11.408–409), “The wandering fugitive reached Magnesia, and there was absolved of the murder by Haemonian King Acastus” (Kline). The OM makes Acastus a hermit. 68 Fols 35r, 119r, 179r, 227v (where Gabriel has no wings), and 287v have comparable miniatures of this. 67

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to it. But he still has the ugliness of a wicked devil, and he still retains his terrifying form. [2957–2980] {W}hen Jesus had rendered up his body to receive death and martyrdom, to appease the divine wrath that had been stirred up towards humanity because of the bite of the bitter apple which made it “lose its kingdom,” he left the bewildered world coming to the acceptance of the Christian faith. There it was healed and cleansed, there it was washed and baptized, and purged with the pure and spotless blood that purged the sins of the world and gave the human race back its heavenly birthright. [2981–2995] [miniature, fol. 288r: alcyone and ceyx and the ship]

Ceyx and Alcyone {A}bove, you heard the tale of how Chione was humiliated by her foolish presumption, how her father, Daedalion, was transformed into a flying hawk, and how woeful Peleus received his birthright. Meanwhile, Ceyx resolved and determined to go to the god of Claros, who comforts and enlightens hearts, to inquire about fate and hear something over which he might rejoice. The way to Delphi was encumbered and shut, so that he did not dare travel there because Phorbas blocked it. In any case, Ceyx took counsel with his wife, in whom he placed great trust, and revealed to her the whole purpose of his voyage, which was that he meant to go on pilgrimage. When the lady heard this, she was very woeful and bewildered. Her face lost its color. She sighed and sobbed while weeping. For a long time she could not speak a word. [2996–3020] When she could speak, she said: “Dear lord, dear sweet companion, dear sweet friend, what awful sin69 has made you want and think of such a thing? Has the great love passed that used to be between us? Come on now, does it bother you to have me look at you? Does my company now displease you? You want to leave your beloved, me, whom you used to love so much, to put yourself in peril on the sea? But if nonetheless you want to go somewhere I won’t be able to see you, at least go by land: you have no reason to go by sea. You’ll go more safely by land, without peril, without hindrance. Then I won’t be sorrowed by your absence, I’ll have no fear or dread. [3021–3039] “The ocean is very frightening: whoever travels on it is in peril and can encounter lots of obstacles. If I see you go away by sea, I’ll never be secure: I’ll always suspect that something has happened to prevent you from returning. My heart and all my limbs tremble when I think of the perils of the sea. Too many people are always drowning there. It was not long ago that I could see Ovid (Met. 11.421–422): “What sin of mine has turned your mind to this, dear one?” (Kline). This tale in the OM influenced Chaucer’s Book of the Duchess, and may be the direct source, described as a book in “romance” (i.e., French), vv. 47–48. 69



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ships broken and dismembered, and people dead and drowned, their bodies washed up on the shore. [3040–3054] “Perhaps you are reassured because you think Aeolus, who is my father and king and ruler of the winds, will appease them for you or imprison them or hold them back so they cannot harm you during the crossing. It would be very foolish to rely on that. Never place your hope in the idea that this would afford you some advantage. For, when the winds are loosed, and they have free rein over the sea, they rage on with such great force that nothing can resist them. They make the whole sea storm and, likewise, push the clouds with their gusting. They even chase the bright and gleaming lightning70 in their distracted course. They have done harm to many men. The more I’ve come to know them, the more I fear them. I became fully aware of their power for, when I was little, I saw them in my father’s house and found them so full of rage. [3055–3079] “But if it can’t be otherwise – if my admonishment hasn’t made you change your mind about going by sea – then at least do some of my bidding and take me with you. Then, as your partner and companion in everything that happens to you, I’ll see what you are doing and know if you’re well or not, whatever happens to you. Then I won’t have to be afraid of anything, except for what I can ensure that I will undergo as well, hence we will be companions and equals in either drowning or escaping. We’ll sail across the sea together.” [3080–3096] The lady with the shapely body spoke such words and wept out of great love. Ceyx, who loved and cherished her very much, felt great pity for her but would under no circumstances abandon the sea voyage, nor did he wish to put at risk the one he loved so much. He gave her as much comfort and assurance as he could in an attempt to reassure her, but she would not be reassured by anything she heard. Ceyx pledged his faith to her, to return before two months passed if there was any way he could do this: the briefest stay abroad would seem too long to him. When she heard this promise, the lady was calmed a little by the hope of his return. [3097–3116] Ceyx got everything ready and had the ship equipped in port with all the necessary provisions. When the lady saw the ship, great anguish overtook her and her heart already guessed at the sorrow, loss, and harm that were to befall her. Then she could not hold back her tears; rather, she wept very deeply and clung tightly to the man who had her heart at his command. Sadly, she commended him to god. When she saw him leave her, her heart was liable to break from grief: she fell to the ground in a faint. [3117–3132]

70 Les feus, v. 3072. Compare to Ovid (Met. 11.435–436): “They vex the clouds in the sky, and create the red lightning-flashes from their fierce collisions” (Kline).

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The sailors immediately ran to seize the oars. The king had neither time nor leisure for delay or hesitation. Some on one side of the ship, some on the other, the men rowed on the sea with great effort. The lady, filled with distress, set her eyes on the ship. She saw Ceyx standing on the rear deck, waving to her. She waved back. Eventually they had gone so far out to sea that the queen could no longer make out the face of her husband. As long as she was able, she followed the ship with her eyes as it swiftly sped away. When she lost sight of the ship, she concentrated on the sail. [3133–3151] When she lost sight of the sail and the mast, she was so distraught that she would have preferred to die than live in such torment. She lay down on her bed, full of sorrow. She wept for her departed beloved and grieved out of love for the missing man. That renewed the misery and the distress she felt, because every time she saw her bed empty of her lover, it renewed her unhappiness and the loss of her pleasure. [3152–3164] Ceyx had left the port and was sailing on the high sea with great speed, he and his men, because they were anxious to return home. They were in the middle of the sea, more or less exactly halfway between both shores. They were worn out and tired from rowing, so they raised their sail on the mast and set it to catch the winds. [3165–3174] The sea began to swell. One night it was particularly horrible, and Solar71 harmed and impeded them, agitating the sea. When he saw the storm approaching, the man who was supposed to steer the ship and who was in charge of holding the tiller ordered that the sail be lowered and the rigging on the mast tightened, if they ever wanted to have use of it again. But the winds that stirred up the sea made it impossible to hear him. Some, of their own volition, prepared to ship the oars, others to reef the sails against the threatening storm. Some set about bailing the ship, others lowering the sails, and others tightening the rigging: in disorderly fashion they busied themselves without really knowing what they were doing. But the storm was growing stronger and the waves getting bigger, and the wind attacked them viciously. [3175–3198] When the master of the ship saw the wildness of the wind that was stirring up the sea and causing them so much opposition, he was, without a doubt, very afraid and did not know what to do. He did not know what would become of them or what course they could take: the storm and the strong wind he had witnessed had disturbed him so much that he had gotten his knowledge confused and forgotten his mastery. The sailors cried out loudly, without hope of comfort. The ship’s lines made a racket as the waves struck against them. The storm mounted, thundering, and the waves of the sea boomed in response. The sea heaved and became choppy so that it seemed the sea and the sky were one. 71

The east wind. See the overview of the winds in Book 1, vv. 265–286.



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All the clouds were agitated and the waves were clouded: now the sea was the color of the clouds, having churned up the sand on its bottom; then it was black as ink; then calm; then foamy. [3199–3223] While the sea stormed, the ship, which was in the middle of the sea, was tossed about all over the place. At one point it was lifted straight up towards the clouds and the heavens. The young men were of the opinion that they saw below them the pit of hell and the deep abyss. At another point, they shot downwards like a lightning bolt descending, so that it seemed they were falling into hell. At yet another, the waves crashed on the ship’s timbers more forcefully than a battering ram, stone, or siege engine ever crashed into a tall tower. The ship made such noise and spun around so much that neither a lion filled with anger and rage, nor any other wild beast, attacks its mortal enemy with greater ferocity, for the ship kept bobbing up and down because of the sea and the wind, every time they assailed it, and it danced about more than they did. [3224–3247] The ship was spun around on the sea so much that the nails came loose from the boards and the ship was pierced and broken. The deadly water came in through the holes. A dense rain fell from the sky, churning up the sea and thickening the air. The sky seemed that it would fall and the sea swelled up and surged so much that it seemed that it would reach higher than the sky and overwhelm everything. The sail became damp and heavy because of the rain. Everything intermingled, everything came together as one: the rain and the seawater together. The sky grew troubled and dark, and the night became shadowy and black because of the stormy and troubled weather that darkened and troubled it. But the lightning and thunderbolts, falling everywhere, lent light and brightness to it, and lit up the troubled night and drove off its darkness. [3248–3270] The waves crashed so much against the wood that they pulled apart the joints and then rushed in through the openings. Imagine a strong knight who, alone, is worth more than the thousand others who assail from all sides the walls of a city or a tower. He sees how the thousand of them have failed and attacked in vain; then he, seeking to win praise and glory and the hope of victory above all others, fights alone against those inside so that only he establishes himself on the walls. So too the waves did not compromise the ship in any way after they had attacked it eight or nine times, except that they slung it about on the ocean. But then the tenth wave struck and assaulted the ship so closely, with such force and such violence, that it came surging in freely. Some of the other waves also crashed into it and tried to get inside. [3271–3294] When the sailors in the ship saw the water inside, they began to be terribly frightened. Just as the people of a city under siege grow fearful and overwhelmed when they see that their enemies have entered the town in great

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numbers and that others are continuing to undermine the walls, so too the sailors who saw the waves were fearful for their bodies. They lost all the sense they had, and their hearts completely failed them. They thought they were destroyed and dead every time they saw the waves driving against them and the sea that heaved and roared. [3295–3310] One cried, another groaned, another felt confused – another, dead and betrayed. Yet another said that he and the others would all be born lucky if only they would die. To escape the storm that caused them so much anguish and torment, another began to pray and stretched his woeful arms to heaven, making promises and vows to the gods. Others called out to nieces and nephews, sons and daughters, cousins and brothers, sisters and aunts, uncles and fathers, and invoked and remembered their other relatives whom they had left behind. [3311–3326] But Ceyx in no way remembered or called out for anyone but Alcyone, whom he loved dearly; rather, she alone touched his heart. He had only her name on his lips. All the time he called out for this beloved – and yet, he did not want in any way for her to be there with him to share the storm. He would gladly have turned his face towards that dear, beloved land from which he first set out, but the tempest and turmoil of the sea bewildered him so much that he did not know in which direction it was. The sea pushed and swirled and all the sky grew black, and the great darkness multiplied because of the night and the stormy weather, so that he could see neither sky nor earth. The rain and wind waged war against him, having knocked off the mast and yard and completely destroyed the rudder. [3327–3349] The waves, which greatly heaved and swelled, and the sea, which was out of control, swept away their supplies. One wave, which separated itself from the others, rose into the air in an arc, then fell on them more heavily than if Mounts Athos and Pindus had fallen. The great blow and weight of the water submerged the whole ship and pushed it under. The ship was broken and smashed to pieces, and most of the crew were drowned. Some barely escaped, and were pushed and shaken about at the whim of the water. One man grabbed hold of a plank from the broken and crushed ship; another found a beam on which he floated, dragging behind it with both hands. [3350–3368] The king held in his royal hands a broken board instead of a scepter, and was dragged along behind it in great fear. He called out to his father and lord, but above all to her whom he loved so much. He could not forget her, and never ceased to pray that he come to shore and reach a place where he could hold her, and that she, who would do so with good heart, might put him in the earth. The wretch kept swimming in great fear as the sea pulled and pushed him about, and when he could open his mouth he called out to her, who touched his heart so greatly. [3369–3383]



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As he was floating in such misfortune, a great black and hideous wave broke over his head, and pushed the wretch under, plunging him, dead, into the depths of the sea without resurfacing or finding his bearings. Lucifer,72 sad and full of anger, was full of darkness that night, and because of this misfortune, hid himself so he could not be seen or recognized by anyone living. [3384–3393] [miniature, fol. 290v: alcyone praying to a golden idol]73

{A}lcyone, who knew nothing of the ills that her dear lord endured, was counting the nights and the days and said, “Now the king will be away only a short time.” She prepared for his return rich robes and fine apparel, with which she would dress the king, and also herself, on her lover’s return. This is what she dreamed of and foresaw. She called on all the gods to bring him back safely, and above all, she especially appealed to and worshipped Juno, the honored goddess, with sacrifices and offerings: that she would soon return to her, safe and sound, the one who was dead and gone. She also prayed to her that her husband should not be able to become intimate with another beloved. In this she was not disappointed, for he would never again have ease or leisure to choose another beloved. [3394–3417] In this way, the queen prayed and paid honor to gods and goddesses, and above all the goddess Juno. She never stopped, she never ceased making vows and offering gifts. Juno could not long suffer her prayer to go unrequited. She called Iris, her loyal messenger, and commanded her to go to the god of sleep, to tell him to make the whole truth known to Alcyone through a dream about how her husband perished. [3418–3430] The messenger got ready to go where Juno sent her: she curved and arched herself into a rainbow, and stretched out in various colors across the firmament. She came to the home of the sleeping god. The house was concealed under a cloud in the quietest place in the world, at the base of a hollow hill, where no sun gives any light. Fog mixed with darkness rose up from the earth and obscured the place so that it seemed twilight. There slept the god, there he slumbered. No cock sang or kept watch there, nor would any dog bark, nor anything that might be disruptive or injurious to rest, nor could there be heard any voice, clamor, or sound of wind, of beast or of bird, excepting only from a stream of sweet forgetfulness, that has its source there

As above, this is the morning star, not the devil. As a god, he was Ceyx’s father. Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 72 73

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and murmurs and runs through the place, making the pebbles resonate to stimulate the desire for sleep.74 [3431–3455] At the entrance of the room were plenty of flowering poppies and many sleep-inducing herbs, from which Night collected the juice that multiplied and abounded there to spread sleep throughout the world. There was neither door nor doorkeeper there to watch over the sleepers, because the house was secure enough. In the middle of a dark cave there was a soft bed with rich furnishings, covered with a beautiful black covering. The bedframe was not of poplar but of ebony, it seems to me. The king of sleep rested and slept there in his bed. Around him teemed more dreams and vain fantasies than there are ears of grain in the harvest, leaves on bushes, and grains of sand on the shore. [3456–3476] Iris, charged by Juno, came there to deliver her message, and she protected herself with her hands because already the dreams were overwhelming her and sleep was coming over her. The radiance of her beauty and of the clothing she wore cast great brightness inside the place. When the king of sleep saw her, he opened his eyes and stirred a little; and yet he still slept on. He half opened and half closed his eye, and, overcome by sleep, sank back down and fell asleep again. He nodded and rolled his head: his chin kept knocking against his chest. In the end, he exerted himself so greatly, no matter how annoyed he was, that he raised himself up on his elbow. [3477–3495] “Iris,” he said, “who sent you here? What is the cause of your journey?” Iris told him her business: “God of sleep, god of rest, peace for the heart and refreshment for the body, who delightfully assuages the tired and makes the wakeful go to sleep, and puts them beyond their fears and worry, Juno now commands you through me to make known to Alcyone through a dream all the truth of how King Ceyx, her husband, drowned and perished at sea.” The messenger immediately turned round, already beginning to feel weak and sluggish because of the sleepiness in that place, and went back, via the rainbow by which she had come, to the place she had originally left. [3496–3515] {T}he god of sleep immediately, to carry out this command, went to select one of his thousand sons, who were around him row on row, and who executed various duties when they were commanded to do so by the father who ruled over them. There was one son who took on the semblance of a human being – in form, physique, and clothing – and who could give the impression of any man he wanted as he moved to and fro, in speech and conduct. The father called this dream Morpheus. [3516–3530] 74 Pour apetit de son doner, v. 3455. The translation reads son as som “sleep,” based on Ovid (Met. 11.602–604): “There still silence dwells. But out of the stony depths flows Lethe’s stream, whose waves, sliding over the loose pebbles, with their murmur, induce drowsiness” (Kline).



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There was another who varied his appearance a great deal, taking on the semblance and the image of a snake or a wild bird, or whatever animal it might be. The third took on the form and appearance of water or wood or any other created thing that does not have a soul. These three brothers especially appeared only to kings, dukes, and princes of great renown, and not to anyone else. At night, all the others appeared in dreams to the common people in various shapes. That was their job, that was their endeavor: to delude people as they slept by false illusions and nocturnal visions. [3530–3548] Of all these, the king selected only Morpheus, the most wise, and commanded him to take on the image of Ceyx, the drowned king, and give his wife a portent whereby she might clearly see the way he died and perished. After this, the king laid his head back down and fell asleep again. [3549–3557] Morpheus got ready immediately. He flew secretly through the air. He soon arrived in Thessaly, before the queen’s bed. He took off the wings he wore and took the form that he knew Ceyx had when he was alive. His face was very discolored, and he seemed dead and naked. His beard and hair were wet. He bent over the bed. Tears ran down his face and over his mouth. Weeping and feigning great sorrow, he called to the queen and said: [3558–3573] “My sorrowful companion, do you not know your poor husband? Am I transformed by death? Open your eyes and you will see me, and instead of your husband you will find only the shadow and appearance. What a sad discovery! I’m dead without any hope of salvation. Your prayers have done me little good, and little good they’ll do from now on because you’ll never have me back again. My ship was overwhelmed at sea by a damp, black, and ruthless wind, which made it storm and rain and caused the whole sea to surge. The ship was crushed and sunk, and my people were killed and confounded. And I, who called out to you so much, loving you so strongly, I likewise died and drowned. I am telling you this in person so that you can believe it better, not doubting the truth of my death, than if someone else were to tell you and possibly lie about it. Rise up, my sorrowful spouse, dress yourself in black, cry and mourn and do not let me descend into the infernal suffering without tears.” [3573–3601] In such a semblance and such an image Morpheus delivered his message, so that it clearly seemed he was the very man who had died and perished at sea, and used to be her husband. He had the voice, the body and the physique, the demeanor and the appearance her husband used to have, and it seemed that he was truly crying. Alcyone groaned mightily, and cried and sighed as she slept, and reached out her hand to take hold of him but found nothing. She said: “Stay, dear beloved. Do not go away, but wait for your sorrowful beloved, who loves you so much, with such great love, that she wants to go with you without delay.” [3602–3619]

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Because of the form of the one she had lost and because of her cry, the lady stirred and woke up at once. She searched around the bed and listened to see if she could find the one who had just been next to her or whom she thought she saw. The servants, awoken by the noise, ran up with lights, but they could not find him at all. The lady looked for her lord throughout the whole room, but to no avail: she had lost the shadow that left her bewildered. She wrung her hands, scratched her face, tore her clothing, beat her breast, and cut the hair off her head. The woeful woman was in misery. [3620–3637] The mother who had raised her asked why she was in such woe, and tried to give her comfort. “Stop talking about it,” she snapped at the mother who was trying to comfort her. “Dead! Alcyone is dead! Dead and perished with her husband who drowned and perished at sea in the fierce and violent storm. I have no use for comfort when I’ve lost my lord. I have seen him dead and drowned. No one can teach me anything more about that. When I reached out my hand to take him, I saw the shadow slip away and vanish before my eyes. It was the shadow of my lover: I know that most certainly. Oh, god, how his face was filthy, horrid, discolored, and pale! His head was still wet and soiled by the sea. I knew his voice and face well. Poor me, I saw him right here.” [3638–3661] His woeful beloved went on looking to see if she could see him, but he was not there. “Poor me,” she said, “I told him so many times to avoid the wind that places many in peril on the sea and drowns them. That is what I foresaw. Now I have the loss and harm that I feared in my heart. Dear beloved, you made a foolish decision when you did not trust my counsel. Against my admonishment you foolishly put to sea to receive death and peril, and I could not persuade you at all to take me with you. You would never have died without me, if only you’d believed me. Oh, if I’d gone with him, it would’ve been a great boon to me! He would never have died or been destroyed without me. I would never be living without him. With him I would have suffered death and peril, and that would have caused me less grief. It was my misfortune to stay behind: I died in that place even though I wasn’t there. [3662–3686] “Ceyx, whom I loved so much, is dead. He is dead and I am dead with him. I, who neither saw nor knew of it, am more violently storm-tossed than if I were out at sea. My dear companion, my dear beloved, has perished in the sea without me. But I’d be more cruel than the sea if I lived long without him. But in truth, I’ll never force myself to live long; rather, I’ll be his companion and I’ll die for him. Never after his death will I have any pleasure, and although I know that my beloved and I can never be placed and joined together in a single tomb, our names will never be unjoined; rather, they’ll be forever connected.” She groaned so much, trembled so much, sobbed so violently, and sighed so much that she could no longer speak nor say anything she might have in mind. She could not put her heart to rest. [3687–3709]



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[miniature, fol. 292r: alcyone finds ceyx’s body]

{T}he next day, at dawn, the woeful woman turned towards the shore and set out to find whether she could spot the return of the man she had seen leaving. “Poor me,” she said, “as he was leaving, when he set sail out to sea, he kissed me on this shore.” As she was recalling their words, lo, a dead body came floating along in the sea, but the queen could not make out if it was the one she was waiting for. As she tried to get a closer look at the body that was floating freely across the sea, little by little it drew near the shore where she was waiting. She could clearly see that it was a body floating and although she still could not recognize him, she wept and fear tormented her: she did not know whether the corpse had met the same fate as her lover, or if this was Ceyx himself. [3710–3734] The woeful woman, in tears, said: “Oh, body, in what an evil hour you were born, you who met your end in such misery, and if you had a wife or a beloved, she is no less unfortunate.” The body approached the shore. The more the wretched woman looked at it, the more she grieved and lost her senses. The sea waves carried the body so far that it reached dry land. Her coloring was stained with anguish and pain when she saw him close up because she recognized him well. She pulled her hair, scratched her face, tore her clothing, beat her chest, and said: “Oh, poor me, I see him! It’s my noble beloved. Oh my! How did you come here, sweet beloved? The sea, which has put you to death, has robbed me of all joy and gladness and condemned me to grief and sadness.” [3735–3755] [miniature, fol. 292v: ceyx and alcyone as birds]

{O}ut to sea, there was a high rock near the shore. The woeful woman swiftly perched there: it was a great marvel how this happened, but she flew and had feathers. From there, she flew to the body she saw floating in the sea, and, hovering there, she embraced her dead beloved. She sighed and groaned over him and kissed her lover with her beak. Ceyx felt her kissing him, or the water, as he floated, lifted him up to meet his beloved’s kiss – but the water, I think, was not responsible for this; rather, he could clearly feel her presence. [3756–3770] As it pleased god, suddenly they turned into similar birds. Love still holds them in its clutches and they are still together as they were in the olden days, and to have offspring they come together carnally. They are called halcyons.75 In winter, in atrocious weather, they go flying over the sea. At that time, anyone would be foolish to travel by sea, because of the storms and winds. When the weather is mild, they sit on their eggs and then it is good weather for 75

A type of kingfisher.

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sailing. For, to calm the weather while his daughter is hatching and laying her eggs, King Aeolus holds back his winds. [3771–3787] Moralization Now I wish to explain briefly to you the meaning of these tales. [3788–3789] [miniature, fol. 292v: women worshipping before a cross on the altar]76

{T}he eternal God had cast down the devil’s pride, and the “wolf” who had been accustomed to devour the human race had lost his long-lasting dominance and his power to pillage.77 And Jesus, God of Majesty, priest for eternity, had purged human nature and cleansed it of all filth in his holy blood, that he shed when he hung for all of us on the Cross. Then all peoples, all nations had the intention and desire to abandon the foolish ignorance and the error of unbelief, which leads to damning obscurity, to the realm of misfortune. And they had the intention and heart to undertake the pilgrimage that leads to the blessedness of the sovereign light in which all good things and all joy abound. [3790–3812] But many people had such love for the world and for the worldly vanity, pride and nobility, lordship and noble rank,78 delight and gentility that they had espoused and embraced, that they greatly feared this undertaking. And when they set out, they were afraid for the temporal goods they possessed, and that offered them vain delights. The world itself forbade them to set out on that path. Some set out on it anyway, and nevertheless, no matter what they did, they believed they would soon return to the temporal delights they had set their sights on, and paid more attention to their hearts than to this voyage they were undertaking. [3813–3831] Now I will tell you the allegory of the sea, and of the ship, and of the storm and the wind that often rage against it. The ship represents the human body79 and the sea represents mortal life, which is uncertain and unreliable, perilous and unstable. The human body goes sailing through it. The wind that rages against people is sin, which drowns many people. [3832–3842] The waves are the perils of the world, the dire fluctuations and the grievous tribulations, whereby earthly existence all too often becomes troubled and unsettled. At times the world is glad, at others it is woeful and sad, 76 Fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v show comparable scenes of Christian prayer, which have similar composition to the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r. 77 This is referencing the moralization of Peleus and the wolf, vv. 2798–2995 above. 78 We translate “nobility” and “noble rank” (vs. “splendor”) to preserve the adnominatio. 79 For cors humain, v. 3836, Copenhagen (p. 642) has corps humain.



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sometimes it laughs and sings, other times it weeps and laments. Some people are very great lords, raised by temporal honors as though high up into the air. There are those who adopt a middle course and make do with enough, without poverty or overabundance. Others are brought very low and oppressed by great poverty. [3843–3859] The sailors represent the natural senses that guide the body. Each of them bears an oar to protect the body on all sides and to guide it through this sea. I want to name them briefly for you: touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing. These five must guide the body and they can be either very helpful or very harmful. Those who make good use of them profit greatly, and those who distract them with vain delights profit grievously.80 Grave ills and grave losses come to many through negligence. Anyone who wants to come securely without sacrifice to the sovereign port of bright and joyous pleasure must oversee these sailors with great diligence and stay on course.81 Thus it is fitting that one’s ship should be equipped with good instruments, for what is an ill-equipped ship worth? Anyone lacking good equipment should not embark on a journey over the troubled waters of the world, if they want to keep from sinking. [3860–3886] It is now right for us to advise you which instruments it is necessary to have on board a ship intended to move through the sea, at least the most essential ones: mainsheet, yards with rigging, anchor, cable, mast, rudder, sail, a tiller that steers everything, and a pump that expels and draws out of the ship all harmful water.82 It should have a mast of righteous intention and a tiller of discretion. It should have a rudder of justice as well. To the rudder and the mast, it seems to me, a well-ordered conscience must be added as a sail, held taut with cordage of the virtues, so that it never will be attacked by an ill wind that, by its gusting, sets it in vain motion. And one should also make a pump and a purger out of the fear of God, to purge all malice that might make the ship plunge into the waves of dissolution, death, and perdition. [3887–3911] Anyone who wants to come without a detour to that great light where everlasting joy abounds, and pass through the sea of the world securely and without peril, must carry an anchor of firm hope and a cable of perseverance. They must steer prudently with the tiller of discretion and raise the mast of their intention straight up toward heaven, and attach the rudder and sail tightly with cords of virtue, so that they cannot be overthrown by any wind that would make them fall down. [3912–3926]

Copenhagen (p. 642) has griefuent for Rouen’s griement in v. 3871. Copenhagen (p. 642) has Ses nageeurs et court tenir for v. 3876: thus “keep them on a short leash.” 82 The ship the author is imagining here is a contemporary one, not an ancient galley. 80 81

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And as long as they have the wind of grace, they should sail in good affection. And if they are persecuted by a tempest that assails them, they must have a strong and stout anchor, of good and steadfast hope, and they should cast it, stick it, and firmly affix it into God, who is strong and living rock, until they escape this tempest. And God will help them because he will never let them perish, so long as they place their hope in him, if they keep persevering in thinking and acting well, without relapsing and backsliding because of any worldly disturbance, but they should battle on with patience, well and virtuously. [3927–3944] And if it so happens that a bad deed or bad wave of sin rushes in, as soon as they feel themselves stained with it, they should swiftly cast it out. Nor should they let themselves idly fall asleep, but should run to the pump of penance and confession to unburden and clean and purge their ship, so that no other grievous sin might come upon it, with harm and peril in store for it; for one sin attracts another, and brings a sudden end to those who do not hold back from them. [3945–3958] {I} can also take the ship to mean Holy Church: that is the ship that leads to eternal life and to the great blessedness of heavenly light. The great master who holds the tiller is the pope, and the others, who do the rowing, are the prelates, to whom are entrusted the care and safeguarding of the Christian people and Holy Church. The mast on which the sail is raised is the tree on which was nailed the flesh which the Son of God resolved to take on through a woman and allowed to hang on the Cross to guide us to paradise. [3959–3974] The yard-arms are, it seems to me, the articles and sacraments of the faith, by which we must properly raise up both sail and mast in our hearts, so that we might raise ourselves up to salvific penance, which directs and advances the good to the port of glorious delight. But those who have chosen the world and worldly vanity, who have learned to possess the ease and prosperity of the world, can only grudgingly inspire their body to do penance. They are swift and ever ready to relapse and backslide, even when they show enthusiasm and keenness to perform good deeds and do penance. [3975–3992] The wind that grieves and hinders many, after they have erected their sail to the wind of holy life in order to reach the port of salvation, is vainglory and vain delight in the praise and honor of the world, which shipwrecks and drowns many fools in bitter perdition. Once the wind of presumption and pride overwhelms and ensnares a prudent person, it deprives them of all grace. This is the grievous and marvelous wind that assails the prideful and raises storms in their hearts, and it so troubles their hearts that in them there is no consideration, nor moderation, nor foresight. A prideful heart cannot see the state it is in, or foresee what it should choose and what it should shun, and it does not deign to listen to anyone who reproves it for its folly or who teaches it where its profit lies. It thinks that it ought to rise up to heaven



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and be above everyone else, scorning all people. This is the wind that attacks and assails the prelates of Holy Church, and with its gusts throws them into disarray. [3993–4021] Along with this wind, which rages against them, the disturbances of the sea inflict great anger and harm on them: that is, anger and rancorous hatred, which agitate and disturb the whole world and brings disturbance into Holy Church. [4022–4027] Holy Church is in such a state of uncertainty, in such disturbance, in such great discord – because of the princes, the barons, and those who are supposed to guide the oars of Holy Church, who want to injure and destroy everyone – that, if God does not properly intervene, the one who is supposed to control the tiller will not be able to bring peace nor protection to her, since he commands one thing and they do something else. He no longer knows what decision to make, what to command or what to prohibit. And although he does command, without a doubt, nobody obeys any more: rather, each operates now according to their own understanding, without cause and without law. [4028–4043] The people are so preoccupied and faith and truth so counterfeited, that, it seems to me, worldly goods are prized more highly than paradise. All fraud, all malice, all injustice, all offense and all vice and all treachery are overwhelming the whole world and making it pitch. Holy Church pitches and yaws. If God does not protect his “ship,” she is all unnailed and broken. All belief is corrupted by magic and sorcery, and too many sacrileges are carried out everywhere, in a great effusion of “rain” and pollution, gluttony and lust, that destroys everything. Everyone has now chosen carnal ease and delight; they are all so enfeebled and stained with vice and mortal sin that they no longer have the power to do good, nor does anyone think to hold themselves back from any evil they might do and might have done. They are so blinded in their transgressions that they do not know how to guide themselves, but in harming and damaging others the woeful wretches are subtle and clear-sighted. [4044–4073] One evil person resembles another.83 All evils have now come together to bring everything to ruin, but the wave of avaricious covetousness rears up high above them all: this is the wave that has submerged all of Holy Church, it seems to me – the prelates and those who answer to them – and has completely corrupted the faith. Now matters have reached a point where everyone should cling to what they have. I’m afraid that soon will come the time of persecution, which brings everything to perdition; that the most praised princes and the kings will be deposed on the day of anguish and obscurity, of error and misfortune; that the Son of God will be filled with wrath. [4074–4092] Rouen (fol. 294r) and other manuscripts have Et lor folour sens lor resemble (“And their folly seems like sense to them”) for v. 4074, which, in that case, must be read as the end of the preceding sentence. 83

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Then every mortal empire will collapse, and every human creature will have to pay the debt of their nature, and the world will be put to death – despite the fact that many are already “dead” and still manifestly “dying” from having lived dissolutely in their crossing of this world, where many founder, plunge, and sink into the woeful confusion of death and perdition. They are spiritually dead, even though they live in body, for sinful life is death. Since people are enamored of living wrong, and their ship is dissolute, their life is not much to be prized, no matter how high their rank. [4093–4110] The “god who holds the winds in check and makes the sea tremble” is God, who by divine power makes the sea grow calm and stir, and makes it storm and rain. He locks up the winds and sets them free from his treasury when it pleases him. [4111–4117] {T}here is an interpretation more in accord with the intended meaning of the tale. The king who makes the winds blow in order to strike down the worldly who place the most faith in him is earthly existence, which sets back and confounds the very ones who are most intimate with it. Whoever trusts in it is greatly deceived. Earthly existence has dominion over every vain vanity. The world is more accustomed to deceive, through its fraud and its malice, whoever espouses the delightfulness of earthly existence and wants to possess it. Worldly delight is vain and full of mutability. Because of its great variability, we might say it is a bird. These ladies, young men, and others who are so deluded by these delights that they abuse them and embrace them gluttonously, we can likewise call birds. When we see such birds “flying down” to gobble up earthly goods, that is a sign of upheaval, and of the bitter perdition which will cause the worldly to perish and drown, and which will very soon be coming to the world. [4118–4147] [miniature, fol. 294v: aesacus pursues hesperie while a “serpent” bites her heel]84

Aesacus and Hesperie {A}bove, you heard the tale of King Ceyx and his beloved, who used to love each other so much and have now become seabirds. Some who saw these birds flying over the sea praised them very much, because they had been accustomed to love each other so steadfastly. Over the sea there flew another bird, which had once been a noble youth, born of royal lineage. His father Priam had held the lordship and the lands of Troy. The valiant Hector had been his brother. [4148–4161] Fols 246v and 294v have comparable miniatures. The “serpent” in both is a mini-dragon the size of a dog. 84



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The boy’s name was Aesacus, and he would not have had lesser renown, possibly, for his strength and heroism if he had lived to his rightful age. But Fortune, who undoes many people, had thwarted him all too soon, even though he was of royal lineage. And he kept company with people as little as he could. He loathed towns and cities and fled stone halls, and lived in the woods, the fields, the hidden mountains. And he was very wise and discerning, clever and very charming, and had devoted his care to love. For a long time he had loved Hesperie, a renowned maiden, but was unable to have his way with her. [4162–4180] There came a day when she was enjoying herself, sitting by a river, and he, who would gladly have forced her, tried to seize her to take his pleasure with her, but she fled and left him behind like a doe with a wolf, or the way a duck flees before a hawk. The one who was trying to take and seize her made her exert herself greatly and gasp for breath. She struggled to escape, fearing that she would be raped. [4181–4192] Fleeing, the beauty trampled a snake that was hidden in the grass, and the snake stung and bit her on the back of the heel, and the venom killed her. She dropped dead and he embraced her, saying: “Alas, curse this chase! Why did I pursue your death? It grieves me very much that I chased you, sweet beloved, but who would have believed that such a situation might arise? The snake and I have killed you. There is nothing that will ever comfort me, since I have lost you, beloved, but I won’t live long after you; rather, I will die because of you, having brought you to the cause of your death.” [4193–4209] In this way, the wretch lamented and mourned for love of the girl over whose death he completely lost his mind. Suddenly he rushed off and climbed onto a rock against which the sea beat. From there he threw and cast himself into the sea in order to kill himself. But guess who didn’t want to let him die?85 [4210–4217] [miniature, fol. 295r: aesacus throwing himself off the rock into the sea]

{T}hetis! She mercifully held him back and gave him feathers and wings to support him. He was angry and scornful over not having the power to die, and to drown himself, had he been able, he repeatedly dove and plunged into the deep sea. He could not die, which made him sorrowful. [4218–4226] His thighs are spaced far apart. He has a long neck and a lean body. On the high seas he continues to dive to put an end to his distress. And because he dives assiduously, he is called a “diver.”86 [4227–4232] Mes ne le volt lessier morir / Thetis, vv. 4217–4218: lit. “But Thetis didn’t want to let him die,” but Rouen’s miniature and majuscule break up the sentence. In Ovid (Met. 11.784), this is Tethys, not Thetis. 86 OF plongeons (“diver”): in North America, a loon. 85

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Moralization Now I will tell you, if you like, what meaning this tale can have. [4233–4234] [miniature, fol. 295r: the rebel angels falling as devils from heaven]87

{T}he diver represents the devil, who truly was of royal lineage, born in heaven, but, because of his folly, he fell from paradise to the depths of hell and the deep abyss. He is the one who put all his care into corrupting human nature. He is the one who sent it to its death when “the snake bit it on the foot.” The “foot” is the consent that was given when, through the wicked urging of the serpent, the first mother took the bite of the bitter apple. He is the woeful one who, through death, was not able to heal his mortal grief. This “diver” flies over the sea of the harrowing and bitter world, and devours the “fish” of the sinful rabble. [4235–4253]

87

Compare and contrast the miniatures on fols 41v, 154v, 209r, and 295r.

Book 12

Paris and Helen1 [miniature, fol. 295v: paris in a ship, coming to visit menelaus]

{P}riam did not know that his son, the youth Aesacus, was a bird, and he mourned him as though he were dead, and Hector and the royal family held funeral rites for him. Paris was not present at this ceremony, for he was sailing across the sea to abduct Helen with the shapely body, whom Venus had promised to the foolish lover in exchange for his judgment. He sailed so much, night and day, not caring to rest, that he arrived at the port of Mycenae. [1–13] He found Menelaus on the shore, getting things ready for his journey, because he wanted to go to Crete without delay and take his army there, on account of some great business he had. Menelaus saw the ship coming. It was very beautiful, attractive, and very richly decorated: no one ever saw one better outfitted. He asked those aboard who they were, and which of them was master of the ship. Paris said he was in charge. Menelaus asked him his name, and what land and family they originated from, and what they had come to seek there. [14–28] Paris said: “I was born in Asia (Minor), a realm in the possession of my father, Priam, who rules and has dominion throughout Asia (Minor) and over the great city of Troy. I have heard so many good things said about you and the splendor of your empire, that I’ve come here to serve you, in order to earn 1 The events of this section are mentioned but not fleshed out in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, which moves from the opening here to the events beginning at v. 1317 below (“The father, Priam, mourned for the son, Aesacus, not knowing that he was still alive in winged form. Hector with his brothers had also, inappropriately, offered sacrifices at a tomb inscribed with his name. Paris was not present at this sad ritual, he, who presently brought extended war on his country because of the wife he had stolen. The whole Pelasgian race, joined together to pursue him, in a thousand ships, and vengeance would not have been long in coming had not fierce winds made the seas un-navigable, and the land of Boeotia detained the waiting ships in the fishing-grounds of Aulis,” Kline). What follows draws on Heroides 16 (Paris to Helen) and 17 (Helen to Paris); but compare Dares Phrygius, De excidio Troiae historia 9–11 (trans. Frazer 1966) and the Roman de Troie, vv. 4167–4936 (trans. Burgess and Kelly 2017, 93–101). See Biancardi (2018) for more about the sources for this Book.

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your love and learn the language and customs of the people of Greece, if you deign to take me on.” [29–39] “Friend, you’d be very welcome to come,” said Menelaus. “Your service doesn’t displease me, truth be told, if it pleases you to stay with me. But very shortly I must travel to Crete for some important business. I’ll be back soon, for I don’t care to stay there long. I’d already like to be on my way back, having taken care of my business. As soon as I’ve carried it to term, I’ll set sail back home. Until I return, my wife will ensure your ease and comfort.” [40–53] Paris heard him and mightily rejoiced. Do not think that this displeased him, for now he thought he would have the time and leisure to carry out his will. By my head, he would never want the king to come back to the land! The king was very foolish, bewildered, and deluded for leaving his wife in the safekeeping of a young man like that, who loved her so much and who had traveled from such a faraway land at such great cost in order to court her, and had taken such pains to cross the sea for love of Helen. The king indeed made a shepherd of the wolf! Before he was on his way back, he would hear news that he would hardly find pleasant and good. [54–70] [miniature, fol. 296r: paris being entrusted by menelaus to helen]

{T}he king wanted to leave at once. He kissed his wife on his departure, and entreated her to take care of his guest until he returned. The beauty smiled a little on account of this, but she did a good job of holding back and restraining her laughter, so that her husband might not notice it. I do believe she was glad to receive that last commandment! The king left in haste and gave the lamb over to the wolf’s keeping. [71–81] Paris stayed behind with the beauty he had desired for a long time. He devoted all his heart, strength, and thought into serving the beauty as she wanted. He would rise to high status, it seemed obvious to him, if beautiful, bright-faced Helen would deign to willingly accept his service. Nor did he need to be taught how, for he served her well, however he went about it: whatever commands it gave him, love taught and instructed him how to be of good service in order to earn Helen’s love. [82–94] He was never too impetuous; rather, he held out for many hours and many days before revealing his heart. He knew well how to conceal and hide himself, at least when it came to telling her that he loved her, but Helen, if she deigned to pay heed, was able to perceive it through his sighs, laments, sweet laughter, and simple glances. He made this known to her through signs, and then paid attention to her demeanor to see if she would be too haughty to deny him her love if he asked her for it. He wisely investigated and studied her behavior and face, then revealed his state of mind to her when he saw his chance and opportunity. [95–111]



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[miniature, fol. 296r: paris talks to helen]

“{B}eauty,” he said, “may it not displease you if I tell you what I’m thinking. I can’t defend myself any longer. I’ve suffered so much that I can’t any more. No one could imagine the ills I endure for your love, any more than one could count the drops of water in a well.2 Don’t be too hard towards me. I, Paris, son of the king of Troy, ruled by your love, lady, have come here from a very distant land to seek your love. I didn’t come to serve you or earn recompense, for I have plenty of riches and wealth, but only to have your love. For love of you, I crossed the sea. [112–129] “You should love me all the better for it, lady, since I can count on your love, because Venus, mother of the god of love – she who is the mistress of lovers – promised me that you would be my wife, ever since the three ladies submitted to my judgment: one promising me a kingdom, the second, strength and knowledge,3 if I judged her the most beautiful, and the third told me about you and said that I’d have your love if I gave her the apple that the most beautiful was supposed to have. For your sake I cast aside strength and intellect, power and wealth, that the two others promised me, and I won’t regret it at all if I can have you according to my will, just as Venus promised me. The goddess sent me here. On her counsel, I crossed the sea. On her counsel, I fell in love with you. I don’t love you by chance. [130–153] “I’ve invested my love and care in you since before I ever saw you, and I could never have imagined the great beauty of your body. You are very beautiful – even more than your renown bears witness. King Theseus, who abducted you,4 undertook an extraordinarily lofty task, for I never saw anything more beautiful. Certainly, he must have loved you very much, but he was very blameworthy in this respect: that he was ever willing to give you back. Certainly, I’d sooner let myself be killed than willingly return you, as long I was able to have you in my possession, and if I was forced to give you back, it wouldn’t go so badly for me that I wouldn’t have taken something – either a kiss … or something else. [154–172] “Gentle lady, noble and courtly, may it not displease you or cause you sorrow if I seek your love, but do what I ask of you. Accept me, lady, as your lover, and I swear to you – so help me god – that I’ll never be intimate with another beloved for the rest of my life. I’m very worthy of loving such a lady. 2 Venus used the same language to make the same comparison, “any more than one could count the drops of water in a well,” when she was describing to Paris the extent of her power (Book 11, vv. 1644–1658, at vv. 1644–1646). The repetition here suggests that Paris has clearly retained her lessons. 3 De Boer has La seconde force et avoir, v. 138: we translate force et savoir as in Rouen (fol. 296v), which makes more sense. Cf. Book 11, v. 1512. 4 De Boer notes that the name of Theseus, in v. 161, seems to reference Heroides 16 (echoed in vv. 171, 186, 192).

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If you’re willing to be my wife, you’ll be making a very noble marriage, for I am truly of royal lineage: I am descended from Jupiter and beautiful, brightfaced Electra, never mind my other ancestors. My father is lord and possessor of Asia (Minor) and holds dominion over it. No king has such great lordship or such vast land to manage. [173–191] “If you’re willing to come away with me, you’ll see the towers and cities and great delights – and you’ll see Troy and Ilium. There you’ll make your home. You’ll see the great lords of Troy, that I can’t possibly enumerate for you, and the ladies of the land, who’ll come to meet you, so noble that the basest of them seems to be a duchess or chatelaine. When you see the great nobility of my country, and its riches, then you will know that I speak the truth. There are more riches and wealth in one palace there than in any city in this whole land. I don’t say that to scorn this place, for the land where you were born and brought up deserves great praise, but it is not – may god bless me – worthy to host such a lady. It won’t be able to provide you with the finery that would befit you. If, when it comes to me and my men, we are elegant and charming, the ladies of our land are, in short, even more charming, for the poorest of them is better dressed than the best of this land. There is no call to seek more elegant ladies. [192–222] “May it please you, lady, to be my lover. By god, don’t refuse me, for you will never have a more worthy lord when it comes to riches or honors. So help me god, Ganymede is my uncle and of Trojan birth. He is the wine-steward of heaven. Menelaus isn’t my equal in chivalry, nobility, or property. I wish it might please god that whichever one of us two might best be able to conquer you, would have you: truly, in that case, he would never lie with you. But I have no use for that here: I must await your grace and mercy and entreat you, for I can’t use force against you. I must await your mercy, for it would do me no good to fight for it. [223–242] “Grant me the pleasure and delight of your bed, lady. Don’t be ashamed to break your marriage vows in order to take such a courtly lover, for it isn’t a debasement. You’re either stupid or squalid, when you’re so full of beauty, if you think to live chastely. If nature doesn’t lie, it’s not possible for a woman to be beautiful and chaste at the same time. It seems to me you’ve got to leave one or the other behind. You’ll have to curb your pride, that rejects and drives away lovers, or change your beautiful face. You would hardly be the daughter of Jupiter by Leda, the bright-faced beauty, engendered and conceived through love. When you’re descended from such people, you cannot, god save me, be chaste, if love isn’t lacking – and love has never been lacking. I would feel incredibly mistreated. [243–266] “When, in the future, we’re together in Troy, if you’re chaste, that would be fine with me! There, you’ll be my wife and my beloved. But from now on, I don’t recommend that you refuse to take me as a lover, lady, in order to live chastely. But, beauty, do my pleasure. We have plenty of opportunity and



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leisure to do whatever we please. Your husband won’t ever complain about it. He went away to give us our ease. There’s nothing more he can do to please you. How very thoughtful he is! He never could have left the country more conveniently. [267–281] “Do you think the stupid fool knows what your beauty’s worth? If he knew it, god save me, he would never, in short, have left you in a strange man’s keeping. The fool, when he wanted to take his leave, asked you on his departure, lady, to take care of me. Certainly, you obeyed him poorly. You’re not carrying out his command well if, for all my entreating, you won’t deign to be my lover, and you should be motivated by the opportunity we have. We are very foolish and ignorant if we let this time pass us idly by. Don’t be disdainful, beauty, but do what I entreat you. [282–299] “You’ll come with me to Troy. There, I’ll give you a great estate and take you as my wife. There, I’ll swear fealty to you: to keep faith and loyalty all the days of my life. If you’re ashamed to follow me, I’ll take all the blame on myself. If you’re afraid that someone will blame you for it, I’ll have you taken away by force, and I’ll say that you were forced. Here are my people and retinue, very well armed, and my ship is ready in the harbor. We’ll cross the sea. We’ll arrive in the honored land to great celebration and there you’ll be crowned with gold. You’ll have more fun, entertainment, and joy than I can possibly say. [300–318] “Don’t think that Menelaus will wage war on me to get you back: many other women have been abducted and then were never avenged. Boreas abducted beautiful Orithyia, without a single lance being broken for it later; and Theseus already carried you off, and he brought back with him from Crete Ariadne, the king’s daughter, without anyone ever waging war against him for it. It’s obvious that in such loves, there’s more fear than loss. [319–330] “But now let Menelaus bring his troops to mighty Troy: there’s more gold and silver, wine and grain, warhorses and people in Asia (Minor) than in the whole extent of Greece. Let Menelaus come, if he can stand it, to wage war against me: I have no fear or distress at the prospect, for I’ll receive him well, without a doubt, either one-on-one or in battle. He’s not my equal in heroism, valor, or rank. I strike well with lance and sword. When I’m in the throes of battle, I know well how to injure my enemy from afar, when it’s necessary. When it’s required, I shoot very well. Menelaus knows nothing of all that, and he has no brother who’s worth as much as the warrior Hector. He alone is worth a thousand men put together. He alone, it seems to me, could conquer all the Greeks. They couldn’t resist him. And if it comes to a fight, I would certainly have to put forth effort and chivalry for such a reward.5 [331–357] 5 Et s’il venoit au guerroier, v. 355, might seem to refer to Hector, but compare the end of Heroides 16, from Paris to Helen: “Yet I’d not be displeased to take up arms for such a wife: / great prizes arouse competition” (Kline).

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“I don’t know what else to say to you, beauty, but let’s go, while we have the opportunity, happily to great Asia (Minor), if you receive me as your lord.” As they say, “Opportunity makes the thief!”6 [358–362] {P}aris had so much leisure to state his purpose and his pleasure that he reeled the beauty in. Helen consented to his will, at least in her heart, no matter what she said. But there is all too much slyness in women, for they never feel such desire that they don’t act resistant about it, and each one barely admits it. Helen acted resistant. She did not immediately say: “I love you.” Rather, she answered him as though with disdain: [363–374] “That’s what you’ve come for, is it? Did my husband put you up in his home so you might act shamefully? It would – and indeed must – please me more for you to find me squalid than for anyone to ever say that Helen committed folly or whoring. For that reason, even if you see me smiling, that doesn’t mean I’m not a respectable woman! You’ll never hear tell of my blame. I don’t know what folly has given you such hope. [375–386] “If Theseus took me away by force, is it right for me to be taken by force again? I’m saddened and angered by this. If he had forced me then, I shouldn’t incur any blame for it, when it was against my will. But he certainly never transgressed against me, except for the fear he caused me, or the fact that he kissed me against my will, but no more, for that alone made me very sorrowful. If you’d had me in the same position, without a doubt you wouldn’t have been so forbearing, but god didn’t hate me that much. Theseus restrained his folly; is it right that you should have me because of that? I couldn’t care less if you entreat me, for no one, god help me, should bear hatred towards their lover. I won’t ever blame you if you love me without pretense, but, so help me god, I doubt that, not because I don’t have an incredibly shapely body and beautiful face, but because men, in my opinion, are all too deceitful and have betrayed many maidens with their tall tales. [387–412] “But if you say it seems to you that a woman can’t be both a respectable woman and a graceful beauty: I don’t care what another woman does – only that I don’t lose anything. That will never make me behave foolishly. If my mother was tricked and I was conceived ‘through love,’7 do you want to have me because of that? Jupiter took on the semblance of a swan to deceive her. He forced her, and he would be worthy of having someone even more beauti-

“Aise fet laron,” v. 362, appears to be a play on words with Aise (“Asia [Minor]”). This par amours conceüe, v. 420, picks up on Paris’s par amours engendree et faite, v. 261, but puts a different spin on the phrase par amours: Paris meant to emphasize the love and passion aspect, while Helen seems to use it as a synonym for “out of wedlock.” This play on similar words but different meanings was already common in 12th-century Ovidian narratives, like the anonymous lay of Narcisus et Dané (see Eley 2002). 6 7



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ful at his will. My heart must never be sorry for that: there’s more honor than shame in it. [413–427] “But now you’re making such a big deal to me about how you have good parentage. Jupiter, of whom you boast, is my father, which I find gratifying insofar as you are five degrees removed from him. If your lands are great and vast, well, so are those of the kingdom of Argos. Thanks be to god, I can just as easily find great riches here. If there’s more gold and silver over there, more wine and grain, warhorses and people, then discount that in exchange for the fact that that land is more foreign. [428–440] “You promise me such great gifts for my love, if I give it to you, that you’ll attract goddesses to you with your promises alone, but it’s better to take a little with honor, than to take great riches with dishonor. I don’t want to jeopardize my chastity for any gift you’re able to promise me. I have no use for any such reward if it comes to acting foolishly. I’d rather have your love than your gifts, and a gift is highly acceptable when it comes from a worthy person. So help me god, I care more that you have loved me so much, that you crossed the sea for me.8 [441–456] “Many times, may god save me, without my giving much indication of it, I saw your signs, but my heart wasn’t ever moved to consent to sin and give you my love, even though you’re very handsome. There might be elevated love residing in you – and I would find it – but I would rather, and rightfully so, that another woman find joy and honor in it than that I incur dishonor from it. I’ll in no way do it. You’d do well to withdraw, for he who denies himself the delight he loves and desires is powerful. Many others besides you have seen me and loved me, and didn’t have me – and they coped well with the denial. Many others have desired me because of the great beauty I had. Do you really think another can’t see as well as you can? But it isn’t that he’s more afraid, or that you’re bolder: you’re simply a mightier boaster with words. [457–482] “If, before I was married, you’d crossed the sea for me and I had seen you then, I would have chosen you above all others; above all others you would have carried away the prize. But now I’ve taken another lord, and I consider myself well satisfied with that. I’m not so bewildered that I’d leave him for a stranger. I’ll never want to make such an exchange. [483–493] “You’ll have to make your entreaties elsewhere. By god, stop with your entreaties. Don’t lead me down a foolish path. Don’t love me, so help me god, if you’re seeking to harm me. I don’t believe Venus promised me in marriage to you, nor that any of the ladies submitted to your judgment. If they truly vv. 454–456 might seem to mean “I care more that you have loved me than that you crossed the sea for me,” but compare Ovid (Heroides 19, From Helen to Paris): “While I don’t reject them, gifts are always the most acceptable / when the author of them has made them precious. / It’s more that you love me, that I’m the reason for your labours, / that you come in hope, over such wastes of water” (Kline). 8

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did, then I don’t believe this news that Venus considers me so beautiful that she sent you to Greece, and that she considers you well compensated for your judgment by having me and casting aside riches and knowledge, that the other two promised you, to become my beloved. That would be a far too costly reward! [494–511] “My beauty is very praiseworthy, for I’m beautiful, so help me god, but I’m nonetheless satisfied with having the praise of mortal men. I don’t believe, and I don’t dare say, that Venus considers me such a prize, and if she praises me, then it’s to subject me to harm or disdain, I think. But if she praises me, how does that injure me? It pleases me greatly and is very much to my liking that she considers me beautiful and shapely, and I’m thrilled to know it. So I do believe that you’re telling the truth, for many miss out on good fortune for not believing easily. [512–526] “It pleases me that Venus praises me, but it would be please me more if you could consider yourself well compensated by such praise.9 But you were hardly wise to cast aside kingdoms and wealth, strength and intellect, to have my love. Did I seem to be worth so much to you that you chose to cast aside such goods for love of me? My heart ought to give way for you, and I should indeed love such a lover, if my heart wasn’t harder than adamant. It’s not harder than adamant, but I don’t care to be the beloved of a man I couldn’t have. I know well that my effort would be wasted: one of these days, you’d sail over the sea. [527–543] “Indeed, I wouldn’t know how to be in love. I never knew its byways. Those women who have learned and dared it are very fortunate. I’ve never deluded my husband: I don’t know how I would delude him or ever dare do such a thing. I’m easily embarrassed and afraid of shame. Everyone would have their own story about me. They’d all point their finger at me – and they already are, I swear to you. Some have already spoken ill of us: my ladies-in-waiting have told me that gossips and slanderers are already spreading slander about us. We’re already subject to a lot of blame. For that reason, I ask you, if you love me, not to act like it in any way, or to restrain the thought that moved you to love me. For god’s sake, don’t let me be blamed. [544–564] “But why would you restrain yourself from loving if you hide it well? You could laugh and find solace in here, without trouble and contention, as long as my husband isn’t here. There’s no one here but my entourage. Right now, my husband is very far away. He went to Crete on some important business. It’s not without a compelling reason that he left his house so alone to go to 9 The corresponding part in Ovid’s Heroides 17 is: “My prime pleasure is to have so pleased Venus: / the next, that you saw me as the greatest prize, / and preferred neither Hera’s nor Athene’s offerings / to the charms of Helen you had heard of” (Kline). For de Boer’s Vous tendrois, v. 529, Copenhagen (p. 654) has vous tendriez.



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another land, but he’ll come back without delay, as he said on his departure. He kissed me when he was about to leave, and asked me to take care of the residence and put you well at ease. Indeed, I had such a desire to smile when I heard him speak those words, that I couldn’t answer him beyond saying that I would do so. [565–584] “Since he left, does that make it right for you to do whatever you please? If he thought I was wicked, he wouldn’t have left me such leeway; rather, he would have left me with a greater guard. But he knows very well that I don’t need it, because I’m a respectable woman, no doubt. And nevertheless he has a little doubt because of the great beauty of my face. My widespread renown is, in my opinion, all too harmful to me. He is a little bit suspicious of me because of the renown of my beauty. He thoroughly believes in my loyalty; he is a little suspicious of rumor. I wish I were less renowned! [585–600] “You’re entreating me very much, while we have the time and opportunity, that I should please not let this time pass by in vain, but that we should make light of the foolish churl. I’m not sure about this business. It pleases me a lot, but I don’t know what to do about it. It makes me fearful and distraught so that I don’t dare to undertake such a thing, even though the delight would please me well. The two of us lie alone in two beds, and it’s so much more of a hardship that these nights are so long. You consider me beautiful, and I find you handsome. You love me, and I you. Come now, what else is needed to seal the deal? I find you so noble and charming that it’s no wonder I want what you’re asking of me. [601–618] “I would have you force me to do as I wish! It’s more appealing to me for me to be forced than to freely consent to it. And it would be better for me to repent and abandon my folly before the deed is done! These men are so full of guile. The love of a man from a foreign land is more slippery than an eel. Jason, who went to Colchis to fetch the Golden Fleece, so help me god, took two beloveds on the way: Hypsipyle, whom he got pregnant, and then Medea, whom he left in order to get intimate with a third beloved. Theseus didn’t maintain great faith towards the Cretan woman – that is, toward the beautiful Ariadne, whom he left in order to take her sister. And I’ve been led to believe that, if I were to be intimate with you, I wouldn’t enjoy it any better than Oenone, whom you loved and then falsely left. You didn’t know this at all, but I’ve thoroughly looked into your life! [618–644] “But even if your love were very steadfast now, I can’t anticipate the hour or the time when you’ll return to Troy and I will stay behind, woeful. It will sure have done me a lot of good! Before our love had begun, it would have to end. I would have done a good job of shaming myself, in the end! So do you really think I should go away with you? Without a doubt, I don’t hate my soul, body, or honor enough that I would subject myself to dishonor or shame for such a foolish act. I would reproached with it forever more. What would

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they say in this land and even over there: ‘What is this tramp after with this lecher?’ That’s what the gossipers would say. I would incur shame and great infamy. [645–663] “Priam himself and his wife could only think ill of me. I’d never recover my good reputation. You, yourself, who entreat me to do this, you’d never see another man who wouldn’t incur your suspicion; rather, you’d be worried that another would seduce me just as quickly as you attracted me. Never again, in truth, would you believe me: on the contrary, in your discontent, you’d always reproach me with the foolishness and the fault that you made me commit. I’d find that incredibly hard to bear. Indeed, I’d rather be dead. But you assure and comfort me that you’d be a loyal beloved, and whatever you’ve promised me, you would deliver to me with goodwill, and you would love and cherish me. [664–684] “What am I saying? Poor me, was I dreaming? Who would I complain to, who would do right by me?10 My mother would never help me, or my brothers,11 or my relatives. I would never have any protector. Jason promised more to Medea, and he kept little faith toward her: that disloyal man cast her out. I really believe you’d be loyal and would keep great faith toward me, and that you wouldn’t transgress against me in any way. I mustn’t have any doubt. Likewise, Medea had no doubt that Jason wouldn’t play her false. Certainly, I don’t know what to do about it. I’m afraid some harm will come to you because of it. I don’t think Menelaus will hold back from coming to get me, resulting in a tremendous war that would bring our love to a tragic end. The dream your mother once had might well come to pass: I’m afraid she might have conceived the torch that would burn down Troy. The rumor has spread everywhere that Troy will be burned and destroyed if you take a lover from this land. Menelaus is lion-hearted, and he’ll have the lords of Greece with him. I know he’ll come to reclaim his wife. [685–715] “Pirithoüs waged great war against the centaurs for Hippodamia. No castle or tower will keep Menelaus from killing you – him, my brothers, and their entourage. You’re boasting about your prowess? It does not appear from your handsome face that you’re very strong. Let the mighty Hector fight. You’re not worthy to bear arms, but rather to take delight and enjoyment in the beautiful arms of your beloved. If I were wise or bold, I’d never refuse that delight, but would go away with you to Troy. Indeed, truly, shame won’t dissuade me from pursuing my pleasure; rather, I’ll do your bidding without opposition, and whoever wants to speak ill of me can go

10 Qui desavenant me feroit, v. 686. Read this way, it would mean “Who would do me any impropriety?” But de Boer quotes the Latin: “Quis mihi, si laedar, Phrygiis succurrat in oris?” So we read Qui de s’avenant me feroit? and translate accordingly. 11 Translated as plural because she has twin brothers, Castor and Pollux.



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ahead and speak ill. I don’t care. But you’ll carry me off by force, and then I won’t be blamed as much.” [716–737] In this way, they talked out the whole issue. They planned out their business: they planned the time and place where the beauty would be abducted. Paris got his ship ready and had his knights armed for combat, if need be. [738–744] [miniature, fol. 299v: paris and his knights abducting helen from the temple]

{O}ne day, in the city of Argos, there was a great ceremony in honor of Juno. The people of all the land had gathered there to see the celebration and the service. Helen had undertaken something else. She didn’t go to the celebration. Instead, she went to the castle of Helos, on the coast, on the island of Cythera.12 Castor and Pollux, her two brothers, were not in that kingdom: they were in Cyprus and had taken Helen’s daughter, Hermione, to her uncle Agamemnon. Thus they would never disturb her. On the island, there was far from being a crowd of people who were strong or able to defend themselves, who might be able to mount effective resistance. [745–762] Helen had taken her counsel well. Venus had a temple in the town. That night, in the temple, there was to be a vigil and a marvelously beautiful celebration, so there wasn’t much of anyone around. Beautiful Helen with the shapely body came to the temple out of devotion, certainly – or out of deception – and she kept vigil for lust. [763–771] Paris prepared for his departure. He came to the temple at midnight: no matter whom it pleased or offended, he abducted the beautiful Helen. She was very woeful and bewildered and fearful, or so it seemed. She shook with fear all over. She even cried out: “Help! Help!” and “What’s going on? Sir vassal, will you take me by force? Help me, good people, I’m being forced! Don’t allow me to be shamed!” [772–783] The whole town was in uproar. They put up a valiant defense of her but Paris forcibly took her from them through the efforts of his men. They put to sea. They sailed away. They traveled so far over the sea, day and night, in joy and delight, that they reached the port of Troy. In great joy and happiness Helen was received in Troy, but, just as the story declares, later it was very dearly bought: Troy was burned and destroyed over it. They would feel they had been incredibly deceived because of it. [784–797] Throughout Greece it became known that Paris had taken the beauty away. This news reached Sparta, and her two brothers heard it. In the swelling of In the Roman de Troie by Benoît de Sainte-Maure (ed. Constans 1904–12), this castle is named Helle (v. 4524) and Elee (v. 4551), rendered “Helea” by Burgess and Kelly (2017), 97. As de Boer notes, the prose Roman de Troie does not name the castle. No castle by this name has ever stood on the island, and the idea of it likely results from a confusion with the town of Hellos: see Koerting (1874), 90. 12

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their rage, they had their ship readied in order to rescue their abducted sister. And they followed Paris and Helen, sailing over the sea with a great number of fierce men; but before they could catch up with them, they saw the sky open and change color, and such a storm and such wind arose that the sea was all stirred up. The sails and the mast broke. Not one of them wouldn’t have preferred to be in Egypt, there was no denying it. Their ship was no more watertight than a basket. They couldn’t help sinking at sea. [798–815] Never again did any of them reach port, nor were the brothers ever seen again. As the ancients believed – and they certified it to be true – the two of them were deified and turned into a sign in the heavens, a sign of twin youths (Gemini) through which the sun makes its course in May. Menelaus would never have any help from them, if he wanted to wage war against Paris to get his wife back. [816–826] Moralization Now it’s only right for me to tell you the meaning that can be attributed to this tale. [827–828] [miniature, fol. 300r: a man embraces a woman who holds a small dog or rabbit representing her genitalia, and her chastity which is in jeopardy]13

{P}aris, who gave the apple to Venus, can be understood as someone who devotes all their understanding to living delightfully in the world, with ease and rest, and who has no other business in mind than to carry out their foolish will, no matter whom it causes to suffer. Helen is the vain delight that seduces and entices the fool into committing much wickedness, excess, and folly: in seeing, speaking, listening, kissing, and having sex, both in thought and in deed. This sin carries off the soul and steals it away from God through vain seduction, and it leads people to destruction, shame and confusion, and mortal perdition. [829–848] I think those who “were in Argos, holding a celebration for Juno,” are those who worship covetousness, applying themselves and laboring, being at pains and in travail, to amass riches and pile up great wealth. That is now the general mindset. All people are nowadays anxious to celebrate Lady Avarice, except those who have devoted their attention and care to vain delight, gluttony, and lust, and who have chosen to celebrate carnal ease and delight, in order to live dissolutely. [849–865] And because people everywhere are corrupted and base, scandal and dire chaos are crashing down on the world, to bring everything to perdition. People

13

Fols 29r and 300r have comparable miniatures of this.



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are now “sunk.” Every wickedness is doubly abundant in the world, more than ever before, and all goodness declines and is undone, so that there is no longer anyone who does any good deed that pleases God, and they will pay for it, perhaps. [866–877] [miniature, fol. 300v: menelaus on his ship]

Menelaus Comes Home {M}enelaus was returning from Crete. He was already back at Pylos, where he was having a good time with Nestor, when someone relayed to him the news that Paris had carried the beauty away to Troy, against her will: he had abducted her by force in Helos, in the temple of Venus. When the king heard this, no one had to ask if it caused him suffering and sorrow: it caused him great grief, without a doubt. He manifested tremendous woe. The old man wept and made a fuss over the same thing that brought joy to his wife. I could not possibly describe his great grief – neither I, nor anyone else alive, unless they know what jealousy is. He wept and mourned for beautiful Helen: [878–895] “Oh, poor me, curse the fact that I went to Crete! Who could have anticipated such an insult? Beauty, by what misfortune were you taken away from me like this? Good and loyal, there’s no way you would have willingly offended against me. You loved me in good faith, but the deceiver carried you off by force. Alas, I’m afraid he might force her and do vile things to her. From now on, I don’t care about my life, since I’ve lost what I loved.” [896–907] “Good king,” said Nestor, “don’t get carried away. Don’t weep. Set this grief aside. You won’t be able to accomplish anything by it. It’s not an honorable thing for a king to engage in such grief and abandon. You must have the heart of a lion, and must, without lamentation, set your heart, body, and soul to avenging the shame to the lady and your own as well. I’ll give you ample help in avenging the lady with the shapely body, with the strength of all my men. Your brother will come to your aid. You’ll be well able to rescue your wife and avenge her shame and your own. With the men you’ll lead to Troy, you’ll lay waste the whole kingdom. Now I’ll tell you what you’ll do. You have no call to tarry, but swiftly prepare your departure; summon all your lords and have a messenger inform your brother of your plan – and of the wrong and impropriety that has been done to you with regard to your wife. Let him come and help you avenge this transgression with all the power he has. I know well that as soon as he knows about it, nothing will hold him back from coming right away to help you with the strength of all his men.” [908–939] Menelaus chose one of his servants: through him, he sent a request to his brother and asked him to help him in this hour of need. The envoy set off, did not tarry further, and found Agamemnon in Argos. He relayed his message to

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him: he told him of the trickery and the false act of the Trojans and the great shame they had brought to his lord. When Agamemnon heard this, it caused him great sorrow and anger. He was determined to put his effort and care into avenging the wrong and the insult that Paris had committed towards his brother: there was no way he wouldn’t pay for it somehow in the end. [940–955] Agamemnon made his preparations and met up with his brother in Sparta. He was determined that before the game was over, Helen would be dearly bought, and many people would be dead and confounded. Never before had such harm arisen over a woman. Agamemnon arrived in Sparta angry and filled with indignation. His heart was heavy for his brother. Don’t go thinking he felt small displeasure at the great scorn that the people of Asia (Minor) had schemed to bring on Menelaus – but, if he could, it would be dearly avenged! [956–968] On his advice, they had letters written. They made known throughout the whole empire of Greece and powerful Europe the violence and trickery Paris had committed in Greece. If everyone did not avenge this transgression, they would bear the reproach for it forever more. It was a crime that affected them all. It should cause sorrow to everyone. If vengeance was not taken for this act, the Trojans would all the sooner set about doing worse. May they remember the great offense, insult, and fault that the Trojans long ago committed toward Jason and his companions. The same kind of thing would happen again, if dire vengeance wasn’t taken. It would demean their worth very much; they would be less feared and esteemed, and they would be reproached for it. [969–988] The Greeks were very shocked by the message they received. They all considered this shame to be their own. There was no king, duke, count, prince, or man of valor who did not prepare for vengeance. They would all go to mighty Troy, and lead their forces there to avenge this wrong and this outrage. Each one assembled his lords. They gathered their ships together by Athens to cross the sea. This business of exacting dire vengeance could not be postponed. [989–1002] The whole land was in an uproar. Ulysses heard it. It did not please him at all. He had no desire to do battle: he would have much preferred to dally with his wife, Penelope. No man alive ever heard tell of a worthier lady. Duke Ulysses of Dulichia14 would have done most willingly without this pilgrimage, either for love of her or out of cowardice, if he could have avoided shame or the ill-will of the Greeks. It seemed far too burdensome to him to go to a foreign land to wage war over someone else’s wife. His own spouse sufficed him. He would never engage in such a foolish undertaking. If there was any way he could, he would stay. [1003–1021] 14

An island near Ithaca: see Bittlestone et al. (2005), 515.



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He came up with the idea of pretending to be mad and out of his mind in order to stay, if it worked. Ulysses was full of cunning. He came up with great deception. He acted in an unaccustomed way. He took hold of a plow in the fields: he plowed there like a farmhand. He had little concern for being reproached. And he sowed salt instead of oats. [1022–1031] The princes were in Athens, where the knights were gathering. It seemed to them they were missing Ulysses, the wisest and subtlest of them. They inquired amongst themselves: “Where is he?” When they realized he was not there at all, they went to look for him in Dulichia. They searched for and asked about him so much that they found him in the guise of a fool in the fields, where he held the plow. [1032–1041] Palamades clearly saw his great guile and cowardice. To reveal his deception, he grabbed Telemachus and threw him in front of the plowshare. If he was mad, he would crush him; and if not, he would certainly avoid him. When Ulysses saw his child, his heart nearly broke with the grief and anger he felt, but Palamades outwitted him when he placed his son in such danger. He loved him so much that he had no desire to kill him in such a way, but he would not be able to conceal his ruse and his fraud would become known if he did not run him over with his plow. Shame, sloth, and wickedness counselled him to do what mercy and love for his son warned him against. He was not foolish: he turned the wheel of the plow in another direction. Then the Greeks grabbed Ulysses and took him to Athens, along with the lords of his realm. [1042–1066] Penelope mourned so much for her husband who was being taken away that she almost went mad with suffering. Ulysses was going to Athens whether he liked it or not. I’m very sure he hated Palamades, who had rebuked him for his deceit: if he could help it, never again would he undertake anything that would turn out so badly for him. [1067–1075] When they had the wise Ulysses, the lords were very glad. Amongst themselves, they said and recommended that it would be good to choose a ruler who would have command over the whole army, and judge any malefactors, and marshal their attacks well, and for all the others to swear to obey him as they would a king. They chose Agamemnon, for they found him wise and valiant, seasoned and very accomplished, a trustworthy upholder of justice. They made him ruler and king over all of them, and he took on the responsibility, and then sent someone to the diviners to find out how the war would end. The diviners led them to believe that they would never be able to capture Troy by any force of arms or by assault, or that they would be able to achieve anything worthwhile, unless they had valiant Achilles. They would labor in vain, for he was the one meant to capture Troy and destroy and slay its people. [1076–1100]

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The Greeks sought out Achilles, but his mother, who was a goddess and knew well that he would die if he went to Troy – it’s true! – was neither foolish nor frightened: she placed her son in a convent of nuns, dressed as a woman. Achilles really seemed to be a woman with respect to his dress, his innocence, and his face. [1101–1109] Statius, who mentions Achilles, says, in my opinion, that his mother did not lock him up in a religious place, but that it was – he affirms and says this – in the hall of Lycomedes, a king who kept him for many days along with several daughters he had. No one but the king knew of this. He treated him as a maiden. And meanwhile, Achilles was intimate with the most beautiful of the maidens, and impregnated her with a son, who was named Pyrrhus. He went on to be very fierce, and renowned and feared for his lion-heartedness. [1110–1125] Achilles was shut up like this for a long time without being seen or recognized by anyone. The Greeks searched for him everywhere, but found no sign of him. In the end, Ulysses, who possessed so much ingenuity, figured out that Achilles was in seclusion and that he would never emerge from this confinement except through a great ruse. He took weapons of great nobility and jewelry for maidens. He came to the cloister where the maidens were. He threw the jewelry and weapons into their midst. The young man couldn’t care less for the feminine jewelry, that did not suit his nature. The maidens ran to the jewelry, for they had no use for the weapons, and he ran to the valuable weapons. [1126–1145] Ulysses took him by the hand. “Young man,” he said, “noble man, what are you doing in this prison? You’ve wasted enough time here. Come away. Leave this seclusion. You’re wasting your time and your prowess. You’re extraordinarily noble and skilled. Take these weapons and try them out. You’re the one meant to capture Troy. Without you, no one will be able to achieve anything in that regard. You’re the one meant to bring an end to this whole thing. Praise and honor await you for it. You’ll win more praise by fighting than by being in this retreat.” Confounded, Achilles turned himself over: Ulysses achieved so much through his intellect that he took Achilles with him, and off they went to Athens, where the army was waiting. [1146–1163] They did not want to set off until all the lords had arrived. There was no youth or elder in the whole empire of Greece who had not shown up in this hour of need, whether he liked it or not. Princes and lords came from near and far to join the army. The Thebans, fierce and strong, were tremendously prideful, and relied on their own strength. No pleading would induce them to lend aid to the Greeks. The Greeks were utterly outraged by this: it made them angry and scornful. [1164–1178] They sent Achilles there. Achilles went to Thebes with an abundance of bold troops. He requested aid from the Thebans, but couldn’t manage to en-



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treat them so that they deigned to grant it to him. Achilles felt great scorn at this. He wreaked havoc on the Thebans: he inflicted dire destruction on them. He consigned them all to perdition. He slaughtered all of them: some by the edge of the sword, others by burning and setting them on fire. He razed the newly rebuilt walls to the ground. [1179–1193] He would have done the same to Telephus,15 if he had not promised his help to the Greeks, like a good ally. Achilles took back the city from him,16 and destroyed many others because of the prideful and resistant people who would not do his bidding. He sent great reinforcements back to the army. Meanwhile, the lords had their ships made ready in the port of Aulis, to help Menelaus. [1194–1204] Now I will briefly let you know what meaning this tale can have. [1205– 1206] [miniature, fol. 302v: a saint, book in hand, preaching to a seated crowd17]

Moralization {G}od is more jealous for the soul than a worthy man is for his wife when she violates her marriage. To repair the harm to the soul that the adulterer, the traitor, the defiler18 led to damning perdition through his oppression, he “musters his armies and summons his forces” through his special servants: that is, through the holy preachers, the masters and doctors of the Church, who preach to the world and summon God’s friends to bring their ships into the port of eternal life. The port is holy penitence. [1207–1223] He who is the lively Fountain of true Wisdom and the plenitude of all intelligence, by his will, for love of human nature, to which he devoted his love and care, resolved to disguise himself, and to come from heaven to earth, and to become a “farmer and laborer.” He is the one who had his body split and plowed through by the “coulter” of the spear. He is the one who sowed the seed without which no one can have life – the Sower of Great Knowledge,19 who came to spread the seed and the salt of Wisdom, and the savory doctrine of salvific disSon of Hercules, adopted by the king of Mysia in Asia Minor. We translate according to the manuscripts, which have La cite de lui reprist il for v. 1197. De Boer amended to La cité de Syre prist il (“he captured the city of Syre” in Phrygia) on the basis of Dictys II.16 (“Scyrum”) and the Roman de Troie, v. 26841 (trans. Burgess and Kelly 2017, 372: “Achilles took Sire and Gerapolin”). 17 Fols 67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. 18 For v. 1212, de Boer has Li traïtres, li avichierres (“the traitor, the expert”), but Rouen clearly has cunchierres and we translate accordingly. 19 This could be one who sows great knowledge, or one who sows with great knowledge, the skilled/capable sower. 15 16

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cipline, which was later revealed to the world by those of the round table,20 that is, by the holy preachers, the masters and doctors of the Church, who, through their preaching, openly revealed and made known to the world his most holy Incarnation, his death, and his Resurrection. And they had to receive death for revealing his law to the world. [1224–1251] {T}he Son of God, from whom all goodness abounds, without whom no one can achieve anything worthwhile and that might have a good outcome, hid himself in the “holy cell” of the womb of the Virgin Maiden, in the “cloister,” in the “religious house,” in the holy dwelling which was replete with grace and provided with all the virtues. And he resolved to take on the covering and the dress of human nature, and to cover up his divine essence. He is the one who, through his wisdom, “took up the good and strong weapons,” which he used to vanquish the mighty prince who had carried off the woeful soul and had consigned it, “through adultery,” to death. He is the hero, the vigorous one, the mighty battler, who on the day of vengeance and wrath will slay the rulers and confound his enemies – and he will take pity on his friends. [1252–1274] I can provide another allegorical interpretation. His abode, spouse, and beloved is the holy soul and Holy Church, bequeathed and entrusted by Jesus to the priests of our faith, to keep well and without disloyalty while he went to “live in another place,” in heaven, with the Ancient of Days, that is, God the Father, where he is staying and will be staying until he returns to hold his Judgment. The priests will have the keeping of, and authority over, souls and Holy Church, and God placed them as ministers and friends in his place. But they, who are supposed to keep watch over his house, deceive him, for they pillage and rob it, and cajole and flatter the souls by false adulation. And all their intention and the desire of their hearts is in lechery and whoring, in deceiving and flattering souls, in betraying God, and in robbing God’s house, that is Holy Church, which they had taken into their keeping, and so they “steal God’s beloved away from him.” [1275–1303] But Jesus Christ, I have no doubt, will come, angry and full of wrath, from his heavenly kingdom to avenge the wrong and the insult, the baseness and the abuse that the false ones are committing and will commit towards him. They will pay for it dearly, for with the sword of his Judgment he will take very harsh vengeance upon them, and will definitively condemn the wicked to death and destruction, in body and soul, in the fire of hell, in the burning flame. [1304–1316] [miniature, fol. 303r: the greeks sailing to troy] Presumably referring to the gathering of equals where Agamemnon was chosen as overking. Then vv. 1252–1274 moralizes Achilles being recruited from the convent and vv. 1275–1316 moralizes Menelaus’s return from Crete. 20



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Iphigenia at Aulis {A}s Homer recounts, the ships assembled in the port, 986 of them in total.21 One day, the Greeks sat in council, and took counsel among themselves as regards the campaign they had undertaken and how they might carry it through, for it was a very dreadful business. They sent someone to the diviners to find out if they would ever be able to be victorious. Achilles delivered this message. [1317–1327] There he found Calchas the wise, whom the Trojans had sent over.22 They became companions and friends. Calchas had renounced his own people, and gone over to the Greeks as Phoebus had counseled him. Then they rejoined the army, cheerful and glad of the response, in which they placed great certitude, for Phoebus said that the Greeks would be victorious. Throughout the army they celebrated greatly on account of Calchas. [1328–1337] All that was left was to go to Troy. They wanted to leave without further delay. They raised their masts and set their sails. All they had left to do was leave port and ship the oars, when a storm overtook them, interrupting their journey and holding them back. The sea became so perilous, agitated, horrible, and stormy that no one could cross it. The Greek army was utterly bewildered. They did not know what to think or do. They said the gods were against them, that it did not please them for the wrongdoing to be avenged. [1338–1352] Agamemnon, who was not stupid, had sacrifices made to the gods. While they were making these sacrifices, they looked at a tree and saw a nest in which there were eight birds and the mother sitting on them. Next they saw a snake slithering up the tree to the nest. It gobbled up the mother and the chicks, so that not one of them escaped,23 then it was transformed into hard stone, but it still had the shape of a snake. [1353–1364] Those who witnessed this event were strangely terrified. They marveled that this could be. They all said the heavenly gods were against them, and that, through this demonstration, they were revealing to them the misfortune that was to come to the Greeks: they would never be able to return home, if they went to fight at Troy. They almost gave up the journey. They started whispering about staying behind. [1365–1375] Calchas set about reassuring them. He was a prophet and of great wisdom, and he explained to them another meaning for the event they had witnessed: 21 De Boer has Onze cens quatre vins et sis (1186 ships), v. 1319, on the basis of the Ilias latina (see his note). But the OM manuscripts seem to agree on 986, and this is consistent with Ovid, who specifies a thousand ships (coniurataeque sequuntur / mille rates gentisque simul commune Pelasgae, Met. 12.6–7). So we retain the “error.” 22 In medieval and later versions of the myth, Calchas is portrayed as a Trojan defector and father of Chryseis, or Cressida. See, for example, the Roman de Troie (indexed as Calcas in Burgess and Kelly 2017) and Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde. 23 Compare Deuteronomy 22:6.

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“Troy,” he said, “will be confounded, and we will certainly be victorious, but first we’ll be there a long time – nine whole years, and even more. Before the tenth has passed, we’ll have carried our war to term and brought ruin on the Trojans.” [1376–1386] The Greeks were somewhat reassured, but had to endure the horrible storm at sea, that held them back and kept them there, for a very long time. All the boldest were distraught by it. They all said the god of the sea was delaying them and holding them back in this way, for he favored the Trojans. They thought they would never have the wind they needed. [1387–1395] Calchas, full of divine knowledge, told them all publicly: “Lords, fierce-minded Diana is causing this great disturbance; her heart is woeful towards you due to the fault of your king, who impetuously killed the goddess’s white stag. Don’t think that this storm will ever cease, or that we’ll have the wind we need, if we don’t appease the goddess for the white stag Agamemnon killed. Fate wants his daughter, Iphigenia, to be sacrificed. Then Diana will be appeased and we will have the wind we need without further delay.” [1396–1411] The king would not consent to put his daughter to death. He would rather dally in port forever, or have all the vessels remain there, than for his daughter to suffer death over it. The Greeks were very distraught and they considered themselves betrayed if their vessels were to remain there. Many of them went to plead with the king, and in particular, Ulysses pleaded with the king very humbly to have pity on them and on the army, and that if he ever had friendship for Menelaus, he should demonstrate it to him; and he should remember the grace and honor that everyone had shown him in making him their ruler and lord – therefore he must grant their plea, even in this matter so near his blood and heart. In order to avenge the reproach and shame done to Helen, he must give up his daughter to a death sentence to pay back the goddess who was delaying their departure. Agamemnon could not refuse to make a martyr of his daughter; rather, he sadly granted it to them. [1412–1439] Ulysses immediately prepared to go and fetch the girl. He went to the queen in Sparta. He found her and greeted her, but did not want to reveal to her the reason for his visit: he cunningly knew how to conceal it and make up a new pretext for it. “Lady,” he said, “I have come in great need to fetch your daughter. Give her to me, for I don’t care to stay here long. I must return immediately. My lord the king is asking for her and he bids, entreats, and commands you to dress her richly. He has arranged a most noble marriage for her to a lord of great valor, who wants to see her demeanor, her body, her manner, and her face.” Ulysses really knew how to tell tall tales, it seems to me! He really knew how to deceive the mother and make her rejoice over nothing! With a joyous heart, she gave him the maiden in her finery. [1440–1465]



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Ulysses started back. He returned to the army with the maiden, who was incredibly courtly and beautiful. The lords and common folk alike felt joy and grief at her coming: joy, because of the wind they would have, so that they would no longer dally in port, and grief, since such a creature would be undone through no fault or transgression of her own. The one who must sacrifice her had her stripped on the altar, and had her feet and wrists bound. The Greeks wept for her. [1466–1479] At that moment, Diana, who wanted to save her, performed a beautiful and noble miracle, for, just as the one who was to make the sacrifice was about to strike her, Diana countered the blow and carried the beauty away. Hidden in a bright cloud, she carried the maiden through the air and very shortly set her down in Lycia and made her a priestess there in the temple of the holy goddess, to perform the divine service. In place of the beauty, a doe was taken24 and sacrificed, and thus the goddess was appeased. The storms subsided. [1480–1495] The Greeks delayed no longer. They sailed very swiftly over the sea. They did not make port until they reached Lemnos. There Philoctetes was left behind, very ill and wounded, on the advice of wise Ulysses, and this would turn out badly for them, because without him, there was no way Troy could be captured by anyone, since he had Hercules’ arrows, that were to bring about the end of Troy. From there, they set a straight course to go and wage war against the Trojans, and avenge the shame and transgression that Paris had committed toward Helen. [1496–1510] [miniature, fol. 304r: apostles (peter with the cross, paul with the sword?)]25

Moralization {T}he saints, who support God’s cause, are accustomed to bring their “ships” into the port of eternal life. Long ago, there were some who arrived at the port of true penitence, and quit their folly, as did Saint Paul, our master, who used to be an archpriest, chief counselor, and chief foundation26 of the fools who devoted their attention and care to the love of the world and waged war against the friends of God. But later, when God called him and revealed his secrets to him, he cast aside his damnable ignorance and came to the true faith, without which no one can have life. [1511–1527] Ovid (Met. 12.34) says this was the act of the goddess: “they say she substituted a hind for the Mycenean girl” (Kline). In Epistulae ex Ponto 3.2, he describes how Diana set Iphigenia down at Tauris in Scythia. 25 Compare the miniature on fol. 267r, which also seems to depict Paul. 26 For mestre esponde, v. 1519. 24

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He is the “prophet of great knowledge” who trampled worldly delights. He is the one who was chosen by God to bear witness of him and bring comfort to his people, so that they would not succumb to their temptations, for those who work faithfully in the service of our Lord will have the victory and honor, whenever that might be, sooner or later, if faint-heartedness does not deprive them of it. He is the apostle who describes the coming of Antichrist, the serpent who will be born of Adam, who will feed on the prideful and the gluttonous misers who will have laid the foundations of their hearts on the world. But the saints will have victory over the world and him, that’s the truth. [1528–1546] The “storm that stirs up the sea” is sin, that so stirs up the world, full of great tribulations and wicked urgings, capable of swallowing up men and women, and delaying and hindering them from doing any work that might please God and bring them everlasting honor. To appease this storm, accustomed to delaying his people, and to deliver his friends, the God of Hosts and the Lord who reigns over all empires resolved to give the flesh of his Child over to pain and mortal suffering. This atoned for the folly of the first father, and paid his debt and reconciled him to God, and purged the sins of the world. The Flesh of God – pure, holy, and unblemished – was offered up and sacrificed, then rose again, glorified, to the heavens, in delightful glory, and has the honor and dignity of an eternal Priest with the Holy Trinity. He is the Priest, so help me God, who became a bridge, footbridge, and path for us, and gave us the “wind” to do good works, so that we might recover glory and honor for all eternity, without end. The righteous27 can come to him in order to vanquish the worldly perils in which the wicked perish and will be damned to the fires of hell for all eternity. [1547–1582] [miniature, fol. 304v: fighting in front of the ships at troy]

The House of Fame (Rumor)28 and the First Battle {A}s I said above in the story, the Greeks went off to avenge the shame, baseness, and transgression Paris had committed in Greece. They went to wage war against the Trojans. [1583–1587] There was a place in the midst of sky, earth, and sea whose exact location was squarely in the middle of the world.29 From there one can see everything Li saint, v. 1578. Given the context, we have translated “the righteous” here, vs. “the saints” above. 28 See our introductory lexicon, s.v. renomee, p. 78. 29 The first sentence of this description is clearly in the past tense (Uns leus fu entre ciel et terre, v. 1588), while what follows is in the present until v. 1632 (“Without delay, 27



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that anyone does anywhere in the world. All the news, stories, and gossip that are spoken in any land are known there. It is the place and the home where Rumor lives. There news from all across the world goes running about. The house of bronze, which is full of speech, can be entered through more than a thousand openings without door or gate. The house stands open day and night, without lock or enclosing wall. And without any rest or silence, it repeats and reiterates the voices – without screaming, in hushed murmurs – of truth and fabulation. No light of any kind penetrates it. [1588–1609] There, without ceasing, come and go those who make up news, and all they do is feed the wind and the ears of those who listen, and make many people joyful in vain. Others recount and repeat the words they have been told. Some bear witness to the truth. Others speak lying vanities, and expand a tale in the telling, and go about telling lies. They all come to this haven: vain gladness and vain enjoyment, vain error and vain belief, vain doubt and vain hope, vain fear, vain discord, and vain whispering, which repeats what it has heard the others relate. No one can do anything anywhere in earthly existence – in the sky, on earth, at sea, around the world – without Rumor, who lives there, hearing about it all over. [1610–1631] Without delay, she made it known to the Trojans that the Greeks were coming, bringing war and battle, so that they were not taken by surprise. The Greeks were received fiercely when they had to put into port. Hector knew well how to fend them off with the help of his forces. He killed Protesilaüs, the valiant, the wise, in the first charge. One side charged against the other and at the first encounter the Greeks incurred great injury and harm. Hector made a great slaughter of them, not without taking great injury and loss on his side. The sand was completely covered with the blood of the dead and wounded. [1632–1649] Cycnus, who hated the Greeks to death, stood against them. He killed some of them with the point of his lance,30 for before Achilles came, there was, without a doubt, no one who could oppose him or withstand his sword in battle. [1650–1656] [miniature, fol. 305r: christ in majesty at the last judgment, flanked by saints and angels, with the dead arising from their tombs]31

she made it known”). In case the OM is deliberately interrupting the narrative to present a “timeless” or still-applicable portrait of the House of Fame/Rumor, we stick to the tense of the French in this section. 30 Au fer de la lance, v. 1652. Notwithstanding some mentions of chariots and javelins, the illuminations and some details below suggest that the OM, like the Roman de Troie, mostly imagines that these Greek and Trojan heroes are equipped like medieval knights. 31 Fols 49v, 141r, 192r, 305r, and 333r have comparable miniatures of this.

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Moralization {T}he “house of Rumor,” where everything that happens in the world is told and repeated, can be understood, perhaps, as Scripture, which relates everything that is to take place and that has taken place. “She” is the one who makes known with certainty the advent of the God of Hosts who must come, and great misfortune may come to those who do not make themselves ready like wise people, and do what is necessary to have his mercy, and to make amends, before his Coming, through love and concord, for the wrong and the impropriety they have committed towards him in their excess. [1657–1673] Great shame and harm could befall the presumptuous, the gluttons, the lustful, if they do not come to repentance before the day of vengeance arrives, when God will come in his heavenly kingdom to avenge his wrath.32 The world has known for a long time the news of his Coming, that he must come to do battle, to strike down the pride of the prideful. But few people take heed of that, and repent and restrain themselves before the day of vengeance comes. Few now come to repentance for the outrages and crimes they have committed towards our Lord. [1674–1690] The whole world, in anticipation of his Coming, is collectively making preparations and getting ready to defend itself – not by praying, but by attacking the hosts of his great majesty, and at that time they will all be ready to anger and scorn God. The one who will be worse than all others, fierce and full of indignation, the prince of perdition, Antichrist, who will reign at that time over the people of God, will rage out of control, and those who first appear on behalf of God’s law will pay for it: he will spill their intestines, innards, and brains. He and his followers will go about harming many of God’s friends. [1691–1708] [miniature, fol. 305v: mounted knights charging each other, featuring achilles in golden armor on the right]33

Achilles Fights Cycnus {T}he Greeks took the port with some difficulty. Achilles, esteemed for his valor, had now joined the battle. At this point, without a doubt, the killing and the suffering, the great story and the material that the clerk of Sainte-Maure

Rouen (fol. 305r) has O son celestial empire, v. 1680; other manuscripts have en. Both of these readings seem explicable with reference to Matthew 16:27–28. We translate en; o might have the sense of “with his heavenly forces,” the angels. 33 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat. The golden armor of Achilles reappears on fol. 324r. 32



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took from Dares are about to begin.34 But I do not now want to interfere with him much where he did a good job of translating the text. The clerk was very good at making rhymes, a courtly speaker, and a good craftsman, and his romance was very well constructed. But nonetheless – may he rest in peace – he does not speak the truth in every instance. [1709–1723] He did not display great knowledge in daring to go against, deny, or contradict Homer, or in criticizing any of the work he did. I don’t believe that Homer ever said anything he should not have said or that he did not know to be true. Benoît should never have criticized him, for Homer was of tremendous worth. However, he did speak metaphorically. For this reason, the clerk of Sainte-Maure, who did not understand what Homer meant, challenged what he had written.35 All the Greeks and Romans, and those who ever dealt in Latin with any part of this story, testify to the truth of the material just as Homer dealt with it, and so did he who translated his Greek. Even Dares, from whom Benoît’s romance was made and derived, is in no way contradictory to him, for I have read both books – except that Dares treats at greater length the dis-

34 The Roman de Troie has been edited by Constans (1904–12) and translated by Burgess and Kelly (2017). Notwithstanding what the OM says here, it is actually only vv. 3237–4600 below that departs from Ovid: the fight with Cycnus, the sacrifice of the heifer, and Nestor’s stories about Caeneus and Hercules are all from the Metamorphoses. On the other hand, the tradition represented by Dares Phrygius and the Roman de Troie is reflected above in Book 7, vv. 1–248 (“Background to Jason’s Quest for the Golden Fleece”) and Book 12, vv. 1–826 (“Paris and Helen”) and 878–1206 (“Menelaus Comes Home”). 35 Benoît stated his objections as follows: Homer, who was a wonderful cleric, wise and learned, related the destruction, the great siege and the reason why Troy was deserted in such a way that it was never again repopulated. But his book does not tell the truth, for we know for certain and without doubt that he was not born until a hundred years after the great expedition was assembled. No wonder he failed, for he was never present there and never witnessed anything that happened. When he had written his book and made it known in Athens, he met with strong opposition. They rightly wanted him to be condemned to death because he had shown the gods fighting with mortal men. He was judged to be mad and extremely foolish for showing the gods like human beings in combat with the Trojans, and the goddesses likewise fighting humans. And when his book was read out, many people rejected it for this reason. But Homer was so renowned and later accomplished so much, as I have learned, that his book was accepted and considered to be a great authority. (Burgess and Kelly 2017, 44)

As de Boer (1936, 226–227 and passim) and Burgess and Kelly (6) explain, the text that Benoît and the OM refer to as “Homer” is actually the first-century Ilias latina of Baebius Italicus (standard ed. now Scaffai 1997; trans. Kennedy 1998, McKinley 1998, Perkins 2006, Cunyus 2020). Benoît’s problem with trusting a text that depicts the pagan gods is obviously comparable to the challenge that Ovid presents for the OM: having resolved this problem to its satisfaction at the outset of Book 1, the OM is unimpressed by Benoît’s inability to think par metaphore (v. 1733) and appreciate the truth underlying the Classical authors.

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positions, the assemblies and the stratagems,36 the battles and the assaults that took place before Troy. I do not know what more to say to you, but let whoever hears both Homer and Benoît believe the one who is of greater worth. [1724–1754] [miniature, fol. 305v: the same mounted knights, now in melee]37

{A}chilles with the blade that cut well was chopping and hacking up the Trojans with the blade of his sharp sword. He went looking for Hector or Cycnus, for he wanted to try himself against them. He could easily find Cycnus, who had no fear of the Greeks. Achilles goaded and struck the horses of the chariot where he sat. He headed for him and it suited him very well to encounter such a fierce opponent. He brandished his lance and said to him with hostility: “You should take great comfort, for you must receive your death by me, Achilles of Haemonia by name, of great renown, full of prowess, full of vigor.” [1755–1771] Then he struck him with the strong spear without failing, vigorously, but never caused him any worsening of his condition or any injury, nor did the spear, which had a strong point, slight him in any way; rather, it bent and buckled and bounced off. Achilles saw that he had failed, and considered himself to be very ill-used, for he had never before seen his shaft strike on armor to no effect. [1772–1782] Cycnus addressed Achilles: “They say you’re the son of a goddess. That’s how they usually refer to you. I’m not afraid – I have no desire to hide it – of a sword-stroke, no matter whose it is. I could await your blow without arms, if I fancied. My body isn’t so tender that a sword could pierce it. I don’t wear this steel helm, crested with horsehair, or this fine strong shield, or all this other armor except for gaiety, adornment, and amusement, no more. That’s how I believe that Mars wears them – just because he’s adorning himself with them, that’s all. If I were naked and unarmed, no iron could wound me: I am son of the god of the sea, which gives me certain advantages. But now I want to make you find out if my own spear bounces off or bends.” [1783–1805] Then he cast at him, and he struck him such a blow on the shield that he broke the boss and nine layers of hide. The tenth hide held up well, so that the point didn’t sneak past it; rather, the point stuck there without corrupting or compromising it. Achilles let the shaft fall and with great fierceness threw back at him the second spear, but nonetheless it never caused him any harm or injury. Achilles cast at him a third time, but the third blow didn’t harm him any

Les assamblees et les tours, v. 1749: les tours could refer to the fortifications, but the pairing with assamblees suggests the other sense as we’ve translated. 37 See note 33 above, on the previous miniature. 36



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more than the two previous ones. He felt incredibly deceived.38 He thought his spearhead had fallen off, so he looked at his lance, but he saw that the head was attached. He was completely incensed and inflamed with anger. He began to say to himself: [1806–1824] “Have I lost my power? What has become of my strength and my prowess and my valor, which I’ve so proven elsewhere? My hand used to be strong, once. I captured Lerna by my effort, and knocked the walls to the ground. I captured Tenedos by my attack. Alone, I washed Thebes39 in blood. And I can’t hurt this man, which strikes me as a tremendous marvel! I made the river40 run scarlet with the blood and the slaughter of those who were sent to perdition, put to death by my right hand. I would have killed Telephus with this spear of mine, which wounded him, but he reconciled himself to me by begging for mercy, and I saved him with this spearpoint, with which I had mortally struck him. I wounded him; I healed him! Now it seems to me that I labor in vain, when I can’t strike a blow worth anything, and I marvel how that can be. In this very place, I have thoroughly tested my right hand and my might, and I have found it strong and powerful. I see the young men lying in great heaps on the shore, that I have killed and wounded with my blade. I’m going to try my blade again, to find out for sure if it will be able to cut.” [1825–1857] Then he went and struck a knight, Menoetes, who was Lycian-born, so that he cut through his hauberk and clove open his chest and laid him out dead on the ground. Achilles pulled his bloody spear41 from the wound and said: “I remove this from the blow I struck.42 This is my hand, without a doubt. This is my spearhead, which cuts and carves well. I want to try this spear again, to see if I can wound Cycnus with it.” [1858–1868] Then he went to attack Cycnus, and struck him very violently with the spear, in the left shoulder, but it did him little good. It was not possible for him to wound him in the flesh: nor could the steel spear penetrate him, but clanged and bounced back as if it had struck hard stone. Nonetheless, where he had hit him, he had stained his side with blood. Achilles felt great joy when he saw the dripping blood: he thought he had wounded him. He hadn’t – it was the blood of Menoetes, whom he had just killed. [1869–1883]

Or “incredibly disappointed,” for Trop se tient cil à deceüz, v. 1819. In Ovid (Met. 12.110), “Mysian Thebes, Eetion’s city” (Kline). But see vv. 1164– 1193 above. 40 The River Caïcus, in Ovid (Met. 12.111). 41 In Ovid he kills Menoetes with a thrown spear, so dart in v. 1863 follows Ovid, but v. 1856 suggests that the OM wanted to have him go after Menoetes with his sword (mes brans). 42 For the idiom retraire son cop, see Godefroy (retraire son coup), who gives “relever son arme après avoir frappé” (to lift a weapon back up after striking a blow). 38 39

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He got down swiftly from the chariot. All agitated, he jumped down to the ground. He went to have at him at close quarters with his sword. Cycnus was confident, with little fear of him. The hero broke his shield with his sword and caved in his helmet, but the sword couldn’t penetrate his hard, ironbound body; instead it bent. Achilles saw that he was striking blows in vain, and could not stand to prolong this battle in vain: he reversed the sword and hit him so many times with the pommel that he battered his temples, and his face and cheeks. [1884–1897] Cycnus retreated and Achilles pursued him, harrying and harassing him so that he became totally distraught and frightened. He caused him anguish and belabored him, not letting him catch his breath. Cycnus grew bewildered and confused. He lost heart and the ability to think clearly. His sight became obscured and clouded by a shadowy and clouded darkness, so that he couldn’t see where he was going. He retreated and Achilles followed. [1898–1908] In the middle of the field there was a rock which Cycnus ran into and clung to, and Achilles attacked him with great force, so that he knocked him to the ground. He jumped on his belly and made him bear the weight of both his body and his shield. Kneeling on top of him, Achilles pinned him down and tore off his helmet. He throttled him so hard that he extinguished the life in his body. Achilles, having vanquished him, thought to despoil him, but saw the body already stripped of its armament, for Neptune had already transformed him into a white bird, that still bears the name that Cycnus had once had. [1909–1924] [miniature, fol. 306v: jesus on the cross, flanked by mary and john]43

Moralization {T}o restore the grievous harm and the loss of the human race, which the devil had led astray and brought to woe through his fault, the Son of God came from heaven to earth. He is the one who came to bring war and hostility between his friends and the world,44 which had brought many to death and perdition. Before God became incarnate in the Virgin Mary, who is the “port” of joyous life, the discomfiture and death of human nature were severe, for everyone, the good and the evil, were universally consigned to damnation. They died by hundreds and thousands, and those whose hearts were goaded by hard obstinacy, unbelief, and error incurred infernal punishment. All of earthly Fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v have comparable miniatures of this; see also fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall. 44 Compare Matthew 10:34. De Boer gives ces amis (“these friends”) for v. 1931, but Rouen and Copenhagen both have ses amis. 43



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existence was abandoned to the devil and he did as he pleased to everyone, good and evil. [1925–1948] But when God had come “in a chariot,” that is, in the blessed flesh45 of the Virgin where he concealed himself, he redeemed and unburdened those who took his side. And he restrained the frenzy of the wicked one, who through unbelief brought the people to misfortune, suffering, infernal torture – he whom no one could oppose. The Son of the Virgin Maiden, who is the Port and Star of the Sea, came to strike down the unrighteousness and the pride of the false law, and he defeated the “sons of the sea,” that is, the ones whose hearts and bodies were poisoned with bitter foulness, and had rooted their hearts so strongly in the depths of vice and had so hardened them in malice that no sword could penetrate them. No one could soften them, whatever sermon he might be able to make to them, into deigning to draw their hearts full of misfortune, wickedness, and hardness, into recognizing their folly, their hardness, and their wickedness. [1949–1976] God had often tried them and sent many of his “spears,” that is, many preachings, but the rough intentions of their hearts never softened, nor did they bend before God, and they did not give up their malice for threats or for flattery. They scorned God and his power: he who by fitting vengeance destroyed Gomorrah46 and Sodom and confounded the citizens for the vice and the sins with which they were stained; he who caused the Egyptians to drown, and the sea to stain and redden with their blood and their slaughter; he who washed Holy Church in his holy blood, which he shed on the Cross, where he hung for us. He is the one who kills and revives and wounds and heals and sanctifies the sinner who humbles themselves, who wholeheartedly begs for his mercy. [1977–2000] He is the one who with his hostile sword smites the wicked and perverse people who do not deign to consent to believe in God’s faith, or to repent for any entreaty or threat or sermon that might be made to them; rather, they are so hardened in vice and blinded in their malice that they scorn their Redeemer, and so offend their Judge, who is “a rock set in the middle of a level field,” that is, on the level field of Holy Church, and planted in the midst of the earth. Whoever runs into this stone falls to their confusion, damned to perdition, and God breaks and shatters them, and loads them with dire anguish, and strips them of all grace. And the one who bellows threats – God, who never ceases bellowing at the sinful soul that he will consign it to damnation if it doesn’t come to repentance – will consign those people to woe in the lake of stinking odor. [2001–2026] This is an obvious play on words, with char (“chariot”) and char (“flesh”). De Boer has Somorre, v. 1987, but Rouen (fol. 307r) clearly has a G for Gomorre. We follow the manuscript. 45 46

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{O}r, anyone who wants to gloss it otherwise can explain the tale in this way. The hard people, who now scorn God’s sentence and justice, and have armed themselves with repugnance, will be drawn by God to believe in him, and he will make them soft and benevolent, white like a swan’s feathers, and they will dive into the holy font of baptism, and there they will cleanse their conscience and their nature. By this holy cleansing their soul will immediately become whiter than a swan or than snow, and it will sing devoutly the sweet song of its salvation, that is, of salvific confession, which God finds most delightful. [2027–2044] [miniature, fol. 307v: the greeks feasting]47

Achilles Sacrifices a Heifer {A}bove, I told and recounted to you how Achilles defeated Cycnus, whose fierce courage had caused the Greeks many losses. They had fought for a long time, so that many were exhausted, so they made a truce, and for many days they were at peace and at leisure, without battles or attacks. But in the meantime, those within the city manned their watchtowers for fear of assault, while the Greeks had their vassals defend the trenches and their perimeter48 to be more externally secure against the Trojans, whom they were wary of. [2045–2059] A day came when everyone celebrated and when Achilles offered the sacrifice of a heifer to Pallas for Cycnus, for whose death he had garnered praise. The fire was kindled on the altar, the entrails were burned and consumed, whose sweet smoke rose climbing up to the heavens. The gift of such a sacrifice was seen very favorably by the gods. [2060–2067] All the lords were summoned to the remains of the heifer, and they ate of this divine sacrifice as each was bid. They ate so much meat and drank so much wine that everyone had had their fill. Then there was no harp or singing, nor did trumpets or horns sound. Rather, if it is properly recounted to me, they engaged in storytelling about violence and valor, prowess and bravery, chivalry and charges, assaults and defenses, performed by them and by the opposing force. [2068–2083] [miniature, fol. 307v: jesus, flanked by mary and john, being taken down from the cross]49 Fols 192r and 307v have comparable scenes of feasting. De Boer has les fossez et lor cors, v. 2057, which is the reading in Rouen; Copenhagen (p. 673) has lor tours. While cors could be understood in various ways, “perimeter” would translate both readings. 49 See also fols 48r, 186r, 237r, 261v, 274r, 306v, and 307v for comparable miniatures of Jesus on the Cross, flanked by Mary and John, and fol. 274r for Jesus on the Cross, being pierced with the lance and fed wine mixed with gall. 47 48



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Moralization {N}ow I want to briefly recount to you the meaning and the allegory that this tale represents. The Son of the Virgin Mary had so lived in the world, had so struck, had so shot by way of true preaching against the hard race of the wicked Jews full of envy, that he had defeated and bewildered them, so that their perverted heart didn’t know what to do or say about it. They felt great contempt and great anger, finding themselves confounded in this way: they came very close to going mad. Out of envy they plotted his death, and this went on until the day was at hand when he must conquer death and the enemy “in combat.” [2084–2103] His friends, his disciples, and those who loved him and those who called him master, had gathered on the solemn day of Easter, to hold a commemorative feast with him. It was on the Thursday of the Last Supper, on the brink of his victory, that Jesus Christ “sacrificed a heifer” – that is, his flesh, which he offered up to the Deity. This sweet sacrifice was roasted on the fire of true charity, and the odor of it, a smell surpassing all spices, was borne up to the heavens, and was presented to God the Father, who found it sweet and enduring and gracious and acceptable. [2104–2120] With this precious flesh, the Son of God fed without stinting his friends and companions, his disciples and his household and all those who were present. At that blessed table they ate and drank generously of the bread of spiritual life, and the meat that he distributed was his own holy body, which he hung on the Cross for the salvation of the world. And they had wine in great abundance, which no one turned down: that is his precious blood, which was spilled on the Cross on the morrow, to save the human race. With such food and such wine – bread, flesh, and divine blood – the apostles were fed. [2121–2139] When they were drunk and intoxicated with love, not with any other drunkenness, they held a conversation about prowess and bravery and struggle, and how they would be strong in resisting the temptations which must befall them. But some of them only put on a brave face, and soon became cowards. And some said that they would follow him and that they would die with him out of love for him, joyfully, if need be, and shortly after, they fled from him outright and abandoned him and denied him out of fear. [2140–2154] [miniature, fol. 308r: the greeks in discussion]

Nestor Tells of Caeneus {T}he Greeks told many tales amongst themselves about Achilles and his goodness, and they talked up amongst themselves the victory that he had had over Cycnus, whom he had defeated and overcome by his prowess. Everyone spoke of it, everyone deliberated about it, everyone was astonished and

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marveled about how Cycnus had had flesh so hard that he need fear no blow from a weapon, nor could anyone pierce him with a sword of iron or steel. Even Achilles marveled at it. [2155–2167] Then Nestor said: “No one of your generation ever saw such a marvel, that any man should be formed in such a way that he need fear no blow from a weapon, but I saw a similar event in my time, for I saw a hero of great renown receive more than a thousand blows without taking a wound. His name was Caeneus Perrebus.50 Then I saw a great marvel about him, the likes of which you never heard of: he had originally been a woman.” [2168–2179] Everyone who heard of this marvel was completely stunned, and they all begged Nestor to say how this marvel occurred, that he had been a woman and then became a man so hard that no one could wound him with a sword of iron or steel. Nestor immediately wanted to be silent. Then they begged him to say on, for they really wanted to know the truth about this marvel, and everyone interrogated and inquired of him. Even Achilles asked the old man of great authority to tell them the truth of how it could ever happen for a woman to become a man, in what land he had seen that, or how he had become aware of it, and, if he had been defeated in battle, who defeated him. Then Nestor said: [2180–2200] I have lived many years gone by, and have seen plenty in my time that I can’t now remember. But I never saw anything come to pass that I remember better, no matter where it might have happened. And if, having lived a long time, anyone can claim to have seen a great many happenings, I am nearly three hundred years old. [2201–2209] I saw the bright-faced beauty: her name was Caenis, daughter of Elatus,51 a noble virgin and of great renown. In all of Thebes there wasn’t such a beauty, whoever she might be, lady or maiden. For the great beauty of her face, she was courted, I believe, by many valiant men of worth who were inflamed with love for her. But they could never have what they desired, for she would never deign to hear any man who spoke to her of marriage. Rather, she wanted to keep her virginity, so she scorned them and fled from them. Peleus, the father of Achilles, would have willingly taken her to wife, I believe, if he’d been permitted, but he had already married Thetis, or had already been promised to Thetis, who conceived Achilles: for that reason he held back from courting her. [2210–2230] In this way, Caenis never chose to take a husband, but I am given to understand that on the beach by the sea, Neptune deflowered the girl by force and against her will. When the god had done as he desired and had 50 51

In Ovid (Met. 12.172–173), Thessalian Caeneus (Perrhaebum Caenea). Cenys Elatee, v. 2211, which corresponds to Ovid’s Elateia Caenis (Met. 12.189).



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violated the maiden, who was very woeful about it, he said: “Beauty, don’t be upset now, but, if you please, ask me for whatever it may be, and I, without a doubt, will do your entire bidding. Be sure and certain of that.” [2231–2243] Caenis answered: “The great offense makes me request great redress. I request of you, lord, and ask that I never endure such an abuse again. Make of me, a woman, a young man: then you will, to my judgment, have compensated me well.” As she finished speaking, her voice began to thicken and her speech to amplify, so that it did not seem like a female voice, rather it sounded like a man’s, and so she was, for Neptune had already fulfilled the request she had made and had made her a man. And he had given her more besides: that her body would never again be pierced by a sword. Caenis52 considered herself compensated by this gift, and thanked Neptune with great gladness. Thereafter, by his great prowess (as a man), he performed many youthful exploits and many great feats of chivalry. [2244–2264] [miniature, fol. 308v: centaurs abducting women while the lapiths resist] {L}ong ago, Pirithoüs took as partner and wife the beautiful Hippodamia, the maiden of Phythia, but neither I nor another teller could ever describe a thousandth of her beauty. She was incredibly beautiful, innocent, and wise, and descended from high lineage. The feast was great and copious. There were all kinds of people there. From all the surrounding country, there was no lady or lord or maiden who didn’t come, unless some other preoccupation held them back. All those of Thessaly and Phythia came to it. There was no hall or palace that wasn’t completely full. The centaurs ate in the open in an orchard. Everyone had plenty of wine and food to suit them. [2265–2285] When they had dined at leisure, before the tables were cleared, the ladies got ready and began a dance. The bride had a complexion fresher than a scarlet rose. No one saw her without marveling at the great beauty she had. They danced along until they came to where the centaurs were eating. When the scoundrels saw the ladies, the evil ones were inflamed with burning passion and heated with drunkenness. [2286–2298] Eurytus caught sight of the bride, who was so beautiful, and coveted her. He was the one who led the centaurs. Because of him, a thing was undertaken that day which was incredibly harmful. He leapt up and overturned the table; he went to grab the bride by her hair. Each of the others, without hesitation, grabbed the woman he could soonest seize. If ever the Cenys, v. 2262, is next called Ceneüs, v. 2714. The indirect object pronouns and possessives are unmarked for gender, so when the translation should change genders is debatable. We go by which name is used, except that the chivalric exploits here must be performed as a man. 52

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disloyal centaurs had been given leisure, the business would have turned out horribly! The ladies would have been put to shame, but they were terrified, and raised such an outcry, such an uproar, and such a commotion, that god couldn’t have been heard thundering. The city would have been captured, incinerated, and consumed by flame for naught. The whole hall was in chaos. [2299–2319] Those of Phythia and Thessaly all came running there. Ahead of everyone, the king of Athens split and scattered the crowd. He forced his way toward the centaur who had been possessed with folly and held the bride prisoner. Theseus said to him with hostility: “Ignoble misbegotten traitor, you won’t carry her any further! Woe betide you if you dare offend against my dear companion while I live!” Then he leapt forward without hesitation and took the beauty away from him. [2320–2333] The wicked centaur seethed with anger and resentment at this rescue. When Theseus had repossessed the lady from him, he said not a word, for he did not think to justify himself for the injustice he had committed,53 but assailed him with great anger. He punched him in his noble chest, but did not injure him or knock him down, because Theseus was very powerful. [2334–2342] Theseus happened to see a golden bowl decorated with detailed carving sitting on a couch. He picked up the bowl and approached the wicked centaur who had struck him. Now he wanted to pay him his due! He did not fail, in my opinion; rather, he struck him such a blow in the face that he knocked his brains out. Eurytus fell to the ground and thrashed, feeling the agony of death. [2343–2353] When his brothers saw him dead, they grew heated with anger and wine. “To arms!” cried the evil ones. Then from all directions, thicker than hail in March, they flung chunks of meat, whole loaves of bread, and loaves torn into quarters. They threw goblets and wine-jugs. One knocked another head over heels. They threw salt-shakers and knives, pots, bowls, and platters. The melee went on like this for a long time, though there were no weapons or swords or blades involved, nothing but table settings, but it was immeasurably more terrifying and horrible to endure. [2354–2369] The food couldn’t last forever, they eventually ran out, and then they leapt for their weapons, and those who couldn’t find weapons came on to struggle with their fists, and so they kept up the assault to the same degree. In the melee, there was a centaur who noticed a candelabrum in front of

53 Ne dist mot, quar pour le dengier / Ne se cuidast il pas vengier, vv. 2337–2338. While there would be other ways to translate dengier and vengier, Ovid makes it clear what the context requires (Met. 12.232–233): “The other made no reply (since he could not defend his actions with words)” (Kline).



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an altar, so he grabbed it, then returned joyously to the assault, wielding the huge candelabrum. He struck Celadon without holding back, so that the brains spilled from his head and his eyes popped out. Pelates tore the leg off a chair, to exterminate him:54 he made him kick over dead on the ground. [2370–2386] There was a fierce and strong centaur, Gryneus, who by his exertion heaved a great altar among his enemies, with which he killed two Lapiths in a single blow, one being Broteas, the other Orios, son of the enchantress Mychale. Exadius rushed toward the centaur. To take vengeance on him, he swiftly ran to tear the stag’s horns off a pillar where they hung in place of a chandelier in the middle of the palace. He came charging toward the centaur. Unfailingly, he struck him such a blow that he made both his eyes pop out. [2387–2402] Rhoetus took a burning and fiery log off an altar. He struck Charaxus by the ear so hard that he smashed in his temple, and from the fire of the burning log, his blond hair caught fire, and his brain vibrated. Just like a piece of iron that boils when it’s put in cold water, his blood boiled as it poured down out of the wound. With great effort and struggle, the wounded man lifted a big wooden beam, so heavy that it would have weighed down a chariot. He heaved it at Rhoetus, but killed one of his companions who was fighting next to him. Rhoetus laughed, being glad about it, and said to him “May all those who oppose us do likewise!” [2403–2422] Rhoetus rushed at Exadius at once, without delay. He wielded the log with both hands: he spilled his brains with it, and laid him out dead. With that log he killed a young man in his youth, Corythus: that was his name. Euagrus said to him: “Go to, what renown have you won from the death of this boy you just killed?” Rhoetus didn’t let him say any more, but attacked him in great anger: he drove the hot log downwards through his mouth, while he was still speaking, into his body midway into his vitals. All the blows Rhoetus struck were on fire.55 His heart rejoiced at his death. [2423–2439] He went on wielding the great log. He tried to do the same to Dryas, but Fortune was against him, for Dryas acted sooner: he flung a sharp stake at him, and put it through the middle of his throat. Rhoetus shook with anguish and pain from the grievous wound. He was very distressed and frightened about it, for he sensed that he was at a serious disadvantage. He drew out the This “him” is, from Ovid (Met. 12.245–257), the centaur (Amycus) who killed Celadon, not Celadon himself. The verb is partuer, v. 2385, a more intense version of tuer “kill.” 55 Rouen (fol. 309v) has Toutes li ardi les ferrees for v. 2438. De Boer gives a variant serrees. Copenhagen (p. 677) has Toutes les lui a embrasees. The context suggests something like what Copenhagen has – “He burned up all his guts” – but our translation tries to make sense of ferrees (“blows”), assuming that Rouen’s reading was understood to be meaningful. 54

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stake with effort, then turned and fled headlong, and was no longer of any help to his side. [2440–2452] Lycabas fled; so did Medon and Orneus and Pisenor. Thaumas fled, and with him Pholus and Abas and Melenaus56 and Asbolus, who was a prophet: he knew well that he could not turn his remaining there for a long time to any good end. Nessus fled with the other bunch. Asbolus said to him, “Don’t be afraid. You have nothing to fear, so help me god. You won’t die in this attack. You’ll die elsewhere by Hercules, when you take Deianira away from him.” Dryas put forth great efforts. He killed four as he fled: Imbreus and Eurynomus57 and Lycidas and Areos. Crenaeus fled as well: if the story does not lie, he was struck between the eyes with a spear. No more knowledgeable man could have hit him more accurately, I believe. [2453–2475] Amid such tumult, amid such panic, Aphidas was asleep in the hall, where the battle was harsh and dire. He was in no shape to fight. He held a pitcher in his hand, from which he had drunk the wine. His body was drunk and intoxicated, and he slept, mouth gaping, wrapped in the pelt of a great bear. Phorbas said to him: “You belly full of drink! I mean to concoct for you such a drink, so perilous and fearful, that no one ever drank the like at table.” At once he hefted the spear: he then threw it at Aphidas; he struck him while sleeping, and killed him without his ever feeling death. [2476–2492] There was a big oak tree in the courtyard. Petraeus hurried to the oak. He put both arms around it. He tried to uproot it from the earth. Many times he heaved it back and forth. Pirithoüs nailed him to the tree with a sharp spear as he was tugging on the tree. Afterwards he killed Lycus and Chromis by his own hand in hand-to-hand combat. He was marvelously acclaimed for it. Then he struck Helops in the ear with a spear so that its head was openly visible coming through the other ear. Afterwards he turned around to strike Dictys, but Dictys fled to save himself. Coming down a steep incline, Dictys fell and dropped in a heap on top of an ash tree with such force that he felled it on top of his body.58 [2493–2512] Aphareus wanted to avenge Dictys. In great anger he ran to tear a boulder from the mountainside. There was no altering the fact that it would give Pirithoüs something to complain about, if he threw it at him, but Theseus forestalled him, coming after him in great anger: he struck him with an oak Menelaus, v. 2456, corrected to the name in Ovid. Eurimeneus, v. 2469, corrected to the name in Ovid. 58 It would surely make more sense for him to fell the tree underneath his body: compare in Ovid (Met. 12.339–340) “breaking a huge flowering ash with the weight of his body” (Kline). But the line has sor son cors, v. 2512. Maybe this should be read as cours, not corps, “upon his course” or “as he fell.” Copenhagen (p. 678), which normally writes the p when it thinks it has corps, here has sur son col, “on his neck.” 56 57



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club so that he broke his arm. From then on he esteemed him so little that he didn’t deign to strike him further, or he didn’t want to, or he didn’t have the leisure – he let him live on in dishonor. Then he leapt onto the back of Bienor,59 who was unaccustomed to that.60 Theseus grabbed him by the hair. He struck him in the head with a club so that he smote him dead beyond rescue, and he slew Nedymnus and Ripheus and Lycopes and Thereus and Hippasus. [2513–2533] Demoleon saw the slain. It caused him great anger and great sorrow. Well he meant to take vengeance for them. He tried to uproot a pine tree from the earth, but was never able to pull so hard that, for all he might be able to do, he might be able to draw it out of the earth. Still, he broke it down and tore it up. He flung the bulk of it at Theseus. Theseus saw the heavy piece of wood that he wanted to gift him. He feared the blow – I don’t marvel at it in the least – so he dodged to save his life. The blow did not fall in vain: Crantor was hit by it. It crushed his chest and left shoulder. [2534–2550] His master, Peleus, who saw him die, was grieved by it, for Crantor had served him a long time, and Peleus loved him a great deal and held him dear, so he wished dearly to avenge him. In his hand he held a mighty spear. In great anger he flung it at the centaur. He put it in his body through the ribs. Demoleon trembled and shook from the distress and the anguish that made him incredibly distraught and anguished. He pulled out the shaft, but no matter how he tugged, he could never take out the head. He was enraged and discontented. He was intent on avenging himself. He made to attack his enemy. He knocked him down with great vigor and commenced to trample him. Peleus was not slow to defend himself, and he had need to: he struck him between the shoulders so that he drove the burnished steel blade through the middle of his chest. Having struck his wrenching blow, he smote him dead. And he had already killed Ysem, Damin, and Phlegraeos, and the fourth was Effeneon.61 [2550–2576] Dorylas wielded the stiff and strong horn of an ox in this affray, with which he had done a huge amount of slaying. I, Nestor of Pylos, aimed a bow at him,62 having nocked the string, and I shot the arrow at Dorylas. When Dorylas saw it coming, he put a hand in front of his forehead to block Lyanor, v. 2526, corrected to the name in Ovid. Qui n’avoit pas tel fais apris, v. 2527. This could be “who hadn’t learned to bear such a burden,” or “who hadn’t learned/wasn’t accustomed to such an act,” depending on how fais is read. 61 Compare Ovid (Met. 12.378–379): “Peleus had already, before this, killed Phlegraeos and Hyles, from a distance, and Iphinoüs and Clanis in close conflict” (Kline). Only Phlegraeos (Plegreon) is a match for the names in the OM. 62 In Ovid (Met. 12.385), Nestor throws a javelin. 59 60

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the blow. Without hesitation I pinned his hand with the shaft. This shot was really beautifully aimed. It was a source of great joy and hilarity. With his steel blade that cut with ease, Peleus made the entrails fly out of his body, and was the one to kill him dead. [2577–2591] There was a young centaur there, who was incredibly beautiful by nature. No one ever heard tell of a more beautiful creature where centaurs are concerned.63 His man’s body was tall and straight. He was named Cyllarus by name. He didn’t have a hair out of place, blonder than resplendent gold. His eyes were blue-gray and laughing, his hair, curly and golden. His face was fresh and colored with coloring fresher and more delicate than the flower of the elm tree or hawthorn. I want to sum up everything for you: insofar as he had the form of a man, it was not possible to find the body of a more beautiful man in any land, and from the navel down, as regards the form of the horse, he was not of any lesser beauty. If he had had a head and neck to match, no one would have heard tell of such a horse, or of one so beautiful. I would be hard pressed to describe his beauty: a wide crupper and a square chest, and the other body parts made in such a way that no horse was ever better made. If I wanted to describe everything, I would have to reflect too much and it would take far too much time. He was blacker than any mulberry, except his four feet and his haunches and his thighs, which were white. [2592–2624] Many women of his persuasion64 wooed him, but he deigned to heed none of them. They could not enjoy his love, except for one, to whom he was a lover: Hylomene, to whom he had given his heart, his love, and his attention. But he had not wasted his love, for she was beautiful and cherished him dearly. They loved each other very much without deceit. They were both identical in heart, beauty, and lineage. They were together night and day, at work and at leisure. Together they had come there. Together they took part in the battle against the Lapiths and Greeks, but the battle turned out very grievously for them. Now they had come to the final moment when their love would come to an end. [2625–2644] A crossbow bolt came from the left. I don’t know who was responsible for shooting it. It struck Cyllarus through the chest. In a short time Cyllarus fell down in a faint, constrained by death. Hylomene hugged and squeezed him in her arms, out of love. She kissed his eyes and face. She greatly mourned and lamented him. She did not want to desist from her grief or her lamentation. She shed many tears over him. She held back the soul as long En son endroit, v. 2595. Normally this would be “for his part,” or “with respect to him.” The sense seems to be as in Ovid (Met. 12.378–389): “Nor did your beauty, Cyllarus, if indeed we attribute beauty to your centaur race, save you in the fighting” (Kline). 64 Many female centaurs: compare Ovid (Met. 12.404): “Many females of his race courted him” (Kline). 63



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as she could, but nothing availed: he had to die. Then the beauty put herself to death with the very same dart65 that had killed him. [2645–2660] In the battle there was a centaur who was fierce and wicked and accursed, who did incredible harm to the Lapiths. He hefted a big tree to his neck, a burden for six oxen in harness: he was called Phaeocomes. He was completely covered, his man’s body and his horse’s body, with a hard and sturdy lion’s pelt. He threw the tree with great effort and hit Pholonidem with it.66 No weapon he had could stop Phaeocomes from killing and destroying him. He liquefied his whole brain: the brains came out his mouth and out his nostrils, out his eyes and out his ears, in clumps, the way milk squirts out of the mold when one makes cheese. [2661–2679] I, Nestor, observed the savage, who wanted to despoil the dead man and was stripping off his armament. I drove my steel blade into his flank so that I made him fall dead, and I put Teleboas and Chthonius to death with my blade. One wielded a forked branch,67 the other a sword, with which he wounded me in the face. The wound is still apparent: see the scar of it, here. [2680–2690] I was fierce and strong then. People talked about my exploits then. Then, I would have been the one to send to make war on the Trojans, for I would have been well able to meet Hector in combat and fight him, and if I couldn’t beat him, at least I would have given him a really hard time. But Hector hadn’t been born yet. Now I’m old and weak in body, and can no longer put forth great effort. [2691–2701] But now I want to tell you about the struggle. Periphas slew Lycetum. Ampyx struck down Oëtum. Cymelus slew Liexum, and Macareus, Ethipum. Molphus slew Modidani.68 The place was stained and covered with the

65 Dou dart meïsmes qui l’a mort, v. 2660. Elsewhere we translate dart as “(thrown) spear,” but here the weapon is a quarrel (Un quarriaux, v. 2645), which we translate “crossbow bolt.” In Ovid (Met. 12.428) it is a javelin: thus Hylomene “threw herself onto the spear that had pierced him, embracing her husband in dying” (Kline). 66 In Ovid (Met. 12.433), Tectaphos, son of Olenus. Pholonidem (Pholonydus?) is not an obvious match for any name in Ovid. 67 For forche, v. 2687, “forked branch” follows Ovid, whereas otherwise we might have translated “pitchfork.” 68 The names in italics have no equivalents in Ovid. The corresponding passage is Met. 12.449–458: “What need to tell you how Periphas conquered dual-shaped Pyraethus? Why tell of Ampyx who drove his cornel-wood spear that had lost its tip into the opposing face of four-footed Echeclus? Macareus threw a crowbar at the chest of Pelethronian Erigdupus, killing him: and I remember how a hunting spear, from the hand of Nessus, buried itself in Cymelus’s groin. Nor would you have thought Mopsus, Ampycus’s son, only prophesied the future: bi-formed Hodites fell to Mopsus’s throw, trying in vain to speak, his tongue fixed to the floor of his mouth, the floor of his mouth to his throat” (Kline).

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maimed and the slain. The loss was great on both sides. Many centaurs had been killed there, and many Greeks had been put to death. [2702–2712] Stout-hearted Caeneus proved his valor well there. He stood at the forefront of the Lapiths. He vigorously stood his ground. He slew and cut down the centaurs with his steel blade that cut smoothly. He injured them greatly, charged them repeatedly. He killed five of them in a short time: one was Bromus, the second Elymus, the third was named Antimachus, the fourth was named Styphelos, and the fifth was Pyracmos, who wielded a great ax.69 I don’t remember their wounds at all, but I’ve retained their names.70 [2713–2727] Suddenly there came against him, through the melee, with great strides, a centaur who had killed Halesus,71 a youth born in Emathia. Having cut his head off, he had armed himself with his spoils. He was strong and marvelously big. He was called Latreus. He had salt-and-pepper hair.72 He had a fine-meshed hauberk, a mighty helmet and a battered shield, and a Macedonian guisarme. He wheeled and moved around a great deal. He was courageous and very bold. He taunted Caeneus with words. “Woman,” he said, “are you demented? What madness brought you here among the knights? I marvel at what insanity makes you so presumptuous. You would do better to unwind the threads of your spindles. Let these young men joust: we centaurs, and the Lapiths.” [2728–2751] Caeneus heard that he was challenging him. He held a lance in his fist. He brandished it with great vexation. He plunged it into his body along his side, between his two bodies.73 The centaur, feeling the injury, became completely demented with rage and madness, so that he almost lost his senses. He wanted to give Caeneus the gift of death. He went after him with terrible anger. He struck him with his glaive when he was exposed, but the blow viAfter Bromus, these names are given as Helenus, Amphimacus, Stelephus, and Piramus. 70 This is ironic, since almost all the names are wrong in the OM. We can only speculate about whether the author intended the irony. 71 Given as Ales. 72 There is a difficulty with vv. 2728–2736, unremarked on by de Boer. His text reads Atant est contre lui venus / ... / Un Centour, qui ot nom Ales, / Un damoisel né d’Emathie. / Quant cil ot la teste trenchie, / Si s’ert armez de sa despoulle. / Fors estoit et grans à mervoulle. / Latreüs estoit apelez. / De cheveux ert entremellez. Giving Ales as the centaur’s name in v. 2730 leaves him as the cil to be beheaded in v. 2731, and Caeneus as the one to arm himself with the spoils. Then Latreus would be a second centaur. In Ovid, there is one centaur, Latreus, and Ales (Halesus) is his victim: “Then Latreus rushed forward, massive in body and limbs, armed with the spoils of Emathian Halesus whom he had killed. He was between youth and age, but had the strength of youth, his hair greying on his temples” (Kline). We translate v. 2730 as in Rouen (fol. 311v), Un centour qui mort ot Ales, which stays consistent with Ovid. 73 Where his human body and horse body joined. 69



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brated and sprang back, like the hail that falls from the sky does from strong tile. He approached the young man and struck him in the chest with his steel blade, but couldn’t wound him; rather, the sword became bent backwards. “Because my blade,” he said, “bounces back from thrusting it into your body, I want to try it again, to see if a slash will hit the same way.”74 Then he took him in the middle of the flank.75 He struck him along the side, but the hard skin saved him. The blow sprang back and vibrated and the good blade snapped in two. Latreus marveled and was totally bewildered. He almost lost his sense from grief,76 when he saw his blade in pieces and that he hadn’t wounded his opponent in any way. [2752–2782] When Caeneus had suffered little and had offered up his body to be struck, “Now it’s right,” he said, “for me to try and see if I’ll be able to inflict a wound on you.” Then he struck him with the blade that cut well, so that he drove his hand into his body along with the hilt and smote him dead. He bucked and thrashed. The centaurs were incredibly sorrowful. They surrounded the hero and all tried to avenge the death of the centaur he had killed. They attacked him from all sides. They aimed sharp pikes and trenchant spears at him, and steel crossbow bolts, but they couldn’t penetrate him no matter what they did, nor could they draw blood from his body. They were all bewildered and full of anger. [2783–2801] Then Monychus began to speak to them: “Lords, we’ve all been put to shame and overcome by a man, if one must say he’s a man. Our sloth and our craven hearts make the men among us into effeminate ones, such as women are wont to be. Now we have all found our master: a half-male, an effeminate one, who holds off all those of our line. It really seems to me that we lack heart. What does our great strength avail us, or the great size of a double body, when an effeminate one has taken and overcome us all with his77 body? Advance, and confront him with wood, rocks, and projectiles. He’s in for a tough time: if you all choose to follow me, he’ll soon be dead and maimed. He won’t be able to hold out for long, or stand the load of the logs. Since no matter what we might do, we can’t draw blood from his body, let’s suffocate him under the great weight.” [2802–2827]

74 The contrast between the fera de cop of v. 2773 and the ferir d’estoc of v. 2771 is clear from Ovid (Met. 12. 484–485): “I will kill you with the sword’s edge if the point is blunt” (Kline). 75 This renders Ovid (Met. 12.485–486): “Turning his blade sideways he reached out for his enemy’s loins with his long right arm” (Kline), as though the reaching out were a separate action from the striking of the blow. 76 Rendering chiasmus with v. 2758. 77 Quant un femelins par son cors, v. 2816. Son could be “his” or “her,” but unlike Latreus, Monychus seems to treat Caeneus as a man, however effeminate (un femelins, masculine).

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At that, he hoisted a great tree and flung it at Caeneus. The others did likewise. They uprooted the trunks of a great forest and loaded them all on his body. The evil ones loaded him down so much that his whole body began to swelter. He withstood the weighty load of the wood, which weighed and loaded him down so much. But when it had covered his face, his respiration almost failed, it seems to me, and he couldn’t breathe. He writhed and shifted around a great deal, so that because of his writhing it seemed that the earth and the whole area shook. [2828–2842] There was disagreement about his end. Some, if I recall correctly, judged him to be dead and suffocated, and imprisoned in hell, they said. Others, especially Mopsus, said otherwise, having seen a bird emerge from under the heap, and they knew well that it was the hero transformed. The bird flew around above us. I saw the bird, this is no tale, but I have never seen the like of it since, nor had I ever seen one before. Mopsus felt great joy because of it. Amphitides,78 who had his gaze and his heart in that direction, cried aloud, “Hey! It’s Caeneus I see there, that lone bird that flies aloft. He was the greatest man in the world and the most valiant, that’s the truth. He is the flower and glory of the Lapiths. He was without peer and will live on without peer. He is alone, for he will never have an equal.” Mopsus was valiant and had great knowledge, so we considered to be true what he said about the young man who had been transformed into that bird. [2843–2870] We were full of rage and sorrow for the hero of great valor whom the centaurs had crushed. We rushed upon them unrestrained, and vented our rage upon them. We killed so many that I can’t give a full accounting of them. We would have brought shame on them all, but night came on, so some got away, who escaped by fleeing. [2871–2880] [miniature, fol. 312v: jesus leading adam and eve out of hellmouth]79

Moralization {N}ow I will make apparent to you the mystery of this tale. Jesus Christ, divine substance, divine love, divine essence, who created all created beings, so loved human nature that he became joined to the human race by love and by marriage, and wedded our humanity. But the prince of iniquity, the traitor, the envious one, the churl, the malicious one, who incites and encourages all evil, and destroys and aborts all good to the extent of his power, to prevent anyone from doing any, wanted to unjoin that conjoining, 78 In Ovid (Met. 12.455–458), this is still clearly Mopsus, son of Ampycus, and Amphitides should probably also be read as referring to him. 79 Fols 32v, 188v, 191r, and 31r have comparable miniatures of this (the harrowing of hell).



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and through his great dire assault, corrupt and put to shame the holy soul, as Eurytus wanted to do to the beautiful Hippodamia, and carry off the soul from its beloved. [2881–2901] But God confronted the enemy with the weighty and powerful chalice from which he drank the drink of death which brought us from death to life. And he slew death, which, through the envy of the devil, at the biting of the apple, gained dominion over the first man and over all those who descended from him, who died from that bite. But the Son of God made good the harm via the drink of death, and rescued human nature and the soul, which would have incurred eternal shame and abuse if God hadn’t rescued it. [2902–2916] Eurytus and his followers represent the evil impulses of the sinners and of the sins with which the world was stained, when God came to join himself to human nature: pride, vainglory, and boasting; presumption and arrogance; envy, gossiping, and slander; wicked rejoicing at another’s harm; afflicted sorrow at another’s good; anger, impatience, and hatred; contention, discord, and hostility; sorry cowardice; spiritual sloth and imbecility; faint-heartedness and false malice; woeful rancor and greed; larceny, violence, and robbery; sacrilege and simony; drunkenness and foul gluttony, full of shame and baseness; sarcasm and scurrilous mockery; lust, adultery, and incest. Through this accursed campaign, through this wicked troop, the chief of wickedness tried, through his fraud and deceit, to bring division to love and grace and disrupt the marriage of God and the human race. And he had, through his deception, brought several to perdition who had consented to the sins and submitted to the devil. [2917–2952] But it turned out badly for him in the end, for the false one fell in his turn, and the Son of God, through his power, overcame his foolish presumption and confounded his wickedness through his virtuous household: pride by true humility, and envy by charity; he vanquished anger and impatience by noble patience. And the power of vitality and joy confounded spiritual sloth and depression. Generosity defeated the malice of covetousness and greed, and gluttony was defeated and routed by abstinence, and clean and pure continence drove off and destroyed foul lust. In this way, God long ago mightily resolved80 to destroy the sins that, by force and insult, had separated human nature from its beloved, God. [2953–2975] And this combat, this war, and this assault lasted so long that “the most excellent maiden” – beautiful, powerful, and wise and good – came there in 80 Compare Acts 2:23–24. See also Aquinas, ST II–II q. 163, for a relevant discussion “On the First Man’s Sin.” Aquinas notes that, in addition to pride, gluttony is involved with the eating of the apple. See also Bonaventure, Brev. III.2–3, which also discusses the sin of lust. It is interesting to note that the transition from eternal beings to exiled mortals (the Fall), and also the making of Eve from Adam’s rib in genesis, could both be seen as examples of metamorphosis. As per usual, the OM author draws closely on scholastic theology here.

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person: she is the one who had originally been purely feminine, before she had taken the form of a man.81 But the marvelous justice of “the powerful god who thunders in the cloud,” that is, of the Father, who had loved and cherished her greatly, had transformed her into a mortal man. He “dominated and oppressed her”82 when for our sins he lowered her so far that he caused her to come down from the heavens and take on human and mortal flesh, to redeem the human race. But God bestowed on her this much advantage, that no one, no matter what might happen – unless it was her pleasure that it happen – might be able to wound her in the flesh.83 He then allowed himself to be raised on the Cross and his holy body to be sacrificed, to mortify all sins. And however hard and strong he was, he was hung and killed on the wood of the Cross, to bring his friends to salvation out of the foul swamp of hell, where his soul descended, when he went there to extract his followers. [2976–3006] He made the earth tremble mightily at his Resurrection, when he rose again from death to life. But those false Jews full of envy, who had treacherously hung him on the wood of the Cross and murdered him, did not believe that it was true. But all must believe and know that he truly revived and rescued his friends from hell, just as the Scriptures teach us, and our holy fathers bear witness that he is the true Deliverer of Holy Church, and the Savior in whom power and glory abound. He is the Phoenix which has no peer in the world, for he is the marvel with whom no other can compete. There is truly a single God, without beginning and without end. And for us he resolved to come down from heaven and taken on human and mortal flesh, and he died and rose again and acquitted the sinners from the stinking dungeon of hell. Then he rose up, flying through the air, to the heavens, where he reigns at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory. [3007–3034] [miniature, fol. 313r: nestor being confronted by tlepolemus in front of the other greeks]

The way the description “purely feminine” (v. 2982) makes sense in terms of the rest of the OM is if Jesus is considered the incarnation of Divine Sapience, which is consistently treated as feminine. That Jesus, as the Word, is to be equated with Divine Wisdom in the Old Testament goes back to Justin Martyr and Origen, as well as Pope Leo the Great, and is a matter of long standing in both the Eastern and Western traditions. In the Western tradition the focus shifts to the logos as masculine, thus, there is a sort of movement from pre-incarnation as feminine to post-incarnation as masculine. See the introductory lexicon, s.v. sapience (p. 78). 82 Moralizing the rape by Neptune, and thus rendering a non consensual physical rape into the (consensual) Immaculate Conception. See the note on Book 4, v. 1420 (Leucothoë) as another dramatic example of positive interpretation of a rape. 83 Cil in v. 2998 contrasts with la in v. 2997, so it seems that a pronoun switch is called for in the next sentence. 81



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Nestor Tells of Hercules {I}n this way, Nestor told and recounted about the centaurs, whom the Lapiths had confounded, but he never made any mention of mighty Hercules, who displayed greater valor and strength by himself, in this battle, than all the remainder, without a doubt. Tlepolemus, who was his son, became tremendously enraged and challenged Nestor about it. [3035–3045] “Sir – old man – for what reason was my father passed over here? He used to tell me plenty of times how he was present in this conflict, and the majority of the centaurs were killed and beaten by him.” [3046–3051] Nestor sighed and said, “Friend, you renew my tears and revive my sorrows, the harms done to me, and the anger I had given over. No one, in truth, could believe or tell of the acts of prowess and the exploits that mighty Hercules performed there. Not only there, but throughout the whole wide world, he made his valor apparent. This weighs on me – it caused me harm, and for that reason, if ever I could have, I would have smothered and kept silent his deeds. Who wishes to praise his adversary, his enemy, or his opponent? Your father was my adversary. He caused me many injuries and setbacks. In my land of Pylos, he never left me any castle or town he hadn’t reduced to fire and flame, or any lord he didn’t kill on me, which caused me great grief and sorrow. We were twelve sons of great valor, all engendered by one father. All eleven of my brothers died by the sword of powerful Hercules, and the anguish lives on in my heart. [3052–3078] “But I don’t marvel that ten of them were slain by bold Hercules. I marvel very much at the eleventh, for he alone was without peer. He had the great advantage of being able to transform into whatever appearance he wanted, and when it suited him, he took on his original form. His name was Peryclimenus. This gift and this power had been given to him by Neptune, our ancestor. But no matter how he transformed, he could not escape or save himself from being made to die by Hercules. He took on different forms to deliver and defend himself from the one who was pressing him so closely. But no transformation made him leave off causing him incredible difficulty. [3079–3097] “In the end he was forced to take on the form of an eagle, and flew through the air. He attacked Hercules’ face with his beak, talons, and wings, which were curved, sharp, and swift, respectively.84 When Hercules saw this, it upset him greatly. He took his mighty bow and strung it, to make my brother suffer. And he hit him in flight with a barbed arrow in such a way that he took away his ability to fly, for with the arrow he had shot, he had broken the wing and the joint. The wound was light enough, if he hadn’t hit him in such a way that when the point struck, it compromised and dislocated the wing. 84 Qu’il ot courbe, agus, et isneles, v. 3102. If all three adjectives applied to all three items in the list, we would have expected courbes.

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But that killed him and was his undoing because, since his wing failed him, he could not move through the air, and so was forced by necessity to come down and fall from on high and plunge to the earth in a heap on top of the sharp and piercing arrow, which continued to pierce through his body and skewered him in the throat. [3098–3123] “In this way all my brothers were done to death by Hercules. Can I help it, then, if I set aside and keep silent his praise and his goodness? Nevertheless, despite the harm he may have done to me or to all my friends, I am not your enemy at all, nor do I bear you any ill-will, nor do I seek to take vengeance except to keep his good works silent, for I cannot recount those. All the same, let us, you and I, Tlepolemus, be good friends, and let there be good, pure love between us, and complete peace.” [3124–3138] [miniature, fol. 314r: god giving the tablets of the law to moses]85

Moralization {T}he tale can have a historical interpretation, and it can well be true that stout-hearted Hercules caused a great deal of harm to Nestor, to both his land and his people, and that while causing him this harm, he killed ten brothers that he had. The eleventh, who knew more about assaults, wars, and attacks, and ruses and dodges, held out against him for a little while. He “became an eagle,” as I understand it, living off violence and plunder. But while he was on the run, he caused a great deal of trouble and harm and injury to lion-hearted Hercules, which upset him greatly. But he never knew so many ruses that in the end he could avoid falling into Hercules’ hands: shooting at him with a deadly arrow, Hercules slew him as he fled. [3139–3160] {I} can provide another interpretation for this. I can rightly interpret Hercules as the mighty, loyal sage, that is, God, who, to rescue the human race and draw it out of sin, which had captured and seduced it, resolved to battle bodily to confound and strike down sin. He is the one who defeated the devil and vanquished eternal death. He destroyed the sons of Israel, who made the golden calf that the idolaters worshipped and who put God to the test in the desert. He is the one who made the proud flier fall defeated and woeful from the heavens where he tried to make his nest. He is the Archer who was well able to shoot the arrow of divine wrath, to bring to perdition those who offended against the majesty of his face in their insolence. [3161–3182] Nestor can represent those of Israel who did not incur the damning scourge of second death, but, as it pleased God, were saved by good words and by true

85

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faith, and they served God without hubris for two ages or two spans of time;86 that is to say, as I understand it, before the law was written, and then under the law, as a chosen, virtuous, and good-living people. [3183–3193] But since then, the remnant of the Jewish people are growing more feeble during the third age, the age of grace, in which we are: they are now “weak and aged,” ever since Judas grew so proud as to dare to oppose God and to kill him and hang him on the Cross. The false Jews, from then till now, never again progressed in good; rather, they have worsened every day, tending towards their death and damnation. And although they know the truth, without a doubt, about the glorious battle fought by the dear Son of God, the strong, the wise – the one who, to redeem the human race and deliver it from death, resolved to render himself up to death on the Cross, confounding our adversary – the false Jews try to keep it silent, and since they cannot otherwise have vengeance for the anger and resentment they have towards our Savior, the glorious combatant, they try to extinguish his praise and his glory and keep his victory silent. And they let Christians know that they do not want to contend with them and that they have no animosity toward them, only grace and friendship, except insofar as they keep silent about the good works of the Savior – and that’s too bad. [3194–3224] [miniature, fol. 314v: agamemnon and the greeks confronted in debate by achilles]

Chryseis and Briseis87 {I}n this way Nestor, the old man full of goodness, had told and recounted the battles and combats of the Lapiths and the Centaurs, and the slaughter and the harm that the very fearsome Hercules had inflicted on his lineage. Then it was time to clear the tables. The lords rose and drank, and when their beds were ready, the knights went to lie down, and they slept and rested. [3225–3236] The battle lasted a long time and for a long time, without a doubt, the Greek lords were present at the siege, laying waste, sacking, and plundering the surrounding lands: they all remained in the army facing Troy. An innocent and wise maiden, beautiful of body and face, was taken as plunder by Agamemnon. The beauty was named Chryseis. Agamemnon made her his lover. But her love was dearly bought. Chryses, her father, complained to Phoebus, who This moralization picks up the statements Nestor made about his age in vv. 2201–2209 and 2691–2701 above. Judas, v. 3198, could also be Judah/Judea, the Jews as a whole. 87 This section departs from Ovid as of v. 3237. It corresponds to the beginning of the plot of Homer’s Iliad and its source is evidently the Ilias latina through v. 803, specifically vv. 1–80 for vv. 3237–3307 here; vv. 3308–3346 is a very condensed summary of what follows. 86

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loved him steadfastly,88 about the king who had taken his daughter from him. Phoebus immediately sent such pestilence and torment upon the whole entire army that they all died in anguish, without any wounds, and they could not get medicine from any doctor. [3237–3261] Calchas knew that they had this persecution because of the maiden, and that they were all doomed unless Chryseis89 was given back. He told this counsel to Achilles, because he didn’t dare say it openly because of the king, lest it make him angry and he cause him harm over it. Achilles told him that he might say it safely and without fear: he need never fear the king’s ill-will or that he would offend him. Calchas went to declare in public the cause of the pestilence, and all knew well, without a doubt, that the dying would never cease – rather, they would all die there – if the king’s beloved wasn’t returned to her father. Hence the whole army was paying the price and would continue to pay it if she wasn’t returned. [3262–3277] The king took this in. It was incredibly painful for him, I have no doubt, to give up his love and his beloved. He did not willingly want to give her back, but he could not stand against everyone else: they preferred that she be given back than that the whole army be destroyed. He was forced to give her up. The king was furious about it and harbored tremendous ill-will toward Achilles, whose assurance had led Calchas to speak his divination. He thought to make a similar attack on him very soon, if he could. [3278–3291] Achilles had a beloved whom he had captured in Lerna. She was Briseis, the well-bred. Agamemnon found her beautiful. He was heated, and seized her in vengeance for Chryseis. Agamemnon held onto Briseis for a long time and had his way with her. Achilles was very woeful about it. He felt such woe and rage and anguish in his heart that he resolved to slay the king over it, but Pallas would not tolerate this outrage: she appeased the quarrel so that they gave each other the kiss of peace, but first, their grudge lasted a long time. [3292–3307] Achilles, forced to part with his beloved, was very heavy-hearted. He felt great hatred for the one who had taken her. Nothing could comfort him. Never again was he willing to bear arms or render aid to the Greeks, and the losses they suffered for lack of him were great and grievous. With him alone absent, the Trojans had little regard for the remainder. Nevertheless they acquitted themselves well. They gave the Trojans tremendous combat and a tough battle, without a doubt, but they often had the worst of it. Hector ter-

88 Qui forment l’ama, v. 3250, seems to have Phebus as antecedent. However, we know of no tradition that Apollo was in love with Chryses’ daughter, Chryseis. In Greek mythology, Chryses was a Trojan priest of Apollo at Chryse, near the city of Troy. 89 Spelled Cryseida in v. 3261; de Boer references the Ilias latina, v. 23.



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rified them. Like a brave and valiant hero, he often launched deadly assaults on them. [3308–3324] One day Hector and his followers made an attack on the Greeks. They pushed them back and routed them so far they drove them to the shore. The slaughter there was fierce and brutal. If it hadn’t been for Ajax and his efforts,90 Hector and his followers would have burned the whole fleet that day. In that case, the Greeks would have lost their way back to Greece, but lion-hearted Ajax alone saved the ships from burning. His body alone opposed them. He gave the Trojans a hard fight. He struck Hector full in the chest, knocking him over backwards in the open field. He brutally ravaged the Trojans, and the Greeks came along in that direction, retaking the field. Hector and his fierce company attacked them fiercely in response. They inflicted heavy casualties on them. [3325–3346] [miniature, fol. 315v: god enthroned, holding an orb]91

Moralization {T}he golden soul, in my opinion, was loved by the King of Paradise, the God of Hosts, the King, the Lord, who is lord over all empires, God the Father, in the beginning. The golden soul: that is to say, properly, human nature, while it was clean and pure and there was nothing in it stained by filth, by sin. It was so much the beloved of God the Father, but the bite of the bitter apple that the first father ate took it away from him and estranged it from him. Through Adam came the separation and the damning pestilence through which the whole world perished, dying in soul and in body. [3347–3364] For this reason the golden soul was separated from God, its beloved, and instead of “Chryseis” – that is, pure and clean – it became “Briseis,” that is to say, foul and corrupted, for after it had lost purity and had sinned, it seems to me, we can call it foul and base and sinful and corrupted. Through it, it seems, there was a rupture of the good love and of the concord that existed in the beginning between mercy and truth, and peace and justice likewise, so that mercy would have destroyed justice,92 if it could have, but it couldn’t, 90 Or, “If Ajax and his forces hadn’t been there.” However, vv. 3335–3337 says he stood alone. 91 Fols 193r, 278v, and 315v have comparable miniatures of this. Fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God enthroned with images of the Evangelists; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have similar depictions of human kings, and fol. 323v has a similar depiction of Ecclesia. 92 Compare Aquinas, ST supplement, q. 99: “God’s Justice and Mercy towards the Damned.” See also Bonaventure, Brev. VII.1. The issue of penal substitutionary atonement has been discussed at length by early Church Fathers (e.g., Clement of Rome, Justin Martyr, Eusebius of Caesaria, Athanasius, Gregory of Nanzianzus, Ambrose of Milan,

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nor was it permitted to: Pallas – that is, Divine Wisdom – who was their friend in common, brought concord between them. To bring them into accord, she arbitrated this discord,93 and introduced good concord between mercy and truth. Then the discord was appeased, and justice gave the kiss of peace to peace. [3365–3390] But before the concord could be established, and before the Savior could take on human nature in his beloved94 – since it had been separated from him by divine justice – because of the sin and malice of the father who bit the apple, the whole world was being put to death by our enemy, our opponent, the devil, the adversary, who at that time had unrestricted rule over everyone indiscriminately, the good and the evil, at his pleasure. And he had great leisure to do so, since holy men and women could not prevent him, no matter what they did, from making it his practice to hold the human race in bondage and to take them where he pleased, like livestock on a tether, leading them astray from the proper path. [3391–3411] Nonetheless the holy prophets, and the martyrs who were around at that time, fought valiantly for God’s law all their lives. They did all they could to defend the fleet of the flesh from the blaze of sin, so that they would not be contaminated by the fire of sin, but, no matter how they fought, the enemy prevailed: in the end, he led everyone dead and captured into his shadowy prison. [3412–3423] [miniature, fol. 316r: mounted knights in melee (the death of patroclus?)]95

Patroclus96 {P}atroclus saw the heavy casualties on his side, and saw the Greeks dying in terrible pain. It made him furious. He could not endure or stand for it. He would rather die honorably than not lend aid to his friends. He undertook an incredibly foolish attack. Grief made him presumptuous. It’s not today or yesterday that people have suffered loss in foolish undertakings! He took the John Chrysostom, and of course Augustine of Hippo), and medieval (Gregory the Great, Anselm, Aquinas) and modern theologians. Compare also Isaiah 53:4–12; Galatians 3:13; Hebrews 2:17, 9:12, 9:26; 1 John 2:2 and 4:10; 1 Peter 2:24. 93 De Boer notes that B and C are missing vv. 3385–3388. 94 Rouen (fol. 315v) has Humaine nature s’amie (“human nature, his beloved”) for v. 3393, instead of the edition’s Humaine nature en s’amie. 95 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat. 96 This section, including the death of Sarpedon and the reclamation of the body by Ajax, closely follows vv. 804–839 of the Ilias latina.



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arms of Achilles. He had himself outfitted and equipped with them. He rushed into battle without hesitation, faster than a bird flies after prey. [3424–3437] He inflicted massive casualties on the Trojans who had been so bold thus far: now they were routed and turned coward. The semblance of Achilles made them turn and flee, and bold-hearted Patroclus pursued them. He caused them great harm, great injury. He killed and maimed many of them. Hence he drove and scattered them before him the way a merlin97 hunts little birdies. [3438–3448] He went and attacked Sarpedon, and struck him with such fury that he knocked him dead from his warhorse. He put to death many others. He charged to and fro. He inflicted incredible harm on his enemies. He slaughtered many Trojans. That might well have been enough for him, but Fortune, which harms the mighty, abases the high, and raises the low, led him on to his destruction. He didn’t observe any limit98 or moderation in confounding his enemies and rescuing his friends. He put too much faith in Fortune, when it could turn to his injury. [3449–3464] Hector was on the battlefield. When he saw his company retreating, as the hero inflicted such casualties on them, he headed that way immediately. He thought it was Achilles. He spurred his warhorse into a gallop. He spoke to Patroclus rudely and rebuked him in words: “Hey, how come you keep tormenting this powerless rabble? If you’re bold enough, try your valor against me on the battlefield, man to man. Then you’ll find out how my blade cuts. I’ll rip the life from your body. You’ve attacked my people too much today, but now I’ll repay you all the worse for it!” [3465–3481] Patroclus was fierce and undaunted. He put too much faith in his prowess, and could well suffer for it. He scorned Hector and his threats. He didn’t deign to give way before him, but maneuvering as best he could, he charged at Hector, without saying a word, and Hector charged at him with great energy. In his fist he gripped the stiff and sturdy lance-shaft. He struck Patroclus in the middle of his shield, and Patroclus in turn struck him so hard that the lances shattered. They flung away the stumps and drew their blades, smiting each other at close range. One of them would pay for it dearly! Patroclus could not keep it up or withstand Hector’s blows. He was bewildered and overwhelmed. Hector took him by the nasal and tore the helm off his head. Now Patroclus was in trouble. He was overwhelmed: he didn’t know what to do. [3482–3503]

97 A mini-falcon. Merlins are swift fliers and skilled hunters who specialize in preying on small birds like sparrows and quail; for centuries, they were well-regarded falconry birds. This image, which is not in the Ilias latina, could be inspired by Benoît although this section as a whole does not use his version of events (see Burgess and Kelly 2017, 145: “Their warhorses, which were faster than a merlin or a swallow, brought them together quickly”). 98 Reading borne for Rouen’s bonne (fol. 316r) in v. 3460: Copenhagen has bourne.

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Hector stared him in the face. He saw very well that this wasn’t Achilles. Rebuking him, he took him to task: “Vassal, you undertook a foolish thing when you put on these rich arms, which have made you so presumptuous.99 Today you have done us great injury, more on account of the arms than on your own account. Now the Trojans will be safe from you from now on – ” and he struck him with such force that he smote him to the ground dead. He stripped and despoiled him of the arms, and carried off his spoils. [3504–3517] The Greeks were sad and bewildered at the loss of Patroclus. Ajax saw Patroclus slain, and the Trojans trampling his corpse. The hero was grieved by his death. He rescued the body, taking it away from them, and soon dragged it out of the crowd.100 The Greeks carried Patroclus to his tent. They were very woeful and disconsolate. [3518–3526] [miniature, fol. 316v: the prophets holding long scrolls]101

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation of Patroclus, who represents the prophets, the holy theologians, who knew the divine secrets to the extent that the Holy Spirit resolved to reveal them to them, without hiding anything. The Spirit made them clairvoyant and wise, to be witnesses and messengers of the Son of God, who was due to come from heaven to earth to end the misery in which the enemy had put the human race, and to restrain his great fury. They were so clairvoyant and wise that they were rightly called eyes of the Father,102 for the divine pleasures103 were revealed to them, and they did not 99 De Boer’s period and question mark have him reading v. 3509 as Qui t’ont mis en tel sorcuidance? which he presumably understood as “Who made you so presumptuous?” But the plural verb in qui t’ont shows that this is a relative clause following on ces riches armes in v. 3508. 100 In v. 3524, Rouen (fol. 316v) and Copenhagen have Si le traist for de Boer’s Si se traist (“he soon extricated himself from the crowd”). 101 Given the moralization, these are clearly the prophets, called “holy theologians” below, and the scrolls they are holding are their prophecies. But compare the similar miniature of Jewish scholars on fol. 61v. 102 Compare 2 Chronicles 16:9, Jeremiah 16:7, and Zechariah 4:10, and possibly Proverbs 15:3 and Psalm 17:8 (Vulgate 18:8). 103 The beatific vision in which for example Dante’s Paradise culminates. As Aquinas notes, the ultimate end of the intellectual creature is the vision of God in his essence. However, this is beyond the nature of every created intellect: no created being can have the movement of will directed towards such beatitude unless it is moved by a supernatural agent. This is what we call grace. See ST I q. 62, art. 1–2. For Bonaventure, grace is a gift that cleanses, enlightens, and perfects the soul. It vivifies, reforms, and strengthens it, lifts it up, makes it like God, and unites it with him. If the rational soul is to become worthy of eternal beatitude, it must accept and partake in grace. See Brev. V.1. Compare also Psalm 16:11 (Vulgate 15:11).



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deign to keep them silent; rather, they let the people know the truth about the will of God. [3527–3546] These men were strong and vigorous, powerful and good combatants against the indolences of the world, against the fraud and the wiles of all evil spirits through whom the world had perished. They had great compassion for it, and fought valiantly against all temptations with good preachings, and with an example of living well they taught the people to follow the path that anyone who wants to reach true salvation must keep to. They guided back those who had gone astray and emboldened the cowardly for spiritual battle. [3547–3563] They were well armed, without a doubt. From God’s armament, they had a strong helm of salvation.104 They carried a strong shield of faith, with double patience and firm perseverance in good purposes, in good undertakings. They had a strong hauberk of justice, and a sword of the Word of God, which mutilates adversaries.105 They put their faith in this strong armament and mortified all vices in themselves, inspiring many to do good by their good example. But no matter how they fought and how holily they lived, the wicked fury of the devil led them to eternal death in hell. There they were trampled by those who had overcome them. [3564–3582] [miniature, fol. 317r: patroclus’s body being brought back to camp]

Achilles Gets New Armor and Kills Hector106 {T}he Greeks were very distraught about Patroclus, whom they carried back dead. Achilles saw the body coming. There was no way the hero could restrain himself from expressing his woe. He changed color completely. He tore his clothing, beat his chest. He scratched his cheeks and face. He dirtied himself by rolling on the ground, and wet the body with his tears. He tightly embraced the body, kissing its eyes and face, which was now so pallid. He shed many tears over him. He lamented and mourned his dead friend: [3583–3597] “Friend, Patroclus, who killed you? He has brought great woe to my heart. He will never be my friend, nor I his. So help me god, if I run into him, I’ll make him aware of it. I’ll never have joy as long as I live as long as there’s life in his body. He has my arms in his possession, but I expect 104 Reading, for vv. 3565–3567, Des armes Dieu fort hiaume avoient / de salu. Fort escu portoient / de foi, etc. De Boer’s punctuation would leave the helm unmoralized and then give De salu fort escu … de foi, which is too much for the shield. 105 Compare Revelation 19:13–15. 106 This section (part of which was first published separately in de Boer 1918) closely follows vv. 838–1046 of the Ilias latina.

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to make him pay dearly for them. I’ll have him flayed alive or torn apart by horses. From now on, his pain and trouble will increase if I can reach him on the battlefield.” [3598–3611] Achilles could not restrain himself from mourning for Patroclus. He really thought he would go mad with rage. In this rage and madness he left his lodging and ran to Thetis, lady of the sea, his mother, whom he loved so much. He asked her for new arms. She promised him ones that were good and beautiful. [3612–3620] The lady spoke about it to a goldsmith of great renown, wise and expert – his name was Vulcan. “Vulcan,” she said, “dear friend, my child needs armament. Make some for him of such quality that everyone is left speechless by the craftsmanship and the materials.” [3621–3628] “Lady,” he said, “your son will have arms such that no man could ask for more beautiful ones. When the arms are finished, all the goldsmiths of this world won’t be able to improve anything about them.” [3629–3634] Vulcan set about the work. He forged the arms in such a way that none so rich or skillfully decorated had ever been made, as Homer, who describes the arms, bears witness in his text. [3635–3640] On the shield was painted and depicted with great mastery the appearance of the elements in their semblances, their natures, and their transformations. The firmament was depicted there, and the stars likewise, each in its proper place. The constellations were scattered on it, depicted in their proper natures, images, and figures, so that there was nothing to find fault with. [3641–3651] The planets were on it in order, as they are set in the sky – the sun and the other six – just as each one makes its orbit, and the moon goes through its phases. Painted on it were the five zones in the proper configurations: the two that were excessively cold, the other filled with such burning, that they were uninhabitable; the other two are temperate, so that one can live well there. It would be taxing to recount all the images and the paintings – already this wouldn’t have recounted all the various created things that are depicted in the firmament. For this reason I want to go over it briefly. [3652–3669] Vulcan did a good job of including the year and the four different seasons: spring, summer, fall, winter, along with their temperament, were depicted there, as it seems to me. The months were painted and depicted, and how each one passes according to its nature and its moment. Day and night were painted there, and the four principal winds, each with its counterpart. It was shown elsewhere where lightning bolts and flashes come from; the thunder and the frost; the snow, the rain, and the dew; and in the air the flying birds; on earth the wild animals, the springs and the rivers and the broad and ample forests, the grassy meadows and the fields, the valleys and the mountains, the cities and dwelling-places, and the various regions: India, Media, Parthia,



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and Persia; elsewhere Bractia107 and Hyrcania; Egypt, Ethiopia, and Arabia; Cappadocia, Pamphylia, and Sabia; Lydia, Clamidia,108 and Armenia, which are in bountiful Asia (Minor), along with the Feminine Land,109 and Phrygia, Syria, and Palestine, and several renowned lands which are not named here; Jerusalem, which is set directly on the dead center of the earth; elsewhere, Thrace and Boeotia, Thessaly and the land of Greece; Puglia, Calabria, and Romania, Seville, Italy, and Lombardy; Scotland, England, and Hungary; Brittany, Hainault, Bohemia, Bavaria, Dacia, and Germany; Burgundy, Flanders, France, Spain; and the other various lands that are scattered throughout the world by the world’s four elements. [3670–3715] The sea was all around, encircling the earth. There you would have seen, bathing in the sea, Oceanus and Nerea, Thetis, Triton, and Proteus, Doris and her daughters. There were so many swimming fish, it seems to me, that there was no end of them: salmon, whales, and dolphins, and all others in their images: the seaports and the straits and the islands that are in the sea. [3716–3727] In the beginning, God never resolved to form anything in the heavens, in the air, in the sea, or on earth that anyone who wanted to look for it on the shield would not have been able to find the figure, semblance, and nature of, colored green, scarlet, or brown, or whatever was appropriate for each. [3728–3734] The judgments were depicted there, the laws, the verdicts of the judges who existed long ago; the advocates who upheld evil causes against the right. The maidens, in their proper place, were engaging in dances and rounds. You would have found psalteries, harps, zithers, tambourines, viols, fiddles, rotes, all lays of love and all musical notes depicted in the painting with rich engraving. There were trumpets and drums. [3735–3747] Elsewhere, farmers and peasants were doing various kinds of work. One was catching fish with a hook. One was making pitchforks and trellises, another snares for birds, the others were doing various jobs as was necessary for each. [3748–3754] In the middle of all these things, the sciences were enclosed. Grammar was flogging children. Next to her, Dialectic fought and debated in disputation. After that was painted Rhetoric, which makes eloquent speakers, advocates, and petitioners. Music teaches how to sing well, Geometry how to survey. Arithmetic numbers and counts and teaches how to do correct accounting. Astronomy, in her science, teaches us the significance of the stars and their cycles and all the orbits of the planets. Thus the seven arts were there. In the middle of them, Mars, the god of battle, was engraved, equipped with pure

107 Possibly

Bactria, but see Book 1, vv. 2470–2473. is attested as a name for Delos. 109 The land of the Amazons, elsewhere “Feminia.” 108 Clamidia

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gold arms. Such was the decoration on the shield. The engraving was of pure gold. [3755–3776] The hauberk was worth no less. Vulcan had forged it with his own hands. The steel was fashioned into four-link mail.110 There was no hauberk to match it. Anyone who would want to describe the hauberk would be drawing the matter out too long, but the workmanship was so strong and hard that it need not fear a blow from any weapon. [3777–3784] When the arms were crafted, Vulcan delivered them to Thetis, and Thetis gave them to her son. Achilles was armed, without a doubt, with the best arms in this world. Prowess and grief alike called on him to avenge the death of his friend. Now let his enemies beware, for if he could corner them on the battlefield, he would bring them to a woeful end. [3785–3794] Achilles charged through the fray. All his attention was on Hector. He desired nothing in the world so much as to slay that vassal. Aeneas saw him from a distance. His shield on his neck, his lance in his fist, he spurred at him with great fierceness, and he in turn launched his horse and charged toward him at a gallop. They struck each other’s shields full force, but the outcomes were dissimilar: if the fight had lasted any longer, Aeneas would have lost his life, but Neptune came to his aid. [3795–3808] Anyone who might have seen Achilles charging and spurring around and cutting down his enemies without issuing a challenge could well have affirmed and said that no one had ever been seen to be more enraged. The Trojans were so terrified of Achilles that wherever he went, they all fled the field before him. Achilles drove and pursued them before him, and the pursuit lasted until he brought them to battle at the river Xanthus. There they fought for a long time. There the slaughter was fierce and brutal. The two armies, one against the other, made a good showing of their efforts. [3809–3823] Lance couched, Achilles charged through the water like a madman. He killed and injured many of them. He strove and exerted himself so much and was so intent on the battle that he nearly drowned in the Xanthus. Meanwhile, the Trojans had rallied and gotten themselves out of the river. They mightily attacked the Greeks. They killed and hacked apart many of them. Achilles extricated himself from the water and took back his blade. He made a massacre of the Trojans. The ground was packed with the dead. [3824–3837] Hector, the hope and the joy and the sustenance of Troy, was not present for this attack – Hector, the lion-hearted hero in whose prowess, in whose heroism their hope and faith resided. His father, Priam, and his people had held him back on this occasion by pure force and against his will, for his death and the ending of his life were destined for this day, if on this day he 110 Apparently “the steel was of quatre mailles.” Maille can be a monetary unit of unspecific value (Buttin 1971, 36–37), but see Buttin (1971, 93) for this.



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went into battle. The Trojans were well aware of his absence, without a doubt: they lacked boldness and power. They could not withstand the Greeks or resist their assaults. Whether they liked it or not, they were forced to give way everywhere. The Greeks pursued them: they drove them all the way to the gates. They routed and beat them badly. They forcibly engaged them in battle. Achilles battered them mightily. [3838–3861] Hector heard the people’s cries from where he was. There’s no way he could have enjoyed that. Whatever happened, he would not hold back from going into battle at once, no matter the cost.111 Hector the hero donned his arms without his friends’ knowledge. He set out immediately. He left the city through an underground passage. [3862–3871] Achilles was with his force of Greeks, and exerting himself so much, that before Hector could enter the fray, the Trojan army had retreated into the city and closed the gate. Now, in the end, there occurred the death and discomfiture and the weighty and difficult loss that the Trojans would receive, when they would lose their defender: Hector, the most powerful in the world, Hector, in whom all good things abounded – all honor, all nobility, all valor, all prowess. [3872–3886] Achilles saw Hector. He recognized him well from a distance. He spurred for him with more alacrity than lightning coming down from the sky. Hector saw Achilles coming. The joust did not look promising, for he was alone and without support and Achilles had a great company. Above all, Achilles’ equipment gave him such confidence, such valor, and such an advantage that there was no man so lion-hearted, or so bold, or so confident that he wouldn’t have been afraid of him. Hector was fearful: it was no wonder, for the joust was unequal. How could he withstand it, one knight against so many? He turned tail. I don’t say at all that he fled from them out of cowardice or cravenness of heart, for there had never been a man of his heroism in the world while he lived, but he was avoiding death, knowing his side would be the worse for it. It was no wonder if he felt fear. It was no great error if he retreated, the noble man! Achilles pursued him closely. Hector fled in front, the other chased behind. [3887–3916] This chase lasted a long time. The hero Hector didn’t know what to do. He saw little means of safety for himself. He couldn’t enter the city, nor could he stay where he was. Achilles was all too confident of hemming him in because of the Greeks: he put his faith in it. He threatened and challenged him with death. He chased him around the city. Anguish and suffering made sweat trickle down his face. As he fled, it seemed to Hector that – so marvelously consumed as he was with anger and dread, woe, anguish, and fear, so that he didn’t know if he was sleeping or waking – he saw his brother Deipho111

Lit. “who might lose or gain by it.”

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bus, armed, coming towards him. This was most welcome to him, for now he thought he had support. [3917–3935] He turned to face Achilles, and Achilles turned to face him, with great effort. Soon it would be seen who was the stronger. Achilles challenged him to the death. He put faith in his rich arms, in his strength and his heroism, and his opponent was so lion-hearted, that he went to attack him with great force. Hector defended himself with great violence, rising to the challenge. The combat of the two of them was harsh and fierce, for they were strong and powerful. Each inflicted great anguish on the other. They sweated with anger and exertion. Each was very intent on defeating his opponent. Each knew well how to press the other with his keen steel sword. The one blade deflected the other. The heroes were both of tremendous worth. They engaged each other hand to hand. They struggled against each other for a long time. Achilles grabbed a spear: he flung it with brutal ferocity; he hurled it at his opponent. Hector dodged and Achilles missed. Hector grabbed the shaft, took it, and threw it back: he struck Achilles with tremendous force, but the blow rang and bounced back; it couldn’t pierce the mighty shield. [3936–3966] The Greeks cried loudly, “Achilles, what’s this? How can this be? Are you going to let yourself be trampled and crushed by a single man?” Achilles grew very bold: he attacked Hector fiercely. Hector defended himself, but it did him little good, for he was alone. His heart and his body failed him. He didn’t see a mortal soul there from his side, and he saw his mortal enemy proud and secure in his heroism. Oh, God, what a loss and a tragedy that Hector was accompanied by so few people. Achilles, who was really laying into him, wouldn’t be doing him so much harm. He would have given him back an equal fight. And nevertheless I don’t think, if all the knighthood of the city and those outside were there to protect his body and had all come to his aid, that through his vigor he could have escaped thanks to anything in the world, even if he were made of wood or iron, for his death was predetermined: it was the hour and the destiny that he could not overstep. [3967–3993] Achilles wore him down so much, belabored and pained him so much, inflicted so much anguish and battery on him, and attacked him with such great violence, and rendered him so stunned, that he didn’t know what to do or say. From the depths of his heart he groaned and sighed. The wretch didn’t know what would become of him. He could barely continue holding the naked sword in his right hand. His whole sight grew dim. He looked behind him to see if he could get any help, but he was beyond reach of help. He considered himself to be in an altogether desperate plight. Hector could hold out no longer: Achilles would not let him be. He pressed him all too viciously. Hector drew back as he fought. He defended himself with all his might, as if his defense could avail him, but no defense redeemed him so that he might



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be excused from death. Achilles had raised his arm: he hurled a keen spear at him. It went through both his cheeks. [3994–4020] [miniature, fol. 319v: achilles spearing hector through the face]

{N}ow Hector was wounded unto death. Oh, Trojans, what a loss you would have in the death of, in short, the most valiant and the most powerful man living underneath the vault of heaven. Weep, old men and young; weep, ladies, weep, handmaids, weep, girls and maidens. Weep, Priam, for your great injury and the loss of your valor. Weep, Hecuba, for your offspring, weep for the great misfortune that has befallen you this day. Weep, lords and common folk. Weep, Paris, for your dead brother, for you’ll be the cause of his death. It was through you this slaughter came about. Now will be the fulfillment of the vision of the burning torch that was conceived. Now the mystery will be made known, what the burning torch represents. Now Troy will be burned and destroyed and all the country laid waste, now that the pillar has fallen that supported the entire land. Now the great war that lasted for so long will come to an end. Asia (Minor), the flower and queen of the world, has now fallen into orphancy. Now, today King Priam loses the flower and the chief of his kindred. [4021–4051] Hector was in a dreadful plight. The hero felt himself to be mortally wounded. He begged his opponent with clasped hands: “Mercy, noble man! For god’s sake, let me be taken from here and given back dead to my father, and the wretched man will weep for my death, his loss and his misfortune, and he will place me in a tomb that is beautiful and noble and well appointed, as befits the son of a king. If you want a reward for it, he’ll give you great wealth, and if you don’t want to accept a reward for it, it will be courtesy to give my body back to my father and my friends so it can be entombed.” [4052–4068] Achilles could keep silent no longer; rather, he answered him with hostility, “So you think, do you, that you’re going to appease my ill-will with vain entreaty? You’re good at playing the poor mouth! I’m not that merciful. You’ve caused me so much woe, so many times: I’m so sad, I’m so distraught when I’m reminded of the death of my dear friend whom you killed, that, if I could devour you, truth be told, I’d devour you. If I had cut you up piece by piece and then eaten you, my heart wouldn’t be calmed or my ill-will appeased. Never, truly, will your friends have you, nor will they entomb your body: rather, I’ll have you dragged like a murderer from the tail of a warhorse, and then cut up into pieces for the dogs and birds to eat!” At these words, Hector lost his life. [4069–4091] Ah, flower of chivalry, pillar and support of Troy and its defense and life and joy, humble and gentle and kind, courtly and noble and obliging, innocent as a dove towards his own, fierce and deadly to the prideful, alas for your

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tough ferocity, your courtliness and your goodness, your boldness and your prowess, your great valor and your nobility! [4092–4102] Mighty, fierce Hector, the finest of all knights, was dead. It meant great woe to his friends and great joy to his enemies. So goes Fortune, so she turns, so that some are woeful and glum over what makes others glad. [4103–4109] Achilles bound Hector with the very same belt that Hector had been given by Ajax, out of love and friendship, on the shore, the day Hector would have burned the ships, if they hadn’t agreed to a truce. Hector himself had gifted Ajax a sword, which he used to kill himself. In this way, their gifts did them both great harm! Achilles tied Hector with the belt to the tail of his horse and dragged him behind it around the walls of the city. [4110–4123] Ah, villain full of iniquity, this is all too poor vengeance! You basely degrade yourself all too much! It is a great outrage, great insolence, to drag the son of a king, full of goodness and courtliness! It’s a great shame to chivalry! It’s madness and unreason! Think, Achilles, that you are human: Fortune turns about in a short time! If you are now on top, if Fortune has promoted you, you’ll soon be set back and cast at the very bottom of her wheel. Mighty God laughs at people’s plans, and those who are in high degree suddenly fall. The highest are the soonest fallen. The happiness of mortal humans hangs from a weak thread, and we can scarcely depend on the present hour in which we are! [4124–4145] Achilles was full of hubris. His heart was full of great hatred and ill-will, so he dragged Hector in great iniquity. On the walls of the city of Troy stood Priam, and saw the destruction and loss of his lineage and the dragging of his child: his heart came close to breaking. He sighed and lamented with anger and grief. No one could tell the true extent of his grief and lamentation. With grief for his son, whom he saw being dragged, he lost all memory. In his great frenzy, he went alone and unarmed, as though he cared no more for himself, to the tents of his enemies: he absolutely groveled before them. Even Achilles marveled that the old man had the heart to do that. [4146–4169] As soon as he saw Achilles, the wretched, sad, woeful Priam, not slow or stinting in how he beat his face and chest, bent down before him with clasped hands. He wept and howled and cried so much and begged him so devoutly, with clasped hands, bent down at his feet, that everyone took pity on him. Achilles had his son returned to him. Priam had the body reduced to ashes and placed in a rich tomb, noble and beautifully carved, and had his funeral rites performed for him. [4170–4183] [miniature, fol. 320v: an upward-facing hellmouth packed with souls]



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Moralization {N}ow it is right for me to explain to you and let you know what meaning this tale can have. When the Son of God saw the destruction and the loss of the human race, which the devil cruelly tormented, and likewise his prophets and his friends, who, though not at fault, were being condemned to bitter death for the fault of the first father, he was taken with great pity and compassion for it, and made haste to deliver the human race. [4184–4197] And he outfitted and equipped himself with a suit of rich and beautiful armor which the glorious maiden, Mary, Star and Port of the Sea – his Mother, who loved him so much – gave to him. The rich armor he had was that of human nature, with which the Son equipped himself when he battled with the devil hand-to-hand on the field of battle. This armor was made, without a doubt, by the Smith in whom all good things abound, the Forger of the whole world, in the body of the Virgin Maiden. She was the “furnace” and the chamber burning with the fire of charity, where the holy Divinity forged this rich armament. [4198–4215] “The engraving on it was very good”: there is nothing to be found or sought, in heaven, in the air, in the sea, on the earth, nothing great or small, that is not contained and inscribed on the shield of the breast of Jesus Christ. That is where all meaning is inscribed, all good things, all holy doctrine and every good discipline. He is the true treasury of knowledge and of Divine Wisdom, who contains everything within himself. He knows the depth of the abysses and the breadth of the earth and the height of the firmament. He is able to tally with certainty the drops in the waves of the sea. He knows the number and the names of the stars, and what the power and the course of each one amounts and adds up to. He knows the qualities and nature of the sun and moon. With this fleshly armament, God – the mighty Savior, the strong, the glorious victor – armed himself to redeem the human race. His equipment gave him such valor and such advantage that nothing whatsoever could oppose him. [4216–4245] When Satan saw him close in hand-to-hand, all ready for battle, he felt fear and dread, without a doubt, and was so utterly stunned that he, who had never fled or retreated from a mortal human since the biting of the bitter apple, thought to withdraw, if he could have, and to call off, had he been able, the business that he had embraced, and had taken care of through the false Judas. But the matter had progressed so far that it could not be called off, for the one who had at his pleasure the time and the hour and the leisure to save human nature and to discomfit his enemy, his adversary, and knew how he could do it, did not give him the time or leisure to call off, at his pleasure, the business he had undertaken or to abandon his foolish undertaking, which must then be brought to its conclusion. It was the determined hour that the battle must take place. [4246–4271]

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Now Satan, who had never before had a peer, had found his master. The Son of God, the mighty battler, the hero, the glorious victor, pursued and followed him so much that he held him at bay, checkmated in the corner. Now he dropped the mockery. Now Satan was woeful and bewildered, feeling himself betrayed, for through his foolish assault he had lost his long dominion, his feudal tenure and usufruct that he exercised over the human race. [4272–4284] The Son of God “killed him with his own polearm,” for by the very death with which he tried to make him die, which could have no dominion over him, death was put to death, and hell was put to death, which had been enriched by the biting of the apple that was eaten by those who indebted themselves to death in hell. But now hell was emptied, and the wicked presumptuous one, Satan, was chained and basely held captive and dragged along by the death, the Passion, and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, to hell, to the bottom of the pit and the deep abyss. That was the “tomb” in which was laid wicked Satan, the enemy. Such a coffin and such a tomb are well-suited to such a creature! [4285–4304] [miniature, fol. 321r: achilles seeing polyxena weep at hector’s tomb?]

Achilles in Love, and Achilles Killed by Paris112 {H}ector was dead: Troy was destroyed, along with the Trojans, but nonetheless the Trojans did a good job of keeping the fight going after Hector’s death, and fiercely defended themselves, and made violent attacks on the Greeks in return for their misfortune. The year went by, the day returned when the anniversary of Hector’s death was celebrated. The city was seen to mourn as if he had died that very day. The Greeks were at leisure, since a truce had been arranged between them, and some of them came to the rites. [4305–4318] To his great misfortune, Achilles came there, and it turned out badly for him. Love attacked him there with a backhand blow113 from which he could not be saved. It placed his heart in such a prison that he would never be delivered from it until his mortal misfortune. Priam had a daughter of great beauty, full of sense and goodness: that was Polyxena, who was not less beautiful than Helen. At her brother’s anniversary, the maiden was with her mother and the other folk of Troy. I don’t know that I could recount their grief: everyone was weeping, great and small. The maiden was totally caught up in a vast outpour112 The

Ilias latina does not cover the events of this section, which corresponds to Dares Phrygius, De excidio Troiae historia 27–34 (trans. Frazer 1966) and the Roman de Troie, vv. 17489–22316 (trans. Burgess and Kelly 2017, 255–314). 113 For cop de retraite, normally a fencing term, see Flutre (1939), esp. 492. Love normally shoots arrows: would the correct interpretation be “a Parthian shot”?



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ing of sorrow and sobbing. Mourning made her more flushed: in her woe she became more beautiful. [4319–4339] Achilles saw the damsel. He admired her body and her bright face. As he focused his attention on her, love overcame him more and more. A shiver gripped his heart, so strong that, whether it was sense or folly, he was forced to love his enemy. She must indeed be his enemy! She had found in him an awful master, and he had caused her all too much harm. He had never transgressed against her:114 willingly he would ask her pardon for what he had done, and if by entreaty or gift he could obtain her goodwill, he would appease the great war and make the heroes go away: so he thought in his heart. [4340–4356] Afterwards he rethought it: “What was I thinking? How have I set my thoughts on something that cannot be, under any circumstances? Is love my master, then? Where is my strength, where is my worth? How am I so overcome that love, without lance or shield, has so conquered me with a single look that I must love my enemy? What I am thinking cannot be. Who could bring her to love me, when I have done so much against her? I have wronged her by killing all the flower of her lineage, Hector and her other loved ones: it’s a great pity. I have put her heart in great distress, and I don’t believe, so help me god, that her heart would ever soften towards me for anything on earth, nor could I halt the war between the two armies. The Greeks are too powerful, they have committed so strongly to the war that until the city is taken they won’t want to give up the siege. They are not so far under my control that they would give up any part of it for me. That’s what distresses me the most. If they don’t want to give up the attack, they will never, god save me, have any help from me or my people. It will cause them a good deal of harm, if I abandon them in their need. The Greeks won’t be able to hold out against the Trojans, if they don’t have my help, and they’ll give up their attack and go home, I believe – if only I could have the consent of Priam and the queen to have the maiden I love so much as my wife, by marriage.” [4357–4397] Via a messenger of his, Achilles sent a request to the queen asking her if she would grant this plea. Priam could hardly bring himself to grant it. Nevertheless he did grant it: if Achilles could make the armies leave Troy, as he had promised, and would be their friend from then on, so that he never again transgressed against them, he would have their love and favor and they would give him the maiden. [4398–4409] When Achilles learned the news, his heart was very joyful and glad. He advised the Greeks that they should leave be the war, for they wouldn’t be able to win anything from the Trojans by their effort: “The city is too 114 Reading

the better-attested variant onques in v. 4350; de Boer’s choice, auques, seems to give “he had practically transgressed against her” or “he had practically done her personal offense [by killing Hector].”

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powerful and strong and provided with good vassals. We’ve made very few attacks on them where we haven’t come off the worse. It’s great folly for such an empire to be lost for the sake of a single lady. Let Menelaus take another wife, for this one is too arduous to conquer. And if he wants to keep the war going against the Trojans, let him. There is no one else that attached to it. For my part, I don’t believe I’ll break another lance or launch another assault over it.” [4410–4429] Achilles recommended going home, but found few who agreed with that; rather, they all said with one accord that they would never turn tail or abandon the siege until Troy was taken, since they had undertaken such business. Achilles was devastated. “Since,” he said, “you don’t want to follow my recommendation, there’s no more I can do. But I will never fight again – not me or any knight I have – and you’ll see how well you capture Troy.” [4430–4442] Without Achilles and without his help, the Greeks made many fierce and strong attacks against the Trojans, and the Trojans, by their efforts, wrought destruction on the Greeks. The slaughter turned against the Greeks and they were losing the battle. Achilles was never willing, without a doubt, to lend his aid to the Greeks despite their asking or begging. The Greeks were sad and bewildered. Since they had lost the aid of Achilles, they didn’t know what to do. This battle and this attack had turned overwhelmingly against them. They would all have headed home if it hadn’t been for Calchas, who affirmed to them that Troy would be taken very soon, that it could not hold out for long or endure the assault of the Greeks. [4443–4462] [miniature, fol. 322r: mounted knights in melee, featuring achilles in golden armor on the right]115

{T}he Greeks were reassured by that. The assault of the Greeks against the Trojans lasted for a long time after that, since nothing would make Achilles willing to lend aid to the Greeks, except insofar as in the end he bestowed and granted them his Myrmidons to help them in the battle. The Myrmidons were very powerful. They caused anguish to the Trojans and this raised the spirits of the Greeks. [4463–4473] Priam had a son, lion-hearted Troilus, who inflicted incredible damage on the Greeks and so advanced the Trojans. He was no less valorous than his brother Hector had been. One day, he had battered the Greeks with terrible violence and driven them by main force to where Achilles was camped. There, he maimed and brutalized them. Achilles saw his people fleeing as Troilus injured them – seeing him, in his heroism, he nearly went mad with anger and grief. He ran for his weapons, without waiting any longer, to de115 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat. The golden armor of Achilles reappears on fol. 324r.



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fend his men and himself. In him, love was asleep and rancor was raging, after having slept for a long time. Anger and grief were awake, after love had made them hide for a long time. Achilles was no longer willing to bend down. He forgot Polyxena and the promise that for her sake he had made to the Trojans. Anger and grief mastered him so much that he never had any recollection of love. [4474–4501] After Achilles entered the fray, the Greeks were all emboldened and the Trojans turned coward. The loss turned to their side. Now the situation was totally reversed: Achilles killed Troilus, and Memnon, for whose death Lady Aurora, his mother, wept and will weep forevermore at the hour when the morning star brightens. Then you would have seen the people of Troy weep and wail and go into mourning. Hecuba really thought she would go mad over her son’s death. From now on the Trojans could be sure that they would not be able to defend themselves for long. [4502–4517] Hecuba wept and lamented and thought about avenging Troilus’s death. Via a messenger she told Achilles that he had done a bad job of keeping his agreement with her, but if from then on he was willing to be a loyal friend, without helping her enemies and without further injuring those on her side, she would forgive him her ill-will, and would give him the bright-faced beauty in marriage. If that was what he wanted, he should come in private to accept this agreement in Troy, without the Greeks’ knowledge. [4518–4531] Achilles, who was inflamed with love, accepted and granted this. The hour and the time were arranged for the conclusion of this agreement. Achilles really thought, without a doubt, that he would have the beauty at his pleasure. He was completely burning and inflamed with desire. He felt it was taking far too long, that there was far too much delay. He thought the hour would never come when they would discharge the agreement with him. He felt great joy about it, and it often happens that a person rejoices at their own harm. [4532–4543] The lady had something very different in her heart than giving him her daughter! She was thinking more about the death of Troilus – and of her other dear friends, whom Achilles had put to death after giving her assurances – and how she could take vengeance. “Since,” she said, “he betrayed me, I can betray him. Never in my life will he have peace or love from me.” To her son Paris she complained about Achilles and revealed to him the whole plan and the business of the agreement that had been arranged. If vengeance wasn’t to be taken now, she would never have joy again in her life. [4544–4559] Paris answered, “I don’t recommend that we commit such a fault. It would be too great a betrayal to kill him unsuspecting.” “For sure, if I don’t have my revenge,” said Hecuba, “I’ll go mad.” “Lady,” he said, “I’ll do your pleasure, whatever comes of it. If Achilles ends up coming here, I’ll kill him for certain.” [4560–4567]

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[miniature, fol. 322v: paris shooting achilles in the foot as he kneels before the golden idol on the altar of apollo]116

{A}chilles came in secret, without his friends’ knowledge, at the time he’d been given.117 He went into the temple of Apollo. Paris and several members of his family were in the temple, well equipped. They found Achilles unarmed, kneeling before the altar. Paris killed him by shooting an arrow through the sole of his foot. [4568–4579] I could waste far too much time recounting the controversies of the interpretations, which are various. Some authors tell it as above, but Benoît, on the other hand, who dealt with this material, wanted to describe the death of Achilles, and said that beforehand, he struck many blows and severed heads and necks before he was killed or maimed. Take whichever you prefer. Moreover, some tales say that Achilles, the warlike hero, had been destined so that he could not be wounded except through the sole, for he had been anointed with an ointment that prevented any weapon from harming him or any drop of blood being drawn from his body except through the sole where he was hit, for he wasn’t anointed there.118 [4580–4600] Ovid tells the death and killing of Achilles in another manner, and says that the god of the sea – who could have no love for Achilles because Achilles had killed his son, whose body the god had transformed into a swan – could not forget his death, which had greatly darkened his heart: rather, he hated Achilles, and threatened him and pursued his destruction. [4601–4610] The battle between the Trojans and the Greeks had already lasted almost ten years or more, without a doubt, when Neptune, lord and king of the sea, called Apollo, his nephew, the member of his family whom he most loved and cherished, and said, “Nephew, whom I love, with no trickery, more than any of my brother’s children, you strove alongside me to build the walls of Troy and Ilium, which the Greeks, who are totally out of control, are destroying. Those who were defending them, and who did defend the city for a long time, are dead. Now it will be destroyed and laid waste if immediate 116 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 117 In Dares and Benoît, he is accompanied by Nestor’s son Antilochus (Antilogus) and they die together. 118 De Boer (1936, 227) reasons that “the author may have known this version [of how Achilles was killed] from some gloss recounting this detail according to Apollonius Rhodius; in any case, Hyginus and Dictys are excluded here, as are Statius and Servius, who recount the immersion in the Styx” (“L’auteur a connu peut-être cette version par quelque glose racontant ce détail d’après Apollonius Rhodius ; quoi qu’il en soit, Hygin et Dictys sont exclus ici, de même que Stace et Servius, qui racontent l’immersion dans le Styx”).



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counsel isn’t taken. Don’t you remember how our friend, Hector, died and came to an end, being disgracefully dragged around the great walls of Troy? I will never have a day of joy as long as I know that Achilles is alive – Achilles, who exerts himself too much against us, who kills and maims Trojans and lays waste and tramples our handiwork. To be sure, if I could seize him, I would show him the might and power of my trident, but I can’t come that far to demonstrate my indignation,119 so I pray you to kill him discreetly by shooting an arrow.” [4611–4643] Phoebus delayed no further in carrying out his uncle’s pleasure, and he really wanted to hurt Achilles. He immediately enveloped and swathed himself in a thick dark cloud, and came to the Trojan lines. He found Paris tucked away among people he didn’t know,120 inflicting anguish on his enemies with keen barbed crossbow bolts. Phoebus revealed himself to him, and said, “How come you are squandering your shots by spilling base blood, and wasting your darts in the muck, shooting at foolish, wretched folk? If you want to avenge your friends and confound your enemies, don’t waste any more of your shots uselessly.121 Aim one of your darts at Achilles and pierce his vitals.” [4644–4663] Then he showed him Achilles in the battle, where he was killing and wounding Trojans, and turned and aimed Paris’s bow directly at him. Paris swiftly shot the Turkish bow – he drew it and loosed – and hit him with a deadly arrow. Well might that shot bring great joy to old Priam and all of Troy! The mighty battler, the bold, the powerful victor, Achilles – who by his efforts had many times vanquished the strong – was vanquished by a craven heart, cowardly and base. If Achilles had known, it seems to me, that he must die in battle, he would have preferred, without a doubt, to die by the glaive or the ax of a woman from Feminia!122 [4664–4682] Now the one was dead who was so feared by those of Troy and so loved by those of Greece. Now the Greeks were bewildered, since they had lost the one man on whom they relied. Their glory and their honor depended on him alone, for he was without a doubt their defense and their support. Never more could he be defeated or vanquished or routed in any war, in any assault: now Paris had killed him this time around!123 [4683–4694] 119 In

Ovid, it seems that this would have more to do with how the gods are limited from taking active part in the war, rather than his not being able to leave the ocean (Met. 12.594–596): “I would let him feel what I can do with my three-pronged spear: but since I am not allowed to meet face to face with the enemy, destroy him unexpectedly with a hidden arrow!” (Kline). 120 Ovid makes this clearer (Met. 12.599–601): “there, among human massacre, he saw Paris firing infrequent shafts at unknown Greeks” (Kline). 121 Reading en dart, v. 4661, as one word, as in Godefroy, “inutilement.” 122 Femenie, v. 4682: Feminia, the land of the Amazons. 123 This statement makes sense in terms of the moralization, whereby Achilles is equivalent to Jesus: having died once, Jesus can never die again.

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He was cremated, and the ashes could barely fill a little pot. When he was cremated and set ablaze, hardly anything remained of the body of Achilles, but the great glory of his name remained, filling the whole world. That is the measure that corresponds to the great Achilles, and his glory lives in everlasting memory. It cannot be diminished, or oppressed by any hell! [4695–4706] [miniature, fol. 323v: holy church (ecclesia) enthroned, holding book and chalice]124

Moralization {W}ell-bred Polyxena is the holy soul, or Holy Church, the daughter of the King of the whole world whom Jesus, in whom all goodness abounds, loved so much that, had he been permitted, he would willingly, without shedding blood and without harm to himself or to the human race, have appeased the great war that long ago existed between the world and paradise, between the King of Kings and humanity, because of the biting of the bitter apple. But peace could not be brought between humanity and divine justice or the quarrel laid to rest, if the Son of God was not wounded and killed. [4707–4723] To pay for the harm and the loss of the human race, which had been consigned to damnation, the Son of God resolved – for so it pleased him, so it suited him – to come in secret for love of human nature, in whom he had placed his love and care, from his royal throne where he resided – that is, from heaven – into this world, where all iniquity abounds, all fraud and all malice, all treachery and all vice. And to amend the transgression that the human race had committed, he resolved to make a union and joining of himself and human nature in the “divine temple” and the chamber of the womb of the Virgin Maiden. Their meeting was arranged and discussed in private by the angel who brought the divine news to the Maiden. [4723–4744] He is the one who, to bring doomed man out of the danger of hell, suffered a base and shameful death, most painful, most wretched. He was insulted and spat on, was beaten at the whipping-post, and was pierced and stabbed in the chest by the spear, and was pierced and stabbed in the feet by the nails, and his head was bleeding from the harsh and stabbing crown: he suffered wounds over his whole body. He is the one who willingly offered himself up to suffer death and Passion, for, if he had not resolved to offer himself, who could have forced him? There is truly no mortal human who could have forced him into that! For this reason, I can rightly say that he was the one who was “killed 124 This image is similar to the various images of God enthroned: fol. 138r shows the Trinity enthroned; fol. 160r shows God with images of the Evangelists; fols 193r, 278v, and 315v show him holding an orb; fol. 266v shows him next to the Virgin Mary. Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have similar depictions of human kings.



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and shot through the foot with the shaft, the arrow, the dart that was shot with divine counsel”: that was the divine sentence that was aimed and shot at him by Divine Wisdom, and by which his sole was pierced. [4745–4770] The sole or the foot can rightly represent the consent of Jesus Christ’s will, for, as the Scriptures say, he was offered up because he willed it. Neither the sentence of the procurator, nor the false accusation of those who sentenced him to lose his life, nor Judas, who sold him out of false envy, nor the knights who beat him at the pillar and then hung him on the Cross, nor even the ones who pierced his side with the sharp spear, would have had the force or power to abuse him or hang him from the tree if it had not been by his will. His will made him offer himself up to suffer death and Passion. It was his will that he died. It was his pleasure that he rescued and delivered the human race, which was in infernal bondage. It was his will to die to deliver doomed humanity from the danger of death, but afterwards he rose in great victory, and lives in eternal glory. [4771–4798] [miniature, fol. 324r: ajax and ulysses face off over the arms of achilles]

Ajax and Ulysses Compete for the Arms of Achilles (I) {A}chilles, who had done so many deeds of valor, was dead: how unfortunate! The matter was soon noticed and became known to the Greek army. The Greeks were completely stunned and considered themselves to have been betrayed, for his death was a great loss to them. All the Trojans would have been dead if he had gone on living. [4799–4807] Over his lance and his shield, and his richly gilded armament, which were left without a master, a great quarrel arose among the Greeks, which resulted in great and terrible grief. Neither Menelaus nor his brother the emperor Agamemnon could ever have the arms. Diomedes, I know in truth, would most willingly have claimed them, if Ajax hadn’t forbidden it. Ajax wanted them, however it might go, but Duke Ulysses said, without a doubt, that it would be better for him to have the arms, for he had done more by his knowledge than anyone else could accomplish. [4808–4823] Ajax said, “You can just shut up with claiming the arms. As long as I live, don’t come compete with me. As long as I have life in my body, you’ll never have possession of the arms. They will be mine, and they should be. Your right hand would be far too weak to carry such a heavy load. You could have a terrible accident by taking on such a massive burden. It’s great foolishness for a man to burden himself with a load that weighs too heavy for him.” [4824–4835]

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“Know that what weighs too heavy on me is how much of a fool you’re being in your presumption,” said Ulysses, “but what are you thinking? That I’m going to stop claiming the arms for fear of your enmity? I am claiming them, and will go on claiming them, for I won’t give up because of you. In all reason, I have a better right to them than you or any other man. I’m very willing to accept judgment in this matter: I have no desire to compete in any other way. If by right it is decreed that they be mine, let them be mine, and if it bestows them on you, I’ll make no further claim.” [4836–4849] Ajax answered, “I’m very willing to do that, for by right you have already lost them, if my reasons are listened to.” [4850–4852] Agamemnon saw that the quarrel could escalate into great hatred, which would be difficult to reconcile. He did not want to claim the arms himself; rather, he said: “Since you want to submit to judgment your claims to having the arms of Achilles, they shall be yours. I bestow them on you. One of you shall have them by rightful decision. Listen, lords, as god is your witness, to the good reasons of each, and give them to one of them by right. And whoever is chosen by right through your collective agreement, I hereby agree that you should give him the arms. This case will not be judged by me, for, by my soul, I have no desire to court the one’s praise and the other’s blame. My wish will be as yours in this. You will judge what is right in this matter.” [4853–4872] The lords undertook to do this. Those who were of highest rank sat down to hear the dispute and determine the verdict. [4873–4876]

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Ajax and Ulysses Compete for the Arms of Achilles (II) [miniature, fol. 324v: the dispute over the arms of achilles]

{T}he dukes, lords, noble princes, and great men were seated, with their people standing in a ring around them. Ajax did not wait any longer: he stood up and looked to the shore, extending his hands toward the ships, and began to speak contemptuously, with an air of impatience and wrath: [1–10] “By great god, you have seen us here competing to have the arms of Achilles. From here, Ulysses can see the ships, and still he opposes me. He had no stomach for a fight when Hector and his followers set fire to the fleet. He strove at being the fastest to run away. He never made any effort to save the fleet from the Trojans! I jousted against mighty Hector. I drove the enemy away from the ships after they set fire to them. Ulysses is more skilled at wagging his tongue than at hand-to-hand fighting. He can use this to his advantage, for I know nothing of oratory. I would be better at jousting. But now he had better give a true account of the acts of valor he has performed. There is no need to have mine recited to you first, in this place: each of you has firsthand knowledge of my acts of valor and my efforts. You have seen how stalwart I have been in championing the Greek cause. I have put my body in jeopardy to perform many onerous feats. I know very well that what I am seeking is a great gift. But then, Ulysses degrades it massively by presuming to demand and claim the arms for his; there is not much honor in winning something Ulysses is after, no matter how great the thing is in itself. But this debate will forever stand to his credit, if only because he thought to challenge me, even if he falls short of his hopes. For, in faith, it will be a great honor for him to have competed with me. [11–52] “Now, if I had less valor, I am nonetheless of great gentility and very great nobility. I am the son of Telamon, who once took the city of Troy by his efforts at the side of mighty Hercules, and went to Colchis with Jason to seek the Golden Fleece. King Aeacus was my grandfather: he torments the denizens of hell according to their sins. It was he who burdened Sisyphus with the boulder

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he carries on his back.1 I think Ulysses, as that man’s descendant, is incredibly foolish to compare himself to me, a descendant of Aeacus. Isn’t it lovely to see the reprobate try to rival his judge? Ulysses thinks too highly of himself! This is great folly. He’s out of control. The god of gods, the king of kings, Jupiter himself, is my great-grandfather – but I would never claim possession of these arms, or care to, on the basis of my genealogy, other than my relationship to Achilles, their master. I claim this honor for his sake: he was my first cousin. Since no nearer heir has come forward, the arms should be left to me for reasons of inheritance at the very least. [53–84] “Am I supposed to lose them now because – of my own free will, unforced and uncoerced by anyone – I was first into battle, while you give it to that man, who showed up last, and against his will? You all know how he pretended to be raving mad because he didn’t have the heart to join the army bound for Troy. Nevertheless, Palamades saw through his ruse and revealed his trickery to us, earning himself terrible misfortunes. Then Ulysses came here, since he couldn’t weasel out of it. Clearly, then, this fomenter of wickedness deserves the best arms in the world, for being one of the last to show up! And am I, who was among the first, and risked everything, taking many heavy blows to uphold your honor – am I to lose what was left to me? It was a great pity and a great misfortune that that traitor wasn’t raving mad like he pretended to be. I wish he’d been believed so that he had never come here! Many troubles ensued that would instantly have been avoided. [85–115] “On his advice, we left Philoctetes in a cave on the island of Lemnos: we deserve great blame and great reproach for that. The poor man is stuck there, praying night and day for god to send the traitor the shame, grief, and loss he deserves. As righteous as that prayer is, so may god heed it! Philoctetes swore an oath to stand with us until we conquered the city that could never be taken without him – Troy, I mean, which will never be overthrown without the arrows of mighty Hercules. Philoctetes has those arrows, living alone in the wilderness on Lemnos. [116–133] “If Palamades had also been marooned, he would not have had to rub shoulders with that scum; at least he would have been alive and well, or supposing he were dead, at least his death would have been seemly and honorable. That traitor – I’m not making things up! – secretly hated him and was wholly bent on betraying him. Without showing any of the hatred and rancor he perpetually nursed, he took a lump of gold he had, and hid it in Palamades’ tent.2 Palamades knew nothing of the harm Ulysses was preparing for him. That 1 v. 65: La roiche qu’il porte à son col. Normally we think of Sisyphus as pushing his boulder up the hill, not carrying it. (The bearing of the rock on the shoulders is reminiscent of Dante’s terrace of Pride in the Purgatory.) 2 v. 146: chiez Palamedes. “Tent” is added for clarity.



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scoundrel showed the Greeks the gold that was hidden in his tent, but first he convinced them that Palamades had betrayed the Greeks, that the hidden gold was the price of his betrayal, and that King Priam had given it to him. And so a man who never deserved it was tortured to death on the evidence of the gold. That was the hand Ulysses dealt! [134–160] “He is good at seeing to his own advantage like that. He may be better versed in oratory than the good counsellor Nestor, whom he up and left alone in battle – there is nothing he can say to justify the great treachery of abandoning good Nestor. He saw the Trojans charging forward to kill Nestor: alas, the man was weak and wretched and exhausted, and his horse was injured. Nestor cried out, ‘Help me now, Lord Ulysses, in your great nobility.’ But, full of great cowardice, he left that good man stranded among his hated enemies. What an act of great nobility that was! Don’t think for a moment that I made this up: if Ulysses denies it, it will be well confirmed by his friend Diomedes. When Diomedes saw the good man unaided in the midst of his enemies, with that coward rushing off in headlong flight, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, ‘Foul wretch, get back into battle!’ But he had no intention of returning. [161–188] “The gods, who pay everyone back in just measure for the righteousness displayed in the deeds that they do, rewarded him later for the crime of deserting his companion. One day the Trojans attacked him when he was alone and unaccompanied, and the man who refused to help another was now, himself, in great need of help. To my way of thinking, he should have been abandoned in the fighting just as he abandoned Nestor! He cried out loudly, that faithless craven traitor, begging us to save him. I ran to save him. He was anxious and frightened, pale and trembling with fear at his impending death. I helped him without hesitation, covering him with my shield. He has lived on ever since thanks to me! There’s little enough praise and victory in that. – If you were to recall that occasion, the state you were in and how afraid you were when I brought you under my shield, you would never have presumed to stand at odds with me. And if we must now quarrel, and you insist on competing with me, let’s go back to where I protected you, and put you back in the hands of your enemies, as hurt and wounded, trembling, dismayed, and frightened as you were when I stuck you under my shield, and have you continue to quarrel with me then! [189–227] “After I extracted him from the torment and danger he was in, the one who couldn’t protect himself or stand on his own two feet, a horse given free rein couldn’t keep up with him. He didn’t seem to have suffered! [228–234] “Then I saw Hector and his followers making their way across the countryside, all arrayed for battle. At the coming of mighty Hector, the Greeks were afraid. There was none so brave in battle that they dared oppose him, except for me, and I stood against him. I went and struck him full in the chest, so that

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I flung him backward on the ground.3 Then he came back to the fray, shield hung from his neck, lance raised, looking for someone to joust against him. There was no one to oppose him but me, and I jousted against him. Everyone was terrified for me. As the Greeks watched us joust, they prayed to the gods on my behalf, and their prayers worked for me. All those who were there knew well that he could never overcome me. [235–255] “I can certainly boast this much, that I alone, by my prowess, saved the ships from burning. The Trojans, by their own efforts and with the help of mighty Hector, had already set fire to them when I risked everything to save the fleet. They would have been burned, no lie, if I hadn’t come to the rescue. Whatever happened to Ulysses, who is now so well-versed in speaking? Why didn’t he come to protect the ships? If they had not had better help than his, not a vessel or ship would be left of all the fleet! We would have been slow to return to our kingdoms. I saved the ships before your eyes. My lords, let me have the benefit of that! Award me the arms as a reward and as a prize. And, if someone wanted to tell the truth, I may desire to have the honor of these arms, but the arms themselves are more eager by far to have me as their master. If the arms are given to me, I will bring honor to them and likewise they will bring honor to me. [256–283] “I do believe that Ulysses claims them for killing Rhesus and Dolon, and for carrying off Bellona4 like a thief, at night. Are these not heroic feats? Who would give him such credit for the aforementioned deeds that he should have the arms of Achilles? Diomedes played a major role, since he was his companion in the doing, and contributed more than he did. [284–294] “But what use would Ulysses have for them anyway, since he never learned to do anything except at night, unarmed? If he wore these arms, it would make trouble for him, since the flash of the bright helm would draw the sentries’ attention, and light is hugely inconvenient for thieves and evil-doers! Above all, they’re so heavy he wouldn’t be able to wear them. He couldn’t grip the heavy lance, stiff and stout. His strength is not equal to this painted and sculpted5 shield, or this finely meshed chain-mail hauberk. He’d collapse under the weight, and he might get hurt! – It is your misfortune and death that you seek by claiming these arms. You wretch, if anyone were to give them to you, anyone could take them away from you, and you could lose your life in the process. Since you’ve only ever learned to run away, the weight of the load would soon get you captured. Take heed, you rogue, to what you’re doing! These arms are no good to you. Look at your shield, whole and unblemished, Ovid specifies that Ajax achieved this by throwing a boulder at Hector. The war-goddess, Pallas Athena: her image, the Palladium, was kept in Troy. 5 The reference is almost certainly to the extensive program of imagery depicted on the shield (cf. Book 18 of the Iliad). 3 4



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since you often don’t use it. But mine, which has been hit and struck with arrows, lances, and swords, is so battered and cut up that it’s barely worth an egg, and I really need a new one. [295–330] “I don’t what more to say, my lords. But as far as I’m concerned, set up the arms, and let the strongest one here lay claim to them with his sharp steel sword. If he can win them from me, I’m perfectly willing for him to have them – in fact I’ll endorse it. If he is defeated, then let me have the honor of the arms without opposition.” [331–339] {A}jax fell silent. Ulysses was thoughtful, and the crowd around them murmured. Some said Ajax should have the arms by right. Ulysses was very savvy. He knew how to behave wisely. He let the murmuring subside. He struck a devout pose, bowing his head. When the hubbub had concluded, Ulysses raised his face and then began his speech, it seems to me, in a gracious manner, and went to speak most wisely: [340–352] “My lords, if it were my will to determine who would have the arms of Achilles, there would never have been any strife or debate. They would belong to the one who had a right to them, Achilles himself; he would still be alive. He’s dead.” He wiped off his face at this, as if he were weeping out of pity and friendship for the dead man. “He is dead, my lords. This grieves me. By my faith, we have suffered a great loss. We will never get him back. [353–363] “Who, my lords, seems to you more deserving of his arms than myself, whose knowledge brought him here to Troy along with everyone else? Because Ajax is an ignorant man, as he himself bears witness, is it right for him to have them? That shouldn’t count in his favor. That I can present my claim using my good eloquence, must it be held against me? My eloquence has helped you. I have often advocated on your behalf; now I must advocate on my own behalf, and so my eloquence must help me. No one should downplay their good qualities, nor should anyone rate themselves higher based on someone else’s deeds or someone else’s heroism. If we’re of great lineage, we owe it to our parents, who are the ones who raised us to such high degree. What does anyone else’s valor matter to us? [364–385] “But since Ajax is telling us that he is a descendant of Jupiter, so am I, it seems to me, by way of my father and grandfather. I claim Jupiter as my great-grandfather, and no one in that ancestral line was ever banished from their homeland for murder or scandal that they committed or attempted. And by way of my gracious mother I belong to a more exalted kindred than Ajax does by way of his, and I don’t believe I have ever heard tell of any whoring or indiscretion that my mother ever committed in her life. My mother never whored around. I was born of a legitimate marriage, not like someone else I know; but in no way is that my grounds for claiming the aforesaid arms. Instead, pay heed to our merits. [386–406]

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“If Ajax is of the same lineage as the dead man, that doesn’t mean he should inherit the hero’s arms after his death, because consanguinity is not an issue in what we are claiming, only might and valor are. If the arms were to be bestowed by reason of lineage, they should be kept, it seems to me, by the most immediate heir. Achilles had a father and son: one of them should have them, and not Ajax. Teucer is Achilles’ uncle, and he isn’t demanding to have them; and if he were now to claim them, he knows that he won’t have them. No one will have them because of lineage or family ties, only for valor. Those valuable arms should belong to whoever has performed the most acts of valor, by strength or by skill. Ajax has recounted his; now I must recount my own. If I can – that is, if I can manage it – I’ll tell them to you in proper order, omitting nothing.6 [407–432] “When the Greeks were forced to come here, someone, in her great concern, tried to keep Achilles out of it. That was his mother. She knew well that he would never return from this hosting, and thought how best to keep him from us. She gave the matter much care and attention. She sent him to King Lycomedes, dressed as a woman, to live among maidens who were shapely and beautiful, the daughters of a king. For a long time, this was kept hidden, and was not revealed to anyone, for no one noticed it because of the clothing, which deceived them. One of those deceived by the semblance was Ajax, who is competing for the arms. [433–448] “I, who noticed the ruse thanks to my ingenuity, successfully tricked them. I took costly, handsome weapons and beautiful jewelry for maidens, and put them there in the room among them. Then each of the maidens took the jewelry that suited her best. Achilles seized the weapons, caring nothing for the jewels. Dressed just as he was, I immediately took him by the bare hand and led him out of that confinement where he was shut away. There is no one in this army but me who would have been wise enough to get him out of there, no matter how much effort they brought to bear. I caused Achilles to come into battle, and so I say – and can say so without a doubt – that everything he accomplished since was my doing. All his accomplishments are mine. I defeated mighty Telephus. I captured Thebes by my effort, and razed it to the ground. I captured – and may well boast about it – Lesbos, Tenedos, Chryse, and Skyros, and all the surrounding lands. Gyaros, the citadel of Apollo, and Claros were also taken by me. I caused other deeds to be done, more than I can recount. I caused the slaughter of Trojans. I slew mighty Hector, which was a blow to the Trojans. It was with these arms that I found Achilles and 6 Tout vous raconterai par ordre. / Si qu’il n’i avra que remordre, vv. 431–432. These lines occur almost verbatim in Machaut: Quant j’eus tout recordé par ordre / Si qu’il n’i avoit que remordre, Le Remede de Fortune, vv. 2965–2966, translated “After I had committed everything to memory / In proper order, omitting nothing,” in Palmer (2019), 249.



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brought him here. I gave them to him while he lived; now that he is dead, I want them. [449–485] “When it was made known to us that Paris had carried off Helen and the army had gathered in port to avenge this outrage, we dawdled for a long time on the shore. We would still be dawdling for lack of wind, for the wind would never have come until the king gave up his daughter Iphigenia to the gods, to be slain and sacrificed. Agamemnon was furious about it. He was a king, and ruler over us all, but we found him to be arrogant and unreasonable. He loved his daughter: it’s no wonder. I went to the king, and advised him to give in on this issue, for the common good, and let the gods’ will be done. He was violently opposed to that, but I managed to talk him around to our point of view. I was deferential, and begged him not to bear me illwill over it. I did a good job of accomplishing this endeavor, and induced the hostile judge to act for the common good. To avenge the shame and the insult done to his brother, and to fulfill the charge that he was charged with when we made him our overlord, Agamemnon did us the favor of sacrificing his daughter to the gods, to appease the winds. I was the one sent to fetch her. It would have been awful for us if Ajax had gone on that errand. We would still be dithering at Aulis, waiting for the wind to blow! I achieved so much through my knowledge that I brought the maiden to be sacrificed, and thanks to her, we received wind. [486–526] “I, out of all the Greek forces, took a message into Troy. I saw the palace and the muster of warriors that Hector had mustered to protect and defend Troy. I delivered my message without hesitation. I held nothing back from cowardice. Proudly, with a bold face, I did as I had been ordered, and demanded that the king of Troy compensate us for the transgression that Paris had committed in Greece, and that Helen be returned to us, or Troy would be destroyed for it, and the Trojans slaughtered and humiliated. The one who had carried off Helen flew into a rage over that, and came near to taking my life – he and his brothers and relatives. I call on Menelaus as my witness, for he was with me. It was a fearful and very distressing moment. [527–549] “I would have to call to mind too many things, if I wanted to recount everything I did in battle, when our army clashed with theirs. Telling you would keep you here too long. But when the Trojans hid behind closed doors and didn’t dare come out in the open – for almost six whole years they never made a sortie onto the plain – what use was Ajax at Troy? If he asks what I was doing, I was scouting our enemies, and reassuring our allies. I invented games and distractions for them. I had siege machines and catapults set up around the trenches, to smash and break down the walls. I made sure our army was watchful. I knew that the army would need to be fed and provisioned. I brought in fodder and had our equipment furbished, so we would be all the

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more prepared for battle. Ajax devoted no attention to this; rather, he was lazing in his tent. [550–574] “A prophetic dream came to the king as he slept which shocked him profoundly. As he slept, it seemed to him that a voice spoke to him at Jupiter’s bidding, advising him to make ready to return to Greece, to give up the siege and leave, for it would do him little good to stay: he could lose by it, and achieve little. The king had preparations made for his departure, and to do Jupiter’s bidding, recalled all the troops. [575–586] “The king could claim the god as cover, but Ajax should not have stood for it: rather, he should have kept up the fight against the Trojans and pressed them, called back and rallied the troops, made them march back into battle and been the first to lead the assault! God save me, this would not have been too much to ask of a man so arrogant and boastful. But he himself fled! I saw him! And it distressed me very much when I saw his ship being made ready. By my intelligence I got the army to come back and sent it back into battle. Ajax was so bewildered that he couldn’t say yea or nay. [587–603] “Some lout named Thersites was berating the lords and making slanderous accusations, so that none of them dared say a word about it. I felt great scorn and anger at this, and took cruel vengeance on him. I can publicly affirm that my intelligence and my words turned the worst cowards into brave men. Since then, Ajax never performed any heroism or any act of valor that I didn’t cause him to perform: ever since, his prowess has been mine! [604–616] “But of all the bold men in our army, who likes Ajax, praises him, or even wants to be around him? I have no doubt whatsoever that Diomedes likes me and enjoys my company. He is my comrade, and I am his. He places his faith in me, and I in him. [617–623] “Without being ordered by anyone, or chosen by lot, I7 went out at night, with fear or distress, to watch over the army and spy on your enemies. I captured Dolon while spying and slew him, after he told me the movements and dispositions of the enemy’s proud and fierce forces. I interrogated him about all the Trojans’ plans, which was to your great profit. If I’d been willing to content myself with that, my honor and glory would have been well served if I had held back from anything further, for I had achieved a handsome victory as a bold combatant. But I was not willing to content myself with that: I entered the tent of King Rhesus, who was camped with his forces outside Troy on the banks of the Xanthus. I slew the king in his tent, and killed all his men. The white horses he had promised Dolon as a reward for spying on us that night, and standing guard for him, I led away from there, glad and joyful: for I tell you, all you listeners, if they had drunk from the Xanthus, you would

7

In Ovid (as in the Iliad), Ulysses and Diomedes go out together.



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have been frustrated and undone, for you would never have managed to take mighty Troy by your efforts, for so it was fated.8 [624–655] “I slew Sarpedon and his company with my trenchant sword. Alastor and Sabarin, Leander and Prytanis, Chromius, Phytidem, Coaeranos, Alcander, Halius, Noëmon, Cercidamas and Thoön and Charopes and Ennomos, and many whose names I do not know, were all slain by my efforts.9 And I was almost slain myself; I was brutally wounded. Never believe me again, if I’m lying: I have the wound, it’s plainly visible. You can see it here presented clearly.” Then he lifted his clothing to show the damage. [656–672] “Countless times I’ve stood watch for you. I constantly strained my body for you and in your interests: it’s only right that you remember it! Meanwhile, what was Ajax doing? He was resting in his tent, not receiving any wounds or blows: he surely deserves great praise for that. But why does Ajax think so highly of himself, telling us he worked to save the ships? He gave a good account of himself, no lie: I don’t want to detract from another man’s good deeds. But how does Ajax dare recount that his chivalry alone saved the whole fleet? Most of you were there, fighting to protect the ships. Stout-hearted Patroclus truly showed his valor then: armed in Achilles’ arms, he rescued the ships and saved them from harm, along with many other lords. [673–695] “Then Ajax says, it seems to me, that he alone confronted Hector, one on one, and pressed the battle and the assault against him. He has no recollection of King Agamemnon, or Menelaus, or me, who all participated in that charge. There were nine of us in his company. It was his fate to strike the first blow, as I would have done if that fate had been mine, for we had all resigned ourselves to give and take the fate allotted to us. But insofar as Ajax is telling the truth, preening about the blow he struck at Hector, what did his attack accomplish? Hector went away unwounded. What a glorious feat of arms by Ajax! [696–712] “Alas, what anguish comes to my heart when I think back on that awful day when we suffered such loss: when lion-hearted Achilles – our protection, our tower, our fortress – had the great misfortune to be slain in battle. I felt great grief and sorrow for him, but never once did grief or fear make me hesitate to take up the warrior and bear him on my shoulders. Since I was able to carry both the knight and his arms, I would, it seems to me, be well able to carry the arms without the knight. I would know well how to bear those arms, and know It was prophesied that if Rhesus’s horses drank from the Xanthus and grazed the grass at Troy, Troy would not fall (cf. Aeneid 1.469–73). 9 The names in parentheses seem to be the equivalents from Ovid: Alabastore (=Alastor) and Sabarin, Leander and Pyritamon (=Prytanis), Cromyn (=Chromius), Phytidem, Ceramon (=Coaeranos?), Alcandrum (=Alcander), Alin (=Halius), Nemona (=Noëmon?), Cercidamas and Thaona (=Thoön) and Carapem (=Charopes) and Cronomon (=Ennomos?). 8

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well the meaning of the carvings and the matter depicted on the shield. Were these arms, so full of learning (clergie) and knowledge, made for this – for such a fool to have them? The shield has portrayed and depicted on it the sea encircling the earth; the air; the fire; the firmament and likewise the stars, and the natures of each; the shining sun and the moon. Arctos (the Great Bear) and Orion are on it, and the various regions of the cosmos.10 Ajax wouldn’t know what that might be, if he wore the shield on his neck! [713–744] “Ajax accuses me and criticizes me for being slow to join the battle, but in criticizing me, he criticizes Achilles himself. If I am accused of cowardice, you accuse Achilles of it too; and if I am also accused of dawdling, I came faster than Achilles did. His good mother held him back, and my wife made me lag behind; you shouldn’t complain if we delayed for the sake of their love, since no harm came to you because of it. Nevertheless, if you can’t excuse me for Achilles’ sake, at least Ajax never caught me out, whereas I revealed Achilles. [745–762] “If this deluded man, in his folly, is condemning or contradicting me, it’s no wonder as far as I’m concerned; but he is also doing it to you. He is casting great shame and reproach at everyone in earshot. For in what he reproaches me for, if I am at fault in any way, all of you should be criticized. If I wrongly accused Palamades, and you put him to death, you are as guilty of it as I am. But you did not sentence him wrongly, nor was I at all wrong to accuse him. His great treachery was too blatant to excuse: the lump of gold affirmed it, making his guilt obvious to you all. You saw it clearly. [763–780] “He also reproaches me regarding Philoctetes on Lemnos, but what guilt do I bear? Against whom have I transgressed? You must defend your action: it was by your agreement that he was stranded there, certainly. I did say publicly that I advised leaving him behind. No guilt attaches to that advice, since it was good and beneficial. The man was sick and worn out; now, thanks be to god, he is feeling better thanks to the rest he has had. It was good that our advice was taken. Now the prophets would have us believe that we cannot gain victory without him – never defeat the Trojans, breach their walls or bring their tower down. Go ahead and send Ajax the Wise to 10 Les diverses regions, v. 742, could have the more precise meaning of “the [five] different zones [of the celestial sphere].” The corresponding language in Ovid (Met. 13.291–294) trends outward and upward and ends with Orion: “He understands nothing of the shield’s engraving, Ocean, or earth, or high starry sky; the Pleiades and the Hyades, the Bear that is always clear of the waters, and opposite, beyond the Milky Way, Orion, with his glittering sword” (Kline). This suggests that the OM is more likely referring to the larger cosmos than to “the various regions of the earth,” although both could be involved: there were five zones in the celestial sphere, corresponding to the five zones of the earth as described in Book 1, vv. 243–264. Macrobius discusses these celestial zones in the context of his numerology, whereby “the number five marks the sum total of the universe” (Stahl 1952, 104).



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carry this message to Lemnos! He can do it so well and so wisely that he brings Philoctetes back with him, if I’m not lying. The rivers of the whole world will sooner flow backwards, and all the woods will be leafless, and no bird will want to sing or make merry in May, and we will cherish the Trojans, before Ajax could work out how to get Philoctetes without me, or do anything else that would benefit you! Philoctetes undoubtedly hates me and utters dire threats against me, but no threat of his would dissuade me from going to fetch him, and I’ll bring him into battle with his arrows, god help me, unless my intellect and speech desert me. [781–818] “On other occasions I used my intellect to accomplish seriously daunting tasks: I struck down Dolon, then I captured the prophet Helenus. I explored all the secrets of Troy, and gained the Palladium: I took it from the main keep. How dare Ajax compete with me, when he knows what I have done! Where are his deeds and his accomplishments, he who is so courageous in words? Why wasn’t Ajax bold enough to risk his life as I did when I put myself at risk to go among my enemies inside the high tower, in Ilium itself, and gain the Palladium? If I hadn’t brought it out, it would have been in vain for Ajax ever to bear arms in this battle, for we would never have been able to capture the keep or the high tower without possessing the Palladium. So, in truth, it was I who took Troy, when I brought the Palladium here by my cunning. The Trojans haven’t been able to stand firm since they lost it. They’re very sad and bewildered over it.” [819–848] Then Ajax rolled his eyes at him and muttered at him with raised eyebrows: “Diomedes did all that! Why are you boasting about someone else’s deeds?” [849–852] “I’m not boasting about someone else’s deeds. It’s true that he kept me company when I went to take the Palladium – just as you didn’t go alone to defend the ships from our enemies. There were nine of you then, but I ventured out with him unaccompanied by anyone. If Diomedes didn’t know for certain that it is more praiseworthy to be a wise man than one with less sense, no matter how much stronger and fiercer, he would be interrogating me the same way you are. And so would Ajax the son of Oileus, and Idomeneus, and Menelaus, and Meriones, and many others who shall go unmentioned, who are brave in battle, and who are easily your equal in striking with sword or lance: they know well, without a doubt, that I achieved so much by my knowledge that I deserve the arms more than you or any other man. You have strength to spare, and not much intellect. Without my guidance, you can do nothing that leads to worthwhile results. You are well versed in hand-to-hand fighting, but I am the one who makes the plans, morning and night, when it is time to fight, and I orchestrate our forces: you along with the rest. Your value is in your body alone, while mine is in my intellect and my body. As much as a lord is worth more than his servant, and as much as

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gold is worth more than silver – that’s how much more valuable my intellect is than physical strength. I have wisdom to spare, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost any of my strength. [853–893] “Lords, in recognition of the great lengths to which I, in following you, have always gone to earn your love, and of the labors and cares and hazardous ventures that I have always undertaken for your sake, letting my body be brutalized – make me a gift of these arms. I’m entitled to this prize for lightening your burdens, for I overcame the omens that stood in the way of our razing the walls of Troy and destroying their keep. I have effectively captured Troy and Ilium, since I took the Palladium, in which the Trojans put their faith. Lords, I entreat you by the high hopes that you have of taking Troy; and to the same extent that you can anticipate laying low your enemies, in all the dangerous ordeals still ahead of you; and by everything that may befall you in the future; and by the deities I took from the Trojans: give me the arms! Or, if you prefer, then give them to the goddess here. I so entreat you. Thank you.” Then he gestured to Bellona, whom he had brought from Troy. [894–924] The lords were moved by these fine words. Ulysses would never be denied anything he asked for. No one would gainsay him. They gave the mighty knight’s arms to the wise advocate. [925–930] [miniature, fol. 329v: john the baptist with a shield-like image of the lamb of god]

Moralization {T}he strife and disagreement which the tale mentions and relates, involving the two lords competing for the arms they claimed, may be understood as having the same import as a marvelous uncertainty which once existed among people, as we find in Scripture regarding John son of Zechariah11 and Jesus Son of Mary. For some marveled at St. John, and asserted that he was greater than Jesus Christ, as the texts bear witness; they held him in higher esteem than they did our Lord, and thought he was the Messiah, who was meant to save the lineage of Israel, which had fallen into ruin. They thought this was why he went to preach in the desert, and why he had fled and abandoned the world and all of its pleasures, vanities, and comforts, to live in the desert in austerity, penance, and suffering. And he said that everyone should prepare themselves to do penance and should hasten to do good and to cleanse themselves, for the kingdom of life was imminent. He is the one who “saved the fleet” of the flesh of those who heard him speak and believed in his teachings “from the flames” of sin with which all of them were stained. He saved them, for his teaching

11

John the Baptist.



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caused many of them to abandon their wicked past and their wicked lifestyle, and they chose to follow his example and live in harsh penance, doing so out of love and out of hope of reaching the port of salvation. And his teaching was effective for them, bringing them to the true faith. [931–975] After the birth of the Son of God, he was the first to come before the world, to confront the world’s pleasures “on the field of battle.” He was the good hand-picked knight who set out to fight against the world, so that he could fell and strike down the world’s pride and malice, covetousness and greed, which had brought many people to perdition through wicked temptation. He was the chivalrous vassal who endured the world’s assaults upon his body, without being defeated or vanquished or shaken. For, being of such nobility, such prowess, and such valor, he lived such a holy life that some people legitimately thought that he was the one who was meant to save the world and had the power to do it. He did not wish to vainly exalt himself, but very humbly answered those who asked who he was and suspected that he was the Savior they were waiting for: [976–1001] “I am the voice of the one who cries out in the desert, to warn you to prepare yourselves for the coming of the Messiah. Abandon all iniquity, folly, and wickedness, but keep yourselves righteous in anticipation of the coming of our God, for to do so is right and appropriate. I am not the one you are waiting for; don’t believe that I am. The Messiah, who existed before me, is coming after me. He is my Sovereign and my God and – may I not tell a lie! – I am not worthy to tie his sandal straps.”12 [1002–1017] I do not know, nor am I capable of telling or recounting, all the merits of St. John. No greater man was ever born of woman except the offspring of the Virgin Lady who carried in her womb her Son and her Father and was purely a Virgin and a Mother. It was St. John who saw the pure, clean Lamb who purged the world of sin – the Son of God, the true Savior – approach in the semblance of a sinner, seemingly weak and indigent, along with all the other sinful folk. He came to be baptized by him as though to cleanse himself and prepare himself for penance, even though, beyond all doubt, neither his body nor his heart were stained with the filth of sin. Christ came humble and obedient, hidden among the rest although he should have been above them all. And John recognized his master among them and said, for he could not restrain himself, “Behold the coming of the Lamb of God. Behold the one who cleanses you – not I, who am baptizing you.” [1018–1044] John was a man of very great merit, as Scripture relates. For this reason, some truly believed that he had come to earth to save people and that he

12 The sandal straps are in Matthew 3:1–12, Mark 1:1–8, and John 1:19–28; compare Luke 3:1–20.

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was the Savior, bringing with him the armament of the salvation of human nature. [1045–1052] {N}ow it is right for me tell you of Jesus Christ, the Son of Mary. He was the gracious advocate, the wise orator who appealed to God the Father for our salvation, and did so well enough that the Ruler and Lord who was sovereign over all dominions resolved to offer up his Child to a sacrificial death for the sake of our wickedness, which brought us a wind of salvation.13 He was the one whose cleverness saved us from contrary winds, the perilous and shifting winds that endangered our salvation and stirred up the ocean of the world. I can name him “Ulysses,” that is, in French, “fullness of intellect,” for he is the true Wisdom from which all intelligence derives, without a doubt. He was the one who brought forth from the confines of the womb of the Virgin Maiden the Divinity that had lain hidden there for nine months, and had been a guest there “in feminine attire”14 – that is, in our human nature – to combat our adversary, our enemy, our opponent. [1053–1080] Christ was “a latecomer to the battle,” but his coming was very timely, without a doubt – far more timely than his forerunners, who accomplished very little in the meantime, while he was still absent from the world. He is the support and the foundation by whom we are supported. Through him we have come to the end of all our dangerous ordeals. He defeated our adversaries: the flesh, the world, and the devils.15 He is the wise and prudent one16 who commands in heaven and earth in times of peace and war. He is the one who is wise in all matters, knowing what is to be left alone and what is to be done; surely he knows what is in store for everyone, and he calls his friends to mind in their hour of need. He is the one who resolved to assume our humanity in the Virgin Mary, she alone being the one in whom fertile virginity and virgin fertility are wed. She conceived without carnal intercourse and delivered the Valiant and Wise One without corruption. [1081–1107] St. John was of high lineage, Scripture informs us. He was the son of an old man and a barren woman; nevertheless, through the admixture of carnal intercourse, he was descended from ordained bishops.17 But the other was born to greater dignity, for Jesus was descended, it seems to me, from both kings and bishops. He came to bring God’s message to humankind, that they must offer compensation and dues, as worthy as is fitting, for the first man’s The parallel is to the sacrifice of Iphigenia. The analogy is to Achilles in women’s clothes, so it’s the guest, not the host, who’s in feminine attire. 15 Rouen has les dyables, v. 1091; Copenhagen has le dyable. Plural dyables can be demons or the servants of the devil. 16 Compare Proverbs 8:12. 17 John’s parents, Zechariah and Elisabeth, were both descendants of priests. The sense of “bishop” here is approximately “high priest.” 13 14



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transgression in taking his evil bite of the apple. But at the very moment he came to earth, Herod, that tyrant full of wickedness, and his followers began a war against him, trying to murder the Savior. That was the first threat to him and the first of the dangers he experienced, from which he was saved by his intelligence. He is the one who destroyed and thwarted and vanquished and overthrew the trickster, the treacherous sentry who is always spying and lying in wait to find something he can devour, and at no time will he be weary of it. Jesus is our watchman, our protector, our guardian against nocturnal assaults. Jesus is the valiant knight who crushed the head18 of the ancient serpent, and furthermore, through his wisdom and his efforts, Jesus conquered “the white horses, on which he rode joyfully”: the white horses plainly represent the holy creations and the pure, clean souls that God led to redemption by his death and by his Passion, from which he emerged greatly victorious, rising in heavenly glory along with the souls he had conquered and brought out of the lake of hell. The “white horse” on which God sits is a virtuous soul which pleases him greatly. [1108–1156] Without Jesus Christ, no one can do anything that leads to worthwhile results. Every good grace comes from him. Whoever is going to do good must do it for him, or their act will be worthless. Whoever is not laboring and working for God is wasting their time and striving in vain. Christ is the one who dispenses food and refreshment to all flesh, without greed or derision: he feeds his household with the bread of salvific life. He brings relief and comfort to those who are in discomfort, and rallies faint hearts for virtuous battle. And he punishes the scoundrel, the prideful and rowdy glutton who jeers and mocks those who rally themselves to do good, and who greatly glories in managing to vanquish or discourage anyone. [1157–1178] Christ is the one who caused his tale-bearers, his apostles, his preachers – those who declared his holy Incarnation, his death and Resurrection throughout the world, and made his religion known – to receive earthly death for the talent19 entrusted to them, in order to possess eternal life. He is the one who caused his weak friends,20 who, in their weakness, were unable to suffer martyrdom and who feared death, to live in this worldly desert as hermits, in waste places, in penance and austerity, until they were of such prowess that, if the world assailed them, they would be able to resist its assault. [1179–1196] Or, if anyone wants to provide another interpretation, Philoctetes represents Elijah and Enoch, whom he placed long ago in the earthly paradise. They are in this joyful “desert,” solitary and as if abandoned, to live there till La teste et le chief, v. 1141. These seem to be entirely synonymous and are therefore both rendered by “head.” 19 Besant is equivalent to the biblical talent in the Parable of the Talents: compare Guillaume le Clerc’s thirteenth-century didactic poem Le Besant de Dieu (ed. Ruelle 1973). 20 This sentence is moralizing the leaving of Philoctetes on Lemnos. 18

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the time of Antichrist. At that time they will come – so I find it written – before the world will end, to fight on behalf of the belief and the faith against those arrogant fools who will try to destroy Holy Church and subject her to condemnation. They will wield the Word of God, that is, the piercing dart that flies swiftly, without which, truth be told, Holy Church will not be able to gain victory. [1197–1214] Jesus deigned to be incarnated within the Virgin Maiden who is both temple and divine handmaid: on the day of the Nativity he came out of there “bringing the Palladium,” that is, holy divinity conjoined with human nature. He endured many abuses, harms, and insults for our salvation. He is the one who was pierced with the spearhead and the nails, stuck through the side, the feet, and the hands. Even now, his appearance clearly shows the traces of his piercing. He will openly display these on the Day of Judgment to those who put the nails through him. Then those wretches will know what they do not deign to know now: what salary they should receive for such acts, and countless others that I have kept silent about and skipped over here. [1215–1237] And I would linger too long, if I tried to recount word for word all the good deeds of Jesus Christ: nor could they be written, for no writer could write, or any tongue tell, or any human heart conceive of the vast multitude and high degree of courtesy and goodness that Jesus Christ has bestowed on his followers. All good things have come to us from him. We are all sustained by him in soul and body, that’s the truth. For this reason he was crowned in honor and glory before all human beings. For this reason he was given the gift of the glorious armament that saved all creatures. [1237–1254] [miniature, fol. 331v: ajax running himself through with his sword]

Ajax Commits Suicide {A}jax was strong, vigorous, valiant, and aggressive. He was thunder and lightning in fierce battle, many times surging towards Hector, one-on-one, going full-tilt with his lance. Ajax had, through his power, single-handedly saved the fleet from burning, through his strength and valor. But his inept appeal, which he seemed helpless to remedy, lost him the arms. This made him more enraged than anyone could possibly express. Grief forced him to go mad. He couldn’t restrain his indignation – couldn’t, and didn’t know how. [1255–1269] In this aggrieved condition, he drew the sword he was wearing, which had been bathed countless times in the blood of Trojan knights. “Surely,” he said, “this is still mine! Tell Ulysses I bequeath it to him! Now I’ll find out if it cuts. So that no one can ever say or boast from here on out that I was ever defeated by anyone, I’ll kill myself.” He did not seek delay or respite after these



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words: he drove the blade through the middle of his chest, all the way down to the grip: that was the first wound he had ever suffered, and the last! He was so badly hurt that he could not pull the blade out of his body himself; it was yanked out by the gushing blood. [1270–1288] [miniature, fol. 331v: salome with her platter watches the beheading of john the baptist]

{A}jax was dead. It was a great loss. Thereupon the gods made an overt demonstration to commemorate his death: a yellowish flower arose from the blood that fell from the dead man, similar to a lily except for the color – the color made all the difference. Written on it are letters that stand for his name, and that express a sense of grievance, because, long ago, Phoebus turned a boy into the same flower after he killed himself playing with a discus that fell on his head.21 It’s called a hyacinth flower in the vernacular.22 [1289–1303] Moralization {N}ow I will explain to you how this tale can be interpreted and with what meaning it can be glossed. The warrior Ajax – strong, fierce, vigorous, and so mighty in combat – could, without a doubt, represent the martyrs, the apostles, the preachers, and the chief supporters of the early Church, who suffered in God’s service. They had little regard for the body, because of their love and craving for the salvation they desired. They gave themselves up to death in this world. [1304–1318] And St. John the Baptist, after the suffering and rigors he endured in God’s service, in order to be worthy of God’s love, willingly, truth be told, consigned himself to martyrdom in this world with the sword of his own tongue, when he castigated wicked Herod for his adultery and indecency in marrying his own sister.23 The treacherous king put him to death for that, but God made him flower in eternal glory in the heavens. He is the “flower” whose Nativity is celebrated and commemorated with solemn rites by everyone in Holy Church – and his death as well.24 [1319–1335] [miniature, fol. 332r: siege of troy]

Compare the story of Hyacinthus in Book 10, vv. 753–881. The color here is described as yellow, whereas in Book 10, and in Ovid’s Book 13, it’s purple. 22 Flor de jagliau, v. 1303. 23 Actually his sister-in-law Herodias. 24 St. John the Baptist’s birth is celebrated on June 24, and his martyrdom on August 29. 21

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Philoctetes and Hecuba {N}ow I will tell you about the Greeks: how they behaved, and what they did. They sent Ulysses to Lemnos to retrieve Hercules’ arrows. Through his knowledge, he brought both Philoctetes and Hercules’ arrows to Troy, it seems to me. Then their diviners gave them reason to believe that they would not be able to defeat the Trojans or capture them without Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. They sent Menelaus to fetch him: then it would be the end of this war. Menelaus brought him to Troy. I don’t see why I should waste time describing the whole battle: Benoît25 provides the full authoritative account of how the city was taken, after being betrayed and sold out to the Greeks, so that Troy was burned to the ground and brought to ruin, and Priam was cast down. Their lot was incredibly cruel. [1336–1358] And the queen had lost everything. Her heart was sad and bewildered over the loss and the destruction, and the deaths of her lineage – her sons and her lord. But then she suffered even greater loss, because after all this worldly destruction she lost her own image and the form that she had once had, and became a barking dog. [1359–1368] Troy was beleaguered on all sides and its people were destroyed and slain. Priam, it seems to me, was sacrificed on the altar of Jupiter. Priam’s daughter, the seeress Cassandra, a beautiful girl, was dragged from the temple of Apollo, pulled and yanked by the hair. Ladies were dragged from the temples by their hair and forelocks to become the prey of the conquerors. These plunderers swarmed everywhere to loot and seize trophies, and so mighty Troy was stripped bare, after it had been filled with all manner of wealth; now it was destroyed and desolate. Hector’s son Astyanax was thrown alive off a tower where he used to be brought for his entertainment, to watch his father fight. [1369–1388] The Greeks had a good wind for their trip home, so they readied their ships and spread their sails to the wind. When the ladies of Troy saw that they would be forced to go to foreign lands as captives, they were overcome with great sorrow and great distress. Then the crying began: the howls and the screams and the weeping, the articulations of anguish and suffering. They commended the land to god: each of them kissed the shore before she got on the ship. [1389–1401] Full of grief, full of frenzy, sad, sorrowful, and tearstained, Hecuba alone stayed with her sons, mourning greatly. She showered the coffins with tears, kissing and embracing them, as long as she had the time and opportunity. Ulysses, who found her, pulled and led her away from there to his ship, but leaving made her heart break from grief. She took the dust of her son Hector 25 Benoît de Sainte-Maure, in his Roman de Troie. See the comments on him in Book 12, vv. 1709–1754.



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from his tomb and clutched it to her breast, so that she could take him with her when she left. Instead of bringing her solace, it revived her sorrow. She left behind in that place her tears and sobs and her white hairs: with these she decorated the tomb, since she could not, at the time, enrich it with any other offering. [1402–1422] A Trojan nurse – honest, loyal, and without malice, brave, wise, and of great discretion – concealed and protected and took to safety, unbeknownst to everyone, a little child, fine and fair, born of Trojan lineage. They say he was a son of King Priam. She smuggled him to the ships with the refugees escaping Troy. The child’s name was Martomyris.26 He went on to become a man of prowess and great renown and went on to rule France. He was greatly feared and respected. The French are descended from him. Anyone who wants to know about his life should seek out the Romance of Partonopeus, where they will hear about his life and his doings: how he escaped from Troy – which would have brought joy to Hecuba: the wretched woman would have had great hopes if she had known of it, but she truly believed that he had been killed in the city along with the rest, who were dead, for the Greeks spared no one. And so she expected no good or joy to come of him. [1423–1449] Her expectations were directed elsewhere. Priam had sent one of his young sons to be fostered near Troy by the king of Thrace, who was a friend – if he wasn’t, he pretended to be. Polymestor was the name of this misbegotten ruler of Thrace, who was supposed to raise the son of Priam, the Trojan Polydorus, whom Priam had entrusted to him, promising him great wealth in exchange. Hence Polymestor had been looking forward to the great reward that would be due for raising the son of a powerful king. But when he learned of the utter ruin of King Priam, and his death, and how the land was laid waste, the misbegotten traitor considered that he had lost his reward for raising the child. Having nurtured the boy, under the circumstances the traitor now abused27 him: he treacherously murdered him, then threw his corpse in the sea. [1450–1473] That was a wicked way of showing he loved him – such is the love of a venal man. Does such a man love? Absolutely not. It’s not love but flattery to deceive and flatter one’s friend as long as one can profit from it, but have no more use for them once the profit’s been gained. A false friend flatters and courts a person as long as they have money for the taking, or for giving or for spending, or when they can take advantage of them. But they soon cast them off when they see that they’re broke. Such false friends are wick26 Martomyris in de Boer and in Rouen, but attested as Marcomyris in Partonopeus de Blois and elsewhere: see Collet (2004). 27 Desnorri, v. 1470. Literally this could mean he starved him, but Ovid says he cut his throat; and desnorri is used here to contrast with norri, which doesn’t necessarily mean “fed.”

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ed! And such a friend was the king of Thrace, misbegotten Polymestor, who murdered Polydorus. Because his allies were ruined, he did treachery and wickedness. [1474–1493] Accursed be vile treachery and anyone who takes pleasure in it or foments it, for incredible disloyalty and mischief stems from traitors. No one who places trust in them won’t consider themselves to have been incredibly deceived in the end. We have seen many valiant people befouled by traitors, when they trusted them the most. One should run a traitor through, when one can’t shun their company. Our Lord, who was all-knowing, had a traitor among the twelve apostles, who sold him out; that was Judas, who hanged himself, and never asked to make amends. That robber Judas knew well how to render a righteous judgment by hanging himself, for such is the reward in store for those who uphold treachery. But if anyone were to do the right thing and hang all the befoulers, there would be precious few hangmen. There are too many counterparts these days to the false dog Polymestor, who treacherously put to death the child that he should have nurtured. [1494–1520] Hecuba, who knew nothing of this, had some measure of hope that Polydorus would redress the ruin and the harm done to his family line. But her hope was dashed by the false deceptive traitor; in due course she would hear such news as she found neither good nor lovely. [1521–1528] [miniature, fol. 333r: christ in majesty at the last judgment, flanked by saints and angels, with the dead arising from their tombs]28

Moralization {C}onsider Philoctetes, marooned in the wild on the island of Lemnos, because of the dire disease that afflicted him. He had the arrows of Hercules, and without him there was no way for the great war to conclude, or for Troy to be captured, and be engulfed and consumed by flames as it was destined to be. He represents the predestined, those whom God is waiting to judge the world in order to save. Until then, may they be reinvigorated, they who are weak and languishing from the malady of sin that afflicts them, so that when God wills, they may be bold and mighty in enduring the world’s onslaughts and defending Holy Church. [1529–1547] The Judge must still wait before he proceeds to Judgment. What for? For those who will newly come to acknowledge the Christian faith, and for God’s sake will convert to it, fleeing from the foolish errors of the false laws they previously abided by. Then he will come without delay from his heavenly kingdom to annihilate his enemies. That will be the time for the destruction

28

Fols 49v, 141r, 192r, 305r, and 333r have comparable miniatures of this.



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mentioned in the Scriptures, when the whole world is laid waste and all its peoples slain and slaughtered, some by the sword, others by famine, others by fire, for God’s wrath will pour out indiscriminately, and no one will be able to endure it, regardless of their power or their efforts. Men and women, the weak and the strong, children and parents, the young and the old, they will all die in ruin and sorrow, the poor and the rich, without preference. Strong body or bold heart, power or wealth, lordship, nobility, prowess, fiefdoms – by none of these will anyone be spared: neither prince nor king nor duke nor count, nor official29 nor mayor nor viscount. [1548–1578] Astyanax, the son of Hector, who was thrown from the tower where his mother used to entertain him by having him watch his father fight, can represent the false and deceitful one, the wicked one, the son of the devil, the disloyal, the traitor, Antichrist. From the tower to which his arrogance will raise him, when he makes himself believed to be God, he will be cast down by divine Judgment into shame and infamy. [1579–1590] The Trojan-born women, who were captured and led to the ship of wise Ulysses, which was anchored by the shore, would be a suitable representation for those of every creed collectively,30 who must assemble as one and proceed to a single ship for all, which is to carry everyone to the shores of the kingdom of heaven – that is, the faith of Holy Church – and abandon their unbelief to become slaves of Jesus Christ, as the Scriptures bear witness. [1591–1604] The woeful, wretched Hecuba, who came the latest and was the last to board the ship, rightly represents Judea, who used to be the most excellent, the most preeminent, the most powerful and the greatest spouse of the foremost Lord, and as such was well populated and endowed with children and royal lineage, and was mistress and queen over all the world. But now she is a widow, bereaved, it seems to me, of children and spouse: alone, distraught, poor and degraded. And so she laments and bewails her great loss and the death of the royal line for which she was once honored. But what is more to be lamented is that she goes on living in this woeful state, forsaken and utterly exiled from her place in heaven and from the earthly inheritance that should belong to her free and clear. But Jesus, in his pity, will make her his loyal handmaid and bring her out of this anguish, returning her to awareness of the Christian faith. Then she will recognize her wretchedness and the foolish error she was in, and come last of all creeds to salvation and to the faith of Holy Church, as it says in Scripture. [1605–1638]

Prevost, which has the narrow technical sense of “officier domanial (qui tient son office à ferme), chargé sous le bailli et le sénéchal de rendre la justice et de percevoir les impositions dans un domaine ou une cite” (DMF), but which can refer to various administrative, judicial, and protective functions depending on context. 30 Toutes les lois communement, v. 1596. Lit. “laws.” 29

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[miniature, fol. 334r: the greek ships and the vision of achilles]

Polyxena and Hecuba {A}gamemnon and the Greek lords had anchored their ships by the shores of Troy, waiting for the sea and wind, which were adverse to them, to calm down. As the army waited there, the earth split in front of them, and an image rose from it that in its voice and appearance resembled Achilles, or so it seemed to them. He was in a more frightening mood and took a more threatening posture than when he might have killed Agamemnon, had it been permitted, when he was deprived of Briseis to make up for Chryseis. And he said, most threateningly, “What’s this, you Greeks? You have a bad memory for the good deeds I did for you so many times. Do my might and my glory count for nothing in your memory now? You’ve soon forgotten about me! Don’t you dare commit such baseness, such wickedness, such filth. To honor my tomb and appease my spirit, have Polyxena sacrificed.” [1639–1666] The Greeks were stunned, and obeyed the voice of the shade. They took the well-bred Polyxena from her mother’s breast and brought her to the tomb: there she must be sacrificed. She was firm-hearted, and recollected her nobility, her quality, and her worth when she saw the mortal agony to which she was meant to be subjected. And she saw Pyrrhus31 standing there; he was meant to seize and bind her on the altar, to be sacrificed. He was stunned to see her lovely face and dithered in performing the duty that had been assigned to him. She addressed him as follows: [1667–1684] “Do your duty with no hesitation. Sacrifice and disembowel me. Look, my throat and my breast are bared. Don’t seek any delay or respite in spilling my blood. Either hack my breasts with your sword or rip and slice my throat. I’d rather be sacrificed and die, and then be free, than live in servitude to another. Death pleases me; I find it attractive, if it weren’t for the fact that my mother would mourn. I wish, if it were possible, to die so that she would never find out. My mother diminishes the joy that I have in dying, and nevertheless she shouldn’t weep or wail over me; her living should distress her more than my dying, which takes me beyond the reach of all harm and mischief. [1685–1704] “But I entreat and beg you, butcher, to keep your distance, and not touch me. Don’t you dare lay hands on my body to compromise my virginity, but sacrifice me as a virgin, so that the one to whom I am sacrificed will consider himself all the more appeased. But if any heed can be paid to the prayers of a poor supplicant – myself, once daughter of King Priam and an honored royal 31

In Ovid (Met. 13.455), Neoptolemus.



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virgin, now wretched and bereaved – I beg you to return my pitiful carcass to my woeful mother, whose heart is sad and bitter. Not so that she can make me a tomb out of gold or silver – that cannot be at the present time, though there was a time when she would have ensured that I was laid in a tomb of gold.32 Now may she perform my obsequies and rites with tears, and may that be enough for her.” [1705–1726] Thus spoke the maiden. The people wept for the beauty who did not deign to weep over herself. The priest did not hesitate any longer. Weeping and against his will, no doubt, he tore and pierced her vitals. She fell to the ground dead, but as she died she exerted herself to cover her private parts. She was attentive to this and mindful about it: although she was naked, she did not want to be viewed, living or dead, in places not suitable for viewing. When they saw her fall dead, the ladies who were there from Troy took up and recovered the body, and mourned the destruction and the loss of the great lineage of Priam, which had been cruelly devastated in such a woeful way. They mourned for the maiden, and for the lady who had been a royal wife, a royal mother, and mistress of Asia (Minor). [1727–1749] [miniature, fol. 334v: hecuba in mourning with her women attendants]

{N}ow she was disgraced and in misery, woeful, wretched, and bewildered. She had paid far too high a price for the love of Helen and her son Paris. Now she was consigned to distant exile – she who had been such an exalted lady, having once been a royal wife. She could not have had such honor or nobility or lordship or riches that her current poverty was not greater. The woeful queen had lost her children and her lord. She tore her hair, scratched her face. [1750–1762] Fortune can turn so much in a short time! One who laughs in the morning may cry at night. Fortune had inflicted quite the reversal on her. She was unbelievably degraded, consigned to utter servitude, handed over to wise Ulysses, who barely deigned to accept her. She had never imagined being brought so low that she would be the slave of such a lord, who just the other day had not been worthy to untie her shoes. In this way, God causes some to be exalted and others to be laid low and cast down. No one should ever devote their care to glory and worldly honors, for they are all too deceitful and vain, and fail in a short time. Take an example from this queen, whose honors lasted briefly, and who then experienced and endured such hardship – she had never had so much joy that she did not go on to have even more pain and sadness. [1763–1784]

32 In Ovid, the issue is that the mother should not have to pay a ransom in gold to receive the body.

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The lady was sad, and she acted sadly; so did those who had come with her from Troy, but they mourned their lady’s plight more than their own, I believe, seeing her so degraded and reduced to the bidding of another. Now they had no refuge and no one to appeal to. They were woeful and comfortless. The mother mourned greatly for the daughter, seeing her dead. She nearly went mad. She clutched her body tight and kissed it deeply. She had not mourned her sons or her husband more than she now mourned the girl. Now her grief was rekindled and renewed. She bathed and sprinkled the girl’s body with her tears. The wretched queen beat her breast, tore her hair, scratched her face until it ran with blood, and lamented as she wailed: [1785–1808] “My sweet daughter, the one who killed you has plunged my heart into great pain, great anguish, and great weeping. Seeing your blood spilt and your chest pierced is driving me to incredible anguish and distress. My sweet daughter, who would have believed that any man would be hard-hearted enough to kill you – a woman, and a virgin! I never thought anyone would lay hands on you to put you to the sword. I was so sure that you would never die by the sword, let alone that you would experience the same fate and the same death as your brothers, killed by the sword. [1809–1824] “The very one who had you killed was the same one who put to death your brothers: Achilles, who laid waste Troy and cost me all my children. Truly, after Paris struck him with the arrow that he died of, I thought I could rest assured that he would never inflict any shame or abuse on me or my family. And yet he is still raving and raging against us and, I believe, is causing me as much grief dead as living, and he has not yet had his fill of tormenting my offspring. Dead or living, there is nothing left for him. I had many children, alas for me, and he has killed them all. My offspring were born only to feed his wrath and his rage. He has undone everything. Living and dead, he makes war on me constantly. [1825–1845] “Now all at once the city of Troy has been utterly destroyed for everyone, except for me alone, it seems to me,33 and yet my suffering and my misery are constantly reborn and renewed and my grief is constantly increased. I was once rich and powerful, highly praised, high ranking, in high esteem, of high nobility. I had more than enough friends and lovers, sons and daughters, sonsand daughters-in-law, and I was the wife of a great lord, better and greater than all others. Now I am bereft of lord and relatives. I am poor and inconsolable, disinherited and exiled, a slave of Ulysses who will make his wife my lady and my mistress. [1846–1864] 33 The sense of A tous, v. 1846, and à moi, v. 1848, is that only Hecuba retains the memory of Troy: this corresponds to Ovid (Met. 13.507): “But still, it ended: in me, only, Pergama remains” (Kline). A manuscript variant replaces A tous “for all” with A touz iours “forever.” De Boer notes that only Rouen correctly understood and rendered this passage.



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“I’ll be the slave of Penelope, and against my will I’ll unwind her skeins and her spindles, while she makes me the object of her mockery, pointing me out to her maidens and other young ladies, saying, ‘This poor wretch was once a mighty lady and queen, wife of Priam and mother of Hector, and now look at the woeful state she’s in.’ This is how she’ll make fun of me. [1865–1876] “But I would have been soothed, and my great loss and misfortune would have grieved me less, if I had had my daughter with me. But it multiplies my grief, my heartsickness, and my great loss for her to be dead, undeservedly, to placate my enemy. Her face is pale and livid in death, which drains her color. What am I waiting for, wretch that I am, and why do I delay without my heart bursting and splitting? I must be too cruel, too wicked, to be able to go on living in such distress, such suffering, such sorrow, naked and stripped of all belongings. I am old and decrepit, and it would be high time for me to die – poor wretch – but instead I go on living only to accumulate more woe, suffering, and misfortune: that’s why I’m still alive! Who would have thought that good luck could lead to such awful luck? I consider Priam blessed, to be dead and deceased; for he has passed beyond all sorrows, and does not see his daughter dead, which had made me grieving and distraught. [1876–1904] “At least if she, being dead and slain, had had an honorable funeral and lovely rites and rich panoply, as befits a king’s daughter, and if her body had been placed and laid in the tomb of her loved ones, her death would have been less excruciating for me. But Fortune, so incredibly against me, wasn’t that favorable to me! I can offer her no funeral, or honor her grave, except by sighing and weeping. That’s the honor I will offer her. I will leave her entombed and buried in a foreign land. [1905–1919] “Poor me, woeful and sobbing, I’ve lost everything I had. Now I expect no comfort or joy from anything that might now exist in the world with the sole exception of my son Polydorus, who is dashing and handsome, and the only one left of all my children. He was the youngest. Now he is, in any case, the only one of my offspring. He was sent to be raised in this country, by the king of Thrace. I still expect him to bring me goodness and joy, and that is manifestly why I still want to live out the rest of my old age for a little while in the hope of some happiness. But I don’t know why I hesitate to wash the gory wound of my daughter who is lying dead, and her face, which is turning completely red with the blood that’s dripping down.” [1920–1941] Then the old woman went along – running as well as she could manage – to the shore, full of grief and rage, tearing at her white hair. Sighing, she asked for a pail to draw water from the sea to wash the dead girl. [1942–1948] [miniature, fol. 335v: hecuba looking at the body of her son being presented by her women attendants]

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Hecuba and Polymestor {A}s she approached the shore, she saw the loss and harm that had come to the son in whom she had such faith. She saw him dead on the shore, riddled with Thracian spears. None of the Trojan women kept from lamenting, when they saw him dead. They were woefully shocked. They made the air resound with their cries. His mother could not make a sound, for in her anguish and suffering she lost all power to speak or weep, and was hard and silent as a stone. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, full of anguish and sadness. [1949–1963] In the end, she stood and raised her eyes skyward. She looked attentively at her son, who was in a bad state. Then she was emboldened as if she were still a mighty queen. Her heart rose and swelled, and she armed herself with wrath and anguish, and she became so hardened in her anger that she would never rest until she was avenged for the fraud and deception committed by the treacherous tyrant of Thrace who had outrageously murdered her son. And in her heart it seemed to her that she could well take vengeance for it. [1964–1979] She was more maddened and enraged than a lioness hunting and tracking the one who carries off its cubs, driving it to rage and distress: likewise, Hecuba became demented, grieving greatly for her son. She forgot her age: rather, bold and filled with rage she charged off with her household, so that they came to the king of Thrace, misbegotten Polymestor, the traitor who had killed the little child he had been supposed to nurture, without letting on that they knew what had happened to the child.34 The mother, whose heart was practically broken from grief and distress, successfully hid her sorrow and spoke to the king with great trickery. [1980–1999] “O king, I hardly know what I’m saying to you. I’m inconsolable and alone, full of sorrow, rage, and anxiety. I’ve lost my land and my people, but I did bring a huge amount of gold and silver. It will be yours. I want none of it, as long as you do a good job caring for my son, for I place so much faith in him.” [2000–2007] He deceitfully responded, “Lady, I’ll take very good care of him, and rest assured that I will keep the gold in trust, subtracting none of it. When the child comes of age, he’ll have it all, for that’s entirely right.” [2008–2013] She said, “When you have it in your keeping, you’ll do as you please with it. But I want to speak to you a little at more leisure about a personal matter. Take us somewhere private, and you can take possession of the gold there.” [2014–2019] The greedy man, coveting the wealth, took her to a secret place. “Lady,” he said, “there’s no one here but only you and me. You can give me the gold you

34

Rendering Sans semblant faire de l’enfant, v. 1995.



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have in all confidence, and I swear and affirm to you on my soul that I will keep not even one coin of it, but will give it your son.” [2020–2028] [miniature, fol. 336r: hecuba and her women attacking polymestor]

{S}he turned a fierce glare on the oath-breaker and attacked him in a fury. She tore and pulled at him wildly, and when she had him in her clutches, she called out, “Help, come quick, come quick, my retinue! Now we’ll be avenged on the murderer!” The enraged women came running. The queen, with no more delay, tore his eyes from his head, and gnawed and ripped apart his face, and the women each tore off a piece. Then they headed back. [2029–2041] When the traitor’s household knew the truth about what happened to him, they pursued them through the city with spears, arrows, crossbow bolts, stones, and boulders hurled from siege engines. Hecuba, who was out of her mind, ran to bite the things that were being thrown at her, with her teeth, whatever they might be, wood or stone. I don’t know why I should hesitate: she was transformed into a barking dog. She barked instead of making any other sound. And that place, for that reason, was named after the dog, and is called Canicinos.35 [2042–2056] [miniature, fol. 336v: holy church (ecclesia), with cross and chalice, and synagoga/judea, holding a broken staff and dropping her tablets]36

Moralization {T}he one who wails and laments so much is suffering and grieving Judea, a widow and bereft,37 who was once a lady and a queen, honored above all others. Now she is wretched and lost, astray, in exile, poor and naked, subject to shame and degradation and in servitude to others, and so she laments the loss and destruction of the valiant sons that she once had, and for whom the world esteemed her. It was because of them that Judea grew proud. Now the Son of God has stripped her of the sons she had when he dwelled on earth,38 and went on to enslave her completely and strip her of all the honor she had on account of her children and lord. [2057–2074] Kline supplies “Cynossema” to gloss Ovid (Met. 13.565–571). Fols 59r, 209v, and 336v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether or not Syngagoga/Judea is blindfolded. 37 Orpheline, v. 2059, is to be compared with cheoite en orfanté, v. 1859. It’s not clear that “orphan” would be accurate in either situation given the meaning in English, i.e., to be bereaved of parents. 38 A son vivant, v. 2071. We assume this refers to Jesus and not Judea, which is still “living,” and expanded to “alive on earth” since Jesus is now alive in heaven rather than dead. 35 36

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The sons that Judea mourns for are the apostles and prophets who were descended from Judea, for whom she was most honored as long as she was pleasing to God and was worthy. But now, woeful and bewildered in her heart, she has no comfort or strength, having lost sons and lords because of her pride, her presumption, and her disloyal heart. [2075–2084] The Son of God resolved to come down from heaven to earth to start a war between virtues and vices, and destroy the evils that he saw that the whole world was filled with. And because he dared to rebuke outright the wicked lifestyle of the foolish Jews, Judea,39 out of treacherous jealousy, had him put to death. She really thought that after his death she could reign secure in her cruelty and go on living in the evil way to which she had become accustomed. But when she believed him dead, the Son of God brought even more shame and ruin upon her than he had before his death. For since the unfortunate one orchestrated the death of Jesus, she has only gone downhill: nothing can turn out well for her ever again. [2085–2104] And, as I have found it written, there was a veil that bears the name “Veronica,” which bears the solitary image40 of Jesus Christ. It moved Titus and Vespasian, two leaders from Rome who ruled over the Romans, to avenge his death. For the two of them had the whole accursed race of the foolish Jews, full of falsehood, massacred – all of them, anyway, who in their treachery had been the cause and the pretext for pursuing Jesus’s death. They were all put to the steel edge of the sword, all of them, anyway, who were guilty of that. But the children did not perish in the slaughter that happened then, nor did those whom Judea now believes must be surviving and thriving: she believes they can still inherit the kingdom of heaven and make good the destruction and loss incurred by their parents. [2105–2127] The one who is supposed to be their guardian is the text of Scripture, which is supposed to nourish them and bring them to salvific life. But it slays them and rejects them with the sword of foolish ignorance, foolish error, and unbelief, and flings them into the deep sea of damnable and bitter sin. For whoever clings only to the text and vainly affirms that they are in a morally safe state,41 the text slays them, never to revive. The letter slays whoever trusts in it, but the mystery that is in the care and keeping of Holy Church gives life. Holy Church nourishes and supports whoever keeps her doctrine. She is the lady of noble birth, the nurse of great counsel: the Chris-

39 The passage shifts from des folz Juïs, v. 2092, to Judee, v. 2093, the singular feminine personification of the Jews. 40 La sole umbre, v. 2106. This matches the word for the “shade” of Achilles that demands the sacrifice of Polyxena. 41 En sauf estat de vivre, v. 2139: lit. “in a safe state of living,” or maybe even “in a state assured of living [eternally].”



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tian that she takes into her care is removed from peril, safe and sound, and given proper nourishment. [2128–2150] But Judaism does not know or believe this. She does not cease to persist in her foolish error. She believes that one is alive who is really dead, and that one is dead who is beyond danger of death. And she mourns and bewails the destruction and loss of her lineage, and those very same people who recently died to avenge the death of the Son of God, Jesus, whom she had killed. [2151–2162] She draws up vain justifications from the sea of deception, with which she erases, or rather tries to erase – if only she could – and cleanse – if only she knew how – the bloody stain of sin with which they are stained and contaminated. But the more she thinks she is paying close attention to the meaning of the text and is in fact perverting it, the more clearly she sees her downfall. For those who place themselves under the guardianship of the text, to which they falsely cling, in this way damn and lose themselves like those who crucified the Son of God, and, in following their own opinions, transgress as much as those others did. [2163–2177] Judea promises to supply the literal text with the “gold” of good interpretation, in seeking to gloss it. With her glossing she “takes it aside” and separates it from the truth: she “rips up” the text and corrupts its meaning. This false and inappropriate glossing, which is neither good nor truthful, annihilates and “blinds” an obscure text, and cheats scholars. In this way Judea deludes the foolish Jews who are deluded into following the false interpretation. She is a dog that barks and snarls, with the barks of derision, at those who want to restrict and constrain her evasive maneuvers so that she cannot escape, as if checkmated in the corner. She is the dog that barks and chatters at those who want to read Holy Scripture correctly. [2178–2200] {I} can provide another interpretation. Polixena – who was so pleasant and beautiful, a princess and a wise maiden, and was slain for Achilles – can rightly be understood as the martyrs of Holy Church, who were pure and clean and joyfully accepted death to honor Jesus Christ, and also those who will perish at the time of Antichrist. At that time, all of Holy Church will be subject to persecution. All those who will believe in the Son of God will be condemned to death.42 [2201–2215] Judea’s sons will come to execute the Christians, to avoid and free themselves from the danger of the temptations and the dire tribulations that the Christians will endure.43 In their folly and ignorance they will come to seek Compare, e.g., John 16:1–4, and Revelation 2:8–11 and 17:6. Ending v. 2215 with a period, and v. 2221 with a comma, so that Li fil Judee is the subject of venront in v. 2216 and vendront in v. 2222. In the translation the relative clause from v. 2216 to v. 2221 becomes a separate sentence. 42 43

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refuge with the misbegotten deceiver: they will think, because they did his bidding, that they should be saved and made whole. But they will be even deader and more destroyed than the saints who will be condemned to death for the sake of Holy Church. For the temporary torment of the latter will usher them into everlasting glory, while the former – for their vain indulgence in a bit of earthly delight, which will leave them deluded like the fools and children they will be – will incur everlasting death through the deception of the false deceiver who will betray his fosterlings and treacherously murder those who seek refuge with him. For all those will perish by his treachery who, in their foolish ignorance, place their trust in him. [2216–2242] When Judea realizes that the traitor is deceiving those who trust in him and believe his lies, she will become so vigorously stirred up and emboldened that she becomes stronger and bolder than a maddened lioness that has lost her cub. She will accost the false deluded traitor, the misbegotten disloyal wretch, who uses his falsehood, his fraud, and his malice to deceive the foolish, naive and ignorant people and sends them tumbling into the pit of hell and the deep abyss. She will turn on him treacherously, without fear of death or imprisonment, and will do it in such a way that she openly, to his face, comes to oppose and denounce the disloyal tyrant, full of anger. In condemning his deceit, she will come to recognize Jesus Christ and his faith. [2243–2267] The disloyal ones full of hubris – the ministers, servants, and disciples of the traitor – will pursue her from town to town. They will fling arguments of fraud and guile at her in their disputation which Judea will reject, chomping their false objections with the teeth of reproach. She will be a “dog” of good pedigree, whose “bark” of holy doctrine will confound the ravening wolf, and with its salvific tongue, all the vices and all the sins with which it will be wounded and stained will be licked away. She will be licked with that tongue so that her soul will be saved and God, the shepherd of Holy Church, readmits her to his love and service. Divine Mercy, from which she is now so very distant, will make peace and concord with her. All of the divine wrath and vengeance towards her will be wholly appeased, and his ill-will, now overwhelmingly adverse to her, will abate, when God will have seen her endure such harms. [2268–2296] [miniature, fol. 337v: aurora kneeling before jupiter]

Aurora (I) {A}fter the ruin of Troy, Hecuba thereafter had little joy in the world. No one could possibly recount the thousandth part of her grief and misery. Her misfortune was limitless, and since no one can assign a limit to it, I won’t try to go into it further except to say that no one could have seen her without



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feeling great pity for her. Everyone felt compassion for her great tribulation, for her poor body reduced to captivity: those who didn’t know her and those who did, the Trojans and the Greeks – who had previously hated her – and the gods themselves were moved by the evils the poor thing had experienced. Juno herself, it seems to me, who was the wife and sister of Jupiter, and had borne her ill-will, took pity on her misfortune and said that she had not deserved such a harsh life. [2297–2320] Circumstances did not permit the beautiful Aurora – although she had provided support, favor, and aid to the Trojan side – to mourn or feel sorrowful about the woe and the misfortune of the lady and her friends. She wasn’t required to, for she had devoted her care and her heart to mourning a nearer loss. In her heart she had a more personal torment, which overwhelmingly distressed and tormented her, which had struck her closer to home, so that she could spare no concern for mourning another. Her heart was sad and bereft for her dear son, whom she had lost: Memnon, whom Achilles had slain. [2321–2337] Because of the death of her slain son, his mother had such suffering in her heart that her scarlet color faded, by which the morning had once been illuminated. As a sign of her great sadness, the skies were covered with cloud. Her heart nearly broke when she saw her son’s body, which they meant to burn and reduce to ashes. She could not watch it, nor could she wait: rather, with her hair completely wild, like a poor bereaved mother, with a sad heart, with a weeping face, she went to throw herself at the feet of Jupiter. Weeping, she appealed to him and in this way she set forth her appeal: [2338–2354] “Sovereign god, lord and master, ruler of the gods of heaven, I come to you sorrowful and wretched, the least appreciated and the lowliest of the heavenly deities, not to seek dignities, honors, and earthly delights, temples, altars, or sacrifices. My desire is not for that, even though I get very little of it anywhere in the world, to tell the truth – and I am well worthy of having it, since I’m a goddess after all, no matter how unappreciated I am. Yet I do you great service, for I am the one who divides and separates the day from the night. May it not burden or trouble you, lord, if I hold my good works against you. The great grief that touches my heart makes me sorrowfully beseech not honor or earthly glory – even though I’ve well deserved it, I don’t care about being served – but for the sake of my son, who was killed in the Trojan War by mighty Achilles, I come to beseech you that, to offer me some comfort, and lighten the sadness that slays and wounds me because of his death, you cause him to be venerated somehow. That would lessen my sadness.” [2355–2386] Jupiter gave and granted to his daughter what she prayed for on behalf of Memnon, who had been put to death. For, as they burned the dead man, and

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one flame pressed upon another,44 and the smoke thickened, darkening the sky and utterly masking and blackening the daylight – in the same way as mist that rises from a river, which covers and blots out the sun so that its brightness does not come through below – the burning scraps that fluttered in the air clumped together on high. They took on form and color, body and face, and by the heat of the fire, which shot its flame up high, the burning scraps gained a soul. Their lightness gave them wings. At first they seemed to be birds, in body, face, and countenance – and then they were, it seems to me. They moved through the air, beating their wings. [2387–2409] The burning scraps from the young man became birds in answer to his mother’s prayer. They flew thickly across the sky in huge flocks. Three times, with loud outcry, they circled the pyre. The fourth time, they made a doleful sound, and then, lamenting, separated in the air into separate groups, and fought each other in great fury, and, without a doubt, killed each other with beak and claws. And the battle among them lasted until they were exhausted and worn out and had fallen dead on the hearth. The bodies of the birds that had died were covered up and buried in the ash from which they had been born. To remember where they came from, the birds were named “Memnonides,” being born of Memnon, as the author tells. When the sun has, by proper count, transited through the twelve signs of the Zodiac and completed its entire circuit, the birds come back to life to die again. [2410–2436] Moralization God will take pity on Judea when she gives up her wickedness, her foolish error and her ignorance, coming to true knowledge of Jesus Christ and his faith, of which she will have been deprived, and from which she will have been led astray,45 by the false one full of hubris. And here is what the “dawning day” will do, she who illuminates the world, Holy Church, whose doctrine was so pure and so refined and so bright in the morning – that is, during the first birth of the Christian faith – that the whole world shone with it. And the shining of its light spread so widely that the darkness that existed then, of foolish error and ignorance and damnable unbelief, fled away all over the world and vanished from many hearts, which came to the knowledge, the light, and the belief of God, true Sun of justice. [2437–2461] In the end days, her head will be taken up with so much wrath and contrariety that she will have no use for anyone else’s grief. Her own grief will be plenty for her. The noble lady will groan, full of anguish and suffering, and Et li uns feus l’autre empressa, v. 2391, could be taken simply as “the fire spread,” but compare the moralization in vv. 2509–2511, where the fire of sin destroys the fire of true charity. 45 Dont … sera privee et mal menee, v. 2443, rendering dont as “of which” with privee and “from which” with mal menee. 44



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will lose the coloring she had in the morning, so bright and so illuminated by the work of preaching. And she will complain of the perdition inflicted on her people, for the false one, the enemy of God, Antichrist, will attract many to his side, and will ply his fraud and deception so that he deprives them of God’s grace, as a result of which they will die spiritually and incur eternal death in the fire of hell, in the blazing flame. [2462–2481] When the compassionate lady will see her nurslings perish in this way without hope of saving, she will have tremendous grief and sorrow, and her sons, now corrupted, will cause her more pain than strangers will. She will be full of anguish and distress, full of grief and sadness, poor, woeful, and wretched, worshipped in few temples – for the temples will be destroyed, which are now richly built and endowed with beautiful accessories and rich ornaments. At that time Holy Church will perform God’s service in secret. She will pray for God to comfort her in the suffering and distress that will be inflicted on her by her own sons, who will have joined the false one. And God, upon whom she will call, will comfort her in this grief, not with earthly honor, but by avenging the dishonor that the false people will inflict on her, causing her overwhelming distress. [2482–2508] For the fire of sin will completely burn and dry up the fire of true charity.46 And the mist of iniquity, arising from the flowing comforts of the vain earthly delights in which the wicked will overindulge till they all go blind from it, will rise and thicken. And the smoke will swell with foolish error and ignorance and damnable folly which will blind their false hearts, so that no brightness of true knowledge will ever enter there. They will die in their damnable unbelief and their wretched spirits will fly off into the air ruined, black, and stained with the darkness and the great misfortune of the sins committed in the body, to which their souls consented. The souls will not die with the bodies; rather, they will live on to receive a second death. [2509–2533] Two different armies, truth be told, will gather, flying in the air: one of wretched and suffering souls, the other of infernal spirits, which will fight furiously against the damned and the ruined, until they strike them down beside them to the depth of hell, and there will be their death, which will never end. They will live forever without having life, and will die without receiving death, to renew their punishment. [2534–2545] And when the Sun of justice will have “scrutinized all the signs,” that is when God will have repaid the secrets and the hidden places of the innermost hearts and the vitals of all the children of Israel. The good, the just, and the faithful will be separated to one side, the way the shepherd separates his lambs

46 Disregarding the comma at the end of v. 2510: le feu in v. 2511, in contrast to li feus in v. 2509, is an object.

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from the stinking goats.47 The sad and wailing sinners, who had turned to dust, will be raised and returned to their own bodies, which they had when they were alive the first time, and each body will reclaim its soul, to burn in the infernal flame and live in mortal condemnation. That will be the funeral, that will be the service the false Christians will have. That is the honor that those who will play false with Holy Church will receive in hell for their false service. [2546–2568] [miniature, fol. 339v: troy in ruins]

Aurora (II) {T}roy was laid waste and ruined and the people dead and slaughtered, the walls and palaces demolished and all its lands destroyed, as you heard from the tale. Queen Hecuba, to her grief and shame, was transformed into a dog, so that strangers and those familiar to her all felt great pity for her. But Aurora, out of love for her son Memnon, who was dead, wept and lamented, so that in no way could she forget her sorrow or forget about this mourning. Rather, ever since, she weeps compassionately everywhere throughout the whole world, so that the dawning day is still weepy and full of dew. [2569–2586] Moralization {T}he tears of the dawning day, who always spreads her dew, wetting and sprinkling the world for the sake of her son for whom she mourns, whom Achilles with the sword that cuts well slew in the battle at Troy, can be understood as the doctrine of salvific discipline with which our mother Holy Church now “sprinkles” and advises us. And may we deign to pay heed to it, that every woman and man may keep from incurring the wrath and the vengeance and the woeful sentence that God must mete out on the Day of Judgment against the wicked, the unbelievers, the deniers who will play false with Holy Church. [2587–2604] [miniature, fol. 339v: aeneas and his ships]

Aeneas and the Daughters of Anius {A}bove, I related to you the tale of how the shame, the baseness, and the transgression that Paris committed in Greece for Helen, whom he carried off and took across the sea by ship, was grievously avenged upon the Trojans by 47 Compare Matthew 25:31–33. (Goats are also extensively moralized in Book 4, vv. 5996ff.)



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Agamemnon, who destroyed everything. But still, the annihilation was not so complete that the hope of the Trojans was lost entirely. Aeneas, with very valuable plunder, escaped from the mortal dangers, in which he did not die or perish, and removed his father and his son from the fire of Troy and from danger. He put them on his shoulders and carried them, like a loyal friend, out of the burning, saving their lives. [2605–2623] He escaped by sea with a great ship,48 not wanting to remain there any longer. He departed from the island of Antandros. He left Thrace, which was still bloody with the blood of Polydorus. They had good wind, and Aeneas and his people sailed over the sea so far that they arrived at the port of Delos. They entered the city, and sought out the king, whose name was Anius, a valiant man and of great renown. He was both king and bishop49 and devoted himself well and thoroughly to carrying out both offices: he performed the rites for the gods as well as he ought to, and toward the people he governed under his jurisdiction, he behaved irreproachably, so that all those who were his subjects considered themselves fairly dealt with. [2624–2644] This man received them very well, for he had seen them many times, having been a neighbor of Troy. He offered them great honor and a great welcome, great celebration and great ceremony. He showed them his rich city, its sanctuary and its houses, then he showed them the two tree-trunks to which Latona clung when she gave birth to her lineage. At the temple, the priest, as his office required, made an offering of incense, wine, and the blood of cattle, and meanwhile the cook prepared the food and set the table, and when Anius had finished the service, he took them to his royal hall, which was neither dark nor dirty, but well and richly appointed with much royal adornment. And at the high table they ate wine and delicious food. When they had dined at leisure, to their satisfaction and pleasure, before the tables were cleared, they told of many things. Anchises then addressed the king, the host of the house, and questioned him without delay, and said: [2645–2674] “King, if I haven’t forgotten, the first time I came here, you had only one son and four maiden daughters, worthy and wise, noble and beautiful. What has now become of them?” [2674–2679] The king shook his hoary head, wrapped in a white stole,50 gave a choked sigh, and said: “Valiant hero, it’s very true that I used to have five children, but the world is so mutable and fickle and changing that I have now been parted from four daughters and a son. I’m bereft of them, or almost. For 48 Navie here could be “fleet,” and indeed the Rouen illustration shows multiple ships, but the following summary and moralization make it clear that the OM thinks of Aeneas as having a single ship. From here on, besides Ovid, compare Virgil’s Aeneid and the OF Roman d’Éneas (trans. Burgess and Kelly 2021, 193–357). 49 In Ovid (Met. 13.632), high priest (of Phoebus). 50 D’un blanc amit envolepé, v. 2681. Compare Kline’s translation of Ovid (Met. 13.643– 644): “Shaking his head, bound with its white sacrificial fillets, Anius replied sadly.”

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how does my son help me, and what use is he, who in a far-off land takes his father’s place and the rulership of Andros – for so the land is named, after the name of my son? Phoebus made him a dependable and wise prophet. But Liber51 gave my daughters, it’s the truth, a greater advantage than one can imagine, for at their touch, everything they held would transform into wine and oil and grain. The whole country was kept fully supplied and provided for by their action. [2680–2703] “Then the one who did the great harm of putting the Trojans to death – that is, Agamemnon, who overthrew all of Troy – heard it spoken of. Whereas we were not exempt or immune from persecution, and whereas we had allegedly been complicit in your offense,52 he sent messengers here without stopping, to seek and demand my daughters, and caused them to be told and commanded that they had to go and provide for the army. I couldn’t withhold them, and so I would have sent them to him, but they fled wherever each of them was able to flee, because they didn’t want to follow the army. And two of them hid in Euboea, and two of them fled to Andros, where their brother was, and there Agamemnon and his forces demanded and claimed them. Their brother didn’t have the power to resist or fight or make war against them. He dared not await their threat: whether he liked it or not, he was forced to either give up his sisters to Agamemnon, or defend himself against them. Pity was vanquished by fear. It was no great surprise if Andros chose to hand over his sisters to save and rescue himself, for there was no one, if it had come to war, who would have defended his land for him.53 [2704–2738] Chains were sent for, in order to chain up my daughters. But before they could be bound, they raised their faces and their arms to the sky, to ask for help: “Liber, father, please help and rescue us,” they said. Bacchus rescued his handmaids – “rescued,” that is, for anyone who calls it “rescuing” or “helping” to inflict loss, or destruction, or harm in an extremely marvelous way. “Loss” had been a better word – in my opinion, for I was not present for this event – because they lost their form. What the cause and reason was, I cannot accurately say. But the event is known, and their misfortune is acknowledged, how they received feathers and down: they were transformed into white doves. [2739–2758]

51 Ot doné li bers, v. 2697, should have been Ot doné Libers, i.e., the alias of Bacchus, as in Book 3, v. 999. 52 Ovid (Met. 13.656–657) has “so that you do not think we escaped all knowledge of your destructive storm” (Kline). 53 Here Ovid (Met. 13.665–666) specifically references Aeneas and Hector as the protectors Andros doesn’t have.



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[miniature, fol. 340v: adam and eve, naked and picking fruit, flank the tree with the forbidden fruit with the serpent on top of it]54

Moralization {B}ecause of the sin of the first man, who ate the first apple that God had forbidden him, God’s wrath spread throughout the world. So did the sentence that was imposed, without any mitigation, collectively throughout the entire world, and consigned everything to destruction in the fire of hell, in the blazing flame, sparing no man or woman. Except that the gentle Deliverer and the merciful Savior delivered his “father” and his “son” from death and infernal peril. By the “father,” for anyone who really wants to pay heed to it, one can understand the first parents that ever were, from whom he took flesh: those who died buried in true hope of salvific deliverance, who gained hope by his coming. Those who well and loyally believe in his holy Incarnation, his death and his Resurrection, can be represented by the “son.” [2759–2783] God brought these people out of mortal peril, taking them to salvific life with the help of his “ship,” that is, of the flesh he resolved to take on. For us, the one in whom all mercy abounds deigned to come down from the heavens and pass through this mortal world, which was bloody and stained with the bloody stains of sins. He is the one who, fortunately, with a vessel of fleshly nature, made landfall at the city of holy virginity, in the womb of the Virgin Maiden, who was a temple and a city, and she in whom the Savior sheltered, who redeemed and relieved us of all peril, of all misfortune, of all servitude to sin. [2784–2802] The “king” of that city which was provided with all good things and adorned with all virtues, who was priest of the tabernacle and lord of the household, was, in truth, the Savior. He is the King who reigns and governs throughout the world according to his will. He is rightly the Bishop who made the sacrifice of himself, whom he offered up when he endured death and Passion on the Cross where he resolved to hang for us and spill his precious blood to expunge our wickedness. He made offering and sacrifice to God the spiritual Father. Thus he made him an acceptable gift of the incense of devout prayer. He is the Lord of the house, who rules and maintains the household, and feeds and supports his friends with the bread of spiritual life and the mild delightful drink of his holy blood, which was spilled when he was hung on the Cross for us. [2803–2828] The olive tree of charity and the palm tree of humility are the two trees to which the glorious Virgin Mother clung, she who in one womb gave birth to Fols 183v, 209r, 284v, and 340v have comparable miniatures of this, differentiated by whether Adam and Eve are both holding fruit and whether they are covering their genitalia. Also note the image on fol. 21r of God walking a naked Adam through the garden. 54

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her double offspring: the sun and the moon together. That is to say, it seems to me, the sun of true justice who illuminates Holy Church – the resplendent Deity – and the moon of humanity. For she gave birth, in short, to a true God and a true man at the same time. The charity of God the Father, and the humility of the Mother, truth be told, promoted the Virgin to conceive the Son of God, as Saint Luke records it – that God in his mercy, coming from the high heavenly throne, visited us, for he deigned to be born of the womb of the Virgin Maiden, for he looked charitably upon the humility of his maidservant, so that he was born from her in the flesh. He is the one who had five children: a son, who knew how to prophesy, and four daughters, who transformed all the things they touched into wine, oil, and wheat. [2829–2859] Now I will tell you how one can explicate this tale and with what meaning it can be glossed. Andros represents mightiness, for in Christ’s saintly humanity was and is forever, without a doubt, all might, all power, for he can do and undo everything whenever he pleases, just as Holy Scripture says – there is no denying it. He is all-powerful in all matters. He was the one who “knew how to prophesy,” for within himself he had all intellect, all philosophy, all spirit of prophecy, for within him there were, without a doubt, all the treasures of wisdom. He was once bodily in the world; now he is in paradise, in the land full of virtue. The virtuous King reigns at the right hand of his Father, where he reigns in glory and heavenly joy. [2860–2882] It is right that I should explain to you the sisters of the mighty prophet, who provided every land where they lived with wheat, oil, and wine: one of the sisters is named Justice, and the second is named Peace and Concord, and the third is named Mercy, and the fourth is named Truth. By the great generosity of the Savior, who came to earth to save and seek out his people, these sisters had such power that they could produce an abundance, so the prophets bear witness, of wheat and oil and wine. Wine of gladness and concord, and oil of mercy, and wheat of true doctrine, of salvific discipline, which strengthens one in the true faith, were what they produced in great abundance. [2883–2904] The God of Hosts, the King, the Lord who rules over all empires, commanded these sisters to come and feed and fill his people with the divine gifts they had, but few people were worthy of it. They hid and concealed themselves among people who were virtuous and holy, humble and well-born. A while later they flew off to the heavens, so they are no longer on earth. No human being was capable of searching for or seeking them so that they would ever find them: their dwelling is henceforth with the wife, with the beloved, of the mighty Ancient of Days.55 [2905–2920] [miniature, fol. 341v: anius feasting with aeneas]

55

With Holy Church, as the spouse of God.



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The Cup of Alcon {A}bove, I told you the tale of the king who told of his daughters, who were transformed into white doves. Before the tables were cleared they spoke of various things. After that, they removed the tables and had beds prepared. They went to bed without further delay and rested until daybreak. The next day they got up without hesitation, and went to the god’s temple to pray that he might desire to guide them safely to their destination. And they asked where they would go and what region they would choose to reside in permanently. Phoebus told them obscurely that they would go to their first mother and that they would never leave there, for there would be their dwelling-place and residence forever. That was the guidance Phoebus gave them. [2921–2941] The king escorted them on their way and relinquished his treasures to them. To Anchises he gave a scepter; a well-made cloak and a quiver to the child Iulus; and to Aeneas he gave a gold drinking-bowl that a guest of his, a friend of his, had sent him from Thebes. Therses was the one who had sent it, but the one who had labored to craft it was Alcon, an Egyptian craftsman.56 Many pictures were engraved on it. A grand history and a long narrative were depicted on it very richly. [2942–2956] There was a city of great renown, but its name was not written there, but in lieu of a name, seven gates that were on it showed and clearly made known what name the city had to have: the seven gates that were evident bore witness and surety that it was Thebes that was depicted there. Many pyres, many graves, many biers – which represented deaths – were depicted in front of the gate. The nymphs, it seemed, were weeping. With tears and sighs they sought their springs which had dried up and their waters which had perished, and the trees were all dry and bare of foliage and fruit. The goats licked the rocks, which were hard and dry. [2957–2976] The goldsmith, who was very knowledgeable, had depicted in the center of Thebes the great slaughter of the daughters of Orion, who put themselves to death for the sake of the people, and died by various torments.57 One had her throat cut. Another had her hands and feet cut off with a keen-edged sword. Another was pierced through the chest by spears or swords.58 Another had her head cut off. Another was slain in another way. And they were all honorably 56 Alcon, un forgierres d’Egipte, v. 2953. In Ovid (Met. 13.683–684), he is Alcon of Hyle, in Boeotia. 57 This amplifies Ovid (Met. 13.692–696): “See here, in the midst of Thebes he portrays Orion’s daughters, the one, more than a woman, slashing her unprotected throat, the other stabbing a weapon into her valiant breast, falling on behalf of their people, then carried in glorious funeral procession through the city, and burned among crowds of mourners” (Kline). Traditionally, there were only two daughters of Orion, Menippe and Metioche. It is barely possible that L’autre, repeated in vv. 2984, 2986, 2988, and 2989, keeps referring to the second daughter, but the toutes in v. 2990 suggests otherwise. 58 Rouen has d’espees for de Boer’s d’espies in v. 2986.

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carried through the midst of Thebes on beautiful, well-decorated biers, and in a place of high honor, the bodies were burned and set aflame. So that the maidens might not perish entirely, from their ashes emerged and by a marvelous event were born, it seems, in the picture, two well-reputed young men who were named the Coroni. These children, out of devotion, led a beautiful procession around the ashes they were born from, and honored them as they ought to. All of this was depicted in the picture. [2977–3005] The drinking-bowl I am describing to you was extremely finely engraved. A flower of tremendous beauty was depicted and embellished with floral motifs59 all the way around the golden bowl. Aeneas took the bowl, praising and valuing it highly, and from his own treasures he reciprocated with a chalice, and a crown of gold and precious stones that were very fine and very valuable, and a costly golden censer. They did one another great honor at their leave-taking and treated each other warmly. [3006–3019] Aeneas Travels to Buthrotus and past Scylla and Charybdis And because they had heard that they would go to their first mother and never depart from there – rather, that would be their dwelling-place – it occurred to them that their nation was once descended from the Lombards: that was where they needed to sail their ship. They parted from the king, and took their leave, and sailed so far across the sea, day and night, that they arrived in Crete. But they stayed there only a short time, because of the wind, which was all too contrary to them. [3020–3031] From there they headed for Lombardy. Their ship was close to arriving there, when a wind blew it off course: a storm befell them, which took them to an extremely far-off land: this land was named Strophade. Only evil spirits dwelt there.60 There they heard such a response that many were terrified: that before they might arrive in the land where they were going to settle, that they were seeking, they would have to eat their table. This was a terrifying prediction. [3032–3044] From there they passed by Dulichia, Samos, Ithaca, and Ambracia, the land where the gods quarreled. And from there they plotted their course toward Athens, and saw the form of the false villainous traitor who had been 59 Compare Ovid (Met. 13.701): “round the rim gilded acanthus leaves were embossed” (Kline). 60 This “land of Strophade” is the islands called the Strophades, and the maufez “evil spirits” are the Harpies. Their prophecy that Aeneas and his men will become so hungry that they have to eat their tables is not in Ovid, which merely says in Met. 13.709–710: “Tempests raged, and tossed the heroes on stormy seas, and taking refuge in the treacherous harbour of the Strophades, they were terrified by the harpy, Aëllo” (Kline). Rather, it comes from the longer account of this episode in Book 3 of the Aeneid.



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transformed into hard stone. From there they passed by the lands of Dodonia and Chaonia, where a treacherous attempt had been made to destroy the sons of King Molossus61 – to burn and roast them in a blazing fire – but they got wings, and flew, and escaped the burning. They passed Phaeacia the wealthy, which was replete with apples. From there they came to Epirus, then arrived in Buthrotus, a newly fortified city. Helenus had laid it out and built it to resemble Troy, as stated in the text62 that tells of the return journey of the Greeks. [3045–3067] Andromache, the wife of Hector, and her brother-in-law Helenus, who knew more of augury than anyone, had been enslaved by Pyrrhus63 until lion-hearted Orestes – who hated Pyrrhus on account of Hermione, his cousin and beloved, whom Pyrrhus had abducted – drew his life from his body. From then on Helenus was freed, then became powerful and enriched, and had a large territory to rule. He made himself greatly feared and respected. He went on to inflict many injuries on the Greeks, so that they paid him tribute. He told and prophesied to them that the gods had destined for them to go to Lombardy to win control of it: they and their heirs would keep possession of it, and would not live anywhere else. [3068–3088] Merciful-hearted Aeneas departed from Buthrotus and he and his retinue sailed until they arrived in Sicily. There their ship came to a halt. Sicily has three mountains extending into the sea, which surrounds it. There the ship, which had had good wind, stopped and rested. That night they did not move from there; rather, they made port and stayed for one night, until daybreak. Near them there were two different perils, which had caused many people to perish at sea: Scylla, which attacked them on the right, and Charybdis to the left. Charybdis, being greedy and gluttonous, devoured and swallowed the passing boats, then vomited what it had drunk. This peril had hindered many people, and Scylla, who is full of mad dogs all the way from the waist down, had likewise harmed many. These perils had inflicted much grievous harm and much hardship on many people, and many people had perished by them. [3089–3114] Scylla had the face of a maiden, noble, young, attractive, and beautiful. And if all the writings are true, and the poets are to be believed about whatever they told or described, some bear witness in writing that she had once been a maiden and a real woman, noble and beautiful. And so she was sought after by many lords, but was so overcome with pride that she deigned to love none 61 In Ovid (Met. 13.717), “the sons of Munichus, the Molossian king” (Kline). The identification of Munichus is a clarification provided by Kline: the Latin has only “sons of the Molossian king.” 62 The “text” referenced here is probably Aeneid 3:294–355. But also relevant is Ovid’s Heroides 8, where Hermione speaks to Orestes. 63 The son of Achilles, otherwise known as Neoptolemus.

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of them. Rather, she went to the sea nymphs, with whom she was close and familiar, like a foolish and brazen braggart. And she made a mockery of her suitors, and said that this one and this other one had sought after her in courtship, and that she mocked and despised them and made the foolish gawkers gawk and waste their time in folly.64 [3115–3134] Moralization {N}ow I will tell you what I think about these gifts and these presents that the lords exchanged and offered and presented to each other. The allegorical interpretation can be as follows: the scepter represents sovereignty that belongs to God the Father. He is the one who rules and maintains the sky, the earth, and the abysses. He is the sovereign and most high Lord above all other lords, the Greatest of all the great. Everyone owes him submission, for he has jurisdiction and power over the whole wide world. [3135–3150] The cloak of sanguine crimson that was presented to the nobly born child represents righteousness: the cloak of carnal nature that the Son of God took on and received in the Virgin, who conceived him. This was dyed in sanguine crimson, that is, in blood, with which the divine flesh was stained and painted on the Cross, like crimson fabric dyed scarlet. The quiver, where one is used to store arrows (dars), for whoever wants to explain it well, is the body into which were driven the spikes (dars) with which he was nailed by the soles and the wrists, and the spear with which he was pierced deeply in the side, when he allowed his body to be crucified for our salvation. [3151–3169] The drinking-bowl can represent that precious chalice from which the Son of God made an offering and a worthy and acceptable present to God, the merciful Father, when he suffered death and Passion. It is the present that was offered to him by Judas, who had once been his friend. That man offered it, but the enemy, the prince of misfortune and shadowy darkness, who kindles and ignites every evil, forged it upon the hard anvil of the false Jews, who out of envy condemned Christ to lose his life. It is upon this that the strong city of Holy Church is founded and established. [3170–3186] {T}here are seven gates, in truth, in the city of Holy Church, whose names are clearly marked. Now I will state them briefly, so that everyone remembers them. [3187–3191] The first is that one must believe that to restore the harm and the loss of the human race, the Son of God resolved to come from the heavens to earth, and become a true man in the Virgin and pure Maiden, in whom he took on human nature without injuring his Virgin Mother and without setting aside his divinity. [3192–3200]

64

See muser in our introductory lexicon, p. 77.



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The next gate of Holy Church is that the Flesh of God was circumcised to maintain the establishment of the law that he had come to perfectly accomplish and perfect. [3201–3205] The next gate is of great importance, that, to cleanse the world, he resolved to receive baptism in water. [3206–3208] The next is that to deliver us, he resolved to render himself up to death on the Cross. The body was placed in the tomb and the soul went to hell for the sake of his friends, and rescued them from there. [3209–3213] The fifth is that he was resurrected joyously from death to life, and so drew his followers out of hell. [3214–3216] The sixth gate is rightly that he ascended gloriously to the heavens, where he reigns at the right hand of God the Father in heavenly glory. [3217–3220] The seventh is that at the Judgment, the Son of God will come in the flesh to judge the dead and the living. [3221–3223] These are the gates, it seems to me, through which one enters into Holy Church. In no way can one come to profess the Christian faith without entering by these gates, without believing in these articles. These seven articles of faith – or the seven sacraments, I believe – are the seven gates of justice, the seven entrances to the Church, through which the righteous rightly come to profess the praise and the honor and the name of our Lord. [3224–3238] Outside the seven gates of justice and the profession of Holy Church,65 there are pyres and tombs and biers and graves of many kinds, which represent mortality. For outside of the holy city, without which no one can have life, are the wicked, truth be told: the accursed, the malicious Jews, heretical and unbelieving; the Saracens and the pagans; and above all the false Christians, who from pride and hubris counterfeit Christian faith, who die from mortal sin by which they are overtaken and wounded. These include: The prideful, full of arrogance, who are puffed up with presumption. The envious, full of hatred, full of rancor and hostility. Those who are consumed with malice and the blazing fire of avarice. And those who roast in the burning of the fire of disgusting lust. The bad-mouthers, the malefactors, the disloyal, the traitors, who never cease to condemn, slander, and defame others, in secret or openly. The stinking tomb gaping open, full of filth and vileness and disgusting wickedness, of anger and of woeful sadness. Those who indulge in sloth. The deceivers full of falseness. [3239–3273] Such people are without moisture of grace. All grace has perished in them and every spring of wisdom and doctrine and salvific discipline has dried up. They are dead, dried-out trees, dead, that is, from mortal sin, which strips them De Boer gives v. 3240 as Et de l’aven de saint Yglise, glossing l’aven as “l’Avent.” But Rouen (fol. 343r) seems to have l’aveu, which we translate. Copenhagen (p. 748) has Les vii entrees de l’Eglise (“the seven gates of the Church”) for this line. 65

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of flower and fruit and leaf, for among such people there is no one who wishes to bear fruit through good works, or who deigns to attempt it. [3274–3284] The goats that lick the rocks, all of which are hard and dry, represent the vile flatterers, false prophets, false preachers, who lick with flattery and with disgusting fawning the sinners full of hardness and cold misery. Those who “lick” them are those who delude them, who defend and excuse and sustain them in their malice, their folly, and their vice. Such are the disgusting lickers: false prophets, false preachers, flatterers full of falseness. To acquire human grace, or for fear of the ill-will of the wicked who fill their gluttonous bellies with food and wine, they pervert the rightful theologians by justifying those who deserve condemnation, and condemning the inoffensive. In this way they betray and deceive the wicked, whose gifts they receive, who put faith in their flatteries: for because of their gifts they justify them, and so lead them damnably, by flattering fawning, to damnable perdition. [3285–3313] The beautiful daughters of Orion, who died in grievous torment to defend right and justice, represent, in my opinion, the saints who are in paradise, who for the right of Holy Church were subjected to mortal torment in different ways in different places, and died joyfully for the love of our Lord. And their bodies are, with great honor, placed in reliquaries by Holy Church, and their feasts and worship are celebrated in their holy places, with a procession every year, out of great devotion. If the bodies were seen to die, death could not reign over the souls that emerged from them: after their death they were born in the heavens, and they live eternally, in joy, delightfully, in the heavens, crowned in glory, adorned with double stoles. They have, or will have, double stoles: they have the one, and will receive the other when their souls return to their bodies, which will be resurrected to come to the Day of Judgment. [3314–3341] Now it is right for me to tell you about the crown and the chalice, what each of them represents. The gold crown represents royal honor and lordship with which the Son of God was crowned, who was colored and surrounded by the circlet of human nature, as Scripture bears witness. [3342–3350] {O}r, if anyone wants to explicate this in another way, the crown can clearly represent the sharp and stabbing one that made his head bloody the day he suffered death and pain. [3351–3355] The chalice or platen represents that chalice on which Jesus made the offering of bread and wine that he consecrated into divine flesh and divine blood, when he resolved to feed his friends with heavenly drink and food. And he commanded that the priests do likewise in memory of the death he must suffer on the Cross, where he resolved to offer up himself. [3356–3366] {N}ow it is right for me to explain to you what the meaning was of the god’s response about what land Aeneas would choose. The response told him that he would go back to his first mother, that is, to the realm from which he



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was descended, and he would have the lordship of it. The Son of the Virgin Mary – who was mistress and Mother of Love – Jesus, the Son of the ancient Father, after his holy Passion, his death, his Resurrection, returned whence he had first come when he was born, that is, to the heavens, from which he had resolved to come down to take on human and mortal flesh. He returned there, and reigns at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory, as had been prophesied by those who had known of it from God. Later he will come, in my opinion, to judge everyone, both dead and living. But who can confidently await his Coming, which will be so terrifying to sinners and foes? [3367–3392] Now I will tell you what is represented by the wanderings of the ship that sailed so far over the sea, anchoring at so many islands, before it was in the country where they were meant to dwell. The “ship” of the Savior, that is, Holy Church, is heading and ought to head for the port of eternal life, but wind and storm have overtaken her, driving her into many perils, from which many have perished and many have retreated and turned back, who turn aside from doing good, in danger of the hands of devils, the gluttonous terrifying birds66 who, through their falsehood, deprive sinners of all grace. [3393–3410] By the terrifying prediction that Aeneas would eat his table before his ship was anchored in the land and in the country that would be his by inheritance, the historical interpretation and the truth are that Aeneas, with his people, sailed across the sea for so long that he exhausted his supplies and provisions before he could make port, and so out of necessity, when the food ran out on him, in the need that assailed him, he was forced to take his table scraps in place of any other delicious food, and savor eating them.67 [3411–3427] {O}r, for anyone who wants to explain it otherwise, there can be an allegory which is well in accord with truth. Before the world must end, or Holy Church can make the port of paradise, to which it is headed, it will have such strain and difficulty across the sea of this world where fluctuating perils abound – so many evil temptations, so many dire tribulations – that many people will desist from doing good, and disbelieve in God. And so there will be such a shortage on her ship of the bread of salvific life – that is, I believe, of true doctrine, of salvific discipline – that the Savior will return to relieve it, and will take up again what he now leaves neglected. For, what can have no value for now will be treasured on that day, received in good grace and savor. For the scraps of the Jews that are left over will come to beg mercy, giving up their prideful hubris, coming to the universal faith that the Christians now hold. The pagans will do likewise, and will be the first to condemn their ignorance and give up The Harpies. Compare Aeneid 7:107–134, where the tables turn out to be the bread on which their food is served. 66 67

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the error of their foolish belief, coming to true knowledge and to the love of Jesus Christ, as the Scriptures bear witness. [3428–3462] And at that time the false sage full of treachery, deception, and guile will display his treason: he will try to pervert the holy Gospel, and through his arrogance to counterfeit the Christian faith. And he will quarrel with God, for he will cause himself to be called a god, and will try to have himself worshipped, served, and honored as a god. Then he will raise himself up68 openly and reign – the false one full of malice, wickedness, and cruelty, who will have a heart harder than stone, and will pretend that he is the Savior and Judge of the whole world, who has come down from heaven to make the whole world safe. And there will not be a human being of such great counsel that they will perceive his deception, except for Divine Wisdom and the one to whom God points it out. [3463–3485] The sign of the Cross will appear in the heavens, so say the Scriptures, when the true Judge, Jesus Christ, will be due to come to Judgment. At that time, the sky and the earth will be laid waste by burning, and the whole world will be burned. But the holy sons of the heavenly King, as our masters bear witness, will in no way be harmed by this fire, but in it they will be purified of everything, and so they will go flying off to the heavens, pure and clean. But the woeful wretches, the sinners full of malice, will pay the price there for their mortal vices, and after this burning torment they will be punished more severely in the fire of hell, in the blazing flame, forever, body and soul. [3486–3504] When the “ship” of the Savior will see all that, they won’t be afraid, for at that time it will not be far to the gentle land full of fruit, of perfume and of happiness, of joy and of bright purity, in the heavens, in sovereign delight, in which the blessed elect will be crowned,69 it’s the truth, with double honor, with double glory, that is to say, in soul and in body. [3505–3517] {N}ow I still have to explain what is left to explicate. Helenus can be glossed as the Son of God, the prophet, the wise one, the one who for the human race resolved to descend and come from the heavens and be human and become a slave. He was the one who served us well and enslaved himself for love of us. And what reduced him to such slavery? The fire of the amorous frenzy which consumed his heart for us. For a long time he was subjugated and captive, until he mercifully resolved to die for our salvation and descend into the infernal prison to free the whole human race and to extricate human nature from hell and from the shadowy dungeon where it was captive and 68 For relevera, v. 3474, which is the reading in Rouen, Copenhagen (p. 751) has revelera, “will reveal himself.” 69 De Boer switches vv. 3511 and 3512. We restore the order in the manuscripts, and for v. 3512, we follow Rouen’s enque (fol. 344v). (Copenhagen also has en quoy.)



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detained. Humanity is “his cousin and his lover,” and so, to deliver it, he resolved to render himself up to death and suffering. [3518–3538] From then on, the whole human race was freed and released from slavery – those, at least, who chose to be free and chose to worship and serve the Son of the heavenly King, the one who resolved to enslave himself to free all the sinners. Since then, God began to “enrich himself,” in that his exaltedness increased among the people who believed in him. He was the one who founded the new city, which was of great authority, that is, the city of Holy Church, which was well founded and established. [3539–3552] The city was of great power, well established on strong rocks and founded with living stones. The foundation and the founder of Holy Church is Jesus Christ, as Holy Scripture says, and the stones with which it was built are the apostles and the prophets, the holy martyrs and the disciples, many of whom submitted to punishment and had themselves put to the sword to erect Holy Church. Jesus, King of Paradise, made this city I am describing, and founded it on its foundation and fortified it very steadfastly in imitation and in the manner of Judaism, the first one, which had been destroyed. [3553–3571] There, the King of that strong city reigns gloriously in glorious eternity, until all his enemies are put beneath his feet, whom he will govern with a strong rod and shatter like potsherds, so that those who were his adversaries will become his tributaries. And when there has been complete fulfillment of the Scripture and the prophecy of the prophets and theologians who will know the divine secrets, who prophesied about the Second Coming of Jesus Christ and the Judgment and eternal life, his ship will come straight to shore and to the port of peace and of joyous celebration, to the mountain where the Trinity is seated in glorious eternity. [3572–3592] {O}r, for anyone who wants to explicate this in another way: with the first coming of Jesus Christ, there was complete fulfillment of the Scripture and the prophecy, as it had been prophesied by those who knew it from God, about his holy Incarnation, his death, his Passion, and his Resurrection. At that point, he arrived joyfully and led our humanity to the mountain where the Trinity is seated. And the vessel of Holy Church remained anchored and beached securely on dry land. But various storms, various perils, from which many people perished, assailed it extremely harshly. For on one side it was struck and battered by “Charybdis,” the grasping and gluttonous: that is, the dire sin of avarice. On the other side, it is assailed and goaded by “Scylla,” who is full of mad dogs and has injured many people: that is lust, which pierces and bites and scuttles many people and puts them to death. The ministers of Holy Church are now almost all seduced by these two damnable sins, lust and covetousness. These are two vices by which the clergy is now overtaken and burdened. [3593–3624]

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Scylla, the damnable peril from which many have perished; a monster hideous and terrifying, who was once an agreeable virgin, friendly with seanymphs, a pleasing woman and worthy of love, who made the gawkers gawk70 and waste their time in folly: that is lust, the gross and vile, which stinks and bites, in my opinion, more than a stinking mad dog. This sin did harm to the fools who foolishly dreamt on it and who foolishly wasted their time. She was once a virgin, and beautiful, in that at first the woman who abandons herself to this sin is a maiden. But once she has let her heart be seduced by this damnable and vile sin, the more beautiful her face is, the more deceitful, perilous, and fearsome she is, for the more she attracts and entangles whoever approaches her most closely. A beautiful woman who abandons herself to folly so seduces and binds by her fraud and by her deceitfulness and by the beauty of her face, that nothing can escape her which she can hold and seize. And so she pierces and goads and bites and completely scuttles to damnable death those who are seduced by her into committing this mortal sin. [3625–3658] I can provide another interpretation. I can rightly take Charybdis to represent the error and unbelief of Gentilisa. She scuttles those whom she can hold and entrap deep down to the depth of hell, to damnation, without any way to surface or escape. Scylla can represent Synagoga, who was too prideful and insolent, and long ago used to prize herself so highly that she used to disdain all others. She caused many gawkers to gawk and waste their time in folly. She was once a virgin and a maiden, pleasing and agreeable and beautiful to God, with whom she was intimate. But like a foolish and effete dreamer, through her wickedness she later lost God’s grace and friendship. Now she is an ugly and fearsome monster, perilous and terrifying, full of vile mad dogs. Many are lost and harmed and eternally perish because of these two damnable perils. These two – that is, Synagoga and Gentilisa – make war on Holy Church, and have many times made many grievous attacks on her. [3659–3688] [miniature, fol. 345v: galatea, combing her hair, sitting and talking to scylla]

Galatea Tells of Acis and Polyphemus {J}ust as the tale recounts, foolish Scylla bragged about the fools whom she caused to gawk and to waste their time in folly. The maiden was bragging like that, while beautiful Galatea, who was combing and doing her hair, addressed her in this way and said, sighing: [3689–3697]

70

See muser in our introductory lexicon, p. 77.



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“Friend, I am certain and have no doubt about it that you can’t for very long refuse the courtly ensemble of young men who are amorously pursuing you, or make them gawk, without it going badly for you in the end and without provoking anger against yourself.71 I learned, experienced, and observed this through my own self: I – who was descended of high lineage and have sisters aplenty, being the daughter of the god of the sea – could not refuse without harm the giant who wanted to love me, the hideous monster with the savage heart.72 And how will you, who are a poor and humble and low-born girl, be able to refuse without harm the stout-hearted young men?” [3697–3716] With these words, Galatea wept. The maiden comforted her, wiping her eyes and face and telling her to inform her about the cause of her suffering, her sighing, and her weeping. She must not hide it from her at all, for she was her loyal friend. Then Galatea answered her: [3717–3725] It’s no wonder if I’m weeping, for I once loved a young man. He was my delight and my joy. He was descended of high lineage, and he was beautiful in body and face. His name was Acis. His parents held him dear, having no other children, but I held him so much more dearly. I loved him extremely, without trickery. He was very beautiful and young. He had not lived more than sixteen years. He was just starting to grow a beard.73 But the giant, who strove for nothing except to win my love, killed him by throwing a stone, and so the wicked pitiless monster ended our relationship, causing me great grief and sorrow. [3726–3743] Ah, how powerful love is, that this horrible creature – who was of such great ugliness that he frightened even the woods, nor could any living soul see him without incurring misfortune from the sight, no matter who it was who saw him, for he disdained sovereigns74 – this vile devil, this savage, in whom there was no gentleness or pity – was overcome with love for me. And to be sure, I hated him more than I loved my dear beloved. [3744–3756] The vile monster prettified himself out of love for me as best he could. His heart never wavered. He lost interest in his caves and confines. He started neglecting his livestock and worrying about how he could look hand-

The sense of this speech is different in Ovid (Met. 13.740–741): “At least, O virgin Scylla, you are not wooed by a relentless breed of men: and you can reject them without fear, as you do” (Kline). 72 I.e., the cyclops Polyphemus. 73 Premiere barbe li poingnoit, v. 3737: there is untranslatable wordplay here, since poingnoit in v. 3738 then renders the cyclops’s obsession with Galatea. 74 Si desprisait les souverains, v. 3751. In Ovid these are specifically the sovereign gods: Polyphemus is described in Met. 13.760–761 as “whom no stranger has ever seen with impunity, who scorns mighty Olympus and its gods” (Kline). 71

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some. Venus knows well how to steal away hearts from the fools75 she keeps under her control. Is there anything love wouldn’t dominate? The wicked misbegotten giant kept putting makeup on his hideous face, which is so horrible and vile, to be more pleasing, it seemed to him, and he did his hair, and combed himself with a harrow in place of any other comb, and trimmed his coarse, bristly beard with a sickle, and he gazed and looked at himself in the sea. And he put so much of his attention into loving that he forgot his wickedness, his great rage, and his cruelty, so that he let the sailors go in safety and come untroubled across the sea, when the misbegotten scoundrel had used to pursue and spy on them to destroy them and put them to the sword. [3757–3784] While he was in love with me, there happened to enter into the Sea of Sicily a prophet who was incredibly good and incredibly wise: Telemus, who knew and understood all the languages of birds. And he said to the foolish and besotted giant that Ulysses would befoul him, snatching his sole eye away from him. He couldn’t convince the giant not to laugh, for he took everything the prophet said as mockery, disdaining his words, true though they might be, and said: “Foolish lying prophet, no one is going to snatch my eye away, for my lady and my beloved Galatea, whom I love and treasure, has it always. She alone has captured it. She has my heart in her dominion.” [3785–3803] One moment the maddened and savage fool raced along the seashore, another moment he shut himself up in his confines, when he was so exhausted that he couldn’t go on and was absolutely forced to sleep. There was a rock out in the sea, encircled and surrounded on all sides by the water and the waves of the sea. There the love-mad giant used to climb and sit up on the rock, to spy and see if he might see me, and there, without fail, his livestock and cattle, for all that they had no one to lead them, inevitably found him. [3804–3818] One day he was sitting on the rock, and he had a pine tree, with which he nudged his animals, longer and more massive than a mast, resting on the ground at his feet. In his hand he held a set of pipes made from a hundred reeds, into which he blew so loudly that the whole mountain and the sea resounded and echoed. I heard him and was incredibly afraid of him. I huddled in a rock-hollow76 with my beloved, whom I loved extremely, and lay Reading faulz, from de Boer and Rouen, as folz, from Copenhagen, in v. 3765. Folz makes more sense given the context: otherwise it would be “those deceptive ones she keeps under her control.” 76 En une roiche me boutai, v. 3828. “Excavation, caverne (creusée dans la roche)” is meaning B2 for roche in DMF, and while Ovid doesn’t specify a cave (latitans ego rupe, Met. 13:786, translated by Kline as “hidden by a rock”), most commenters on this section of the OM have described Galatea as hiding in a cave here, rather than simply being tucked 75



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in his lap. I listened to the giant’s song and paid close attention to his words, because he wasn’t all that easy to make out. [3819–3833] “Flower of the privet or the elder, Galatea is whiter still: a flowering meadow is her lovely body, beautiful and fine, long and straight, more beautiful and straighter than an elm, brighter than shining glass. She is sprightlier and more delightful than a tender baby goat. A body smoother and more attractive than shells in the sea. A beauty who is more lovable, more agreeable, and more pleasing than the sun shining in winter and shade in the summertime. Lady of great sincerity, higher and more pleasing than a palmtree. Lady nobler and better-smelling, more scarlet and better complexioned than a sweet and tasty apple. Oh, beauty, who has a face brighter and more resplendent than ice. Worthy and auspicious lady, sweeter than a ripe grape. High-born and benevolent lady, whiter than a swan’s feather or fresh curds in a cheese mold. Lady more pleasing and more beautiful than a moist and well-watered garden full of sweet and delicious fruit. Come to your lover, who calls you, and don’t hide or conceal yourself from me, who loves and desires you so much. [3834–3865] “Do my bidding, do my pleasure, and if you refuse me, no woman was ever so cruel. If you don’t do my wishes, an untamed bull was never of such cruelty, of such ferocity, of such hostility. You are harder than an old oak. If you don’t do what I want, you are more vain and fickle than running water, more flexible than a noble willow twig or a branch of white vine, more pitiless and without mercy than this rock, more cruel and more destructive than deep water, and prouder than a peacock when he is praised, when he displays his tail. You would be more damaging and harmful and bitter than a roasting fire of dry wood and bacon fat, harsher than a prickly thistle, more cruel than a mother bear, more disloyal than a maddened hydra, and more disturbed than a foul sea, if you don’t deign to love me. You would be more fugitive and skittish than a stag or a hunted doe, and not merely than a stag, but truly more fugitive than any wind. [3866–3897] “But if I could, I would take that speed away from you: but, if you knew me well, I believe you would repent of always running from me, and no doubt it would upset you that you keep putting me off, and you would condemn your delays, and so you would prioritize what I want, and come live with me in the cave where I’ve taken up residence, on the rocky slope of a high mountain that doesn’t tremble, a cave made of strong bedrock so

away behind a rock, which would admittedly have made it easier for Polyphemus to spot her from a distance in v. 4084. Logically, if this were a true cave it could perhaps have offered Acis more protection than he would have gotten by running away, so “rock-hollow” is a compromise.

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that inside it one can’t feel the energy of the sun all summer long, or fear winter or cold. [3897–3914] “In the garden, there are apple-trees planted, which bear apples in abundance, more than they can support. If you deign to come to me, I have ripe grapes on my vines, which I’ll keep for you until you come, light ones and dark ones, and you’ll eat some of the ones you’ll like best. And strawberries, if you like them, that grow in the forest under the branches. You’ll be able to pick some at leisure, as many as you please. And from the branches themselves you’ll pick sorb-apples and sloes and rose-hips and haws, and plums, dark and light. And if you deign to take me as a husband, you can have your fill of chestnuts, and you can have all the fruits of trees and bushes in great harvests. You’ll be rich, if you’re mine, if you’re my wife: you’ll never be embarrassed not to have enough wealth. [3915–3937] “This livestock gathered round me down among the rocks, and more in the woods and more tethered in my caves, is mine, without a doubt, and if you ask me to enumerate my cattle for you, I have so many I don’t know their number! A man is poor who can know the full extent of his wealth. If you don’t believe that this is true about my animals, about my possessions, come and see it right away, so you will know with more certainty that it’s true. You’ll see the females, who have such full udders that they can hardly support the milk. Elsewhere the lambs and kids are in shelters. I have milk in every season, some of which I eat and use for stews, and with some of which I have cheeses made. You can take great delight in what you’ve heard me recite, and not only in that, but in other things as well, in which you can take pleasure and enjoy yourself, if you want. [3938–3964] “I’ll give you does and goats, rabbits and hares, which you can do with as you please. I have a pair of pigeons77 that are the same age, look identical, and are a mated pair,78 that I found on a mountain, so I said: ‘I’ll keep these little birds until my lady comes, for I want her to have this present.’ [3965–3976] “Beauty, don’t refuse this offer, or the handsome gifts I offer you, but come, and draw your lovely head out of the sea, for I am well worthy of love. I’ve observed it myself. I’ve seen my body and my face in the water, where I looked at myself. I’m handsome and well-made. It pleased me well, when I looked at myself, what a big body I had. Look what a big fellow I am. Whatever god is in the heavens – as you say there is, among your people – is not as beautiful or as noble or as big as me, in my opinion. I have In Ovid, by contrast, Nec tibi deliciae faciles vulgataque tantum / munera contingent, dammae leporesque caperque, / parve columbarum demptusve cacumine nidus (Met. 13.831–833): “You will not have vulgar gifts or easily found pleasures, such as leverets, or does, or kids, or paired doves, or a nest from the treetops” (Kline). 78 Lit. “that are of one age, one form, and one heart.” 77



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a great head of hair that comes down over my face and my shoulders, and it’s very becoming to me, for a horse without a tail or mane is an ugly piece of work. Feathers must cover birds and chicks, without a doubt: if their feathers are missing, they’re ugly. Wool is very becoming to ewes. So it is an ugly and a nasty thing for a man to be without a beard. The hairs that sprout from my scalp are very becoming to me: they’re long and combed back nicely, like brushed silk. [3977–4004] “I have a single eye in the middle of my face, but it’s very becoming to me, in my opinion, for the one I have is big and fat and wide like a round shield. Just as I have a single eye, in the sky there’s only a single sun, and the world has but one roundness. You must not disdain me because my hair bristles: a tree deserves little respect when it has lost its leaves. [4005–4015] “Beautiful sister, don’t be prideful towards me, but accept me in marriage, for I am descended from high lineage and am such a one as you really ought to love: I am son of the god of the sea. You will find my father a good overlord – you couldn’t have a greater one. All that’s left, my dear lady, is for you to do as I entreat, for I entreat you devotedly, and for certain it is to you alone that I am subject, and so wish to be. To me, Jupiter – some kind of heavenly god – his heaven, his lightning, and his power aren’t worth a wisp of straw. You alone I call, you alone I worship, you alone I fear, you alone I honor. I don’t fear the lightning more than I fear your anger and dissatisfaction. [4016–4034] “And for certain, if you didn’t love me and you refused all others the way you refuse me, I would have been less angry and upset about it, and I would have borne it with patience. But I have tremendous contempt and sorrow that you disdain me, a giant, to love a wretched thing, Acis, in whom you take delight and whom you kiss and embrace, while you don’t deign to embrace or entertain or delight me. But for certain, no matter how many people it displeases, if I can catch him standing still, I’ll show him my great strength: I’ll rip his heart out of his belly, no matter whom it chagrins or displeases, then I’ll tear him limb from limb, and scatter him across the roadways and in the fields, and so that you can see the one you were able to love so much, I’ll scatter him in the sea, then the two of you can be together, for that’s the way I want him getting together with you. I am jealous and betrayed, and I have this anguishing flame in my chest that burns and harms and sears me worse than all the fires of hell, I think. I’m languishing for love of you and you have no pity for it.” [4035–4064] In this way the giant ranted and raved, and, not to tell a lie, I saw everything he did and heard everything he said. Then he stood up, completely demented, as fierce and wild as a bull that pursues and tracks a cow when she’s in heat, which has been taken away and removed from him after he has smelled her scent. Thus he went running with great irritation

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through the woods and mountains, now forward, now back, without any self-control – until he saw me relaxing with my beloved, who never even suspected that we were in danger and didn’t think that he could find or see us in the rock-hollow79 where we had hidden to make love. And he said: “Oho, I see them. Indeed, I see the two of them together, and I’ll do what it takes to break up their love and their companionship! Their parting will happen right now, and they’ll never get back together!” And he shouted so loudly, it seems to me, that, no lie, it made the whole huge mountain80 reverberate. [4065–4094] For fear of the giant, I dove into the sea near there. I left Acis, which was incredibly distressing to me, and my beloved took to flight, and said: “Beautiful sweet beloved, help me! Don’t leave me!” And he called his dear parents to be his protectors at need. The wicked giant tore at a large peak, so that he ripped off a large chunk of it. He flung and threw it at my beloved, and hurled it with such force that he hit him with the leading tip, but completely crushed and obliterated him. [4095–4108] Acis was dead, with no one to protect him. I, his beloved, and his dear parents did everything one can do to return a dead man to his original nature. From the heavy, hard rock, the scarlet blood ran down, but it didn’t take long before the scarlet blood grew dim and its redness vanished. The blood began to clear up, flow freely, and filter down, and like clear water it poured from the rock, which was fractured by contact with the moisture. Through the crevices in the rock, which cracked because of the moisture, a creek sprang forth and arose: noisy water in which a young man appeared, whose horned head, it seems to me, was completely encircled and surrounded, just as though it were crowned, with green rushes bent and bound together. His body was large and bare, appearing in the water from the waist up, and it seemed that this was Acis whom the giant had crushed, the one who had so loved and cherished me, except that his face was light-colored81 and he was now of far larger stature than Acis had been before. But it was definitely Acis, who had just been transformed into the water, and the water still bears the name that he wore in the flesh before he was killed or transformed. His name was not taken from him: he was named Acis before and since.” [4109–4147] En la roiche, v. 4084. See note on the same expression in v. 3828. Etna. 81 Fors qu’il avoit bloie la chiere, v. 4138. This translates Ovid’s quod toto caerulus ore (Met. 13.895): “It was Acis, except that he was larger, and his face dark blue” (Kline). But blo(ie) can mean pale (light-colored, blonde, etc.) as well as blue, and what it corresponds to in the moralization is plus clers et plus resplendissables, v. 4284 (“brighter and more resplendent”). Arguably the OM pivots on the multiple meanings of blo in a way that can’t be captured with a single word in English: here “light-colored” is a pale approximation. 79 80



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Moralization {N}ow I will explain to you, if I can, the meaning and the allegory that this tale represents. The blessed Deity full of great benevolence – that Divine Wisdom that the Father eternally engendered from his substance, who is truly King and God of the sky, earth, and sea – deigned in his pleasure to love “a man,” that is, human nature. And he devoted so much of his attention and care to loving man to the extreme that he joined with him in the flesh, in the womb of the Virgin Maiden who was the mighty “rock” and the cell where the Deity hid, when “she” joined and commingled in love with fleshly nature.82 [4148–4167] But the very ugly creature full of error and cruelty, rage and ill-fortune, was aggrieved by this liaison, and he tried in his viciousness to break up this love affair. The cruel monster without pity was the vile devil; the savage who disdained his Sovereign, the Creator who created him, and was so presumptuous that he tried to make himself equal to God, in his master’s place, and rule over his Lord and his Father; the wicked Satan. And he pays the price for his wickedness and his outrage in that shadowy prison which is full of pain, of dire cold and heat which need not fear that cold or heat from any other source might surpass it. Other torments aside, the cold and heat within are so dreadful that no cold could cool it further, and no heat could heat it up. [4168–4192] In this woeful prison are the woeful livestock crouching on a woeful tether with which the devil binds them, who are fed on bitter death, for the more one chews and bites that woeful fodder, the more the food regenerates and lasts. There are “the woeful females who have milk in their udders with which they feed the young,” the devil and his companions, who feed on the distress, the anguish, and the sadness with which the woeful are tormented. The devil has “curdled milk,” which stands for a wicked and prideful heart, in which are gathered and curdled all pride and all folly, all wrath and all wickedness, all rage and all cruelty, and all other ill-fortune. [4193–4214] The various fruits he boasts of represent, if I am not lying, the various ways one becomes subject to the vain delectations which he is used to using to attract and seduce the soul into mortally sinning. We can interpret the deer, the young goats, the rabbits, the hares, the bears, and the pigeons, if we like, as the wickedness and filth of each sin according to their natures: “deer” of vain flightiness and foolish fickleness, “hares” of cowardly timidi-

82 In this section, Divine Wisdom corresponds to Galatea, while Acis corresponds to human nature: despite the masculine pronoun in v. 4162, referring to the Son, the pronoun in v. 4166 is clearly feminine (the various third-person singular possessives in this passage are of course ambiguous). On the genders here, compare the discussion of Divine Wisdom and the Incarnation in Book 12, vv. 2976ff. (the moralization of Caenis/Caeneus). See our introductory lexicon, s.v. sapience, pp. 78–79.

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ty and cringing fear, “young goats” of stench and filth, “bears” of wrath, and “pigeons” of lust. [4215–4232] The thick staff of heavy pine that lay at his feet, with which he shepherded his flocks, represents the dominion he once had over the entire world: the dominion and the leisure to afflict everyone as he pleased, so that everyone wandered at his bidding like animals in bondage. Without a shepherd or driver, without a master or guide, without being constrained or summoned, they used to flock together for fear of the enemy, wherever he was, to do his will, and they climbed in their naiveté to the high pinnacle of malice. [4233–4250] The pipes or the flute, on which the devil plays now as he did long ago, can rightly represent the “pan pipes” of temptation, fraud, and deception on which he plays, truth be told, to deceive men and women, to attract and seduce them into committing mortal sin. That is the “flute” on which the devil played when he tempted the Divinity that lay hidden in the Son of God, for Satan tempted Jesus Christ in three ways, as it says in the Holy Scriptures, but he was never able to play so well that he managed to enchant him into doing anything that might please him. [4251–4269] Then he tried as he might to put to death the one who had dominion over life and death: he caused the body of God to die on the Cross, but death could not rule over the blessed divinity. The body of God was, in truth, the “rock” that Longinus pierced with the spear, which yielded a great effusion of blood and water, blood of our redemption and water of baptism together. He is the one who “springs forth,” but he appears to be greater and more venerable,83 brighter and more resplendent than before he conquered death. He is the one who has a “horned head,” all encircled and surrounded and crowned with sea rushes. He is the one who mercifully, for the universal salvation of all, received death and suffering in his body, and received the name that he still bears: may it so please him,84 it is and was and will be Jesus who will save us. [4270–4294] [miniature, fol. 349r: glaucus courting scylla]

Scylla and Glaucus (I) {A}bove, you heard the tale, as Galatea told it, of the devil, of the enemy who had crushed her beloved. When she had finished her speech, she left the group. Galatea returned with her sisters to the sea, where she had her dwelling. Scylla, who didn’t know how to swim, returned elsewhere, where she had her Reading plus colables, v. 4283, as from coler in the sense “venerate.” Copenhagen (p. 761) has veable, “visible, conspicuous.” 84 In the sense of “God willing.” 83



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dwelling. And, when she felt like it, she used to frolic on the beach, or, when she was tired, in a river that ran in a hidden hollow near the sea, she bathed and rested and relaxed. [4295–4310] While she was bathing alone in the grotto, without anyone else with her, Glaucus, who had once been a fisherman, a new god, a new inhabitant of the sea, who had recently been marvelously transformed, came along making way through the sea. He was overcome with love for the girl, whom he had seen bathing in the river naked. Scylla, who had heard the noise of the god arriving, was so frightened that she turned and fled to dry land, because she didn’t want the god to touch her. Glaucus flattered her and called to her, but nothing worked, for the maiden didn’t want to heed his call. Rather she fled and ran and without hesitating climbed to the summit of a high mountain, a high peak that was near the seashore. [4311–4331] And there the girl stopped to see who this was who pursued her so tenaciously, and she was frightened, when she saw him, by the form he had, by his complexion, by his stature, and by his long hair – longer than a horse’s tail – that came down over his shoulders and covered and hid his whole chest. The maiden marveled very much, and she marveled even more that half his body was similar to what a fish would have. Scylla, who couldn’t figure out if this was a monster or a god or what, looked at him and wondered in secret who this was soliciting her love. [4332–4349] He, who was down at the foot of the mountain, in the sea, leaning on the rock, for he could not come any closer, noticed and reflected and understood that she was being terrified and amazed by his appearance. So he called out to her, reassuring her, and said, “Beauty, don’t be amazed! I’m neither a monster nor a marvel nor a phantom, truth be told, of whom you should be so afraid. I’m a god, who wants to love you. Neither Triton nor Proteus nor Palaemon nor Aegeus85 have greater authority in the sea than I do, though I was once a mortal man. Now I’ll tell you why and how it could happen that I came to become a god. [4350–4368] “I was a fisherman, and I used to go out to sea and knew how to place nets and put down lines in the sea to catch fish, and I knew well how to bait the hooks to go fishing. I lived by fishing. There was an incredibly beautiful meadow on the sea coast, near the shore, which no mortal person knew about. The grass was thick and lush there, having never been grazed by cows or sheep or goats; bees never collected their bounties from there; garlands were never made from it, nor, I think, was it ever mown, or trampled by any other man. When I first went there, it was supremely enjoyable, but it was secluded and hidden. On the shore beside that place, one day, when I’d come back from fishing, I stretched out my nets to dry, and then I went and sat on the grass to 85

In Ovid, Aegeus (“Mover,” an epithet of Poseidon/Neptune) is not part of this list.

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wait for them to dry and inventory the fish I had caught, to find out the number and the price. When I had taken all of my catch out of my storage bin or my barrel, I laid it out on the meadow in front of me, on the grass where I was resting. [4369–4400] “And then a marvel befell me, the like of which I’ve never seen since. One could barely believe me that this event was true, but why would I want to lie about it? When the fish sensed the greenness of the grass they were on, they immediately tasted and grazed on it, and now, truth be told, they all began to move across the grass and the dry land, and swam through the sand as if fully at sea. I was stunned by total shock when I saw this great marvel. And as I marveled, all my fish had fled and vanished from my sight. They left me without hesitation, and dove back into the sea, returning to their original state. [4401–4421] “I was stunned that this could be, and what cause might have transformed them in this way, either a god or the grass – which of them could have such force and such power. So I said, ‘Could it be true that any grass might have such power?’ And then without hesitation I picked some of the grass and put it in my mouth, and as soon as the juice trickled down my throat, I suddenly felt my chest tremble profoundly, and my nature transform. And I rushed down to the sea after my fish in a hurry: being no longer able, without a doubt, to remain or stay on land, I was not at leisure to stay. As I left, I bade farewell to the land and commended it to god, being unable to live there any longer as I had before, and dove under the sea. [4422–4443] “The noble-born gods of the sea were very generous toward me and received me hospitably among them, as one of them. They beseeched Tethys and Oceanus, their masters, to make me a god, and to remove and take away from me what was mortal and corruptible. These gods were gracious and favorable and did as they requested, and so they bathed my body and head with a hundred rivers in one go, and meanwhile they spoke a charm to me nine times under the downpour, which purges a person of all sin. The waters that were poured on me spread out in different directions, and the whole sea was dumped over my head without interruption, so that from this washing I came to have another body and another nature than I had had before, and now my will is different. [4444–4466] “Up to this point I have told you the truth of everything I can remember about what happened until that time, for now I can’t remember anything more. Since then, my face has been covered with a bristly green beard, and I can see my great mane trailing along through the ocean. Since then, I have been made immortal. Since then, my shoulders have been as they are. Since then, my arms have been as pale as you’ve seen them, and can see them still. Since then, half my body is like what a fish should have. But what good do this form, this appearance, and this divine nature do me, truth be told, if you are so



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arrogant and proud that you disdain my courtship and if you don’t take pity on me, who solicits your love?” [4467–4488] Moralization {N}ow I want to make plain to you the meaning of this tale. Glaucus, the new sea-dweller, can be the Savior, the Son of the King of Paradise: he is the “fisherman” who long ago came to the world to fish, to attract and hook into the service of Holy Church, by means of salvific discipline, good example, and doctrine, the “catch” he had taken. He devoted his attention and care to this. This was his living and his sustenance: the salvation of sinners. He was the one who turned fishermen into preachers to preach, attract and seduce, and lead men and women to true salvation of their souls. He is the one who sorts his fish, as the Evangelist says,86 and holds on to the good catch, and if there is nothing about it that is valuable or will prove to be valuable, he throws it out and dismisses it. He is the one who long ago, as of the first beginning of the world, placed his catch, man and woman, in the meadow called the earthly paradise, where there is nothing but joy and pure delight. No person had ever been there, when God first placed the first ones there to enjoy themselves. [4489–4524] But as soon as they had eaten – in spite of God’s prohibition and his mandate – the damnable apple, which God had prohibited to man, they lost this greenery. They reverted to their nature, that is, to earth, to this mortal world, where pain and bitterness abound: all sorrow, all sadness, all anguish, all distress, all dire tribulations, and all fluctuations. And so they suffered many torments on account of the apple they had eaten. And after this dire treatment, they sank deep into hell, they and their household, their successors, and their descendants, who were damned by the bite of the fruit that the ancestors had bitten into. [4525–4544] For the sake of his catch, who had perished in hell in this way, the Son of God resolved to come down from the heavens and take on human and mortal flesh. And such heartfelt mercy came to him that he tasted the mortal drink and resolved to render himself up to death to rescue his catch. He is the one who, as David recounts, by his great mercy came down on the high sea87 for the sake of humans, whom he could love so much, and was submerged in an awful tempest, and waters of tribulation, torment, and Passion were poured on his head. And so more than a hundred kinds of misfortune poured onto his head, and purged him of all that was mortal. The wicked Jews nailed him to the Cross, naked as a fish, and inflicted shame on him in such profusion that it cannot be reckoned. He is the one who under “the waves of the sea,” 86 87

See Matthew 13:47–50. See Psalm 18:16 (Vulgate 17:17), Psalm 144:7 (Vulgate 143:7).

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that is, an agonizing and harsh death, was purged of his mortal nature, and clothed in new immortality. Now he has Divinity resembling and equal to God the Father. [4545–4573] He is the one who loves and makes overtures of love to the prideful wench Judaism, Synagoga, and calls to her and asks and amorously begs that she be his beloved. But Synagoga becomes so proud and rates herself so highly that she disdains the love of her true Redeemer and rejects her Savior and his grace and his benevolence, for in her foolish presumption she has climbed onto the mound of obduracy, error, and misfortune. And no matter what she is told – with prayers or flattery, promising or gift-giving – she will not give over her heart or love to acknowledging or serving the one who resolved to be reduced to servitude to set us free and deliver us, and who resolved to render up his flesh to death to bring us from death to life. [4574–4595] [miniature, fol. 351r: glaucus in the sea with scylla in her monstrous form]

Scylla and Glaucus (II) {N}ow it is appropriate for me to tell you about Glaucus, who entreated and solicited the love of the prideful maiden who refused his love entirely, making him demented, and because of the rejection he had great resentment in his heart. Because of this resentment, which drove him wild, he went to see the goddess Circe, the marvelous enchantress, to seek counsel regarding in what way he could allay the proud woman who had refused and scorned his love, causing him great grief and spite. [4596–4608]

Book 14

Circe’s Vengeance on Glaucus {A}lready Glaucus had passed by Etna, the hot, burning mountain that is ablaze with the fire of hell and set on the giant’s face,1 and had passed by Gigantea, the land inhabited only by malfeasant giants: oxen did not plow or harrow there. Then he passed by Zancle and Rhegium, and crossed, it seems to me, the cruel sea between Sicily and Lombardy,2 in which many ships have perished. He strained and exerted himself so much that he crossed the Tuscan Sea3 and did not stop or slacken until he reached the grassy mountain. He entered the palace of the goddess Circe, the wise enchantress, daughter of the resplendent sun who illuminates everything with his eye. The palace was filled with wildlife, animals of various kinds. When Glaucus saw Circe, he addressed and greeted her, and she returned his greeting. Sighing, Glaucus said to her: [1–26] “Circe, lady of great worth, full of intellect and good sense, who knows all the strength and medicine of herbs and roots, I beg you to take pity on me and relieve, if you please, O goddess, the great frenzy of love that overwhelms and injures my heart. For, to my mind, no one could help me but you, goddess. My transformation has taught me well that herbs have tremendous power, and if it pleases you that I should tell you the cause of my malady, of the love and madness that so torment my heart, it pleases me that I should tell it to you. [27–43] “On the coast of Lombardy, I saw the maiden Scylla bathing, and found her incredibly pleasing and beautiful. And, truth be told, I asked if I might have her love but she was so prideful and arrogant that for no love or entreaty, for no promise or flattery did she want to be favorable to me. She refused my love and me, which causes me great grief and great distress. Now I beg you to give me counsel, if there is any power in spells, and put a spell on her and enchant her so that the beauty consents to my love. Or, if herbs are more powerful, use herbs to torment and force her4 to do my pleasure. I don’t ask you or desire Typhoeus: see Book 5, vv. 1763–1832. In Ovid, not Lombardy but Ausonia (corresponding more or less to modern-day Campania). 3 The Tyrrhenian Sea. Ovid (Met. 14.9) has “grassy hills” instead of a single “grassy mountain.” 4 Efforce, v. 60, could have various other meanings: stir up, excite, inflame. In Ovid (Met. 14.24): “only let her feel this heat” (Kline). 1 2

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you to heal my malady, because no matter what anyone says, I don’t want to be cured or healed, but to have her do my will.” [44–66] Circe, who was more inclined toward foolish love than any woman alive and had an incredibly amorous heart (now, I don’t know whether this was the result of her nature and mores or if she had been brought to this by the mother of the god of love, who hated her for her father’s sake5), said to Glaucus: [67–75] “If you wanted to trust my counsel, you would dismiss and scorn that tramp who scorns you, and love another beloved, one who loves you, and you’re certainly not a man whose love should be refused. She who refuses you was never wise: she should have entreated you first, if only she had known. Know well that if you want, and if you favor me with grounds for being certain of your love, I would be the first to love you, and I wouldn’t let you entreat me, but would entreat you first. Don’t underestimate the grace of your form and your face, for you are handsome and worthy of love, very pleasing and attractive. And as for me, who am a goddess and a lady of great power and high fame, being daughter of the god of the sun who lights up everything with his eye, and knowing the charms and medicines of herbs and roots better than any other woman can, if you wish to receive my love, I give and grant it to you. Accept this present and this grant. Scorn the one who scorns you, and love me, who loves and values you, and thus, in this one love, be doubly avenged.”6 [75–107] Glaucus responded without delay: “I don’t wish to love you or anyone else. Leaves would grow in the sea and waters would reach the mountains – things which could hardly happen – sooner than you or another would become my beloved, as long as Scylla is alive and well.”7 [108–114] The goddess felt shame and scorn toward the god who scorned her in this way. And because she could not harm the god, or because she loved him, she did not want to manifest her anger at him. Being jealous and rejected, she grew indignant and furious toward the one who was more loved. At once she gathered and sent for the worst herbs of the earth, and she crushed and ground them together, and cast spells on them, it seems to me. Then she put on a dark

The sun god revealed Venus’s adultery with Mars to her husband Vulcan: see Book 4, starting at v. 1268. 6 This picks up Ovid (Met. 14.35–36): “Spurn the spurner, repay the admirer, and, in one act, be twice revenged” (Kline): the point seems to be that he is giving two different women their just deserts, not being doubly revenged on Scylla. 7 In Ovid (Met. 14.38–39): “Sooner than my love will change, Scylla unchanged, leaves will grow on the waters, and sea-weed will grow on the hills” (Kline). 5



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blue cloak8 and she left, delaying no longer, crossing her great hall filled with the animals that kept her company. [115–130] Circe traveled so far, I believe, that she passed both Zancle and Rhegium. She headed out to sea, running swiftly on it as if on firm ground, without getting her feet wet or leaving a trace on the water. In a place near the sea, there was a small pond curved like an arc. Scylla came there to relax and enjoy herself when it pleased and suited her to. She would go and bathe in the pond on the shore whenever she was hot. Circe, who knew of this hiding place, came to the pond and poisoned it: she tainted it and enchanted it with evil juice and poisons, and said spells and prayers, full of magic and enchantment. Thrice nine times she spoke in a low whisper one particular spell, of obscure meaning, and bewitched the entire pond. Circe then immediately turned back. [131–152] Scylla, who did not know anything about the befouling, undressed and got into the pond to frolic: she got in up to her waist. And through the power of the poison, doglike barking monsters encircled and teemed around her lower body. Seeing the marvel, Scylla was frightened and overwhelmed: she was very stunned and amazed, and she did not know where these monsters came from and could not believe that they were clinging to her, so she fled in fear and dread. She was terrified of the dogs barking all around her. She fled because of them, and dragged them along with her wherever she went. Her feet, thighs, and legs, without a doubt, were full of mad dogs that were attached and joined to her belly. [153–173] When Glaucus, her beloved, saw her, he wept and thought that the goddess Circe had been wicked and cruel for taking such cruel vengeance on him by poisoning Scylla that way. Glaucus never loved Circe ever again, and his heart was not inclined to marry her. Scylla remained in that sea and could have no love for Circe: rather, she hated her, and she deserved it, for she had treated her badly. And when she had the opportunity to avenge herself as she pleased, to be wicked to her wicked enemy, who was the beloved of Ulysses, she used her vicious dogs to deprive Ulysses of his companions. Then she would have sunk Aeneas’s ship, if she could have, but she had already been turned into a rock. Anyone who approaches such a rock is a fool – wise mariners avoid it! The sailors and the others on Aeneas’s ship strove and exerted themselves so much that they passed through these two perils without foundering or perishing.9 [174–202]

Une chape bloie, v. 127: while bloie could be various colors besides blue, the translation follows Ovid’s caerula (Met. 14.45). 9 The other peril is Charybdis, described in Book 13, vv. 3020–3134. 8

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Moralization {G}od, the Savior, resolved to come into the world and become a true man to find out if he could attract Synagoga into doing his pleasure, and if he could enchant her through preaching, beautiful singing, and the example of a good life, so that she would want to be his beloved. He, the Lord in whom all goodness abounds, came to live in the world, but in the world he never sinned and the world did not seduce him into coveting its vain delights. He did not come to experience delight but to suffer pain and hardship, poverty, anguish, and sadness, to endure death and Passion, and to attract Synagoga to the path of her salvation. [203–221] But Synagoga was truly so overcome and “enchanted,” so deceived and so tempted to acquire the vain delights of the world; had her heart so fixed toward the earth and worldly vanities, vain superfluities; and was so arrogant and prideful that she was incredibly ugly and monstrous when it came to God who loved her. The world had excessively bewitched her. But no matter how base and foul she is, God, her beloved, does not forget the love he had for her, and she could soon be reconciled to God if she deigned to restrain herself from saying and thinking and doing evil, and he would receive her into his love, for he is gentle and full of mercy. But she is now so enchanted and rooted in malice that she does not care, and has not cared, about God or her salvation. Although she was beautiful when she was a virgin maiden, that is to say at first, at her very beginning, when she behaved beautifully – before she put her hope in these earthly delights, the vanities and the comforts10 – she then became foul and degraded, full of pride and wickedness and “rabid dogs that howled and barked around her belly.” [222–256] The dogs are the misbegotten Jewish race, gluttonous and rebellious, who waged war against Holy Church and “barked” at Jesus Christ with the barks of bitter affronts, insults, and derisions. These disloyal, malfeasant dogs inflicted many injuries and setbacks on our early Church, and they condemned the apostles and disciples of the wise and holy Jesus Christ to dire execution, dire torment, and dire punishments. And they would still not have shrunk from doing worse, if they had been permitted. Nothing could have stood against them if they had had the strength that they used to have and if they could bark like they used to, when they had strength and dominion. [257–276] But their power has been taken away from them and their barks silenced, so that now they are unable, nor is it right for them, to hold a disputation against the Christian faith. But Synagoga still persists in her hubris, in her pride, in her cruelty, and in her foolish misfortune, and she has a heart of stone, but on earth she has no power to harm or get at anyone who doesn’t choose to come too close to her. Anyone who foolishly approaches her and clings to such a 10

Mollices, v. 252: see the note to Book 10, v. 562.



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hard rock is a fool, for no one can come too close to this hard rock without injury. Wise men wisely avoid it, sailing well and striving well to bring their ship to the rightful port of life and joyful happiness. Holy Church has been so attentive to sailing, with sail outstretched, that she passes through these two perils, because of whom many have died and perished: they are Synagoga and Gentilisa. [277–301] [miniature, fol. 352v: aeneas’s ships, and aeneas kissing dido]

Aeneas and Dido {N}ow it is right for me to tell you the story of valiant Aeneas and his people, who were sailing over the sea straight to the port of Lombardy. They weren’t even a league and a half away from port when a wind and storm overtook them, causing them great harm and carrying them straight to Libya. Dido, the lady of Carthage, received them well and was joyful to have them. She loved Aeneas in her heart and thought to have him as her lord. She surrendered to him her body, her land, her wealth, and everything she had. Aeneas could have a rich crown and rule vast lands without stirring, without waging war, if only he would stay in Carthage. He would have possessed the kingdom through marriage. But that was not his intention. [302–321] Nonetheless he had a good time and a good rest there, so that he repaired his ship and reinvigorated his people after the great travails they had been through. Then they left without the knowledge of the queen and her people; the hero fled, sailing over the sea. He left what he had, and went to a foreign land to seek what he didn’t have. He left the comforts and delights to put himself in mortal danger from both land and sea. [322–333] When Dido, who loved him so much, learned of his departure and how her beloved had run out on her, she greatly lamented and raved. Never since has a more woeful woman existed or been spoken of. With a sad and sorrowful heart, the queen sighed and lamented. She complained of her false beloved: [334–342] “O, you false and evil traitor, I see well that you are going away and will never return. Wicked perjurer, you’ve broken your oath: you pledged me your word that you would never be unfaithful to me or leave me for another. Now you’re leaving me to seek another woman. I had surrendered to you my body, my love, and my land. Where else will you ever find such a gift, so worthy or acceptable? There used to be this truthful saying, that a woman’s heart is too impetuous when she makes a man from a foreign land her intimate or her lover. By being intimate with you, I’ve lost my body and my soul and my honor: now I am subjected to dishonor. I would incur disgrace and shame for ever marrying such a man, foreign and fugitive, a poor, wretched lost man, but I

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would never leave him out of shame: a lover doesn’t know what good honor is. I made you a king of great dominion; now you have deceived and betrayed me, and you want to deceive another. I don’t think, truth be told, that you’ll easily find a woman of such great wealth. If you find one, I hardly think she’ll be as loyal a beloved to you! [343–374] “Alas, I love him beyond measure! For love of him, I feel in my heart a burning that burns more than flaming sulfur. The false man was seriously at fault and erred by betraying me but nothing can make me hate him, or forget him or his love. And I can’t think of anything but him; rather, I complain about his treachery, and the more it hurts me, the more I love him and the more I am consumed with love for him. Since I’ve seen that he scorns me, my love for him makes me suffer so much, and sigh, and lament, and lose sleep without getting any rest or respite. There is no relief from my pains by night or day. My heart is in tremendous distress. For him, I can’t help shivering without being cold and then sweating without being hot. Poor, woeful me – he couldn’t care less! He doesn’t care about me or my love! He is of a totally different nature. No one can make me believe that he was ever Venus’s son: he doesn’t resemble her in any way. His heart is harder than timber. He should rather be the son of a wild beast! His heart is hard and flighty, and stormier than the sea! How can I love him so, when he doesn’t love or value me? [375–405] “He hates me so much that it makes him scorn his life out of scorn for me. I truly feel great fear and distress: because of the storm and wind that often wage such war on him, he has braved that sea, and found it horrible and fierce, and it has caused him many injuries. But if it were now calm and at peace, and if the winds had died down, he should still be disturbed and fearful that things would go badly for him because he broke his word. Evil should well overtake him for it, and peril and loss come upon him, and he might well drown at sea. May god never choose to grant that things go badly for him on account of me! I worry about him much more than he does. [406–425] “Although the deceiver transgressed toward me, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I pray to god that he return to stay with me forever more and, if he doesn’t want to, he should stay at least eight days or more, long enough for him to repair his ship, damaged by the winds, and for the storm to have passed. If he wants to, then he can leave again, but I’d like him to stay. It would never be my will for him to leave, but I see well that it’s for naught. He’d rather go fool around at sea than be safe with me. [426–441] “Poor me, accursed for me was the day when Fortune brought him here, when my foolish heart carried me away so that I granted him my love! Such worthy men, rich with lands and wealth, had courted me and not been able to have my love, and they felt great scorn when, as if bewildered, I rejected them in favor of this man whom I had never seen before. Now the disloyal man has betrayed me, but this isn’t the first time: he also, I’m certain, betrayed



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his wife, the mother of Iulus,11 who died because he wasn’t with her. I will likewise die because of him: if he doesn’t come back, I’ll kill myself with his sword that he gave me. I well ought to have such a reward for the service I did him: a slit throat to go with my good deed! If flighty-hearted Aeneas doesn’t love or cherish me enough to deign to take me in marriage, let him take me as his chambermaid. I don’t care what I am, wife or slave, as long as I have him. And if he doesn’t deign to come back, I must end my life at once. But I won’t die alone: he has left me pregnant and expecting with a child that he engendered.” [442–473] Then she had a great pyre lit. Dido had a very beautiful sister; Anna was the name of the maiden, who had tremendous grief in her heart because of her sister’s distress. She would have very gladly comforted and cheered her up, if only she could, but there was no comforting her. Anna couldn’t manage to protect her well enough to stop her from killing herself with Aeneas’s sword and going to the fire. Dido threw herself onto the pyre. She had been deceived and cheated, so in turn she deceived and cheated her people when she threw herself into the fire.12 Her body was soon burned and consumed, just as she had been consumed by love for him. [474–490] Her sister Anna felt great grief for her. I don’t want to give you a long rendition of the great grief she displayed. Anna tried to do herself in for love of her, but the ladies and the lords didn’t let her, and calmed her down. [491–496] The Carthaginians were in great mourning: they wept for the loss and the harm they had suffered. They lamented the noble queen who had been of such good birth, so wise, so worthy, so valiant and feared. If only love, which makes so many others besotted, had not besotted her! This lady was much to be feared and was very wise and well-bred and was very enterprising before love overcame her. If she had been permitted, and if love had not betrayed her, she thought to have dominion over the whole world. Had it been possible, she thought to make Carthage, her noble city – which had not been there since ancient times; she had recently founded it – the chief and greatest city in the world. She had not been born in this land; she was from Tyre, where she had been queen, but her misbegotten brother13 disinherited her and killed her lord Sychaeus. She fled from that country. After she had conquered the land that she would no longer rule, she died in very unfortunate circumstances because of the foolish, immoderate love that had overcome and inflamed her. [497–526] 11 Aeneas’s first wife was Creusa, the mother of Ascanius, also known as Iulus or Julius. She died when Aeneas fled the capture of Troy. 12 The nature of this deception is clearer from Ovid (Met. 14.80–81): “She stabbed herself with his sword, on a blazing pyre, that was built as if it were intended for sacred rites, deceiving, as she had been deceived” (Kline). 13 Her brother was Pygmalion of Tyre, no relation to the sculptor Pygmalion in Book 10, vv. 929–1079.

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[miniature, fol. 354r: saintly martyrs being put to the sword]14

Moralization {H}oly Church and her people traveled so long, “sailing over the sea” – that is, through the fluctuations of various temptations – that she passed through the two perils because of whom many had died and perished, that is, the “tempests” and “storms,”15 the great harms and outrages that foolish Jews and foolish pagans inflicted on her, subjecting many Christians to woeful martyrdom, with which many of them let themselves be afflicted to uphold Christianity. When Holy Church was about to reach the port of true knowledge, faith, and true belief, and was not too far from the port of life and joyful happiness, a whirlwind arose and caused Holy Church great harm. This was a wind of discord and doubt that pushed and drove Holy Church to a “dry and sandy land,” full of “dust and sand,” that is, of people full of deception, fraud, and hardened grace,16 without any moisture of the doctrine of salvific discipline. [527–554] Heresy received them there and rejoiced over it, striving to draw Holy Church off course so that she could never return to the port for which she was bound. And the Christianity and the faith of Holy Church were so hardened and dissolute at that time that she would never have recovered if God had not reassembled her via his saints, who built,17 wrote, and disputed so much that, through their sound reasoning, writings, and disputations, the ship was repaired somewhat and Christianity reinvigorated. [555–570] At that time, Lady Heresy was a high and well-respected queen, and she had great holdings and had high dominion in many places, and she thought to make it possible for her to attract and subjugate all people to her unbelief, error, and doubt, and deceive the whole world. But God, whom she thought to possess, fled her foolish company, leaving her pregnant and expecting with the plan she had had and had conceived by foolish error. But her foolish thoughts deceived her, for she received a poor reward for them, killing herself spiritually with the blade of divine judgment. Nor was her body spared, for the majority of the deviants and heretics18 were burned. And Holy Church reFols 78r, 87v, 96v, and 354r have comparable miniatures depicting martyrdom. De Boer gives C’est les tormens et les corages (“that is, the tempests and the hearts”) for v. 533, but Rouen (fol. 354r) clearly has les orages and we translate accordingly. (Copenhagen, p. 773, has Et les tourmens et les corages.) 16 For v. 552, Rouen indeed has de roide grace, while Copenhagen (p. 773) has de vuide grace, “devoid of grace.” 17 Tant charpenterent, v. 565. In the sense of the story, this is carpentry being done to repair the ship. 18 Des bougres et des herites, v. 590. Bougre, from Bulgarus, “Bulgarian [heretic],” is the antecedent of English bugger, but the primary concern here is religious deviance. 14 15



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verted to the mindset from which she had departed, and got back on the right track, that is, back to the proper knowledge of faith and true belief. [571–596] [miniature, fol. 354v: aeneas sailing in his ship]

The Cercopes Turn into Apes {T}he lady of Carthage was dead because of her folly and the consuming frenzy of her love for Aeneas, who scorned her and fled from her secretly, furtively, surreptitiously. Aeneas and his men sailed boldly over the high seas and held their course for so long that they returned to the seat of Eryx.19 They held their course thanks to Acestes, who, loyally and without malice, guided and directed them well toward the port they were meant to reach and told them what course they should hold to. There Aeneas performed funeral rites and sacrifices for his father, who died there, and saved the ships that Iris, Juno’s messenger and chambermaid, tried to set aflame and ablaze at her lady’s command. [597–618] Then he traveled, and his people with him, until they passed the kingdom of Aeolus and the sulfurous lands. Then he passed by the Sirens. That is where the ship lost its pilot and primary helmsman. Then he passed by Inarime and Prochyte, as the author recounts it, and the lands of Pithecusa, where many apes lived and loafed around. Jupiter, who was not at all their friend, had put them there. The all-powerful god, who has no use for treason or perjury, cheating or trickery, fraud or mockery, hated the foolish Cercopians because none of them was inclined to anything but betrayal and trickery, deception and degradation. So he turned these people into ugly animals, and shrank their bodies and heads. They had pale, furrowed cheeks, with squashed and unattractive noses.20 They are completely covered with brown hair, except for their bottom, which is bare. They partly resemble humans, but are also very different. The God took from them the ability to speak, so that none of them, as they used to, can now speak, or speak ill of others, or deride or scorn them, or perjure themselves the way they used to. But when they want and try to speak, they lament with ugly, raucous voices, and they still make grimaces at people. [619–654]

19 In this instance, Eryx seems to be another name for Venus: the mountain of Eryx, sacred to her, was listed among the mountains and volcanoes in Book 2, vv. 372–422. Eryx is otherwise a city near this mountain, in western Sicily near modern-day Trapani. 20 Et le nez casquamus et vis, v. 642. Casquamus is an apparent hapax that seems to be presented as two words in at least some of the manuscripts: Rouen (fol. 354v) has cas quamus, B (noted by de Boer) has cas camus, and Copenhagen (p. 774)has cas remus.

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Moralization {N}ow foolish Heresy – who used to be so respected, exalted, and served – was abandoned and deceived, and the Christian faith had fled the fraud and the hubris, the false cavillations and the evil deceptions of the foolish heretics, who held power and fraudulently labored to detain Holy Church so that she would not be able to reach the port of true faith, which was being sought by those who hoped for their salvation. Holy Church made her way back thanks to the doctrine and wholesome discipline of the apostles and rectors, the holy masters and lectors, who set Holy Church straight again, and showed her the path that she must follow and hold to if she wanted to reach the rightful port. [655–676] And she perfectly acknowledged the death and Resurrection of the Son of God, her Father and Master, who, for the sake of Holy Church, resolved to be born of the Virgin and become man, and endure suffering and death. She honored him as she ought, and, however she might have transgressed through the error of false doctrine and damnable discipline, she made amends through confession, so that the people who had fallen into foolish belief through simple ignorance received true absolution. [677–690] Then Holy Church exerted herself so that she came to have secular rule, prelacies and distinctions, honors and temporal goods, through which many fell into the vice of covetousness and avarice that burns more than burning sulfur: many have erred because of this vice. After this they came to delights, vanities, and comforts, by which many were seduced, and many fell into sin for the honors they were distracted by, for the honors they, like fools, indulged in excessively. [691–705] And those to whom the direction and care of Holy Church is supposed to be entrusted and committed are those who are most foolishly distracted21 by the vain delights in which they overindulge, and their hearts are so seduced, overcome, and dried out in seeking honors and distinctions and vain temporal goods that they couldn’t care less what happens to Holy Church. Without a doubt, Holy Church is now without pilots, masters, and helmsmen to steer her, to guide her, to show and teach her the true path to salvation. Their mouths and words fail them when it comes to giving good instruction, rebuking and chastising fools, and directing Holy Church, but when it comes to saying silly and frivolous things and finding opportunities for violence and extortion, imposing and collecting fines, assessing the simple folk subject to them,22 and demanding what strikes their fancy, then the chatter and the tall tales come out. [706–732] De Boer gives qui plus folement nuisent for v. 709, but the manuscripts seem to have musent and we translate accordingly. 22 Por lor simples sougiez trouver, v. 730, seems to be using trouver in the sense “judge, estimate” (meaning C2 in DMF), i.e., figuring out how much they have. Copenhagen instead has grever, “harm.” 21



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And Holy Church drifts and floats along as the wind drives and pushes her, and it has driven and pushed her so that she has arrived and washed up at “the barren hill of Pithecusa, where apes jeer and loaf.” The “apes” are false hypocrites, who act innocent and lowly to mock and deceive people. They seem, truth be told, to be good, innocent, and compassionate people, and they act humble and lowly, but they are totally different from what they seem. Their faces and their hearts are unalike. They seem to have dirty faces, thin and pasty, wrinkled and pale from fasting and staying awake, wandering and laboring in penance and hardship, but this is only false innocence. [733–752] Their hearts are full of trickery, fraud and degradation, treachery and falsehood. They are without the “good moisture” of grace and their good deeds bring them little gain, because their hearts are overwhelmingly set in “arid, dry, and barren ground,” that is, in perverse will. They serve God with tall tales: they mumble paternosters and misereres, and they pray excessively, but have little taste for their prayers, and what they say with their mouths hardly comes from the heart. They do not render unto God loyally, willingly, or devoutly what they have promised him, and they are hardly on friendly terms with God, for he hates all degradation, treachery, and trickery. [753–772] Such people are “covered with brown fur,” and the Savior speaks openly against such people in the Gospel: beware of false prophets full of guile, of their false hypocrisy and their cunning.23 They are clothed in the clothing of innocent and authentic sheep, and they resemble sheep, but inside, they are ravenous wolves, full of rage and cruelty, fraud and disloyalty. These foolish hypocritical tricksters, in whom all malice abounds, who seem to be lowly “apes,” “grimace” at God and the world and they delude Holy Church, which is populated and overrun by them. [773–790] [miniature, fol. 355v: aeneas being led by sibyl into hellmouth]

Aeneas and Sibyl {A}eneas passed the island of Pithecusa, and passed Parthenope (Naples), leaving it to the right, and left the tomb of resounding Misenus24 on the left, and came to a wet and marshy place on the shore of Cumae. There he found wise Sibyl in a cave where she hid: she had lived a very long life. If the author does 23 Matthew 7:15: “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of sheep, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.” The wolves are the connection with “brown fur.” 24 Misenus le resonable, v. 795. This looks like “Misenus the reasonable,” but in classical mythology (as noted in Kline’s translation of Met. 14.103, “the tomb of Aeolus’s son” (Aeolidae tumulum) is that of “Misenus, the trumpeter.” The same OF word was applied to Echo with corresponding ambiguity in Book 3, v. 1343.

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not lie, Sibyl knew a great deal about divination, and spoke prophecies in her day. Valiant Aeneas entreated her to please lead him into hell, and bring him back alive, so that he could see the soul of his father. He very much believed that she could do this. When Sibyl heard the request, she bowed her head a little, gave it thought, and then responded promptly: [791–811] “O Aeneas, whose courage and compassion have been tested, you have asked me for a very great favor. However, you shall have it, all the same. I will lead you on this path, which is extremely wide and extremely busy.25 The entrance is very close to here; it is all too widely and easily accessible, but few people come back. They can scarcely find the way back if good conduct doesn’t lead them there,26 but I will take you there safe and I will bring you back safe. If god grants me luck and grace to complete this undertaking,27 I’ll show you the Elysian Fields which is the resting-place of the souls of good people of holy life who did not deserve punishment. I’ll show you the infernal realm where sinners are in pain, and each of them pays for their sins. I’ll show you your father’s soul. There is nothing so hard to do that virtue cannot achieve it, if only it is willing to try.” [812–837] Then Sibyl led him into the forest of Proserpine, who was the lady and queen of hell. There was a tree there that was made of gold. Sibyl encouraged him to take a bough from the tree and he took it. Aeneas, with Sibyl, made his way forward with the bough, which he took with him. He came to hell; he entered its gate. He saw the terrifying realm where the woeful are punished: he saw the various kinds of torture in which the wretched souls were bound. Some seethed in blazing fire, while others trembled and gnashed their teeth; some growled, others wailed; they suffered more or less torture according to what each of them had done. [838–855] Aeneas saw there, one after the other, the ancestors of his family, King Priam and his lineage. He saw his father, for whose sake he had come there. Anchises recognized him, and Aeneas likewise recognized him. They spoke together for a long time and marveled at each other. Anchises showed and advised him on all the places and passages and perils and injuries that were in store for him, and which course he should follow; how he would reach Lombardy and win lordship over it. He would marry the daughter of King Latinus. The Latins would be subject to him when he had vanquished Turnus with lance and shield. There he must stay, and he and his heirs would inherit the lordship of that kingdom. And with bright-faced Lavinia he would engender a valiant son who would reign over the Latins. The child’s name would be Compare Matthew 7:13. Se bon conduit ne les i maine, v. 822: bon conduit could also be understood as a good guide or as a safe-conduct, the kind of permission from on high that Dante receives to tour Hell. 27 Eruprise, v. 826, is an obvious typo for emprise. 25

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Silvius. Romulus – who would be of great renown and heroism, and would descend from his lineage – was to found a city, powerful and of great authority, which would be queen and master of the world, more than Troy used to be. From Romulus, it would be named Rome. After him would be born many men who would be of his lineage and would govern the whole world. [856–892] When Aeneas had learned everything he sought, he took leave of Anchises and set out on his way, and Sibyl guided him back. While they were coming back and retracing the path to hell, valiant Aeneas addressed her: [893–899] “Lady,” he said, “holy person, holy goddess, or beloved of a god, I am and will be your loyal man all the remaining days of my life. It is right that I should honor you, build you temples and churches, make sacrifices and altars to you as soon as I get back above ground, and I’ll consider you a goddess, for you have done me a tremendous favor. You saved my life in the process.28 Thanks to your help and counsels, I came back from hell safe and sound.” [900–912] Sibyl looked at him and sighed. Sighing, she said to him: [913–914] “My friend, I am not a goddess and I desire no such promise. I have no need for sacrifices and I am not worthy of a church. I am a mortal woman and my destiny is now such that I must live on earth for a thousand years before death, which engulfs everything, can engulf and subjugate me. And if I had deigned to devote my heart to loving Apollo, he would have granted me endless life and eternal youth. He put great care and attention into trying to attract me into loving him by making me gifts and promises. He told me many times that if I were to accept his service and receive his gifts, I would have, truth be told, whatever I wanted from him. I have never sought wealth: estates, fiefdoms, or lands. Instead, I stooped to the ground, took a handful of sand, and asked to live as many years as I had grains in my hand, before I felt the bite of death. And if, at the same time, I had asked to live forever in beautiful youth, without ever falling into old age, he would have granted me that wish, but I was not that sensible! [915–946] “I got what I chose to ask for, and he wanted to add more to it if I would do his bidding: I would have eternal youth. But I didn’t want or deign to do that. In the dust I was holding, there numbered a thousand grains. I gave little thought to the great predicament that was in store for me with this gift, for I can’t die before a thousand years. How I wasted my youth! I was born seven hundred years ago and will live three hundred more. There will be a time when I’ll be old and dry and shriveled up. I used to be so slender and straight, beautiful of face and well-made in body, but at that time I’ll be so slouched, old, ugly, and decrepit that no one will ever believe that Apollo once loved 28 De Boer’s reported variant corps suggests “You saved my bodily life.” Copenhagen (p. 777) has Tu m’as certes sauve la vie, “You certainly saved my life.”

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me. I’ll be so mightily transformed and my body will become so decrepit that no one will ever recognize me except by my voice. I won’t be known in any other way.” [947–972] Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation of this tale about the prophetess of Cumae, who guided Aeneas to hell and brought him back safely. I can rightly take Aeneas to represent the merciful Redeemer, the kind Savior, the Son of God, who deigned to come from the heavens to earth, and become a true man, and visit hell, to rescue his friends from hell. “Sibyl guided him through hell,” for she truly foretold and prophesied a thousand years before his coming that the Son of God would come to the world, and come down from the heavens, and become a true man in the womb of the Virgin Maiden. [973–991] I can take the forest of Proserpine to be and represent the world, where the devil, without fearing anything, used to hunt freely and without restraint, and catch people in his hunting-park. There, from the heavenly kingdom, the Son of the supreme Father resolved to take the golden bough from the tree: the body of the Virgin Maiden was the tree, and Jesse the root from which the Son of God resolved to take on human flesh, and be born, and die, and descend into hell to visit, redeem, and pay for those who desired his coming. In the infernal confines, Adam, who was in darkness, felt great joy when he saw the divine brightness brought by the Savior, his son according to the flesh,29 who brought it to redeem him and to draw his lineage out of the woeful bondage in which they had been captive for a long time. He gained the victory and the prize, and came back from hell in great joy, bringing the rich plunder. [992–1018] {T}here can be another interpretation that agrees well with truth. Sibyl rightly represents Judea, who was at first loved by and was intimate with Divine Wisdom. She is the one who was replete with the spirit of prophecy when the prophets descended from her who knew the divine secrets and prophesied to the world at various times, and proclaimed that the Son of God would come to earth to save and rescue his people. Judea was very shapely and beautiful. She was a very pleasing maiden. God would undoubtedly have loved her very much if she had deigned to safeguard his love and dilection30 without fraud and corruption, and he would have caused her, if I am not lying, to live in “eternal youth,” in joy and in prosperity in the world and in eternity, if she had deigned to believe in and love him. [1019–1043] Compare Romans 1:3. Dilection, as distinct from love, is discussed in our introductory lexicon. It would be tempting to read this as “kept her love and dilection free of fraud and corruption,” but she has no love for him at all: see vv. 1044–1046. 29 30



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But she had a heart that was wicked and full of bitterness, and in her hubris she rejected his love, his belief, and his faith. For an entire seven hundred years Judea lived well and joyfully in great authority, in a state of prosperity, but now she is ugly and aged, stupid, bent, and shriveled, and she cannot help herself or others. Now no one could believe that God ever loved her: no one knows about it except by rumor, as we’ve heard it said. She now lives in grief and suffering, pain, tribulation, shame, and confusion, and must live feeble and infirm until she reaches that time when God gives her the awareness, understanding, and knowledge to know the truth of the perfect Trinity. [1044–1066] [miniature, fol. 357r: three kings listening to a sibyl]

The Tale of the Ten Sibyls, Who Prophesied the Coming of Christ31 There were a total of ten Sibyls who prophesied about Jesus Christ, as told in the book in which I have found this written. In general, “sibyl” was the name given to wise women who knew the divine secrets and prophesied to the world. The first one was Persian and the second Lybian; the next one was from Delphi and, without a doubt, lived before the battle of Troy. The next was from Italy and the fifth from the city of Babylon.32 The sixth, who was a very wise and worthy woman, was from the island of Samos. The seventh was from Cumae – she was the one who took Aeneas to see those in hell. The eighth was from the Hellespont; the ninth was from Phrygia, and the tenth was very wise: she was called Albunea in Latin and Tiburtina in Greek.33 [1067–1090] And this tenth one filled several lands with her prophecies, and her writings spoke a lot about the coming of Jesus Christ. She traveled around the whole wide world: she filled with her preaching Asia (Minor), Greece and Herestachia,34 Galgunea35 and Galatia, Cilicia, and Pamphylia as well. When she had spoken her prophecies there, she came to the land of Egypt, to Bagh31 According to de Boer, this part of the text is probably inspired by Vincent de Beauvais’s Speculum Historiale, where he writes about the ten sibyls (his sibyls are Persian, Libyan, Delphic, Cimmerian, Eritrean, Cumaean, Samian, Hellespontine, Phrygian, and Tiburtine). See Sneyders de Vogel (1943) and Baroin and Haffen (1987). Copenhagen (p. 779) lists ten but in v. 1067 says there are six, probably because the illuminator added the wrong majuscule, {S}ix instead of {D}ix. For Samos (l’ille de Same, v. 1081), Copenhagen has l’isle de fame (“the island of woman”? Lesbos?). 32 Here, the medieval translator conflates the Cimmerian sibyl (from Cimmerium, in Italy) with ancient Sumer and Babylon. 33 In fact, Albunea and Tiburtina are both Latin words (the first probably derived from Alba Longa, and the second from Tibur, which corresponds to the modern town of Tivoli). 34 C and Copenhagen (p. 779) have “Italy” instead of Herestachia, v. 1097. 35 Might Galgunea be a misspelling for Albunea? Or Galgala in the Middle East? Or perhaps related to Galilee?

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dad and Babylon, to Ethiopia, to Mauritania,36 to Africa, to Pentapolis,37 to Libya and Palermo38 and made her prophecies known. And, truth be told, she promised everyone what they deserved: profit to the good, and loss to the evil. [1091–1110] The renown of her intellect and her preaching spread in various directions: news of it came to Rome. When the emperor Trajan, who governed the empire, heard it spoken of, he sent his messengers to find her and had her brought to his land. Sibyl came to Rome. She was received with great honor. There were a hundred senators in Rome who, one night, during the first hours of sleep, all had a similar dream. This is not a lie; rather, it is the pure truth, as the authority bears witness. The senators expressed great astonishment about the dream they had all had when they all went over it at the Capitol, where they were meeting. [1111–1130] The dream went like this, it seems to me: they saw nine distinct suns appear together in the sky, and they had different forms. The first was radiant and shone brightly on every land. The second was even more radiant; it lent its brightness to the air above.39 The third sun had another origin: it was of sanguine color. It seemed to be ablaze with flame and fire; it was ominous and very bright. The fourth was red like blood; it had four resplendent rays. The fifth was strange: one moment it was dark, the next clouded, then it shone brightly like a spark from beneath the cloud. The sixth was double: it was much more dark and gloomy, and in it there was a spike like a scorpion’s tail. The seventh was very horrible, fearsome, and terrifying: it was the color of blood and fire, and it had a black sword in the middle. The eighth was a sanguine color. The ninth was incredibly dark but it had one single shining ray. [1131–1159] Those who had dreamed this dream did not know what it meant, but they marveled mightily at it and said that it was a portent signifying some great De Boer notes C has “Macedonia” instead of Mauritania. There were a number of areas known as Pentapolis (five cities) in the ancient world. There was one in the Holy Land (Sodom, Gomorra, Segor, Admah, and Zeboim), as well as several other pentapolises in ancient Palestine and Greece, and around the Black Sea. Since the author mentions the Pentapolis in the (textual) vicinity of Africa and Libya, it is possible that he was thinking of the Western Pentapolis (Pentapolis Inferior), situated in modern-day Libya. It included the cities of Cyrene (and the port of Apollonia), Ptolemais, Barca, Balagrae, and Berenice. 38 De Boer gives en Palarine in v. 1106, but Rouen (fol. 357v) has en Palarme and we translate accordingly. C has en Palestine (“in Palestine”). 39 De Boer proposes an emendation for v. 1138, according to which it would mean that the brightness of this sun was superior to the first, but since the manuscripts agree on sembloit l’air dessus it seems more appropriate to translate that. Per the moralization, there may be a contrast in that the first sun’s light is directed downwards (to the lowly poor) and the second’s is directed upwards (to God). 36 37



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event that was to befall the world. They had Sibyl come so they could ask her and find out what the meaning of this dream could be. When the prophetess came to Rome, men and women marveled at her beauty, her appearance, and her noble demeanor. She had beautiful eyes and an innocent face; she was very eloquent and very wise; she was well formed in all her limbs. She did not say anything unpleasant. Those who had dreamed the dream came to her as soon as they could and entreated her to explain to them what their dream could mean. [1160–1180] Sibyl said: “It is not righteous for a place full of vice and filth to reveal the divine secret. But let’s climb Mount Apennine: there I will tell you, without a doubt, the meaning of the dream.” [1181–1186] They climbed Mount Apennine and told her about their dream. She told them its interpretation: “Through this imposing vision, our Lord wants to make manifest the various empires of the world and the transformations of every generation. [1187–1194] “{T}he first sun represents a simple, wise, and peaceful people who will act righteously and loyally and will comfort the poor. Likewise, the second sun represents a people who will live on earth in a holy manner, without malice, and will love God and serve him with good will, and will love, peace and loyalty. [1195–1204] “The third sun shows us a fierce and cruel people who will do many evils on earth. People will wage war on each other. There will be many conflicts in Rome. The fourth sun means, without a doubt, that there will be a disloyal people who will pervert righteousness and truth and breed lies. During that time, a religious and holy woman will be born from the Hebrew lineage: she will live as a Virgin her whole life, and she will have a husband. This will be Mary who, by divine Annunciation, without a man and without corruption of her most holy virginity, will conceive the Son of God himself. Her son will be named Jesus Christ, and he will be true God and true man. He will fulfill the Jewish law and add his own to it. He will be King in eternity. The day of his Nativity, the greatest of the heavenly host will be on the right and on the left, rejoicing at his birth, and they will sing this in public: ‘Jesus, glory to the Father in heaven, peace and concord on earth to those who are of good will, we praise you for the goodness that you do unto humankind when it pleases you. We worship you and give thanks to you for you became human for the sake of humankind and came down from heaven to earth.’ A loud voice will descend upon him that will say for God the Father: ‘This is my Son and my beloved. Believe what he will tell you.’”40 [1205–1244] There were Jews who were listening to these words that Sibyl spoke as she prophesied, and they had great disdain for them. “This lady is a fool,” they 40 Compare Matthew 3:17 and John 1:32–34. Our capitalization in this prophecy reflects how it directly perceives the Christian God as such.

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said. “Such words are all too horrible. She should be quiet. It is all made up: whatever she says means nothing, without a doubt.” [1245–1252] She said: “I won’t be quiet about it, but I’ll tell you the whole truth about how things will be without a doubt. But I know very well that you’re blind to this, if you can’t believe in the one to whom your descendants will cause many injuries.” [1253–1258] “If it please God, we will never believe in him, but we will keep the holy law that God gave to our fathers. It will never be betrayed by him, for God has never contradicted himself.” [1259–1263] Sibyl answered them and said, “God is true and I tell you the truth. It must necessarily be that God will send his Son to earth to save and rescue his people. He will be the likeness of his Father,41 and his daughter will be his Mother. Kings will rise against him and will try to kill him. During the time I am telling you about, Caesar Augustus, king of Rome, will subjugate the whole wide world. Then the priests, the Pharisees, and the masters who uphold the Jewish law will get together against Jesus, and will capture him through treachery and out of envy because he will rebuke their lifestyle and preach the truth and openly perform miracles. They will make trifles of whatever he says and they will beat and hit him and will spit in his face. [1264–1287] “The wicked Jews, full of rage, who will be unable to love Jesus, will give him a mixture of vinegar and gall to drink when he is thirsty. They won’t find in him any pride, disdain, or presumption; rather, he will patiently endure whatever the wicked ones will do to him. Then they will crucify him with nails, and in their foolish judgment they will cause him to be tortured to death. But it will profit them little, for on the third day, he will rise from the tomb where he will be placed, and will appear to his friends. And he will stay with them until the fortieth day, when he will ascend to heaven at the right hand of the Father, in heavenly glory. There, his reign will be eternal. [1288–1307] “The frightful fifth sun represents for us the fifth people, full of all wickedness. At that time, the disciples, the elect, and the apostles of Jesus Christ will travel the world preaching and fishing for sinners. They will fulfill the new law,42 and convert people to the belief of baptism43 by oil, water, and chrism. [1308–1318] “The sixth sun expresses the death and slaughter that will befall the Romans. The battle at Rome will last for three years and six months at the very least, and there will be a great quantity of dead. [1319–1324] Compare Colossians 1:15. Compare Galatians 6:2 (as against “exalt the new law”: exhaucer is used later in this section for the exaltation for the wicked). 43 The manuscripts agree on A la creance de baptoisme for v. 1317, i.e., the set of beliefs inherent in baptism, rather than conversion to the Christian faith via baptism. On baptism, see Aquinas, ST III 66, and Bonaventure, Brev. VI.7. 41 42



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“The seventh sun shows that the people will become fierce and cruel, full of rage and rashness. Two kings will reign then, who will inflict great persecution on the Jewish nation for the sake of Jesus Christ, whom they will have killed. They will pay dearly for his death! [1325–1332] “The eighth sun will be the eighth people that will reign. At that time, Rome will be laid waste and destroyed and devastated. Pregnant women will wail: in great suffering, they will say: ‘O God! How will we give birth, how will we deliver?’ [1333–1344] “The ninth sun, different from these, shows us the perverse people who are yet to come before the world must end. At that time, the princes of Rome will arise and destroy many people, and then two kings will come out of Syria, and many will witness their anger.44 Their army will be as impossible to count as the sands of the sea. They will subjugate the Romans and capture the cities in all the Roman lands, from Italy to Chalcedon. They will shed much blood. Their ferocity will be dreaded throughout the world. As long as they live, they will destroy the Easterners. After these two, a king will arise who will reign for thirty years, fierce and strong and expert in war, and a trustworthy ruler on earth. He will fulfill God’s laws and will erect a temple for him. He will be valiant and of great renown. The king’s name will be Constantine.45 There will be another king after him who will not live very long: he will be killed in battle.46 Afterwards will reign this emperor and that, then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth, so help me God. The fifth will be very vigorous, very valiant and chivalrous, and from the fifth will be born the sixth, and from the sixth the seventh, who will have overlordship over nineteen kings subject to him. [1345–1378] “Then there will come a king in France, strong and fierce and very powerful.47 He will try to be just towards poor people and will have a pure and kind heart and will scarcely do anything displeasing to God. He will be so full of good grace that waters will part wherever he will go, and trees will bend and bow before him in reverence. Before or after him, no one will be his equal in the Roman Empire. Then will come another king who will preserve the kingdom. Then another is bound to come and preserve the kingdom, and from him will be born a worthy, wise, and courtly king, bellicose and expert This passage might refer to the early Sassanid empire, and possibly to defeats of the Romans by both Shapur I and Narseh. 45 Most likely Constantine the Great, who reigned first in the Western part of the Roman Empire from 306 to 324 AD, and then as emperor of the whole empire until 337. 46 This probably refers to Constantine II (the son of Constantine the Great), who reigned from 337 to 340 AD and died during an attempted invasion of Italy. 47 Dronke (2007) notes that “The corpus of oracular pronouncements attributed to Sibyls in late Antiquity and throughout the Middle Ages is dauntingly large.” And indeed it is. For a helpful overview, see Kinter and Keller (1967) and Malay (2010). 44

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in war, and he will travel across many seas and lands. He will have little fear of his enemies, and will die away from his country, and God will take him to his side. [1379–1401] “Another king will come after that who will be very powerful on earth, bellicose and expert in war, then there will come a king who is strong and fierce, good, loyal, and just, and then another who is very powerful: under him there will be great battles among the Saracens, Christians, and Greeks. He will inflict tremendous slaughter. His intention will be fixed on God. He will reign only six years. His wife, who will be a fool, will conceive with another man a wicked king, a bloody man and full of rashness, disloyal and untruthful. He will commit many iniquities and great effusion of blood, and destroy the churches of his realm. In his time, there will be no one worse. In other regions, there will be great tribulations, and battles, and great wars. People will fight among each other. During his reign, no matter who complains about it, Pamphylia and Cappadocia will be captured. Because he will be an illegitimate king, he will reign for three years plus one more. There will be another king after him who will capture Syria and Pentapolis;48 he will be descended from Lombardy. After him there will come – I have no doubt – a strong king who will be powerful and will overcome the Lombards; he will reign a very short time. [1402–1437] “Then there will be, as I understand it, a prideful and fierce people, evil, cruel, and vicious, who will capture the tyrant of Bar49 and pillage many cities. And they will try to come to Rome: no one will be able to resist them except the God of gods, the heavenly King, who is Lord and Master of lords. Then the people of Armenia will come and capture the cities of Persia, but they will never return to these cities that they will pillage. The Persians will come against them and build ditches and trenches in the east. Then they will come to Romagna and overcome the Romans, and then there will be a short period of peace. [1438–1456] “A king of Greece who is vigorous, strong, fierce, and bellicose will then enter Hierapolis and destroy the idols to which the pagans make sacrifices.50 In Cappadocia and Cilicia, there will be such great famine at that time because of the locusts and vermin that will destroy the grains of the earth the people

48 De Boer notes that it is impossible to know which Pentapolis the medieval compiler had in mind. 49 Probably Bari, in Italy. Robert Guiscard conquered it in 1071 and it became an important Crusader port. 50 Hierapolis is a city in Asia Minor (near the modern-day Turkish city of Pamukkale) that was conquered by the Seljuks in the twelfth century. Frederick Barbarossa, the crusaders, and their Byzantine allies reconquered for a brief period of time in 1190 but the Seljuks eventually regained control over the city.



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won’t know where to go to survive. And, without a doubt, after this pestilence there will never be another one like it. [1457–1468] “Then another king will reign. He will be bellicose and strong. His neighbors, his kin, and his cousins will be envious of him. In those days, brothers will betray each other; sons will betray their fathers, brothers will corrupt their sisters. People will have incredibly false hearts and will commit many acts of cruelty. Old men, and also priests, will use tall tales to deflower girls and maidens. Bishops will be worse, full of trickery and malfeasance. The temples of God and his friends will be polluted. At that time there will be a great effusion of blood, and fornication, filth, and vile sins against nature will reign in the world. Their baseness and their vile iniquity will be shameful to see. People will be filled with rapacity, pride, envy, and hostility. They will hate righteousness and loyalty and will love all falseness. Roman judges will play false and judge wrongfully in exchange for money. At that time, people will be full of insults; they will be covetous and perjuring thieves, and they will love the gifts of falsehood. They will play false with law and truth. Many islands and regions will be submerged and perish. In places, the earth will quake. Pestilence will afflict people. The land will be utterly ravaged and laid waste by enemies. And people will never get any comfort from the false gods in which they will believe. [1469–1508] “After this, a king will reign for two years and he will wage great wars. Then another king must come, who must rule the kingdom: he will reduce Rome to servitude. He will prove to be a very loyal man. He will see justice done toward poor people. He will live for many years of good rule. Then another must reign and govern the kingdom; and then one who will be a Lombard, and will reign for up to a hundred years. [1509–1520] “Then there will come a king of France. At that time there will be such great abundance of fraud and trickery, treachery and cunning, that ever since the world was made, there will never have been so much evil-doing. In those days, without a doubt, there will be many wars and many battles, and many tribulations, and great effusion of blood. At that time the earth will have to quake. Whole cities and regions will be reduced to great servitude, for God, because of their great faults and their sins of the flesh, will not resolve to help them, for he will be wrathful with the world and will let them be confounded. The city of Rome will be captured with great slaughter and massacre at the hand of this evil king. People will be out of control, covetous, wicked, and rapacious, tyrannical, evil, and hateful. They will harm the loyal poor and raise up the evil, who will be filled with disloyalty and will reign outright, and no one will resist them because of the evil that will be in them. And they will be all too full of malice, covetousness, and greed. [1521–1552] “Afterwards will come a king from Crete, lord of Rome and of the Greeks. He will be of handsome stature; he will have a bright face and a graceful build.

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He will reign for one hundred and twelve years and he will be called Constant. At that time, people will be rich and well-endowed. The earth will give plentiful fruit, so that with only one coin, one will be able to buy a bushel of wheat, a bushel of grain, a bushel of wine, so far as I can divine it for you.51 This king will read Scripture with his own eyes,52 and it will say to him, ‘The king of the Romans must conquer and convert the whole earth,’ and he will undertake great boldness, and will destroy and lay waste the land of the Saracens, and will destroy the idols: he will have the pagans baptized, and Jesus Christ prayed to everywhere. At that time, the Holy Cross will be raised and exalted in every temple. Then the Egyptians and the Ethiopian people will come to serve and honor God, and whoever will not want to worship the Cross, upon which Jesus Christ will have been killed, will be put to death by the sword. When the one hundred and twelve years are up, then the Jews will convert to the law of Jesus Christ. Then the writings will come true that say that Judah will be saved and will inhabit Israel faithfully and in good peace. The remainder that will be descended from Israel will be saved then. [1553–1591] “At that time will come the liar, the prince of misfortune and the master of falsehood of the race from which he will come:53 that will be the Antichrist, who will rule. He will be the son of perdition, the prince of persecution, the head of pride, the master of folly, a profusion of malice and envy. He will go about perverting the world and bewildering it with signs. He will bring forth portents and illusions in every land. He will work much deception through the magic of his enchantment. He will make people believe and understand that he can come down from the sky like fire. It will seem he speaks the truth. In this way he will have them be deceived. Mighty God, full of goodness, will see the evil will he has to trick the people and will shorten his life so that a year of his life will last no longer than a month in the life of another, and his months will be a matter of days, and his weeks the length of one day, and his days will seem like hours. [1592–1619] “Then from the north will come a people full of great vileness, full of filth and iniquity; people who are vile, wicked, and gross – those are the peoples of Gog and Magog that the mighty king Alexander locked up.54 They will want to 51 De Boer gives v. 1564 as Pour autant je le vers devin. Rouen (fol. 360r) has an abbreviation for the fifth word, which Copenhagen (p. 786) spells out vous. We translate vous; it’s not clear what sense vers would make: perhaps “insofar as I divine the verse [of the prophecy]”? 52 Voiant ses iex, v. 1566, would normally be “before his very eyes.” This could be meant to evoke the writing on the wall of Daniel 5, in which case the translation might be “He will read the writing before his very eyes,” etc. 53 For v. 1595, Copenhagen (p. 786) has De la lignie Adam sera, “He will be of the lineage of Adam.” 54 The Gates of Alexander were a mythical barrier allegedly built by Alexander the Great in the Caucasus to keep the barbarians at bay or, as the OM claims here, to lock them up.



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invade every land. Their kings will number twenty-two, but there will be such a mass of people that no one will be able to reckon them any more than the drops in the sea. When the Roman king hears tell of it, he will have his empire gather and will go to attack those dogs. He will attack them with such violence that he will have them all killed. When they are all captured and killed, he will go to Jerusalem, where he will relinquish his diadem. The loyal-hearted hero will relinquish his scepter and all his royal attire; he will renounce his kingship and will leave Christians in the care and in the hands of God. That will be the end of the Roman Empire. [1620–1644] “Then Antichrist will appear without disguise and he will wreak havoc on the people of Jesus Christ. At that time, the seat of Antichrist will be the temple of God in Jerusalem, and he will be worshipped as a god – he, who is the worst of the worst! Then our Lord will send two worthy preachers to convert sinners and to announce the second coming of Jesus Christ: those will be Enoch and Elijah. Antichrist will take their lives because they will not want to worship him. The worthy men will die for God, but it will profit him little, for God will resurrect them and bring them back to life on the third day, and they will preach freely afterwards, just as well as before. [1645–1665] “At that time, as decreed, there will be persecutions, anguish, and tribulations in the world so great that there will not have been any such until that time, as I understand it, nor will there ever be again. Our Lord will shorten the life of the wicked one full of trickery to keep him from tricking his elect, because if the wicked one were to live a long time, he would lead all humans into unbelief through his evil deception. Jesus Christ will send the Archangel Michael to the Mount of Olives and he will put the wicked one to death.” [1666–1680] In this way Sibyl revealed to all the people who were listening to her the meaning and the explanation of the dream and the vision that the Romans had seen. And she said what signs would appear before the world must end and God come to Judgment: [1681–1688] “{A} sign of the Judgment: the earth will sweat;55 from heaven will come the King who will reign for all time, present in the flesh, and will judge the world, and will repay the good and the evil according to their merits. [1689–1692] “{T}he good and the evil will see God in the flesh at the end of this world, sitting with his saints on high. Souls will be with their bodies on Judgment Day. The world will be deserted and uncultivated. [1693–1696]

This is based on the standard opening of the versus sibyllini quoted by Augustine in The City of God 18.23: iudicii signum tellus sudore madescet, “a sign of the judgment: the earth will begin to sweat.” Many of the following lines are also a close match for the Latin. 55

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“{A}t that time, people will have no use for idols or wealth: the earth, sky, and sea will have to burn. Everyone will speak the truth about their hidden works, and God will make known the secrets of their hearts. [1697–1700] “{T}he bodies of the holy will enter into spiritual joy, and the evil will burn in eternal flame. [1701–1702] “{T}here will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The stars will fall; the sun will be blotted out; the heavens will be destroyed; the moon will go dark.56 [1703–1705] “{T}he hills will be lowered and the valleys will rise; the fields and mountains and sea will be voided.57 The earth will perish; everything will cease to exist. The rivers and springs will be burned by fire. [1706–1710] “{T}he abysses will be heard horribly roaring, to proclaim anguish and dire torment to the world. [1711–1712] “{T}he earth will be full of cracks and rifts and hell will be visible through the crevices. [1713–1714] “{W}hen the earthly kings will appear before God, sulfurous fire and rain of blood will fall from the sky.” [1715–1716] [miniature, fol. 360v: sibyl with aeneas as he offers a lamb to the golden idols of the gods]58

The Death of Aeneas’s Wet-Nurse {W}hile Sibyl was telling Aeneas, who was listening to her, what was in store for him, they were so intent on coming out that from hell they reached Euboea. There, Aeneas made a sacrifice to the gods who had protected him. He immediately parted ways with Sibyl, and continued his voyage. He buried his dead nurse on the shore of Taygete59 and placed a tombstone over her. On this tombstone he wrote an epitaph and an inscription as follows: “A son whom I breastfed, full of acknowledged mercy, saved me from the Greeks’ fire; now he has burned and cremated me here with the fire with which it was

Compare Isaiah 13:10; Ezekiel 32:7; Matthew 24:29; etc. Compare Revelation 16:20. 58 Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 59 For de Boer’s Taijgete, v. 1727, the manuscripts have Taygete, Taigette, etc. This is anerroneous substitution by the OM: the nurse’s name is Caieta in Ovid (Met. 14.443), while Taygete is a daughter of Atlas (mentioned in Met. 3.595) whose name is associated with Mount Taygetus in Laconia. This would seem to be an erroneous substitution by the OM. 56 57



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right for him to burn me.” This was the epitaph on the tomb of Taygete, who breastfed valiant Aeneas.60 [1717–1738] Moralization {T}he Son, out of love, demonstrated his mercy, and saved his “mother and nurse” – that is, the simple folk without malice who did the will of God, who was more pleasing than a mother to them, as he himself says61 – from the fire of torment and pain that punishes the wretched in hell. The Son full of mercy truly “burns” his friends with the fire of pure charity. [1739–1750] [miniature, fol. 361r: aeneas and his men burying the nurse]

Achaemenides Tells Macareus about Polyphemus {W}hile Aeneas stopped to bury Taygete – whose name was given to that area, which was named Taygete after the name that the nurse bore while she was alive – Macareus came to the shore. He had been a companion of the wise Ulysses, with whom he had suffered many pains and difficulties at sea, here and there, wherever the winds drove them. But, to avoid those perils, he had come ashore there. Let us leave the seasoned Ulysses be.62 [1751–1765] Macareus found Achaemenides, who had long ago been a companion and follower of Duke Ulysses of Dulichia. But Ulysses had unfortunately left him without taking leave of him, and after Ulysses had failed him, Aeneas had taken him in and had gone on to do many good things for him, and honored him as one of his own. Macareus was incredibly amazed to see him. He thought that Polyphemus, who had been after them, had long since killed him. He asked him: “Achaemenides, dear friend, who brought you here? I thought you were dead. How were you saved from death? How come a Trojan ship is carrying a man born in Greece? What land are you headed for?” [1766–1785] Achaemenides answered his question without hesitation. He explained his heart’s desire. His body was now agile and elegant. His clothing was no longer held together with little thorns or needles. His hood and clothing were no longer made of green leaves, with which he used to cover himself when he was on the mountain. [1786–1795] He said: “May god send me great shame and great bodily misfortune, and may he let me fall back into the hands of wicked Polyphemus, if I do not As De Boer points out, Ovid mentions this epitaph later (Met. 14.443–444). Compare Matthew 10:37, Luke 14:26. 62 De Boer gives v. 1765 as Le sage Ulixes, l’esprouvé (“the wise and seasoned Ulysses”). But Rouen (fol. 361r) has Lessons Ulixes l’esprouvé, while Copenhagen (p. 789) has Laissent. We translate following Rouen. 60 61

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consider Aeneas a friend and love him more than my father. By my mother’s soul, he has done me more courtesy and goodness than any man in the world. I’ll never be able to forget his good deeds. What is his is mine and set aside for me, more than it ever was with Ulysses. He never refuses me anything that is his that I might want: he gives me free access to his ship, his clothes, his wealth, and his food, the same as any of his followers, and he gives me – and has given me – whatever I need. Ulysses never loved me as much as he does, it seems to me. [1796–1815] “Thanks to him I’m now alive. Thanks to him I was saved from death: Polyphemus would have killed me and devoured me by now up on the mountain, where I stayed for a long time after you left me there full of distress, when Ulysses had tricked and blinded Polyphemus by putting his eye out as he slept, for which he grieves mightily and feels great rage in his heart. When I saw that I was far from the shore and that you were on the ship without me, I felt such grief, anger, and fear that I really thought I would go mad. I couldn’t swim after you. I wanted to scream but didn’t dare because of the devil I was so afraid of: if he had heard me or knew I was there, he would have devoured me at once. [1816–1836] “Ulysses shouted to make his companions hurry, but the dog heard him, and you would all have been destroyed, and he nearly killed you, when he threw two big rocks at you. He would have crushed you, and I was very terrified that he’d kill you by throwing some rock, or that by throwing one, he would makes the waves upheave and sink your ship at sea before I could get back to the ship for which I was afraid. When you had escaped him and made your way far from shore, he, full of suffering and aggression, went howling over the mountain wherever his rage led him, unable to see anything. And yet he ran, and felt out the way with his hands. [1837–1858] “Sometimes he grabbed hold of a rock, sometimes he clung to a branch, stretching his bloody arms toward the sea, cursing and threatening all Greeks. And he said and swore that, if he should ever happen to get Ulysses or his companions in his clutches, he meant to do a good job of avenging the anger and grief in his heart, and he would not be concerned with the loss of his eye, which he was tricked out of by Ulysses, who had blinded him. [1859–1870] “‘Oh,’ he said, ‘if it is ever possible for me to get my hands on them, I’ll rip their hearts from their chests, and dismember them while still alive, and I’ll use them to feed my gluttonous belly and I’ll drink their blood without a doubt!’ [1871–1876] “He spoke such words, or the equivalent. I was shaking from the great horror I felt, seeing his horrible face stained and bloodied with human blood, of which he had drunk plenty: it was obvious, since the blood of the dead that he had devoured was dripping from his beard – that vile, mad devil who had fed on human bodies! I looked at his bloody hands, stained



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with human slaughter,63 and I saw the ambit of the eye-socket from which the light had been taken, for Ulysses had deprived him of it. It was my opinion that I was seeing my imminent death, and I really thought that he must catch and grab me and that I couldn’t escape from being immediately disemboweled or devoured alive by the one who had already devoured many of us. And I was undoubtedly reminded of the woeful and fearful time when the wicked, terrifying monster, the evil giant, the gluttonous dog, had devoured my companions. [1877–1904] “Three or four times I had seen him knock my companions to the ground and kill them, and like a demented lion he sucked their marrow and gnawed their bones and ate their flesh which he stuffed in his gluttonous belly. I felt great fear and great dread and I was shaking and full of distress, and my blood and color drained from me. I saw him hideously chewing and bloodily vomiting, in big chunks and huge bites, the limbs of the bodies he had killed, and I really thought, without a doubt, that he was sure to mistreat me the same way. [1905–1920] “So for a long time I was in such distress, such anguish, such sadness, such fear, and I was shaking all over, for any sound I heard – from a bird, an animal, a tree, the wind, or anything else – gave me a fright, and I was constantly thinking I’d die. And I would have liked to be dead, truth be told, to be free of this torment. When raging hunger came over me, violently overwhelming me, I dragged myself along the ground to sustain my woeful life. I ate acorns or beechnuts, grass or leaves or roots, for I couldn’t find any other food. [1921–1937] “I was like this for a long time, without a doubt: alone, without help and without friends, given over to death and suffering, and I had no comfort or joy, and no hope of help from any human being alive. A long time … Then I saw this ship sailing on the sea, far from the wilderness, and full of Trojans. I waved at them to wait for me and take me among them, and I starting running toward the shore. Bold-hearted Aeneas took me into his company. I am still part of his retinue.” [1938–1952] Moralization {A}nyone who really wants to pay heed can understand Macareus as the elect of the people of Israel, who, long ago, were the friends, faithful disciples, and companions of the wise King of Paradise, of Divine Wisdom, of the Son of God, who attracted them to belief in him, and, via his “ship,” made them come from death to life and led them to the port of salvation

63 De Boer gives Taintes d’maine occision for v. 1889, but Rouen (fol. 361v) and Copenhagen (p. 790) have d’umaine and we translate accordingly.

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across this “rough and changing sea,” that is to say, this world, in which damning bitterness abounds. [1953–1966] Achaemenides represents the people and the following who, through the error of ignorance, remained in damnable ignorance, among the rocks of cruelty and of cold misfortune, in the deserts of unbelief, in the grip and the dominion of the devil, in danger of death. And they were actually worse than dead, for they languished in misfortune, in the unbelief of sin, without finding life or spiritual food in Scripture. But where they attended to the text, they dwelled on it and begged it for dry rationalizations that they found in it, with which they sustained their foolish error – poor in goodness and denuded of grace. [1967–1985] They were brought to such dejection, to such misfortune, to such baseness that their wretched conscience was stitched together with “thorns and needles and twigs,” that is, with remorse, which pricked them and goaded their wretched hearts. And they saw well their misfortune, their ignorance, and their sin, and willingly, if they had dared, they would have repented and escaped from the peril they were in. But in their ignorance, they were afraid that they would fall into the hands of the enemy if they left their unbelief to come to knowledge of the Christian faith. And nevertheless, in the end, they would beg gentle and merciful God with a pure heart, with tears and moaning, with sighs, with repentance, so that he dragged them out of the devil’s clutches and brought them from death to life, and he took them “into his retinue” – that is, into the faith of Holy Church – and into allegiance and service to him. [1986–2012] The wicked, misbegotten giant, the disloyal malefactor who kills and disembowels people, who drinks blood and devours flesh, and whose mind was bereft over the loss of his single eye through the cunning of wise Ulysses, who injured him in it while he slept, can represent the devil, the evil, terrifying beast, the wicked misbegotten monster, whom Divine Wisdom, who came into this mortal life in the vessel of a fleshly “ship,” deceived via the holy death that the Son of God endured when for us he offered himself up to receive a sentence of death. He was the one who used to deceive human nature and confound it utterly, the one who kills and disembowels everything: he destroys the body and devours the soul of those who fall into his trap. No sinner he can catch and grab escapes him, if God doesn’t grant that they escape. [2013–2038] Long ago, this wicked misbegotten monster used to have dominion to slay and disembowel everything, to devour all souls. He had “one eye,” that is to say one overlordship, one authority over the world where he ruled, and he raged and lorded it over all people as he willed, without making an exception for the young or the old, the good or the evil, the weak or the strong. [2039–2050]



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But the “wise man” of great comfort, the Son of God, through his wisdom and through his divine power stripped him of the advantage he had over the human race, and took away his overlordship and brought it over to his side. Hence the other is full of anger and rage, and the prideful one full of hubris now rages and lashes out against the Christian faith, and attacks it through temptations and through dire persecutions, so that he comes close to sinking it in the fluctuating perils of the world, or to making it fall to the depths of hell and the deep abyss. [2051–2066] But God saves it nonetheless, leading and guiding and bringing his followers to salvific life with the help of his “ship,” and delivers them from adversity and from the clutches of the evil adversary. And Satan is outwitted, and, “sightless and blinded,” stumbles, gropes, and feels his way around and roams the wilderness to see if he can find and catch any soul to devour and gobble. [2067–2078] And he often runs into or catches on a “strong tree” or “hard rock,” that is, on the saints, who are strong and steadfast, fortified by divine Love,64 and have fixed the root of their hearts into divine Love. The devil, the traitor, the deceiver, plays false with such people: he tests them and runs into them and butts up against them like a blind man who cannot see a thing. And the traitor, the mercenary, would be very glad and joyful if he could cajole or deceive or catch anyone, or bring them under his dominion through wicked temptation, but those who are steadfast in God’s grace care little for his falsehood and know well how to resist him: he will never manage to harass them enough to have any power over them, no lie, if they do not choose to consent. [2079–2100] [miniature, fol. 363r: achaemenides speaking with macareus]

Macareus Tells about Aeolus and Antiphates {A}chaemenides recounted the sufferings that he had borne on the mountain and in the wilderness where Ulysses had abandoned him. When he had brought his story to a close, he said to the other: “Dear friend, I have now told you about my adventures, which were very harsh and difficult, and I ask that you tell me about your pains and travails, and how you fared since you took leave of me and fled, sailing over the sea – you, Ulysses, and his followers.” [2101–2113] Then Macareus recounted the great ordeals they had endured, and said: “In the Tuscan Sea rules Aeolus, who is known as the son of Hippotes.65 He is the As de Boer notes, Rouen (fol. 363r) has Qui la divine amours conferme for v. 2082; we translate according to his emendation. 65 That is why he was also known as Aeolus Hippotades, “the reiner of horses.” 64

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one who rules over the winds. When we had entered his realm by sailing the sea, Ulysses, whose heart was wise and full of great astuteness, through his wisdom imprisoned the winds that for a long time had driven us off course and caused us so much harm, so that from then on the strength of the wind could no longer trouble or disrupt us. Ulysses very ingeniously sewed them up strongly in an ox-hide bag. [2114–2131] “Thus we avoided the torment of the winds that had disrupted us, so that they could never bother us again; rather, we sailed gladly and safely for nine whole days, with good luck, and we were close to reaching the land where we were going: we could see the land close by. Hence, on the tenth day, out of covetousness and desire to grow rich and gain wealth, some of our company wanted to investigate and find out what was contained in the ox-hide that Ulysses had tied up so thoroughly, and they thought there was gold in it, which would have made them very rich. Aflame with covetousness, which incited them to wrongdoing, they opened and untied the hide, and when the winds were let loose, so that they could come out freely, they blew with such abandon that they drove the ship backwards into the perils from which it had escaped: they returned it, and us with it, to the cruel clutches of Aeolus.66 [2132–2158] “Then, at the mercy of the winds,67 we came to Laestrygonian Lamus, that is, to a ruined city68 of great antiquity. The unbridled Antiphates was the ruler of this kingdom. I was sent there to inquire if we could cross his land in peace and safety, without harm and without impediment. I set out with only two companions, and we came before the king, the wicked tyrant full of rashness, and we delivered our message to the tyrant full of wicked rage. But it seemed impossible we would escape: we nearly ended up dead. I and one of the others ran so hard that we saved ourselves by running fast, and we reached safety thanks to our good swiftness. The third of us was captured and put to death: Antiphates ate his dead body and filled his gluttonous belly with him. [2159–2183] “Then, without delay, he gathered his people and his evil retinue. They came running towards the flotilla.69 They hurled big branches and tree-trunks 66 Aus crueulz destrois d’Eoli, v. 2158, renders the more neutral statement in Ovid (Met. 14.231–232): “The ship was blown back over the waters, through which they had come, and, once more, entered King Aeolus’s harbour” (Kline). 67 Although de Boer proposes for v. 2159 that “regon = ‘region’,” so that translation would be “via the region of the winds,” the manuscripts clearly have regon, hence the rule or dominion of the winds. 68 For v. 2161, de Boer proposes that “gast = ‘vaste, grand’,” but the moralization seems to require “ruined”: this could, of course, be a play on the multiple meanings of gast. 69 Despite the singular ship (la nef) in v. 2155, the navie of v. 2186 has to be understood as multiple ships, since in v. 2189 several of them are sunk.



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at us, and dropped big rocks on us. They sank most of our ships and drowned most of our men – all our ships were sunk and all our men were injured, so that no one out of our whole company ever escaped from there alive except for us. There were very few of us who escaped, sailing over the sea – with what suffering, with what travail! – from that far-away land on the ship Ulysses was on. We were tremendously anguished and sorrowful for the companions that the dogs had slain. You can see the island far in the distance. You must avoid ever seeing it any closer: believe me, go some other way!”70 [2184–2206] Moralization {T}he “king of the winds,” that is, the devil, ruled freely over Tuscany, Lombardy, the kingdom of Romagna, and likewise over the whole world, when Jesus, the spiritual King, in whom all wisdom abounds, came by his pleasure to this world in the vessel of a “ship” of flesh, to bring to salvific life those who, in their ignorance, had gotten bogged down in the depths of vice. He is the one who miraculously confined and impetuously removed the winds of the sin with which everyone was stained, which blew violently as they pleased throughout the world and drove all souls off course and dragged them to the depths of hell. [2207–2226] He is the one who, to annihilate all sin, allowed his flesh to be stretched and fixed on the Cross, no lie, and his own body to be nailed up. He was the gentle “ox” without malice that was led to the sacrifice and who resolved to render himself up to death to deliver Holy Church from the tempests and perils in which the whole world had perished. He allowed his holy flesh to be hung, his “hide” to be “stretched and sewn” on the Cross, to confine the deadly winds. [2227–2239] He is the one, I can well affirm, who imprisoned our sins and who directed Holy Church to sail on the sea of the world, which is perilous and deep, peacefully and safely, without fear of misfortune. For a full nine hundred years Holy Church sailed well and safely, with great gladness, with great happiness, and saw the port of salvation. But between then and now the great tempest began, and the winds are loosed from their prison, and, in their impetuous rage, they have blown our ship off course and sent her back into the peril God had brought her out of. [2240–2257] And what has caused this? The covetousness of those who were supposed to guide her, but who betrayed and deceived her in order to amass gold and silver and pile up riches – this gold was the object of all their aspiration, their The end of this passage corresponds to Ovid’s introduction of a different island, where Circe lives (Met. 14.242–247): “Mourning our lost companions, lamenting greatly, we came to that land you see, in the distance, (believe me the island I saw is best seen from a distance!) and I warn you, O most virtuous of Trojans, son of the goddess, (since the war is over now, I will not treat you as an enemy, Aeneas) shun the shores of Circe!” (Kline). 70

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love, and their hope. This fire that so inflames them now subverts the faith of Holy Church. Now the sewing that kept the winds enclosed is torn, and the winds blow violently as they please throughout the world: wind of pride; wind of vainglory, of which clerics and prelates are all full; wind of envy, of anger, and of malice; wind of hatred and of avarice; wind of fraud; wind of sloth; wind of rancor and of sadness; wind of gluttony and of filth and of dishonorable lust. [2258–2278] These winds batter our ship so that all our impetuous masters go to the ruined and barren city, full of old antiquity and ancient iniquity – that is, the base and degraded soul, laid waste and plundered of all good things. And all of them have now arrived at the port of the desolate soul, which has been degraded by the devil who rules in this wilderness, that is, in a soul and body that are in ruins, for the devil has outright lordship and dominion over those who have come to that wasteland and to such a wilderness. [2279–2295] Now all the ministers of Holy Church are caught and bound by their evil covetousness in the snares that the devil lays, and he now batters them so that he slays one and disembowels another, eats one and devours another, spiritually, in the soul. And, through his temptations, he causes them all to sink deep in the waves of dissolution where all of them have now almost perished. There are now few of them who can escape safe and sound from these perils, if they are not people of great counsel who can make it to safety by fleeing swiftly. [2296–2312] One “flees well” by prudently avoiding the temptations and the evil impositions of the deceitful devil, who incriminates71 and ensnares them and leads them to perdition in the waves of dissolution, and by fleeing headlong, attentively, via good intent, to Jesus Christ to ask for help. For I do not think any help is to be found elsewhere, or that there is any human being who can save themselves or escape from the perils of the world without being sunk by the devil, except only via the ship that leads to salvific life, the one on which God himself is: that is, by devoutly keeping the articles of the true faith, without trickery and without hubris, and by living in humble abstinence, in the harshness of penance. That is how one can be saved, and not otherwise. [2313–2336] There are few people, as God is my witness, who now hold to this path. And those who hold to it, truth be told, can have great anguish, great sorrow, and great compassion in their hearts when they see all their companions sink in such perdition. They urge them to rescue them, but they are all submerged and drowning in the deadly waves of the world, as the devil entices them with various assaults of malice. And if anyone can escape these perils without 71 Where de Boer and Rouen have concope in v. 2316, Copenhagen (p. 794) has compose, which is presumably for meaning C2 in DMF, “place under tribute.”



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drowning and reach the state of grace, henceforth they should take care not to anything that might make them incur such misfortune that they fall back into the devil’s snare. [2337–2354] [miniature, fol. 364v: aeneas and his men arriving at a castle full of boars, dogs, and lions]

Circe (Told by Macareus) {S}o Aeneas, dear friend – for you are no longer our enemy, since the battle of Troy is over and the war is finished – it would only be wise to keep from landing on Circe’s shore, for we faced tremendous perils there. We almost all perished there! When our ship arrived in that port and was well anchored, Ulysses asked for someone to go to Circe to ask her on his behalf to let him cross her land peacefully and without strife. We were reminded of the two embassies which had caused us so much harm and fear and peril, where so many of our own perished: first with the giant, and likewise with the Laestrygonians. So no one would volunteer or agree to take this message, no matter how much Ulysses begged them. For fear of something worse awaiting us, everyone wanted to leave there, so we were forced to draw lots to find who would deliver the message, and it was agreed that those who were chosen by lot would go and wouldn’t be able to object. The lots demanded that I should go and take with me twenty-one people whose names were chosen by lot. [2355–2387] We all set out together, and set out where Ulysses was sending us. When we came close to the city, we saw bears and lions and wolves in an infinitely vast multitude, coming out of the city to meet us. We were very afraid of such an encounter and thought they were coming only to do us harm. We were not pleased to see them, but none of them was to be feared. None of them had desire or inclination to cause us harm or injury; rather, they came to encourage us, to celebrate our coming and keep us company until the arrival of the maidens who received us and led us into the great hall, which was neither dark nor dirty, but beautiful, opulent, and well-appointed, entirely covered with pure marble. [2388–2411] We were taken to the lady. She sat in a lovely small room on a tall throne, and was nobly dressed in rich and well-crafted clothing which was all embroidered with gold. Around her were her damsels, her chambermaids, her maidens, who did not do any menial work of spinning or carding wool; rather, they were serving by selecting flowers and herbs of different colors, and they separated them based on their kind into various baskets that they had. This was all they did. Their mistress would have them do that, for she had no use for other handiwork. This was their work and their care.

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Circe knew the strength and the nature of flowers and herbs, and what power each of them had, whether by itself or blended together with others, and she would combine them and make them into various mixtures of different sizes and portions. [2412–2436] We greeted the goddess, disloyal and treacherous, and delivered our message. She received us very well72 and returned our greeting very handsomely and courteously, and wished us good luck. At once she had a mixture made from wine, milk, and curd, honey and malted barley,73 and had a strong poison mixed into this sweet beverage, then urged us to drink the potion, which was so strong that no mortal human being could drink from it without becoming a sow or a pig. Who would have thought that such misfortune and shame would befall us? [2437–2453] We took the beverage that the evil woman offered us, for none of us suspected that evil would come of it. As soon as she saw us bringing the perilous beverage to our mouths, she touched our hair with a wand, and immediately, without delay – shame will never make me seek to deny it! – my hair began to bristle and stiffen and stand on end, so that it became like a pig’s. I did not have the strength or knowledge to speak, but, when I tried, I grunted like a pig. I was forced to bend to the ground and my face turned into a pig snout. My neck74 was thicker and fatter, full of folds and creases. The mouth with which I had drunk was hanging low, almost touching the ground. [2454–2474] I became a pig, and the companions who had come with me became pigs as well, thanks to the strength of the medicine the queen had given us, and so she had infected all of us but one, who knew better than to ever want to taste the beverage: that was the wise Eurylochus. He did not lose his appearance; rather, he ran off at great speed to inform Ulysses of how he had seen his companions treated shamefully. And you should know for a fact that if he had tasted that beverage, he wouldn’t have fared any better than us; rather, he would also have become a pig, and he would never have brought Ulysses to avenge us or deliver us. [2475–2494] When Ulysses learned what had happened, he was enormously displeased. He sought counsel from the heavenly gods about how he could overcome this magic, this marvel. The god of eloquence75 gave him a white flower to hold, which was a great help and a great advantage to the one who carried it. With that flower, Ulysses passed through the treacherous woman’s gate, 72 For Elle nous fist moult bon usage, v. 2440, Copenhagen (p. 795) has visage: “she put on a good face for us.” 73 Orge greïllie, v. 2446. Greïllie seems to modify orge specifically. If from graellir it matches Ovid’s malted barley; otherwise it might be “sifted barley.” 74 For J’oi le col, v. 2471, Copenhagen (p. 795) has corps, “body.” 75 Mercury.



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and when the enchantress who had enchanted us all saw him, she thought she would soon enchant him. [2495–2508] So the disloyal, false-hearted woman offered him the beverage that she thought would be his undoing, and tried to strike him on the head, but Ulysses, who was wise, rejected her beverage and threw it far away from him. Then he put his hand on his sword and wielded it fiercely, and he very harshly threatened Circe, who had deprived him of his people. When Circe saw him, she became afraid and had great fear of dying. She begged and asked him for mercy on condition that she return to him his companions and friends whom she had imprisoned. She pledged, swore, and gave him her word that she would also give herself to him, in marriage and in the flesh. [2509–2530] He in turn asked the goddess to make good on her agreement and her promise to return his people to him. Without delay, we were openly sent for so that we could be cured: hence we were sprinkled with another potion, a better and more healthful one, and hit and smacked on the head with the other end of the wand, and she, who knew so many tricks, spoke over us the counter to the charm that she had spoken at us. The more Circe undid the charm, the more we all came off the ground, and the more we stood up, and the more we lost our bristles, and the hair fell off our bodies and vanished. Our feet, which had been cleft in two, returned to their original form. Our arms and hands came back, and our bodies became human. Ulysses, who felt great friendship for us, wept out of pity, and we wept as well, and we humbly bowed before him and couldn’t get enough of hugging the noble duke. As soon as we could speak again, the first words we said were to thank him for the good deeds and the honors he had done us. [2531–2562]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you about the goddess Circe, the evil enchantress, and about those who deceived themselves when they drank her sweet potion. Circe can represent the queen, the filthy misbegotten whore, mother of abomination, that Saint John mentions in the Book of Revelation. She is the filthy, accursed bitch who causes the kings of the earth to commit adultery with her and to go astray from the righteous path of truth. [2563–2575] She is the one who makes her vanity, and her prostitution, and foul abomination, and the pleasure of her whoring into the potion and the beverage with which she inebriates the princes of the world. Those who are drunk on this potion are all enchanted and overcome and consumed with such evil frenzy that there are no reason or manners left in them. She is the one seated on the

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high throne which is full of blasphemous names.76 She is the one who dresses in fine scarlet cloth and golden silk and is adorned with gems. She is the one who holds the golden chalice that she offers to fools in her great malice and which is full of foul abomination and vile fornication in which the woeful take pleasure. [2576–2595] She is the one in whose house reside the lions of pride, the wolves of ravenousness, the wicked bears of anger and hatred, the pigs of gluttony and filth, and the vile birds of defamation, which have drunk her potion and become drunk and inebriated with it. She is the glutton who would get drunk on the blood of the saints whom she condemned to death. She is false Idolatry, who had dominion over everyone and imposed her excesses on dukes, princes, and kings, who were more gluttonous, foul, and base than pigs, and had no concern for salvific deliverance until Divine Wisdom – Jesus Christ – came from heaven to earth to find and deliver his people. [2596–2614] He is the one who lovingly took and wedded Gentilisa in marriage and in the flesh, taking flesh through her, and with a part of her that was converted to his faith, he founded Holy Church. And also at the end of time, he will, as I understand it, attract the remainder of Gentilisa, and at that time there will be only one Holy Church, one religion and one faith, and one Pastor. He is the one who delivered his people and sobered the drunk, whom Gentilisa had deceived and enchanted and intoxicated with the potion of unbelief and the wine of false ignorance, and those who before his coming lived like dumb animals, baser and fouler than “pigs in a sty”: he enchanted them by having them drink the sweet “potion” of his doctrine, and he got them out of all misfortune by hitting them on the head with the wand of discipline. [2615–2640] O God, how many such “pigs” there are now, base and foul, more than there were in those days: pigs full of filth and baseness, gluttonous pigs full of disease, pigs who have no inclinations but to stuff their gluttonous bellies, pigs that are swallowed up by the comfort of the world, pigs who dirty themselves in the muck, in the stinking sludge and the filth of gluttony and lust. These are the wicked, fattened pigs that the devil is fattening, and, unless God thinks of them, he intends to marinate and package them in hell, where they will be burned, after they leave this world – unless they first repent, unless the wand of penance touches them at God’s pleasure, and unless they restrain their mouths and bodies from the worldly delights they chose as their share. And just as they now devote their care to lust and filth and stuffing their gluttonous bellies, so they must want to thin their fatty flesh through bitterness and hardship, through penance and suffering, to purge and cleanse themselves

76 Revelation 17:3, which has her sitting on a beast covered with blasphemous names, suggests that the names are supposed to be on the throne and not her.



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of the filth and baseness of every excess. That, in short, is how the gluttonous pigs can become holy people. [2641–2675] [miniature, fol. 366r: the chambermaid showing macareus the golden statue of picus]77

Picus and His Companions (Told by Macareus) {F}or a year we stayed there and never left, night or day, except to amuse ourselves. There were four chambermaids there who showed and told me many things. One of them in particular secretly revealed to me many marvels and exploits that her lady Circe had done. While Circe was fooling around with my duke, who was bedding her, the chambermaid secretly showed me within the temple a very beautiful statue of a king, carved out of marble, wearing a green woodpecker on his head, and it was surrounded with all sorts of crowns.78 I asked who this king was who wore the woodpecker on his head that way, and why he was worshipped in that holy place, and who had placed him there, and what the woodpecker signified. [2676–2698] ‘You will hear the answer to your question,’ the chambermaid said, ‘and if you want, by listening to my story you will be able to learn about my lady’s power. [miniature, fol. 366v: circe surrounded by animals and birds] ‘{T}he bold-faced Picus was once king of Lombardy.79 He was very powerful and vigorous. He was very proud and chivalrous. And from this statue you can see the great beauty of his face, for his true appearance was as you see it portrayed here. He was handsome, but his boldness went far beyond that.80 He was no more than twenty, and without a doubt, in the battle of Troy, you would never have seen a Greek of his age display so much heroism. [2699–2716] ‘Many ladies coveted him and many maidens – wood and river nymphs – were in love with him but he turned them all down for the love of one lady, to whom he had given his whole heart like a loyal beloved. She was born on Mount Palatine; she was beautiful and graceful and had 77 The statue of Picus here evokes the miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods on fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r. 78 Et toute ert porprise / De corones de mainte guise, vv. 2691–2692. In Ovid (Met. 14.315: coronis), these are wreaths. The Rouen (fol. 366r) illuminator clearly represents them as crowns hovering around the statue. 79 In Ovid (Met. 14.320), Ausonia. and Picus was a son of Saturn. See Book 1, vv. 681– 700, for Saturn in Lombardy. Copenhagen (p. 798) has {S}icus here: another illuminator error? 80 In Ovid, par animus formae (Met. 14.324): “His spirit equaled his looks” (Kline). The OM says it exceeds them.

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a good reputation. She was the daughter of Venilia and Janus. She did not love any man nor want to give her heart in love or marriage to any man alive – as much as she would have liked to – except to Picus, king of Laurentum, who reciprocated her attention. He was her loyal beloved. They had given their hearts to each other. They loved each other tremendously. He was handsome, and she was beautiful, gracious above all other women: and she was his beloved and his wedded wife. [2717–2738] ‘She was an incredibly beautiful singer, and because she sang so well, all those who knew her well called her Canens, that is, “singing.” She sang so well, truth be told, that her singing would move trees and rocks and the hearts of vicious wild beasts, and it would make rivers halt. Her singing would make flying birds stop in mid-air, charmed by her sweet voice. While the beauty was intent on attracting animals by singing to the trees, the waters, and the birds, the young man went hunting for boars in the woods of Laurentum. He was very meticulously dressed in a cloak of gilded silk, and he was mounted on an admirable horse, strong and fiery, and he carried two spears. [2739–2759] ‘Circe, who often went there to pluck flowers for her spells, had come there on that occasion to pick many kinds of flowers. From a little garden where she was hidden, she saw Picus, and as soon as she noticed him, she was so consumed with the frenzy of love that she was totally disoriented. Stunned and disquieted, she dropped the flowers she had picked. Afterwards, when she had thought about it, she wanted to tell the king what would please her, but she didn’t have the chance, for the king’s retinue and his crowd of servants got in her way, and very soon the horse, full of impetuosity, had carried him off. [2760–2777] ‘Then Circe said, “Even if you were to run faster than the wind and fly faster than a bird, if I’ve ever learned anything, I’ll render you defeated and caught, if I don’t lack intellect and ingenuity, and if the medicine of herbs is effective. But I don’t think I lack intellect, and I believe that the medicine of herbs is effective.” [2778–2784] ‘Then, through her enchantment, she caused the mere illusion of a wild boar to appear, which seemed to the king to be running ahead of him with great abandon; and it charged, without pausing, into the deepest part of the forest, where no horse could follow. To catch up with the false illusion of the boar that he thought he had seen, the king dismounted and followed it on foot through the dense forest, brandishing his sword. [2785–2796] ‘Circe spoke invocations, spells, and incantations, for she knew so many of them. She spoke one with which she had often taken away the brightness of the sun and left the moon in darkness, and with her enchantment she clouded the air, and it legitimately seemed that fog was coming out of the ground, obscuring everything. The king’s companions,



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who couldn’t see anything, lost their lord’s trail and did not know which way he had gone. They were wandering – one here, another there – in their ignorance and propensity to be led astray, looking for the king in out-ofthe-way places. [2797–2812] ‘When the enchantress saw the king all alone in the thick forest and saw that she had the time and opportunity to tell him what would please her, she came up to him, and entreated him, and addressed him as follows: “Handsome and lovely young man – the most handsome, the most lovely, the most pleasing in the world – beloved in whom all grace abounds, by the beautiful eyes in your bright face that have caught my eyes, I believe, and by the beauty of your face, which has put such a blazing frenzy in my heart that so anguishes and torments me that I am forced to entreat your love, I beg you out of true love to take pity on me and take me as your consort and wife. I am a queen and a noble lady, and I am the daughter of the god of the sun, who watches everything with his single eye. Don’t scorn my entreaty just because I am entreating you first.” [2813–2836] ‘Picus answered: “God forbid that I should be disloyal towards the one who holds my heart captive. You may be a lady of great worth, powerful, wise, and of exalted descent: I care little for that. My appetite is directed elsewhere. My attention is fixed on another, very wise, very wellbred; she has my heart at her command and I have no desire to exchange her for you, as long as god keeps her alive. I do not have, nor will I ever have, any desire to violate the bond of the marriage-bed for the pleasure of another woman.” [2837–2852] ‘Circe entreated him again several times, but nothing she could say to him could sway his heart so that she could have his love. When she saw that he was definitely scorning her, she was consumed with anger and rage. She had never been any more woeful, and said: “Curse you for rejecting me, because I intend to avenge this scorn and aloofness most harshly. I’ll show you what a woman can do when she has had a setback in love, and the one you love so much and whom you profess to love will never get you back, if I have anything to say about it!” [2853–2867] ‘Then she turned twice toward the sunrise, and twice toward the sunset, and she touched him on the head three times with a stick, and she spoke three spells in a low voice. He fled, but he ran more swiftly than he was used to, and he was mightily amazed to find himself so swift and mobile. He now had feathers, which carried him through the forest and soon took him away. The young man felt great grief when he saw that he had been turned into a bird. With his beak, which was hard and piercing, he hit and pierced the large tree trunks, in his anger and the fullness of his woe. His plumage was the same color as his clothing used to be: the hem, the gold, and the silk belt that had been attached to the mantle that the king used to wear became

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feathers of the same color. His head was golden on top. He kept nothing he had originally had except the name he had had then: his name had been, and still is, Picus.81 [2868–2894] ‘His companions were running all over. They were looking for their master and lord. They came and went everywhere: they searched and called for him so much, but no amount of scouring would make it possible for them to find him. In the end they found Circe, who was alone in the clearing where she had worked her misfortune, for the darkness and the fog that she had brought about had been dissipated by the wind and sun. When those who had lost their lord found her alone, they realized and knew for a fact that she had taken the king away from them through her enchantment. They rushed at her with abandon and asked her to give up their lord, or else they would cause her great shame and dishonor if she did not give him back to them at once. [2895–2915] ‘She was afraid, so she immediately performed her spells and sorceries, full of great devilry, and sprinkled them with medicines and mixtures of herbs and roots, which greatly poisoned and harmed them, and she prayed to the gods of the night, and those of hell and the abyss, and she even invoked Hecate, the goddess of enchantment. Through her howling, she caused a great forest to grow and gather there, and she made the whole earth tremble and groan, and the trees next to her all grew pale with fear. Through her enchantment, she brought forth a thick rain of blood, and she made the hollows of the rocks resound with raucous roars, and from all directions there appeared rabid barking dogs, and pitch-black snakes and venomous vermin which covered and filled the earth and the whole area, and souls of the dead flew forth. [2916–2941] ‘The king’s companions, seeing this, felt great fear and dread, and were mightily bewildered, and in their bewilderment they lost their sense and reason, and were all filled with madness. Circe poisoned them by touching them on the heads and mouths with her wand full of poison, and she stripped them of all human form, and transformed their bodies and faces into various wild beasts. None of them kept their original form; rather, they have all become ugly and deformed monsters.’ [2942–2956] [miniature, fol. 368r: a saint preaching to a seated crowd]82

“Pic” ot nom et pics est encores, v. 2894. Untranslatable pun. In Old French, pics or pic, very similar to picus, meant woodpecker. 82 Fols 67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. 81



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Moralization {N}ow it is right for me to tell you what King Picus, who was married to Canens, represents. Picus represents the prophets, the holy apostles, of the Old Testament, and of ours,83 each of whom made, in his own person, a good and fitting union of virtuous living and holy preaching. These two things “loved each other so much” that they came together well and beautifully, such that the one would not abandon the other for anyone’s sake, no matter how they might oppress them. [2957–2970] Preaching “sang,” advising all people to come to their salvation. The prophets and apostles preached so sweetly that they converted the peoples, and with their sermons they attracted those who deigned to hear them to do good and shun evil. And while they preached, they themselves mortified all iniquity, all filth, and all baseness in their hearts,84 and subdued the flesh through penance, and with the bit of abstinence, continence, and moderation, they restrained it with great care, and with the spurs of travail they constrained the bitter horse so that it would not revolt against the soul.85 For where the flesh is queen, and it runs as it pleases without bit, reins, or bridle, it runs off course and devotes itself to trying to put the spirit to death; but anyone who does a good job of treating it harshly and keeping it under control can get good service out of it. [2971–2996] They were the battlers, the powerful kings, the victors who vanquished worldly delights and for the love of God endured shame, suffering, pain, and distress – more penance and hardship than any of the saints of paradise: thus they dressed themselves, it seems to me, in a blood-colored silk mantle of love and pure charity, with which their hearts were ablaze. Or, if anyone prefers, the silk is to be taken as the blood that they shed for God when they endured Passion and death, humbly, without any hubris, to bear witness to the true faith. [2997–3012] They “bore fearsome swords,” very sharp and piercing, with which they brought down the “boars” of pride. They were the ones who scorned the glory and delights of the world, in which all vanity abounds, for they are more vain and ephemeral than a vain, fleeting shadow. They were the ones who would not, no matter how they were entreated, flattered, or criticized, consent to or do anything that was contrary to what they said, for they accomplished by works everything that they said while preaching. Hence some of those who

83 “Ours,” that is, the New Testament: vv. 2961–2962 should probably be understood as “the prophets of the Old Testament and the holy apostles of the New.” 84 En lor cors, v. 2981, could also mean “in their bodies,” but Copenhagen (p. 802), which tends to clearly disambiguate, has En leur cuers. 85 For v. 2989, Qu’il ne reputast contre l’ame, Rouen (fol. 368r) confirms reputast, while Copenhagen (p. 802) has repugnast.

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watched them followed their example and fled the glory, the comfort, and the delights that they had chosen in the world. [3013–3030] The border and the gold represent the works of their holy lives, with which they adorned themselves while alive, and which remained to them in death. They are the ones who, for God, peaceably and without complaint endured many beatings, much scorn, and many insults that the wicked tyrants inflicted on them. [3031–3039] They are the “birds” that “flew through the air” through contemplation, for all their intention was “raised above the earth” to obtain heavenly glory. They were the “woodpeckers” who pecked those swollen with pride,86 hitting them with the beak of reproach and righteous correction, for they did not spare anyone, nor did they fear anyone, no matter how great; rather, they wanted to reveal everyone’s defects to them, without concealing anything. They are the ones who did so much good and lived so virtuously that they are now held in great honor in the temples of our Lord, and they are signs and examples of good conduct for the whole world. [3040–3058] Alternatively, Picus can be taken as the King who reigned eternally on earth and in the heavens: he was the young Man – the most beautiful, the most lovely, more pleasing and attractive than any human creature – whom God anointed with the holy oil of gladness and made King of Kings. In order to strike down the ravages of the “wild boars” that lived in great abundance throughout the world – that is, of the vices, the vileness, and the filthy iniquities of sin, with which the earth was filled – he left his rightful domain – that is, of the heavens – and deigned to come to earth and become a true man, putting on as clothing the mantle of human nature, which was later stained and dyed crimson and colored by his holy blood. [3059–3080] He is the one who kept the galloping horse of the flesh on a short rein through the travail of penance, and kept it underfoot. He is the one who wears the twin spurs of twofold and contrasting judgment: a good verdict for the good, an adverse one for the evil. [3081–3086] He is the one who, in keeping with our human nature, made in himself a union of holy preaching and of doing good: first he set out to do good, and then to speak and hold forth so that all men and women might follow his example and do as they saw him do, and as they heard him preach. He came to live in this world, where all iniquity abounds, without ever staining his heart or body with even a single sin. He never sinned, truth be told. He was able to give the appearance and seeming that he was legitimately a true man, and wholly took unto himself the frailty of our poor humanity, except insofar as he never sinned and sin never stained him. [3087–3108] 86 For Les gros orgueilleus, v. 3046, Copenhagen (p. 803) has Les glous orguilleux, “the prideful scoundrels/gluttons.”



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He is the one who, to serve God according to his will, cast aside and dismissed temporal goods and bodily delights, which are more vain and changeable, more fleeting, and quicker to pass away than a flower that blooms in May87 and then withers, falls, and dies in the evening. [3109–3116] He is the one who, for the salvation of earthly existence, was basely rendered up to shame and suffering. His head, sides, feet, and hands were stained with a red color, having been pierced and stabbed with the crown and the spear and the nails for our sake. [3117–3124] He is the one who, without a doubt, “pecked” the big stained trees – the prideful full of sin – through preaching, with the beak of reproach. He is the one who “flew away” through the air to God the Father, to whom he went. But as a symbol of his death and Passion, he left us the form and the sign of the crucifix, which is a sign to us of how he was hideously treated, killed, and made to suffer for love of us. And Holy Church still has the sacrament of this, which instructs and reminds us how he suffered mortal pain, and how he offered himself to the Father as an offering and sacrifice to make him gentle and favorable toward us, after the first mother had taken him away from us through the bitter apple that she and Adam, in their insanity, had eaten against God’s will. [3124–3146] The companions who ran here and there looking for the king, whom Circe – in order to harm them – struck on the face and head and transformed in various ways with the magic of her enchantment, can be understood and explained, if anyone wants to gloss this correctly, as the apostles and the disciples who were subjected to dire punishments by the foolish tyrants, full of disloyalty, in bearing witness to our faith. [3147–3158] {T}here can be another interpretation that is well in accord with truth. The servants who were searching for their lord everywhere and did not find any trace of him represent our preachers and master teachers, those who now exist and those to come. They are seeking God, the heavenly King, and will keep seeking him and his holy ways; but nonetheless they cannot find him. They condemn and reproach the world and those who are at fault in the world, but they are the ones who are the most at fault. The world kills and confounds them, seducing and distracting them and distancing them and luring them away from God, and transforming them in various ways through its damning seduction. [3159–3176] Some are prideful lions, and other are ravenous wolves who gobble and devour everything, and devour the common folk, and never cease killing them. And others are wild boars of lust and gluttony, and others are bears of wickQue n’est flors qui en mai florist, v. 3113: here we might have expected main, “morning,” given the other instances of this in the OM and elsewhere. Rouen (fol. 368v) and Copenhagen (p. 804) clearly have mai or may without abbreviation. 87

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edness. In this way they, deform and lose themselves thanks to the vices that they cling to. [3177–3186] And the time is coming, without delay, when the false one full of deceit, the cruel wild beast, Satan, full of evil rage, will come and roam the world and roar like a lion to seek what he will devour, and at that time he will reveal himself openly throughout the world, and falsehood, which is now covered and concealed in the clouds of hypocrisy, will be open and revealed to all. At that time, falsehood will be esteemed more than true sincerity is now. At that time, all the clouds and darkness of hypocrisy will be dissipated, for the heat of malevolence and the winds of pride, which will blow then, will do away with all semblance, and falsehood and misfortune will rule unconcealed. [3187–3208] What will become of preachers? Those who uphold the truth will be vilely abused: the false one full of deception, Antichrist, who will have dominion at that time, will degrade them openly. He will be so versed in black magic and he will be so full of deception that devils will serve him and will readily do whatever he deigns to ask of them. He will work so many marvels on earth that nearly everyone who sees these marvels will believe in him. He will be able to openly make great woods grow everywhere in the open fields, and the earth groan, and tremble and quake all over. At that time, Christianity and Holy Church will be “pale” and beset. [3209–3228] At that time, “drops of scarlet blood” must be seen raining down, for sin will rampage through the world like flooding rain that covers the world in blood. And the rocks, it will seem, will give forth raucous roars, and dogs will bark loudly. The Antichrist’s false prophets will be the “dogs” who will bark his laws and his commandments all over the world. At that time, the earth will be full of “vermin and vile serpents,” of sinners and of sins with which the people will be stained. And to make even more people turn foolish, it will seem that he can make souls fly forth and reenter bodies. [3229–3247] The scoundrel full of deception will perform even greater marvels with his black magic that will astonish everyone, so much so that they will all obey him, and all the people who see his signs will believe in him. Then they will all be forced to follow his example of evil living. And all the people will be subject to his rule and on his leash, and they will all be filled with devils and will be abominable monsters. And no one will have their rightful form, for the fools and the misguided who obey the devil will all be marked and signed on their chests and in their form. 88 That is how the tale is in accord with truth. [3248–3266] [miniature, fol. 369v: canens reaching the tiber] Quar en son sain et en sa forme, v. 3262. Copenhagen (p. 805) has en son sang et en sa forme, “in their blood and in their form.” Per Revelation 13:16, the mark of the beast will be in their right hand or on their foreheads. 88



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Canens (Told by Macareus) {A}lready the sun had set. The king was expected in vain for a long time but he did not come home. His wife and beloved, who very much desired his coming, became despondent and sad when she saw that he would not return. Nonetheless, she still hoped that he would come, and she listened, and kept watch with her heart and eyes, and so longed for him to come and for her to see him again. She sent her servants and retinue to seek and search for him to see if they could find him. The envoys, without any guile, roamed the moors and woods: they searched for him in out-of-the-way places, and carried counterproductive torches.89 [3267–3284] And his wife wept and sighed, tore and yanked out her hair, and walked around wringing her hands. But she did not stop at that; rather, she rushed out on impulse and ran off like a madwoman out of her mind, night and day, without resting or stopping, for six days and nights on end, through the wide open fields, through valleys and plains, headlong, wherever Fortune guided her, and she had nothing to eat or drink. She traveled so far that in the end she stopped at the Tiber; the poor, wretched woman leaned over the riverbank. She sighed and groaned so much for the loss of her beloved, and lamented as she wept like a dying swan that sings anticipating its death. She groaned and wept so much, without a doubt, and her suffering lasted so long that she lost all her blood and color, and her marrow dissipated, and little by little she vanished into thin air, and it was due to this that no one knew what became of her. However, the renown of this persisted: the peasants of the area named the place after the nymph, calling it ‘Canens’. [3285–3316]

89 The problem is obvia lumina, normally translated “torches,” in Met. 14.418–419: famuli populusque per omnes / discurrunt silvas atque obvia lumina portant (“Her servants, and her people, ran through the woods to meet him, carrying torches,” Kline). The relevant sense of obvia is apparently “ready to hand” (sense 6 in the Oxford Latin Dictionary, 2nd ed., and II.B2 in Lewis and Short, s.v. obvius), hence “portable lights,” i.e., torches. Madeleine Forey, commenting on how Arthur Golding mistranslated this line, notes “Regius’s explanation “funalia, faces” (wax-torches, torches)” (Golding 2001, 507, note to 475). The OM, setting up the moralization in vv. 3358–3380 below, instead takes obvia as “contrary, adverse, standing in the way,” which is among the possible meanings of the Latin adjective, and renders it in French with contralable, “countervailing, counterproductive.” (Interestingly, Adam King, “A Supplement to the unfinished Fourth Book of George Buchanan’s De Sphaera,” https://www.dps.gla.ac.uk/electronic-resource/print/?pid=d2_KinA_008, translates obvia lumina, line 134, in the context of the constellations, as “the light that comes to meet them”: likewise Freund (1868), 443, glosses Ovid’s obvia lumina in Met. 14.419 as entgegengehende Lichte. With “to meet him, carrying torches,” Kline seems to be getting at both possibilities.)

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[miniature, fol. 370r: a pope or bishop in the pulpit preaching to a seated crowd]90

Moralization {W}hen the true Sun of justice was hidden by the death sentence to which he was rendered up by Judaism, whose heart was intoxicated with foolishness and madness, his spouse91 was incredibly sad in her heart, and she gave a heartfelt groan, because she had lost the bodily presence of her beloved. But now her sorrow is being multiplied by the long delay of her beloved, who is too long delayed. She had waited for him peacefully, in hope, for a long time, desirous of his coming, and had been steadfast in her faith, but throughout the entire world, hope is false and lying, for the sun slips away and sets, and all faith is false and stopped up,92 and truth is trampled. [3317–3337] The spouse, widowed and forsaken by the loss of her husband, with a distraught and bewildered heart now sends to all peoples her ministers and servants, that is to say, her preachers and master teachers, to seek and search for her husband, to see if she can find any man or woman who has any interest in doing good works or in doing good, and anyone in whom God’s grace dwells. But, as David recounts, there isn’t a single person who does good or who abounds in God’s grace, for on the mountains of prelacy, and in the valleys of submission, and in the forests and thickets of the wastelands of religion, everyone goes astray from the proper path. [3338–3357] There are now very few people, as God is my witness, who are good or profitable. Our teachers, our illuminating masters, carry “counterproductive torches,” when, to illuminate the world, in which all iniquity and all evil abound, they should carry at least two lights in their hands: those of holy preaching and of doing good, so that they might fulfill by good works the teachings they might speak. But their lights are resistant, discordant, and hostile, for their base and foul deeds are, it seems to me, obscuring the light of doctrine, so that their preaching shines less, illuminates less, and is less pleasing, and the laypeople take example from it less than they would if they were to see them do good works. [3358–3380] {T}he spouse feels tremendous anguish and woe, and she weeps and sighs and laments her beloved’s delay. After she will have cried and groaned for a long time and he will not have come back, the spouse and loyal beloved will

Fols 67r, 154r, 267v, 302v, 368r, and 370r have comparable miniatures of preaching. Holy Church. 92 For v. 3336, Et toute fois fausse et rebrouche (and de Boer glosses rebrouche as “obscurcir, hébéter, abrutir”), Rouen (fol. 370r) has rebouche, and Copenhagen (p. 806) has Car touteffois fausse et rebouce, “for it is nonetheless false and stopped up.” 90

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not stand for letting it go at that; rather, she will set off, wringing her hands,93 attacking her face and chest while sighing, tearing her hair, sad and woeful and tearstricken, running like a mad soul,94 without resting or stopping, without eating or drinking, night and day, without abandoning her travails, through fields, hills,95 and valleys, wherever Fortune will take her. [3381–3397] The few people who will remain in faith and steadfast hope, persevering steadfastly in the belief of Holy Church, will painfully suffer so much anguish, so much distress, so much torment, so much torture, so much trouble, that I don’t know how to tell all of it, nor could anyone recount it. The poor, wretched woman will not be inclined to enjoy herself or to sleep in vain indolence; rather, she will flee, full of anguish and suffering, full of sighs and weeping, misery and discomfort, without finding anyone to comfort her, and the majority of Holy Church will be the object of dire punishment in different ways in different places. [3398–3417] Some will flee in secret throughout the world, in great misfortune, until in the end, to conclude this woeful misery, they will come to Rome, where the center of Christianity used to be, which will be in great bereavement at that time. There they will groan and there they will weep, and many will die as they groan and will, without a doubt, resemble swans that sing anticipating their death. The disloyal, full of hubris, will make them perish for bearing witness to the true faith, and holy preaching will start vanishing into thin air, and Holy Church will take to hiding, so that she will not be found in the open, because of the wicked, filled with rage. [3418–3436] But no matter how unfortunate she is, her renown will remain, and it will be said that Holy Church once used to be based in Rome. And nonetheless the spouse will live on spiritually with her lover in heaven, in the eternal kingdom, after her transitory suffering. And blessed will be those who will persevere in the faith until the end, without holding back from fear of enduring hardship. So it has been said by the prophets, who cannot be contradicted, and their names will be written in the Book of Life, I have no doubt. [3437–3452] [miniature, fol. 370v: macareus on the shore, addressing the ships of ulysses or aeneas]

As de Boer notes, for v. 3388 Rouen (fol. 370v) has son uis batant, “beating her face.” For ame forsenee, v. 3392, Copenhagen (p. 807) has femme foursennee, “a madwoman.” 95 For de Boer’s terres (“lands”) in v. 3396, Rouen (fol. 370v) has an abbreviation best expanded to tertres, which is the actual reading in Copenhagen (p. 807). 93 94

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Macareus Finishes His Story {S}uch marvels, and many more, were told to me before the whole year was out by this servant girl who lived with the enchantress, and many more before the whole year was out, and I likewise saw many things that Circe did by enchantment. And we stayed there for so long that, because of the comfort we enjoyed, we became unaccustomed to the work we used to do, to the point that Ulysses roused us again to make us work. He ordered us, like before, to prepare the ships and set the sails before the wind and put out from the shore, to sail across the sea again. [3453–3468] Circe, who knew the perils of the sea, had terrified me by telling us about the great dangers, perils, and misfortunes that awaited us on the sea, and how the routes we were going to take were much more perilous than we thought. For fear of these perils, since I did not want to perish at sea, I left the sea, which was only wise, and came to the safety of the shore. [3469–3480]

Moralization “{A}n entire year and more”: that is, rightly, during the time called the time of grace, lasting for a thousand years and then some, during which Jesus Christ sojourned in the world – and he is still sojourning in it, with his men and his people, with his lords, with his servants, through the holy Sacrament of the Altar. And meanwhile they will have well been able to learn and see, and find out through Scripture, all too much about the betrayals and deceptions, the frauds and trickeries that happen again and again in the world, and about how fools will rule and will inflict punishment on the good. [3481–3497] The disciples have sojourned so long in the world in rest and comfort, without suffering, without pain or discomfort, without harm, without tribulation, without any persecution, and have gotten so familiar with its delights and worldly comforts, that they have defamiliarized themselves with doing good, with laboring and enduring hardship, and their hearts are all asleep. But soon they will be shaken up: Jesus Christ will wake them up, and will abandon them to the anguishes and distresses, miseries and hardships, perils, temptations, and waves of persecution that must come upon the good before the world must end. [3498–3516] Some people, to escape the perils of the world in which many have perished, escaped the world, which was only wise, and came to the shore of secure religion, where they set up residence for they did not dare to strive against the world. Some, to avoid the anguishes and sorrows, the sufferings and the distresses, the bitter temptations, the waves of tribulations that will shortly befall in the world the good people who comport themselves well, will grumble against the bitter sea of the world where those who loyally sail on



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will experience much bitterness.96 They will damnably align themselves with the wicked one full of deceit, fraud, and false appearance, who will delude the deluded and seduce the wretched. Those woeful wretches will think they will have reached the rightful shore and proper port of peace and joyful happiness, but their joy will soon fail and they will then pay dearly for it, because after their fleeting glory all memory of them will perish, for God, who exists and will exist eternally,97 will leave them in damnation to lament and suffer in the fire of hell, forgotten. [3517–3550] [miniature, fol. 371v: king latinus witnessing the marriage of aeneas and lavinia]

Aeneas and Lavinia {A}bove, you heard the tale, as told by Macareus to Aeneas and his followers and those in his company, about the perils and dire troubles that they endured, day and night, in different ways in different places, including with Circe, as well as how he had gone on to act since he had come back from there. [3551–3560] Bold-hearted Aeneas stayed long enough on that shore to bury his nurse. Then he unmoored his ship and sailed off to sea at speed, him and his crew, doing all they could to keep from landing at Circe’s port, which had such a bad reputation. Rather, they sailed toward the area where the Tiber flowed into the sea: that was the land he was counting on, which was to belong to him and his people, who would be the princes and masters of it. They would be the lords of it, but, without a doubt, that would not happen without great battle! [3561–3576] Aeneas sailed night and day, without stopping, for so long that he landed at the city he would later inherit. It brought him great joy in his heart. King Latinus gave him his daughter Lavinia in marriage – a beautiful lady, nobly born, worthy and wise and virtuous – and all his land as a dowry. But Turnus, a powerful vassal, opposed him, saying that he would not stand for anyone else to have his beloved except for him: he should have her because she had been

96 De Boer puts a period at the end of v. 3532, thus: Dou monde, où trop avront d’amer. / Cil qui loiaument nageront … But Rouen (fol. 371r) has punctuation here: Dou monde. ou trop auront d’am[er] / Cil qui loiaument nag[er]ont, and we translate accordingly (while the moralization in Copenhagen skips from v. 3494 to v. 3537). 97 De Boer’s punctuation of vv. 3547–3549 should be amended to Quar Diex, qui pardurablement / Maint et maindra, dampnablement les lessera plaindre et doloir. Rouen (fol. 371r) has a dot after maint, indicating that this goes with pardurablement in the previous line, but the crucial issue is that dampnablement goes with lessera and not maindra.

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promised and pledged to him first. Rather, he wanted to mount a bellicose challenge for the woman and the land by force of arms and war. [3577–3596] Aeneas saw and knew without a doubt that Turnus was thinking to use arms and war to despoil him of the land and of the wife that her father had promised him, and he saw well that he had few friends in this country to defend him. He sent a message to Evander, a mighty duke by that name, a powerful man of great renown, and asked him to please help him against this attack, on condition that Aeneas would help him at need when the occasion arose. Evander did not refuse him; rather, he immediately saw to helping him as best he could. Others, to my mind, did the same: powerful men of great renown, whose names I don’t know. Turnus, in turn, summoned his own friends: he begged some and ordered others all to come and assist him in this endeavor without any delay. Each of them strove and exerted himself to increase his army and his forces and to send for and summon reinforcements to confound his adversary. [3597–3624] Moralization {H}oly Church “traveled night and day, with little rest, for so long that she reached the realm of the Latins.” She was received with great joy by “King Latinus,” that is, the people with devout hearts, who well and loyally chose, without fraud or hubris, to join in the belief and the faith preached by Holy Church. But the devil prevented – no he didn’t, because he couldn’t, but if he could have, he would willingly have prevented him! – the Son of God from inheriting that land. He did not want him to cast him out or to despoil him of Gentilisa, who was his spouse and his betrothed. [3625–3640] The devil put up a great fight, without a doubt, and without a great battle, Jesus Christ would not have great dominion over the people of the Latin lands, that is, over the Lombards and the Romans. Saint Paul and Saint Peter, at the very least, and many others of God’s friends, were martyred, and achieved so much through their martyrdom that they conquered that empire for God. [3641–3650] That fight lasted a long time. The devil had a tremendous amount of help in making war on God for a long time. He caused many problems and many obstacles for the Christian faith through the strength and pride of the Roman rulers and judges. Great was the killing and the deluge of the blood of the saints that they shed in various places: they crucified some98 and decapitated others, threw some into the sea, and condemned many others to death in various ways. But despite this, they could not, it seems to me, cause them, dead or alive, to stop defending the faith of God, no matter what troubles 98 Les uns pendoient, v. 3660. “Crucified” is on the basis of the biblical account; alternatively, “they hanged some.”



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they had to endure. They fought for the faith of God and defeated God’s enemies. [3651–3670] For a long time the result hung in the balance. The rulers were forbidding anyone from believing in the Son of God and the Christian religion from growing in Rome’s dominions, but the strong, the virtuous people sustained the faith of Jesus Christ, and through their outreach, many came to the Christian faith, all ready and eager to receive suffering and death in order to have the love of Jesus Christ. [3671–3682] {O}r, for anyone who wants to explain this otherwise, Turnus can rightly represent the false, misbegotten disloyal one, Antichrist, who must inflict many harms, many troubles, many temptations, and many tribulations on the champions of Holy Church, as Scripture states. [3683–3690] [miniature, fol. 372r: turnus giving a letter to a messenger?]

Diomedes’ Soldiers Become Seagulls {T}urnus sent one of his messengers to Diomedes, asking him to agree to help him in his war against Aeneas, who wanted to despoil him of his land by force and steal his wife from him. After the pain and travails, the mishaps and the poverty that he had suffered for a long time after the Trojan war, Diomedes of Calydon99 had wandered so far over land and sea that he stopped in the kingdom of Daunus, who lent him – or rather, gave him, free and clear, as hereditary property100 – so much land that he had founded a city there, as well as his daughter in marriage. [3691–3707] Venulus came on this errand, and on behalf of Turnus he entreated him to help him in this need. Diomedes refused him his help, and apologized to him, saying that he could not and should not do what Turnus was asking. [3708–3714] “My friend,” he said, “don’t be upset that I can’t help you. I am not the lord of this land, and I mustn’t lead my father-in-law’s people into war without permission, nor do I have my own army with which I could help you on this occasion. And so that you shouldn’t think I’m making things up, I will tell you, without fail, the loss that has befallen me since Troy was destroyed, even though remembering it will revive my sorrow and renew the suffering of my sorrow and my tears. [3715–3730] “Since the Trojan war was over, and all the land destroyed, and Ilium razed and consumed by Greek fire, and its people burned and slain, some by fire A city in Aetolia, on the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth. presta / Ains dona cuite en herité, vv. 3704–3705. Ovid (Met. 14.458–459) says more clearly that the land was given as a dowry. 99

100 Li

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and the others by the sword, we thought we were safe, not fearing that any more misfortune could befall us. We thought we could return joyfully to our lands, but warlike Minerva caused us mighty harm. This was Pallas, the holy goddess, who hated us for the harm done by the wise Ulysses, and she caused us tremendous harm for the time when he took and seized the Palladium from the goddess’s temple, and had transgressed so much against Pallas that he had seized and abducted Cassandra, the slender beauty, the maiden daughter of Priam, and so incurred divine wrath, from which we all suffered and received dire harm. [3731–3756] “For we were all scattered, and wandered aimlessly for a very long time over the sea, like vagabonds or exiles, with great misfortune, without reaching a suitable port. Wild and contrary winds were all too negative and hostile to us. Lightning, storms, rain, cold, and the darkness of unsettled nights caused us great troubles and all too often made us suffer the anger of the sea and the sky. And to top off the great losses that we had suffered for so long, several people were killed and perished at sea in woeful peril. It would take too long to tell you in order the great misfortunes we had and the great perils in which we found ourselves: to put it briefly, we had so much suffering and torment that, truth be told, King Priam himself would have pitied us. [3757–3780] “Nonetheless, after much pain and difficulty, we made it off the waves onto open land with the help of the warlike goddess Minerva, who, in her pity, saved me so that I did not perish in the perilous waves. And I thought to enjoy some rest in my homeland, but I couldn’t, because I was driven from my homeland, and I was then even more shocked to find that my wife and those who owed me the most support were the ones driving me out. Remembering the ancient wound I had caused her, Venus, the mother of the god of love, the holy goddess of love, inflicted new payback on me for my old sin. [3781–3797] “I’ve experienced so much shame and misfortune, and I’ve endured so much pain, travail, woe, and conflict on land and sea that those who had avoided these great misfortunes through the dire perils in which they had died and perished seemed to me to be blessed, and I would have liked, truth be told, to have died with them in order to have peace. On land and sea we had suffered so much pain, woe, and conflict that no one could bear any more. I had few companions whose hearts didn’t fail them, and who could no longer endure their woes, and sought a final ending to their grief and misfortune. One of them was very cunning, bitter, and fierce – Acmon was his name – who was scornful and muttered about the miseries he was enduring, and said: [3798–3819] “‘What more destructive pains and setbacks can we endure? We never have to be afraid any more, for whenever one fears the worst, what they fear tends to befall them. No one could have it worse than we do. Our situation is so



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terrible that it’s certain it can’t get any worse. Those who have the ultimate of all ills can, it seems to me, scorn there being worse. Overwhelming misery reassures a person that nothing worse is in store for them. Even if Venus can hear us and although she might hate all of Diomedes’ men forever, we scorn her hatred, her anger, and her hostility, and we have little fear of her ill-will, and we care little for her great power.’ [3819–3838] “Acmon muttered and jabbered like this, and incited Venus to do worse than she had done, and with his insults he stirred and rekindled the dormant and smothered embers of her anger. There were some who were pleased by the foolish things he had said; most of us condemned Acmon and rebuked him for daring to repeatedly provoke Venus. And as he tried to answer us, the power of speech failed him: his voice became incredibly shrill and his windpipe was constrained. For these scornful words, his hair became new feathers on his neck, back, and chest, and his mouth became a beak, hard and sharp like horn. [3839–3858] “Lycus watched the marvel and was very astonished and amazed, seeing him reduced to such dishonor. Idas, Abas, Rhexenor, and Nycteus were astonished as well, and in their astonishment they saw themselves take on and assume a similar form: truth be told, the majority of my companions were turned into little birds, and went flapping their wings over the sea: they started circling the ship, swimming around our oarsmen. If anyone wants to know the truth about their dubious nature, what form and semblance they have, they are white and resemble swans, but they are not proper swans.” The gloss at this point states that seagulls are the name of these birds that the young men became. [3859–3878] [miniature, fol. 373r: a massacre overseen by a crowned figure (judea?)]101

Moralization {T}urnus can very well represent Antichrist, who will try to rule unrestricted over earthly existence. He will make his messengers and servants run at full speed in order to deceive and enchant people and bring them over to his side. Many people will be perverted by their damnable preaching. Those who obey him and do his bidding will be very base and accursed. [3879–3890] At this time the great shame and the great misfortune of the long tribulations and dire persecutions, the great troubles and the dire losses that the people and the nation of Israel are suffering, and have suffered for a long time, must come to an end. The good, the wise, and the faithful who will relinquish 101 This miniature corresponds to the one that follows on fol. 376r; see also the Massacre of the Innocents on fols 25v and 385v.

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their foolish error and be reconciled with God will come to acknowledge, to love, and to obey the true Savior whom the wicked Jews killed, piercing his side with the spearhead. They will relinquish their error and their ignorance, and will believe steadfastly in the first coming of the Savior that they are still awaiting.102 The false ones – who are uninclined toward anything good, and whose hearts are full of hardness and shadowy darkness – have their minds clouded and blackened. [3891–3913] At that time, God will take the remainder of this race back into his mercy, and will give them “in marriage” the love and the acknowledgment of his faith and his belief, and will give them accommodation in the heavenly kingdom, with their Spouse, as a dowry.103 [3914–3921] The false, misbegotten disloyal one who will lead earthly existence into error will send to the people of Israel false prophets, false preachers, deceptive and mendacious, who will be full of simony, lust, and gluttony, to goad Israel by promising or giving them plenty of carnal delight and temporal riches in order to win them over to his side, but the steadfast and faithful people will never be perverted by this. The faint-hearted, the cowardly, the wicked and the presumptuous, the gluttons and the lustful – they can do his bidding; but the good, the strong, and the faithful would sooner let themselves be destroyed, when the remainder of Israel surviving at that time remember the misfortune, the great shame, and the great losses that they and theirs will have suffered for their unbelieving hardness and for the great wickedness that filled their hearts when they outright rejected the Savior who had come to rescue the world from misery. [3922–3952] Thus the wicked, misbegotten Jews incurred divine wrath, and God punished them woefully on various occasions, in various ways, for the outrages and transgressions they had both said and done toward Divine Wisdom. Above all, there was the misfortune, the deadly payback, and the scourge received by the people of Israel for crucifying the Divine Flesh and piercing his blessed side on the Cross with the blade of the spear, for which God has exacted very harsh vengeance, for most of them incurred a death sentence for it, and died in great shame and misfortune for their fraud and their sin. [3953–3970] The others were exiled and scattered throughout the world, among people who had little love for them, but kept them in woeful subjugation, base and despised: and they were held in derision by everyone who saw them, and the 102 That is, that they had denied his first coming and now they have a chance to realize that he was the Messiah. 103 The Jews will receive the same final reward as Christians and join the Church, which is normally presented as God’s spouse. There is a difficulty here in that Diomedes, in the story being moralized, receives land from Daunus as a dowry when he marries the daughter of Daunus. This makes it unclear whether the s’ in s’espousee, v. 3921, is supposed to refer to the remanant of the Jews (which is a masculine singular noun), or God. The translation “their spouse” represents the first option; otherwise, read “his spouse.”



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living had so much misfortune and were so debased that the dead, it seemed to them, were blessed not to have to endure the base and vile miseries, the great woes and the great pains that they were forced to suffer. [3971–3985] Nonetheless – if they had taken it willingly – there was a medicine to appease God’s wrath and to purge their acts of malice. But, in their impatience and ignorance, some, who found it difficult to bear, murmured nastily about it against the Divine Friendship who, in his love and mercy, was making them endure temporal harms to move and incite them to beg for mercy and healing for the ancient fault that Israel committed, when they crucified him and pierced his blessed side with the sharp spearpoint. [3986–4001] Instead, they kept holding out, by murmuring and speaking slander, moving the divine wrath to punish them even more horribly. Thus, what could have drawn them to salvation, if they had been wise, turned to their mortal harm and brought them to eternal damnation of the soul and body, and they perished because of their presumption and the pride of their hearts, for God cast them aside insofar as he no longer concerned himself with rebuking or chastising them, or with leading and guiding them on the path of truth. For their great iniquity, he left them to wander as they pleased, aimless and vagabond, according to the desires of their foolish hearts. They became straying birds, birds full of filth and vice, birds that are gluttonous and full of greed, birds that flew in circles over the waves of the world without reaching rightful salvation. [4002–4027] When Judah will recollect in memory the dire harm and loss of his lineage,104 which, for his damnable sin, was reduced to shame and misfortune because he had been at fault towards God, Judah, wise and well-educated, will think on the harm of others so that he is reconciled to God, and abandons his foolish ignorance and damnable unbelief, coming to acknowledge the Lord, who will grant him remission for his old crimes. And then Judah will profess himself to be on the side of Jesus Christ, as the Scriptures bear witness. [4028–4044] [miniature, fol. 374r: the tree that was apulus, and four women dancing in a row]

The Shepherd Apulus Becomes an Olive Tree {T}hat is how Diomedes apologized to Venulus, to whom he denied the help and aid that Venulus was requesting on behalf of Turnus, whose messenger he was. Venulus left there, and headed back to Turnus. He left the ports of Peucetia and crossed the fields of Messapia. There he found great hollow 104 This passage treats Judah as a masculine personification (witness bien apris in v. 4034) comparable to Diomedes in Ovid.

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caves shaded by deep forests where water dripped endlessly. Nymphs used to live and reside there in the olden days, but now it was the residence of Pan, the god with the feet of a goat. [4045–4059] Apulus, a sheep-herding105 peasant, a shepherd full of derision, drove the nymphs out of this area; at first, he mightily terrified them and chased them away in great fear. When they had reflected, they no longer deigned to flee or be panicked by the shepherd; rather, they scorned the threat of the base shepherd who was chasing them and they stopped at once. They started to lead various types of dance,106 while the shepherd mocked and jeered at them, following them with oafish steps. And he did not stop his mockery until his throat was obstructed, encircled with tree-bark: he became a tree, which has retained the bitterness he had then, for it yields juice full of bitterness. The bitterness makes it clear that his tongue was full of insolence. Its name is the wild olive tree, which bears berries full of bitterness. [4060–4085] Without the aid and help of Diomedes that they had tried to obtain, Venulus and his companions walked so far over valleys and fields until they reached Turnus. That was the beginning of a violent war: Turnus and his men fought fiercely against Aeneas, and they shed much blood in the process. [4086–4094] Moralization {V}ainglory and bragging, vain pride and vain arrogance, vain delight and vain comfort, foul lust and greed “pass through” the remote dwellings of the religious orders where holy monastics pray, never ceasing to toil and weep to expiate the transgressions they committed in the world, because there is no such holy perfection in any religious establishment that, it seems to me, one can avoid seeing some people there who are base and foul. Long ago, good morals resided in religious institutions, but now hypocrisy lives there, a great lady, held in high esteem among fools and beasts. In particular, she is the mistress of the fools who live like beasts, and who strive to do good in the sight of the world for the sake of vain glory. [4095–4117] The wicked peasant, may God confound him, who, with his derision, tried to drive out of religion the good morals that used to be there, is foolish seeming,107 and those who want to counterfeit true religion through false pretense, and feign to be and to follow those who want to live a good life, 105 For v. 4060, Rouen has .i. vilain ourieure, while some manuscripts have curieure/ curievre. De Boer thought ovievre was “a kind of Latinism, based on ovis, and I redact an r.” Curieure, from curer, would have the sense of “caretaker” of the animals. 106 Si vont un vireli menant, / Une quarole et une dance, vv. 4072–4073: vireli, carole, and dance are the names of the various types. 107 Folz semblans, v. 4122: we might have expected false seeming rather than foolish seeming, perhaps suspecting an allusion to the character False Seeming (Faux Semblant) in the Roman de la rose, but Rouen could easily have written faulz to match v. 4123 and de Boer



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with good morals, in accordance with God. But they don’t have any good wish or any good desire to do good. They are used to rebuking and deriding the good, and nonetheless they are at fault far more than those whom they rebuke. [4118–4132] They are “shepherds” who should feed the simple folk, but they deceive them. By false pretense, and concealed derision,108 they do some good publicly, but their evil fruit it is clear that they have bad intentions. But those who are eager to do good for love of God must never hold back from the good things they intend because they find themselves mocked by fools full of derision. Instead they must keep righteous intention and steadfast hope of doing good. [4133–4147] There can be another interpretation. The false disloyal one full of rage, Antichrist, will send his ministers and messengers running all over. When they will be unable to get Judah to help him or to support his side, they will travel through the residences of the religious orders, where the holy monastics now live and dwell, praying assiduously to God for the salvation of all. For now, good morals and good doctrine have dominion over the cloisters, but the time must come, I fear, when false seeming must possess and uphold that dominion, making himself master there – the stinking goat full of falsehood. [4148–4166] The good morals and the doctrine of salvific discipline will flee before the evil beast, the false shepherd, the wicked peasant, Antichrist, who will send pursuers after those who will want to live well and religiously in accordance with God. At first, the wisest will perhaps flee in fear of him, fearful of the awful rage of the wicked one full of derision, who will try to confound the doctrine of salvific discipline and of religious devotion, playing false with justice and truth, in every religious institution. [4167–4182] But when the holy elect will have taken notice of the situation, they will abandon their flight and vigorously take heart and good resolve to defend right and justice, and for the faith of Holy Church they will rather suffer dire opposition than flee any further before the adversary. And they will come to steadfast hope and good perseverance, without becoming afraid or fearful, reports no variants. The line is not in Copenhagen, which mentions only fausse simulation (p. 816). 108 It would have been possible to take vv. 4137–4138, Par faulse simulacion / Et par fainte derision, with ils les deçoivent in v. 4134 (i.e., “but they deceive them via false pretense,” etc.) but then v. 4137, Font il aucun bien, etc., can’t start a new sentence. Fainte derision is challenging since it might seem to mean “feigned derision”: derision, even of the wicked, seems like an unlikely way to do good, so it’s unclear why anyone would simulate derision to impress others. We suggest that the pretense involves concealing rather than faking derision. Copenhagen (which incidentally has nymphes instead of simples) has par fausse simulacion / et pour fainte derision (p. 816): par and pour might be contrasting false pretense as the means of the deception with secret derision as its purpose.

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to live well and die well for God. All at once they will stop and confront the wicked one, scorning all his threats and all the evil and harm he might cause them. Then the awful rage of the false shepherd109 with an evil heart – who will previously have played the hypocrite, the prudent man, the holy hermit – will become apparent, and by his works, people will see his wickedness and the evil enclosed in his heart. And he will bitterly rage against the saints of Holy Church, who will uphold faith and justice. [4183–4208] [miniature, fol. 375r: turnus setting fire to the ships as cybele blows her trumpet in the clouds overhead]

Aeneas’s Ships Become Naiads {W}icked Turnus raged against Aeneas and his people. There were great losses on both sides. In order to set fire to the ships in which Aeneas had arrived, Turnus lit and fanned fires and set fire to the fleet. The fire reached a ship, and made it burn and blaze. The fleet had passed through all the perils of the ocean waves, but now it was in much greater peril: the fire burned the pitch and the wax of the ships, making the partitions break and come apart, and the flames spread so far that they climbed the main mast and lit the sails, and the curved planks of the ships were smoking. The fleet would soon have been burned and destroyed if it had not been saved and rescued quickly. [4209–4229] But Cybele, mother of the gods, mercifully hurried up to rescue and save it: she did not want the fleet that had been cut and taken from Ida, the mountain dedicated to her, to perish for lack of help. She made the air ring and resound the way bronze does, and she held a long wooden trumpet on which she blew and trumpeted, and she came through the air in a flying chariot drawn by flying lions. She stopped near Turnus, who was setting a ship on fire, and she said in a threatening manner: “What use is anything you’re doing, wicked man? Do you think you can destroy and burn my fleet because it’s helpless? No way! I will deliver it, and remove it from all flames.” [4230–4250] At these words spoken by the goddess, there was thunder and rain, and a thick hail fell, and all the winds blew together, stirring up the sea and sky and fighting energetically. The goddess chose the strongest one: she drove and hurled it at the ships. The strength of the wind broke the hemp rope that tethered the ships as the fires overtook them. She dragged the damaged ships out to sea and sank them underwater to repossess and remove them from the fire. [4251–4263]

109 De Boer has Dou folz paistre in v. 4200, but doesn’t note that Rouen (fol. 375r) actually has falz; “false shepherd” fits the context better than “foolish shepherd” in any case.



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The wooden planks began to soften and became female bodies. The finest and thinnest hemp and linen ropes became hair. The part of each ship that’s at the back, that is, the poop deck, was transformed into a face. The oars turned into legs and toes. The enclosing ribs remained ribs and are still called that; the one in the middle, that is, the keel, became the belly and the spine. And the yard-arms turned into arms. They retained their original colors: they used to be pale, and still are. The ships, which had been born in the woods, were now Naiads of the sea. [4264–4281] They were very afraid when first taken out to sea; now they played there in lordly fashion, and lived in the sea. Now their origins and their original birth no longer mattered to them, but they had not forgotten the perils that they had suffered on the sea, and when they saw ships about to sink, they would hurry up to them and mercifully help them, holding them up with their hands. And they righted at least the ones that did not carry their enemies, but they did not want to help the ships belonging to the Greeks for, to my mind, they remembered well the Trojans whom they had destroyed, and when they saw and knew that the Greeks were wrecked, it made them happy. They were glad when they saw Ulysses’ ships broken up. They never wanted to right them. They rejoiced greatly in their hearts when they saw Alcinous’s ship turn into hard rock.110 [4282–4307] [miniature, fol. 375v: mounted knights in melee]111

The City of Ardea Becomes a Bird; Aeneas Pleases Venus and Appeases Juno {S}ome believed the war would stop because of this marvel, but Turnus was totally unprepared to bend or back down; rather, he strove to wage war on Aeneas far more than before. And the situation, along with their hostility and hatred, progressed to the point that they were striving, in their aggression, more to be victorious and to win glory than for land or wealth or the love of Lavinia, the maiden of noble birth. Each of them had gods on his side to support his cause, and their hearts were full of boldness. [4308–4323] In the end, Turnus had the shame of being neutralized and killed, and his great pride was defeated. His land was destroyed and laid waste, and his people were defeated and forlorn. His city, named Ardea – the city that, while he lived, had been rich and preeminent, glorious and of great renown – was 110 Alcinous, father of Nausicaa, was king of the Phaeacians: the ship he sent to take Ulysses home was turned into a rock by Neptune. 111 Fols 20r, 121r, 168v, 236r, 305v, 316r, 322r, and 375v feature comparable scenes of mounted combat.

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captured and razed to the ground, destroyed and consumed by fire. Barbaric fires112 ravaged it, and out of the ashes flew a bird that was then seen and known for the first time. Its voice was sad, and its color, its scrawniness, its pallor, its body, its shape, its size, and everything else about it were, without a doubt, comparable to a captured city: a burned, barren, and slighted city. The name that the city used to have was not changed or transformed; it was named arde after the city, but most people call it jarde.113 [4324–4348] Now no man or woman need ask whether Lady Venus felt great joy to see her son’s victory: she was full of joy and glory, and she truly ought to have been. Bold-hearted Aeneas had achieved so much through his boldness, his strength, and his heroism that he had brought the whole war to an end. He had borne so many hardships on earth, and his virtue was so well known and proven and acknowledged, that all the gods, who had seen his good deeds, were moved to grace and friendship toward him. Juno herself, out of mercy, gave up her longtime hostility and forgave him her hatred. [4349–4366] [miniature, fol. 376r: a massacre overseen by the crowned antichrist]114

Moralization {G}reat was the persecution, and dire the tribulation, that Satan, full of wickedness – the leader of pride, the master of folly – waged long ago against the Christian faith, when the early Church was beginning. And there was great slaughter and torture and punishment of the apostles and disciples and saints who died for God. But there were even greater losses incurred by the wicked who were eternally put to death in damnation for their damnable unbelief. And great must be, without a doubt, the suffering that the ministers of Jesus Christ will endure to defend the faith at the time of Antichrist, but those who will try to attack God, and wage war on God’s friends, and deny his holy faith will be subjected to even more dire torment. [4367–4389] The wicked, full of rage and anger, will try to confound Holy Church. She will be consumed with the fire of anger, the fire of covetousness, the fire of hatred and lust, whose evil burning will spread so far that her little boat will 112 As

de Boer notes, this renders quam postquam barbarus ignis / abstulit et tepida latuerunt tecta favilla (Met. 14.574–575): “After the savage fires had destroyed it, and warm ashes buried its houses” (Kline). De Boer says that Ovid has barbarus ensis, “for which our author must have read ignis,” but some editors of Ovid have preferred ignis. The merits of ensis vs. ignis are discussed by Casali (2006), 165n30. 113 Ovid’s ardea (Met. 14.566–580) is normally understood as a heron (cf. the scientific genus Ardea, the “great herons”), but as a French word, jarde seems to correspond to jars, “gander.” 114 This miniature corresponds to the preceding one on fol. 373r; see also the Massacre of the Innocents on fols 25v and 385v.



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soon be consumed and destroyed by the fire of sin, if God, in whom must be the defense and protection of Holy Church, does not take heed of it. This fire will stain the highest and greatest, the greatest masters and the lords – and what will the common folk be able to do when the great are against them? Who will be able to resist or endure the assault of the fire that, at that time, will race headlong and unrestrained throughout the whole world? Who will be able to save Holy Church so that she is not consumed by this fire? No one but God will rescue her from it! If he does not help her, she will perish. [4390–4412] May the defense, safeguarding, and protection of her vessel and her little boat be in God and in the merciful Maiden, the Mother of the King of Paradise – and it will be so, in my opinion. She will be the defender and guardian of Holy Church. The Blessed Maiden, if it pleases her, will never let her little boat be lost for lack of help. She will fiercely attack the wicked one. She will come to fight against him,115 praying to God that he should resolve to strike down his pride, and God will do so. [4413–4427] She will “blow her big trumpet” and will “make the strong winds blow” to terrify the wicked, and she will “thunder” with great menace. And through her merciful grace, she will break the rope of sin with which her people – those who are in the Book of Life – will be bound, and she will deliver her fleet. And through the “waves” of bitter tribulations and martyrdom, she will purge whatever they have in them that can be purged. [4428–4440] And the Jews of that time will purge themselves through baptism, and they will give up the old hardness of damnable malevolence that is rooted in them, and their nature will be totally reversed, because what Judea is afraid of now – the “dive” into baptism – will be her nourishment and her delight at that time, and those who are now held in perhaps the least regard will be the most elect. The basest, the most despised, will, at that time, perhaps be the strongest, and they will give aid and comfort to those who are in peril. [4441–4455] The weak, who will stagger under the waves of temptations and dire tribulations, who, because of the weakness of their hearts, will not be able to endure the distress and the torments and the adversity that the wicked one will force them to bear, will, through the good counsel of the elect, gain strength of heart and boldness to endure the assaults of the world. When they see the good vassals, the valiant, the fierce, the strong, the wise – who will not deign to be distraught, or to soften their foolish hearts to do anything they shouldn’t, over any base temporal harms, any persecutions, any tribulations, any trouble or adversity, any evil that they will be made to bear – don’t think 115 Rouen

(fol. 376v ) has combatre for de Boer’s contre lui se vendra abatre in v. 4425, with the com- abbreviation that in this case would be easily misread as a. Copenhagen (p. 819) spells out contre lui se voudra combatre, “she will resolve to fight against him.”

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that they won’t be glad: for they truly will be glad, when they see the saints fighting valiantly for the faith of God. And so they will let themselves be abused and beaten, and put to death and tortured, and will well and mightily endure, for love of God, all abuse, all wrong, all harm, and all insult, without bending, in spite of any misfortune, to consent to any sin, as though well founded on firm rock. [4456–4487] Some will think, when they see the Jews convert, that the war and the strife and the hostility that misbegotten Satan wages and will wage, in his hubris, against the Christian faith must be appeased and revert to nothing, but this cannot be. Those who will have the devil as their master, and who will be on his side, will not renounce their audacity, their pride or their evil rage, or the fierceness of their hearts, as long as their master, Antichrist, will reign, going mad against the faith of Holy Church. And he will not abandon his foolish undertaking, trying to pervert the whole world, until the Son of God confounds him; in the sight of all, he will openly consign him to shame and destruction. [4488–4509] Then the proud who served him will be defeated, routed, and neutralized: they had placed their hope in him alone, but his glory will do them little good, and his pride, his dominion, and his empire will collapse. And the city of which he was lord, which, while he lives, will be vast and prosperous and rich and proud, strong and powerful and marvelous – that is, prideful Babylon, the city of confusion116 – will be destroyed, razed and leveled to the ground, consumed with fire and flame. And likewise the whole world will be consigned by divine vengeance to destruction, shame, and confusion. [4509–4528] Then the good-for-nothing population of the woeful city will be barren, woeful, and devastated: through their great iniquity, their fault, and their desert, they will be sent to eternal perdition. Then the state of everyone’s heart will be made known for the first time, for everyone, according to their desert, will reap profit or loss: some will be glad, others woeful. Their souls will fly up along with the bodies they will have reclaimed, and they will receive different rewards: eternal punishment for the evil, and spiritual joy for the good. The tears, the cries, the howls, the laments and the groans, the pale color and the scrawniness117 will be signs of the distress, punishment, and damnation that the wicked will forever suffer in the infernal flame, where their woeful souls will burn in grief, shame, and misfortune. [4529–4553] Then the great war – which will have lasted for so long – will come to an end. At that time, all those who will be on the side of Jesus Christ will be reassured. Their pain will be turned into joy, pleasant peace, and spiritual 116 Probably

also in reference to the confusion of tongues after the destruction of the Tower of Babel (see Book 1). 117 “Pale color and scrawniness” are features of the heron, at the end of the list here.



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rest. Then the Virgin Maiden, the loving118 and beautiful queen, will be full of gladness and joy when the time comes for her to see her Son, full of honor and glory, gain eternal victory in the war. And his enemies will be humbled and cast down under the hardship of his dominion. And he will have undisputed and unchallenged possession of the nobly born beauty who is his spouse and his betrothed, whom he loves so much: that is, Holy Church. And he will have shown such heroism, such prowess, and such bravery that everyone – all the saints and all the elect who enjoy the sovereign delight – will be so indebted, subject, and favorable to him, and all the “gods” who will reign in heaven – that is, the whole Trinity, a triple God in simple unity – will have such goodwill towards him, that Divine Justice, which used to hate him, it would seem, because of the first man, who perished from the bite of the apple, will be completely appeased toward him, and they will have given each other the kiss of peace. [4554–4590] [miniature, fol. 377v: the gods sitting together?]

Aeneas Becomes a God {N}ow Aeneas was greatly exalted, and he had achieved so much through his prowess that he had curbed his enemies.119 His wealth and friends were much increased and strengthened, and his son Iulus Ascanius was already big and grown-up. He had raised him to the point that he was no longer too young to rule the land. It was now high time for Aeneas to come to the end and the abatement of all travail, all misfortune, for he had suffered great harm. Now he was to be raised to the heavens in eternal rest. [4591–4605] Venus, who was enamored of his advancement and eager for it, entreated the gods about it, and likewise she hugged her father tightly, and said to him: “Dear, sweet, gentle father, you have never been hard or fierce toward me; rather, you have always been full of great kindness to me. It is now necessary, dear and very gentle father, if you have ever loved me, to make it apparent: let your grace be shown to me and my son Aeneas, born of your lineage, so that you grant him divinity. Make him a god, dear very gentle lord, if you please. It should be sufficient for you that he has seen hell one time, and that he has experienced so much pain.” [4606–4624]

v. 4562, is the link between Venus and the Virgin Mary. Compare Ovid (Met. 14.581–584): “Aeneas’s virtues had compelled all the gods, even Juno herself, to bring to an end their ancient feud, and since his young son Iulus’s fortunes were firmly founded, Cytherea’s heroic son was ripe for heaven” (Kline). It seems unlikely that vv. 4592–4593 is supposed to refer to Juno rather than his human enemies, like Turnus. 118 Amoureuse, 119

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The gods gladly agreed to Venus’s request, without opposition or interference. Juno herself, who had hated him, gladly consented to it. Jupiter said that Aeneas ought to and was, in truth, well worthy to receive heavenly honor, and that he would very willingly do as his daughter asked. The goddess Venus was overjoyed, thanked her father for his promise, and was very grateful to him. [4625–4637] From there the lady came traveling through the air, in a chariot pulled by doves who served her. She came to Laurentum, where her son was, and stopped by the river Numicius which flows into the sea. She asked the river to help her and commanded it to cleanse whatever was mortal in her son, and carry off to sea whatever it knew to be mortal about him. Numicius, with no hesitation, granted Venus’s request, and it purged and cleansed whatever in Aeneas was corruptible and mortal: he was left with only the transformable120 and immortal part of himself. [4638–4655] Venus perfumed her son, whom the horned one121 had purged, with divine ointment. She sprinkled and touched his mouth with ambrosia and mulled wine, and she made him a god, such that, in truth, he lives eternally. The people of Italy called him “Indiges,” that is, “the god who was born there,” because, as I understand it, he had lived among them for a long time, and, through his power, had become their king and lord; thus they worshipped and served him, and built temples and altars to him. [4656–4670] Moralization {T}he loving Mercy and merciful Friendship of the Son of God saw “his son Aeneas” – that is to say, his suffering Flesh – enduring various kinds of suffering in the world, and saw that he was already standing on the foundation of the Christian faith, and that his valiant and brave disciples were very eager to endure the assaults of the world, and the faith of Holy Church grew with every passing day among the simple folk who followed him and lived by his example. Then he entreated God, the powerful Father, that if he had ever loved him, to make it apparent by giving heavenly glory and divinity to humanity. [4671–4688] And God the Father did as his dear Son entreated him, and the Holy Spirit,122 too, gave its consent. It was through the common accord of all three, without any discord, that the body should be deified, and glorified through 120 He

retains La partie muable et immortel, v. 4654: literally, the “changeable and immortal part.” This would be the form in contrast to the body, as discussed in Book 1, vv. 71–96. (De Boer reports that this line in B instead has Aeneas continue to be purged Et de tout ce qui n’est pas bel, “And of everything that is not beautiful.”) 121 As de Boer notes, li cornus, v. 4658, picks up the river-god’s epithet in Ovid, corniger (Met. 14.602). 122 Li grans Espris, v. 4191: “the great Spirit.”



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torments,123 because it had well deserved the honor of eternal life. The Father said that he would do so: he would glorify his holy body, and the Son of God was very joyful to hear that response. So, in his great innocence, to rescue us from distress and torment, he deigned to surrender his body to suffering, and let himself be crowned with stabbing thorns, and was pierced through the side, next to the spine, with the spearhead, and so the one in whom all power abounds124 died for the deliverance and salvation of the world. [4689–4712] I can take the river Numicius to represent the evil greed of false Judas, who sold Christ to the wicked people who crucified him. The wicked who sentenced him to death are the “waters” that purged him of everything that was mortal in him. To purge with bitter death all of the corruptible humanity of the nature of his father Adam that he had brought and carried with him on the day of his Nativity, he was truly purged on the Cross. [4713–4725] The body of God was then anointed and embalmed with aromatic spices in the tomb, and his soul went to visit the infernal confines for the sake of his loved ones, and he freed them from the shadowy dungeon and returned in great victory: he was resurrected, that’s the truth. Now his body is deified, and glorified in holy heaven, and God is worshipped on earth, and honored in holy temples. And he can, I believe, be called man and God at the same time, for he has both natures, and, having been raised by us, he is our Lord, our Savior, our King, and our Governor. [4726–4742] [miniature, fol. 378r: some of the kings descended from aeneas]

The List of the Alban Kings {I}n this way, Aeneas became a god by virtue of his good deeds, and was honored as a god. After that, Iulus Ascanius ruled all of Alba and the Latin land. The next to hold dominion over them was Silvius, who inherited the Latin land through his mother Lavinia. He was not yet born on the day Aeneas passed away: Silvius was his rightful name, but his nickname was Posthumus, because his mother Lavinia gave birth to him after his father’s death. [4743–4756] Then his son Latinus reigned over the kingdom of the Latins. He was valiant and renowned and was named after his ancestor. After Latinus reigned King Alba, after whom Alba was named. After Alba there was Epytus, and

123 For v. 4696, C has Que par tormens fu nettoyez, “which was cleansed through torments.” 124 Cil où toute vertus habonde, v. 4712: alternatively, “the one in whom all virtue abounds.”

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then Capys and Capetus. All of them were kings of Laurentum.125 Then – and I am not lying – Tiberinus ruled, and the river Tiber was named after him. Because Tiberinus fell into the river and drowned there, the river was quickly named Tibris or Tiber, that is, “drunk.” [4757–4772] Tiberinus had two sons: the elder, the more grown-up, was Romulus, and the younger was named Acrota, who was wicked.126 Romulus was supposed to rule the kingdom, but he lost his life and land through ignorance and pride: he tried to wage war against Jupiter. War? No, but he wanted to resemble Jupiter: he tried to make lightning-bolts127 and seem to be a god, like a fool drunk with pride, and he was put to death by lightning. In his place, Acrota, who was more sensible, ruled the kingdom. After Acrota it was Aventinus’s turn to rule, and he had dominion and possession of the Latin land. When he died, he was buried on a hill that was named after him: from the name of Prince Aventinus, the hill was named the Aventine Hill. [4773–4794] Moralization {A}fter the holy Ascension and glorification of the Son of God – their Father and ours128 – the holy apostles were the first to govern Holy Church. Then, in second place, came hermits, living in the woods129 like wild beasts: they were holy people and full of justice, and rightful children of Holy Church. Then came other converts, hiding out in caves and in the recesses of caverns and doing penance in their secret dwellings. Then came the religion of abbots and abbeys. Then came the dominion of holy bishops, who governed and ruled over Christianity. [4795–4814] Then came another kind of people, who were poor and indigent for God, and did not want to have personal or temporal wealth, and they did not want to focus on anything except serving God and taking what others, who had possessions, would give them so that they might be supported. Then came other people who could never tire of taking and amassing what others were willing to surrender to them. They did not want to devote themselves to doing anything on earth except constantly taking and acquiring things, and they wanted

125 Ancient

Roman city believed to have been the capital of the Latins before Lavinium. Ovid, Remulus. Meanwhile, Acrota is described as ferox, “fierce” (Met. 14.616), translated “Acrota the warrior” by Kline, which is the basis for felon in the OM. 127 Foudres vault fere, v. 4782: Ovid calls him imitator fulminis (Met. 14.618). Martin (2009) renders this “the elder, Remulus, was struck by lightning / as he was imitating its effect” (507). 128 Dou fil Dieu, lor Pere et le nostre, v. 4797: Jesus corresponds to Aeneas here, so he is being moralized as the “father” of the apostles, at the same time as God is the Father of us all. 129 The woods are the connection with Silvius. 126 In



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to rule over everything, to take and appropriate everything for their benefit,130 more than was appropriate. [4815–4833] After them came, or comes, a race of people in peril on the waves of worldly perils, in the depths of malice – dissolute people, full of vices; people “drowned in the current of the Tiber,” who are drunk with envy and pride. Then there has come, or will come, another kind of people who will, in their pride, contend against God the Father, and it will be right for them to pay for it: for, without a doubt, God will confound them with the lightning of harsh punishment. Then there must be another group, bitter and full of wickedness. [4834–4848] This is how the state and the government and the authority of Holy Church are changing, and will change, and will be different, in different ways, at different times: from good to bad, from bad to worse. That is what I think will happen until the Jewish people and the pagans will come to true salvation, becoming true Christians, strong champions of Holy Church, some of whom will die abruptly in defense of right and justice, and whose souls will rest in peace on the salvific hill of the heavenly kingdom on high. [4849–4864] [miniature, fol. 379r: pomona in her garden approached by vertumnus in his disguise as an old woman]

Pomona and Vertumnus (I) {A}bove, I told you the succession of the various kings who ruled in the Latin land after Aeneas, the spouse of beautiful Lavinia. Then King Palatinus reigned.131 At the time when he was king of the Latins, there was a maiden in Italy, so attractive and beautiful that in all the Latin land there was no maiden more beautiful than her, and she was very innocent in her ways. She was a very good gardener. She had no equal in Italy. She was eager to uproot nettles from the orchards there. It was her intention and her duty to grow the trees there: she had no use for going hunting. She thought it shameful and ridiculous to go to the river and to the woods, and she had no use for arrows or spears; she never carried a lance or spear. She loved only meadows and trees: she was named Pomona after the apple trees (pomiers). [4865–4888]

130 Tout prendre et tout approprier / A lor oeulz, vv. 4832–4833 (Rouen has a lor oeulz; Copenhagen has a lor oes). This is probably the same oes as in the idiom a lor oes eslit, which we translate as “set their sights on” but which is really “for their benefit/purposes.” If the word here is really supposed to be “eyes,” the translation would be “everything in sight.” 131 In Ovid (Met. 14.622), this happened when “Proca had the rule of the Palatine people” (Kline). “Erreur de l’auteur!” says de Boer.

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She never stopped working, or planting, or trimming, or adding grafts to branches, or watering the young plants: it was her only thought and care, not to earn a living, for she was rich and well-to-do. She was never forced to do anything, so she was not doing it for pay, but only to have fun and so that she would not be idle. There was nothing that pleased her so much. It was her work and occupation. [4889–4901] She had no use for the god of love. She did not know what seduction was. She had no use for the company of a man in the flesh. She was very afraid, since she was an innocent woman, that someone might force themselves on her, so she surrounded and fortified her dwelling with a strong enclosure and high walls to be completely safe. [4902–4910] The girl was much loved for the beauty that illuminated her, but was loved far more for her intelligence. She was courted from all sides: the gods of the valleys and mountains, the gods of the woods and the fields, the satyrs and Silvanus, Pan, and old Silenus who was young and lusty at heart, and Priapus too, and several I won’t name, propositioned her, but she did not deign to listen to any of them. They could not win her love by promise or entreaty. [4911–4925] Above all others, Vertumnus never stopped or desisted from seeking her love, but he could not get her to show him any more mercy than the others. He was burning, sizzling, and melting with love for her. He thought about her by day, and stayed awake at night. Love constrained and afflicted him and he could find no cure for it. [4926–4933] Vertumnus was a noble man from Alba, rich and respected: he was handsome and cheerful. He was clever and ingenious: he would dress in so many different ways that he could never be recognized. Sometimes he would be seen in the semblance of a reaper; then he resembled a harvester, carrying the sheaf on his shoulder, with a straw hat on his head.132 He would hold a pitchfork and a rake: it seemed he was coming from making hay. Now he would carry a goad to prod the oxen, and the traces to harness them. Or he would catch fish with a hook. Or he would carry a sickle in his hand as though for pruning vines. Then he resembled a knight: wearing a sword, with his helmet laced tight and a shield on his arm. That is how Vertumnus would disguise himself. [4934–4955] He would often change into many guises for the one his heart was set on, but could not succeed in having his pleasure of the beauty. He was all ablaze and consumed with desire. Then the young man, caught in love’s nets, reflected that he was wasting his care and attention, and realized with total clarity that this transformation was doing him little good, since he could not get per132 Ovid (Met. 14.645–646): “Often he would display his forehead bound with freshly cut hay, and might seem to have been tossing the new-mown grass” (Kline).



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mission to talk to his dear beloved, who had no desire to be intimate with any mortal man. [4956–4969] And, so in love with her that he would rather die than go on living if he did not have her love at his disposal, he finally thought up a way of bringing this project to conclusion. He put on a different disguise: he adopted the semblance and clothing of an old woman, and set out like that. He leaned on a staff. He seemed to be trembling with old age. His hair was hoary white. He came to the orchard to see the maiden who seared him like a burning spark. He went in unchallenged: no man or woman challenged him. [4970–4984] He looked at the place and the object of his delight.133 He praised the trees and the fruit, and extolled the wisdom of the maiden who knew how to plant such a garden: “Beautiful girl, you are very smart: I haven’t seen a maiden with so much beauty, intelligence, and goodness since I was born. I’ve come here to lie in the shade, to relax in your garden. But, for god’s sake, that won’t bother you, will it?” [4985–4995] “Certainly not, dear friend,” she said. “You are most welcome to come here.” [4996–4997] Vertumnus could not keep himself from giving the maiden a kiss. Ever since, no old woman has given a maiden such a very sweet kiss! The maiden allowed herself to receive and accept the kiss, truly thinking that it was a true woman kissing her. If he had dared, he would very willingly have gone the rest of the way, but he hid and concealed his will. He was waiting for the appropriate time and opportunity. He wanted to stay hidden until he knew what was in her heart. [4998–5011] He sat on the lawn in the shade. He saw that the trees were all bending under the weight of the fruit and could not support their burden: there were thick posts supporting them to prevent the branches from breaking. Vertumnus happened to see an elm tree planted in the orchard, on which there sat a vine with an abundance of grapes, which had been masterfully placed on the elm.134 The elm was very beautiful because of the vine. He looked at it and needed no better cause or excuse to address the beauty. [5012–5026] “Girl, this is a beautiful union: if the vine were removed from the elm, it would rot on the ground. The elm wouldn’t amount to much without the vine. Each gives value to the other. In the same way, so that you can bear fruit and have descendants, you should want the company of some young man, either leu esgarde et le deduit, v. 4985: it seems characteristic of the OM for le deduit to be a second object of esgarde. Otherwise, this would be “He looked at the place and it delighted him.” 134 The word translated “vine” is vis, which can mean a vine but also a staircase: there is a chance that it could be a kind of trellis. Ovid is unambiguous that the elm is wrapped in a grapevine; so is C, which has vigne instead of vis in vv. 5021, 5023, etc. However, the thick posts supporting the trees (grand pelz, v. 5016) are not in Ovid. 133 Le

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as a lover or by marriage. What good will your virginity do you if you’re forever barren? You’d be better off if you could bear one single heir than living as a virgin forever, for he could do great good. But you have no interest in all that: you’ll keep your virginity, but you will never produce good fruit. Alas for your beautiful youth! You could bear a seedling that would do great good and produce great fruit. [5027–5047] “God help me, I’d want you – for your benefit and for your honor – to want to take a lord. You could have your choice of one who is handsome and noble and of great riches. Lavinia of Laurentum, or Andromeda, or Atalanta who was so fleet-footed and swift, or beautiful Deianeira, the daughter of the king of Calydon, or Penelope, or Helen, or the maiden of the Lapiths over whom so many were at odds,135 were never courted by so many.136 Even though you scorn them and couldn’t care less for their entreaties, the most elect of Tuscany, Lombardy, and Alba are courting you lavishly. [5048–5066] “But if you were wise enough to want to take a lord in marriage, I – who, I dare say, love you more than you could imagine – would advise you never to take a lord of low birth: choose a young man of great nobility, great worth, and great riches. The young man’s name is Vertumnus, and you can know for a fact that he is not ugly. Rather, he is handsome in both body and face. The young man would be a good match for you, I assure you: there is no one more gallant, more valiant, or more courtly under heaven. I know it well, for I know him: he doesn’t know himself any better. Eyes never saw anyone more noble, and he is not from a foreign kingdom; rather, he was born of this land, and he does not love by happenstance like those other lovers, whose only care is to deceive and betray you: the love of those men is hateful, but he has feared and loved and valued you with his heart and body, without pretense, ever since he managed to lay eyes on you. [5067–5093] “And he is full of great knowledge, strong and nimble, and ready to do, with a bright heart and a good countenance, anything you might deign to command him. He is very worthy of your taking him. Know that he will be very useful to you. He is well versed in your occupation: he knows well how to plant trees and to graft them at the right time. But there is nothing that would please him so much as to have your love and favor. He has given up everything for you. For god’s sake, have mercy on him. Give him the love he asks of you. Know that he is asking and beseeching you for what I am asking on his behalf as if he were speaking to you in the first place. Don’t kill him with your aloofness. Love, and the gods, who have no use for pride, would know well how to 135 In

Ovid (Met. 14.669–671), the only women referenced here are Helen, Hippodamia, and Penelope. 136 As de Boer notes, Ne furent de plusieurs requises, v. 5061, translates Ovid’s pluribus (Met. 14.669), and “fausse ainsi le sens de la phrase” (“gets the meaning of the sentence wrong”): literally, v. 5061 would mean “were never courted by multiple people.”



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avenge him. I’ll tell you about an event that happened in my time. I’m hoary with age and I’ve seen many things in my life. You would be worthy and wise to do as I counsel you.” [5094–5119] Iphis and Anaxarete (Told by Vertumnus) A marvel took place in Cyprus that one can greatly marvel at. Your heart should really take stock from the example of what happened, so that you don’t end up as badly off as this other woman did! There was a lady of great worth, rich, noble, and of great renown; her name was Anaxarete. Iphis, a young man born to a lowly couple, had his heart set on her. [5120–5130] Because of the beauty he saw in her, he found the lady so pleasing and attractive that he couldn’t help falling in love with her. Couldn’t help it? Truly, for he put power and effort into holding back his heart from her,137 to no avail. He blamed and reproached his heart very much for aspiring so high in love, because the balance was unequal: the lady was powerful and noble, and he was of humble origins, but his heart could not be held back. He strove for it in vain. Who has any power against love? [5131–5144] When he saw that no striving could make him avoid love, and that he was making it grow and kindle even more, he revealed his heart to the lady’s nurse and asked her very humbly not to be an obstacle to him, but his entreaties did little good. He would often ask her chambermaids to help him. Oh, how many times he left flowers under the eaves of her house!138 He suffered so much than no man will ever be able to suffer more for a woman. Many times he sent his lady messages about the suffering he endured for her love, but the lady – who was harder than adamant or annealed iron and, I believe, more unwelcoming than a wind-tossed sea – was not at all moved by his love; rather, she mocked him viciously and, along with her mockery, in her cruel insolence, she greatly abused him with jeers and insults. [5145–5169] When the weary lover was convinced that he could find no mercy from her, his heart was black with woe. He could not endure the great anguish that caused him such distress and anguish. He preferred to die than go on living. In the end, before he killed himself, he spoke these words without restraint in front of his wicked beloved’s door: [5170–5178] ‘Cruel and merciless lady, I’m dying of love for you. Be joyful and celebrate, for anyone who puts their liege man to death wins great praise 137 Compare

Proverbs 4:23. com tantes fois vit ses flours / Sous l’auvane de la meson!, vv. 5153–515: literally, “Oh, how many times he saw his flowers under the eave of the house,” so that she might seem to be throwing them out. But Ovid (Met. 14.708–710) has “Sometimes he hung garlands on her doorpost wet with his tears” (Kline), and vv. 5212–5213 confirm that he has been using the flowers to decorate. 138 Ha,

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and great esteem! Now rejoice over my death! I prophesy and foretell for sure that there will come a day and time when you will mourn this joy, and you will curse the great pride for which you’ve put me to death. You’ll say that your beloved was very worthy to have your love. Know this to be true: I’m dying for you, but as long as I have life in my body, my love for you, stealing my heart away, will not leave my heart. I’ll lose life and love at the same time. [5179–5196] ‘You’ll shortly hear news of my death that you’ll find wonderful,139 for you’ll see me dead without delay, and you’ll be able to satisfy your eyes and give them their fill by looking at me. Mighty god, god, heavenly father who has knowledge of everything,140 let my name be remembered! I can’t beseech you at length – my tongue fails me and my heart aches – but I ask only that my name have great renown after my death, and that the suffering I’ve endured for love be recounted forever more.’ [5197–5210] When he had finished his prayer, he turned towards the house that he had often decorated with flowers, then said: ‘Cruel and excessive woman, malfeasant and prideful, these ornaments that I’m about to offer you will give you amusement and relief!’ [5211–5217] Then he attached the noose to the doorpost, where he hanged himself without further delay. Death wracked him and made him stretch out.141 He lashed out with his feet and kicked the door open. The open door revealed him to the members of the household. They took the body off the doorpost and carried it to his mother’s house, for he had been fatherless for a long time. Anyone who could have seen the great woe, the great anguish, and the great weeping the mother displayed for her child – how her heart nearly broke, how she kept hugging and embracing him, how she kept kissing his eyes and face – could well feel pity! [5218–5232] When the body was dressed and prepared for burial, the funeral procession came to get it. The mother, expressing her great grief, followed the body as it was carried away. They carried the body on its bier past the dwelling of the haughty woman who was the cause of his death. When she heard the wailing of Iphis’s mother following the corpse, she felt pity and remorse. She came to the window without delay to look at her dead beloved. No sooner had she seen the bier than her sight became totally clouded, so that she could not see anything. She lost all her blood and color. The procession started to return from there but she could not turn away because she was completely stiff and cold. [5233–5253] mout vous seront beles, v. 5198: lit. “that will be very beautiful to you.” Ovid, he prays to the gods, superi (Met. 14.729), not to any god in particular. 141 Estendre, v. 5220, speaks to his death throes; but in Ovid (Met. 14.737–738), “as he hung there, a pitiful burden, his windpipe crushed, even then he turned towards her” (Kline), so “stretching out” is not entirely off base. 139 Qui 140 In



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Don’t think that I’m telling you a tall tale; rather, it’s the truth, for in the city of Salamis, in the temple of the goddess Venus, the wicked woman still stands, transformed into a marble statue which is well sculpted and carved in the rightful semblance of a woman. This is why, beautiful girl, I advise and counsel you, on my soul, to cast away your great pride and save your loyal lover, because, as god is my witness, one is wise to take care based on the misfortunes of others. [5254–5267]

Pomona and Vertumnus (II) When Vertumnus had finished the speech he had begun, he resumed his rightful semblance and revealed himself openly. Just as the sun, appearing clear and bright, without darkness, having been under the clouds for a long time, looks more beautiful than it did under the clouds, so Vertumnus looked more beautiful in body and face, it seems to me, when he resumed his rightful form, having cast off his old age. He took the lady in his arms. He meant to force her, but there was no need for him to force his beloved, for without being forced she was ready to do wholeheartedly as he asked, overwhelmed by the great beauty she beheld: she found him more pleasing and attractive than he did her, and loved him more. [5268–5288] Moralization {T}hese two tales can have a historical interpretation: thus, it could be true that a young man loved a maiden who was wise, attractive, beautiful, and such a diligent gardener, and won her in the manner described in the tale. As for the other woman, who thought so highly of herself that she couldn’t care less for her poor beloved, when she saw the shame and abuse to which the woeful man subjected himself because of the foolish love on which he was drunk, she felt such grief and pity for him that she died for love of him. The girl, it seems to me, was buried in the city of Salamis, in the temple of Venus. A beautiful marble statue resembling the dead maiden in body, face, and features was cut, sculpted, and set up, placed over the body of the dead woman. Hence they came up with the tale that she had been transformed into marble. [5289–5312] {I} can explain the first story in a different way, in natural terms, according to science. So Pomona represents profusion and bounty of all fruit: Scripture names and refers to all fruits with the name “apple” (pome).142 Vertumnus can 142 Genesis never names the apple but simply refers to “the fruit.” Milton follows this convention in the beginning of Paradise Lost, but then provides a more specific designation twice, specifying the “apple.” This slip is due to a Latin pun. In Jerome’s fourth-century Vulgate translation of the Bible, the Latin words for evil and apple are the same: malus. This word corresponds to a more generic terms for fruit, peri, used in the Hebrew Bible – a term that could refer to any seeded fruit. Thus, in Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, the serpent is

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represent the weather, which is accustomed to differentiate itself into four different seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter are the four differentiations, which have different qualities and different temperatures, different warmths, different coldnesses, and, as I understand it, there is a time for everything to be done and accomplished. [5313–5328] Sometimes it is time to transplant, to graft, and to plant. There is a time to form the grafts and water the young plants. There is a time to labor: now to dig, now to prune. There is a time to gather, reap, and harvest. There is a time to bait one’s hooks for fishing. There is a time to take water in vessels to water the fields. There is a time to work hard, now reaping, now drying, now gathering up the dried hay to pile it up and store it. There is a time to harvest and winnow the grain. There is a time to collect nuts and pick apples and other fruit to preserve for eating in time. There is also a time to harvest the grapes, to make wine and store it in barrels. There is a time to devote oneself to fighting and combat, and there is a time and a season to frolic, have fun, and rest. [5329–5355] Hence I can very well state and propose that if the weather did not lend itself to being diminished in due season into the old and womanish form of winter, with hoary hair, covered in snow and frost – if it didn’t snow, if it didn’t freeze and turn wintry at the proper point in time – then for sure and certain, there would be no abundance of apples or fruit, for the trees are all “impregnated” during the time of the winter cold: that is the union and the joining of Vertumnus and Pomona. This union is beautiful and good. This joining is suitable, fertile, and fruitful. The fruit take nourishment under the cold of winter, which then appear and come forth when the heat sets in and shines, when summertime returns. [5356–5376] {T}here can be an allegorical interpretation that agrees well with truth. The whole world has changed, and will change, and will vary so much in various ways at various times, as I understand it, that God alone will have control and rulership of Holy Church. At that time, without a doubt, there will be a great abundance of all good fruit, which is what Pomona represents. “Pomona” means a vast bounty of all good fruit. Scripture refers to and names all fruit with the name “apple” (pome), and by “being fruitful” it means the harvest of fruit in the soul that does good deeds. [5377–5392] Anyone who wants to have a vast abundance of good fruit must know that it is right for them to behave according to what each season brings them, and so they should do different jobs at different times, for such is necessary. Sometimes it is the season to plant, to graft, and to transplant. Now it is time to moisten the grafts and water the young plants, so that no drought befalls coiled around a fig tree. Even in Milton’s time, the word “apple” could refer specifically to what we, today, call an apple, or any seed-bearing fruit. See Appelbaum (2006).



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the plants to make them go awry on them. Now one must dig, now one must prune, and so there is always work to be done on the plant of Holy Church by anyone who wants to serve God. [5393–5408] First they must “enclose their garden,” that is, lock up and strengthen their heart firmly in humility, for anyone who wants to reach high honor must know for a fact that they must behave humbly, for that is what will advance them farthest. They must place their trust, hope, and fear in God, and must be founded on God’s love. Whoever resolves to do this has little to fear from any adversary or anyone who strays off the path and would harm or injure them. [5409–5422] In this way one must enclose and lock up the garden of the heart and shut out those who deny the faith, and the “rustics.”143 Horned Pan, the god of beasts, represents vainglory and boasting, foolish pride and vain arrogance, false seeming and false hypocrisy. Silvanus represents the idolatry that everyone used to celebrate in the old days in the thick of the forest, when foolish and idolatrous people would perform rites to idols. The fauns are the flatterers who serve to flatter people and to cajole sinful, naive people with their wiles. Silenus represents gluttony – foul, stinking, base, and degraded – and Priapus, foul lust. This mob, this retinue, puts tremendous attention and care into degrading and corrupting the holy soul by their efforts, but the virtuous and strong soul must enclose and lock up its garden to repel and shut them out, because the soul that would draw them in would be corrupted by it. [5423–5450] When the soul has done a good job of enclosing its heart and fortifying it with the love of God, so that no rustic rabble or thieving strangers can enter or appear there in a way that would cause it trouble, it must avoid all vain amusement and vain works that bear no fruit. It must not be inclined to idleness; rather, it must avoid all idleness, and, like a good and wise worker, must attend to good gardening. It must graft salvific grafts, and plant profitable plants. It must graft grafts of good affection to its intention. It must plant plants of good virtues, filling its whole heart with them, and water them with the doctrine of salvific discipline, so that no evil drought befalls them, damaging and injuring them by making their moisture dry up and preventing them from blooming. [5451–5474] If any worthless shoots or evil spikelets develop, it should prune them. If any painful remorse grows or arises in its heart to cause it trouble or harm, it must cut it off without delay with the sickle of penance.144 In this way, the holy

143 For

the “season and time” for every activity, see Ecclesiastes 3:1–8. ST I–II q. 87, describes remorse as an effect of conscience, which is based on reason or the natural inclination to virtue (discussed in ST I–II 85). Bonaventure also describes the bitterness of remorse as an effect of conscience in the Triple Way, chapter 1; see also his 2 Sent. d. 39, art. 1–2. 144 Aquinas,

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soul will be able to bear fruit and grow profitable grafts in its heart, and plant salvific plants of virtues and good morals. [5475–5485] God has true love for such a soul, and for love of it, he disguises himself in many ways, in many guises. God is the winegrower who planted the vine and then transplanted it to good and delightful soil, and cut off the unprofitable vine that did not want to bear fruit.145 He is the one who resolved to carry the sheaf of fleshly nature on his shoulder, and he had the dress and cover of a true man, and was a farmer, a harvester, and a gardener. He had a “hat” of prickly “straw,” which made his head bleed, when Judea crowned him with a crown of gorse – or, for anyone who wants to take it another way, the “straw hat” can represent the “hat” of fleshly nature that God had. The flesh was “dried and desiccated,”146 stretched and tortured on the Cross on the day of tribulation, when he suffered pain and Passion. [5486–5510] He was, and will be, a reaper when he reaps the wicked with the scythe of fitting punishment, and throws them out of Holy Church. He was the “fisherman who fished for fish” when he hooked the well-born fishermen147 with the hook of his holy teaching. He seemed to be a fruit-picker, in my opinion, when he picked up the ladder of paradise – that is, the pure and precious Cross – and carried it on his back, then he climbed it to pick the fruit through which we were all saved: the fruit of spiritual life, the fruit of eternal salvation. God had the form and function of an ox-driver when he hitched the apostles, who were rewarded by gaining eternal life, to the yoke of true penance on earth. He was a knight of great valor when he waged a mighty battle for us against our enemy, for which he received the honor and glory. [5511–5535] Merciful God deigned to serve in many capacities, that’s the truth: the free one resolved to enslave himself for love of human nature, and so took on the dress and cover of flesh, covering his Divinity under human frailty. And, without force or violation, he subtly entered the “enclosed garden of violets, sweet fruit, and good apples,” that is, of grace and good morals. The beauty for whom he felt true love, the Virgin Mother, the Maiden, made the “enclosed garden” and the chamber in which God came to “lie in the shade and relax and frolic,” to bring about the union and joining of himself and human nature. And “with a sweet kiss from his mouth,” which exceeds all other sweetness, he “kissed” his sweet beloved, who “wanted him and did not deny him”: that was where God became a true, perfect man. That was where the “marriage” 145 Compare

Isaiah 18:5, John 15:2–6. Somewhat related, Matthew 21:18–22 tells about Jesus cursing the fig tree that doesn’t bear fruit, but only leaves, allegorized as an outward show of piety. 146 La char fu sechie et fenee, v. 5507, is moralizing the drying of mown hay (compare vv. 5242–5243), consistent with Vertumnus’s disguise as a reaper. 147 The disciples Peter and Andrew and James and John were fishermen: Jesus tells them “Come ye after me, and I will make you fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19).



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took place with the consent of the Beauty, who received the sweet news that the angel brought her, in that she would conceive and bear the fruit of eternal life. [5536–5565] {A}lmighty God, full of mercy,148 advises and entreats us every day to accept his friendship, and to love him for our own profit. It is sufficient for him to love us for our own sake, not for any profit he might gain from it. He offers us his love and grace and asks to have ours, and we can see very clearly that he is liable to suffer a great deal at our hands.149 For our benefit, he came to offer himself, and asked and entreated our love: he calls and cries out at the “door” of the heart, and he will enter according to our deeds.150 Those who won’t unlock their “door” for him are tremendously harsh, and do a tremendously wicked deed. God advises and counsels us to grant him our love, and it is only right for us to show him proof of our love, for in the first place God loved us so truly that he resolved to offer himself up to suffer death and Passion for our sake, and it is fitting for us to reward him for it. [5566–5589] Now it is fitting for me to explain to you the allegory and the mystery of the proud and haughty lady who disdained her poor beloved. For a long time, the sovereign Deity never deigned to come to such humility as to accept the human race “as a lover or in marriage,” until Jesus, who was the only one born without a carnal father to the Virgin Mother – he was poor in order to enrich us, and became a slave full of humility, submissive to the Deity, in order to set us free – appealed to Divine Friendship to take mercy and pity on the poor human race. But he could not soften the wrath in God’s heart, which was all too disdainful and harsh towards human creatures, through love or through eloquent entreaty, until he died and was “hanged.” His blood, shed for humankind, stirred Divine Mercy, and overcame the ancient enmity that God had towards humans for the biting of the deadly apple. Then the Deity was benevolent. [5590–5619] The blessed and worthy flesh of God, out of love for human nature, was placed, dead, in the tomb – whence, in “Salamis” or in Salem,151 that is to say, in Jerusalem, the tomb where the divine body rested is still to be seen, in memory and in witness that God died and was entombed for love of the hu148 For Diex li poissans, plains de pitié, v. 5567, Copenhagen (p. 834) has Dieu ly puissans plain de pechie, “Almighty God, full of sin.” If this is not a monstrous scribal error, plain de pechie would need to be read in apposition to nous in v. 5566: “Almighty God advises and entreats us, [who are] full of sin, every day to accept his friendship,” etc. 149 Qu’il se puet bien de nous souffrir, v. 5575. Alternatively, “that he could very well get along without us.” 150 Si enterra selon li oeuvre, v. 5579. Copenhagen (p. 834) has Si entrera se l’en lui euvre, “and he will enter if we open for him.” 151 En Solime ou en Salem, v. 5623: in the story, he was buried in Salamis, which the moralization here interprets by stages as Jerusalem.

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man race. Hence anyone who will not love God will be all too unfortunate and “hard,”152 and will be direly punished for it, for God, who is true Friendship, will, I believe with certainty, have no mercy or pity on those who pridefully scorn his love and grace. But to anyone whose heart is, with fraud or falsehood, eager to do God’s will, and who will love him with a true and pure heart, God will in the end give eternal glory in great spiritual joy. [5620–5644] [miniature, fol. 383v: ilia by the river with the babies romulus and remus]

Romulus153 {A}fter King Palatinus died, lion-hearted Amulius ruled the kingdom of the Latins;154 he did not have the right to inherit it, for the realm was supposed to pass to Numitor, his elder brother, but Amulius dispossessed him of the land through battle and war. But Numitor’s kingdom was restored in the end: the land swore allegiance to him through the power of his nephew, the strong and wise Romulus, who gave his inheritance, land, and kingdom back to him. [5645–5659] Now I want to tell you how Remus and Romulus were born, and about the god Mars from whom they were descended, and how the kingdom passed to Romulus. [5660–5664] Mars was born from a flower: now hear how this happened. Just as Jupiter had marvelously engendered Pallas, who was conceived and born from the substance of the father, without the carnal substance of a mother, Juno likewise, if the story does not lie, wanted to marvelously conceive a son, and become a mother, without the carnal substance of a father. So, without a doubt, she conceived the god of battle through the scent of a flower. [5664–5676] Numitor had a gracious and well-mannered daughter, whose name was Ilia.155 She was a nun and a priestess in the temple of the goddess Vesta: there she performed the divine service. One day, to perform a sacrifice, the priestess got up early and took a jug in her hand. To clean the entrails she was going to sacrifice, she went to fetch water from the river, which was far from her abode. When she got there, she put down the jug. She was tired, so she rested,

v. 5631, seems to be getting at the moment where Anaxarete turns to stone. Boer notes that instead of simply translating lines 772–777 from Ovid, the OM narrates a number of events pertaining to Roman (mythological) history (e.g. Mars’s birth, then Romulus and Remus’s birth, the abduction of the Sabines, etc.) and then he resumes his translation from v. 5872 on. 154 In Ovid, Amulius and Numitor (here named as Munitor) were sons of Proca. 155 More commonly known as Rhea Silvia. 152 Durs, 153 De



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and aired out her chest and undid her blonde hair. As she was sitting down in the shade, which she very much enjoyed, the chirping birds and the gurgling river gave her the urge and inclination to sleep there for a while. She fell asleep by the river. [5677–5699] Mars saw the lady, who was beautiful, and he fell in love with her and wanted to have her; he came to deceive her in her sleep so that she never noticed it. The maiden conceived two children in her sleep, and when she woke up, she felt heavy, and wondered and did not know why she felt so weak or so heavy. She carried the divine seed for nine months, then, when she came to term, she gave birth to twin sons of great beauty. [5700–5711] When Amulius, who had usurped the kingdom from his elder brother Numitor, the beauty’s father, was told the news that his niece had had two sons, he would feel incredibly disappointed if the two of them were alive much longer. He felt great grief and envy over it, and thought that, when they were grown, they would expel him from the kingship and return it to his brother, their grandfather, their mother’s father. He didn’t want them to grow up; rather, he commanded that the children be drowned in the waters of the Tiber: then he would rule the kingdom uncontested. [5712–5728] He sent them to be drowned in the Tiber via his messengers, and nonetheless the messengers, who found them beautiful, did not do as he commanded; rather, they left them to float on the water in their crib instead of drowning them. The crib floated down the river wherever the water drove it, and it floated until it reached a marsh next to the bank, in the shade of a thick grove of trees. And there a she-wolf found them, and secretly fed them from her teats for a long time. [5729–5742] The two twins, fed with the she-wolf’s milk, grew up so that they could do without the milk. They developed and got stronger so that they could live without a nurse, and soon they were strong and agile, handsome and valiant for their age, and they resembled the lineage of the god from whom they were descended.156 It was often told and recounted to them that they were the sons of Mars and Ilia: they became very proud when they heard this, and it made them even bolder. They slew their uncle Amulius, who had tried to put them to death, and they had the kingdom delivered to their grandfather, who had a right to it. [5743–5759] After the grandfather had held dominion, Romulus ruled over his estate. He founded the city of Rome, which went on to be beautiful and the leader of the world. And he surrounded it completely with strong walls, but they weren’t high enough that someone couldn’t jump over them if it pleased them. The relignoient au lignage / Dou dieu dont il ierent estrait, vv. 5750–5751. Either they looked like the children of Mars in and of themselves, or they looked like other children of Mars. 156 Si

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king issued a prohibition that no one was allowed to jump over the walls of Rome, on pain of death. Remus jumped the enclosure and that was the cause of his death, for he never enjoyed any advantage in the matter over someone else of low birth. [5760–5774] [miniature, fol. 384r: romulus enthroned]157

{N}ow Romulus was king of Rome. All his men were terrified of him because he had destroyed and killed his brother for such a small transgression. Everyone was afraid of breaking the law and infringing his commands. The king was very belligerent. He was very powerful and vigorous. He was very valiant and bold and strong. His forces, his power and his dominion, his people and his knights increased day by day. Foreigners came to him from all over, and he took them on along with his own retinue. There came a huge company of thieves and robbers, murderers and plunderers, yet there no one who came to him that he did not willingly take on, and they became his liegemen. [5775–5795] The king of Rome was very powerful, but neither he nor his men had wives, and they could not find any lords in their vicinity who wanted to join themselves through marriage to such warriors,158 whether that was due to hate or fear. When the king saw that they would not be able to get married out of love, he announced a great tournament, a great celebration, and great games, and the brave king thought that the ladies of the area would come to this gathering to watch the tournament and have fun. That way he and his men would be able to choose wives as they pleased, and whoever wanted to grumble about it, let them grumble; or if anyone wanted to get angry, let them. [5796–5814] The tournament was announced around Rome. Many valiant dukes, many powerful men, came to see the tournament. On the day the tournament was to take place, a great many beautiful women, rich and worthy ladies, maidens and girls, ladies and damsels, came to see the knights and the handsome young men of Rome and the Latin land. The daughter of the powerful Sabine king came handsomely accompanied by maidens and retinue. When Romulus saw the maiden, who was so attractive and beautiful, dancing with her beautiful, gracious, and youthful companions, he was seized with great hunger to sleep with her, so he left the tournament. He spurred his horse toward the dancing. He grabbed and took hold of the king’s daughter and lifted her up on his warhorse, and all the other knights did the same, for each one took the girl he

157 Fols 266v, 277v, and 384r have comparable miniatures of human kings which are similar to the various images of God enthroned, such as on fols 193r, 278v, and 315v. 158 A tel barnage, v. 5800, could perhaps be read ironically (“to such paragons”), but barnage in v. 5909 seems entirely neutral.



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loved and valued the most, or the first one he ran into, and, without dropping the reins, each one carried off his own into the city. [5815–5843] Tatius, who was king of the Sabines, and his people tried to exact very dear vengeance for this abduction. They fiercely attacked Rome and launched a very great assault on it, but the Romans defended themselves. Tarpeia, a foolish, deluded woman, was in charge of one of the gates of Rome. She had custody of the keys. She saw the Sabine forces, who were richly armed and each wore a valuable ornament on their left side. She desired and coveted them, so she told them that she would open the gate to them and let them in if all of them together swore that they would give her the weapons hanging by their left side. They swore as much to her, understanding her to mean their shields. The gate was opened. They entered, and covered her with so many shields that she suffocated and died beneath the weight. That’s why the gate and the tower that she guarded got the name “Tarpeian,” after the foolish, deluded woman, and are still called that. [5844–5871] Romulus and his people did not hesitate when they heard the tumult. They came armed and they forced the Sabines out of Rome. Juno secretly opened another gate, in the back, for the Sabines, for she very bitterly hated the people of Rome. That is where the Sabine army tried to enter by night, in secret, to destroy all the sleeping Roman lords. [5872–5883] But the nymphs loved Rome and the Romans. They were entreated by Venus, who was their friend,159 and had heard the gate being opened and could not close it because one god could not undo anything another god has done, and so she did what she could. She entreated the water Naiads to find a way for the Romans not to lose, in keeping with her entreaty, and they did so. They filled the waters with burning sulfur, so that a large river burst forth in front of the gate, and in that place, such thick smoke arose that the army gathered there could not go through easily. And Romulus quickly took up arms and came to confront them. He confronted them near the gate and slew them with great bloodshed, and littered the ground with them, and meanwhile the Sabines in turn inflicted great slaughter on his followers. There was great loss and injury among the warriors on both sides. [5884–5910] The battle between the two armies lasted for an incredibly long time, and it was impossible to judge or tell who was getting the better or the worse of it. As for the ladies and the damsels, the girls and the maidens who had been abducted, some of them had given birth to children full of life, while the others had conceived, and this conflict made them unhappy. They held an

qui lor amie iere, v. 5886: the moralization clarifies that Venus is to be understood as friendly to the Romans, so this line should probably be understood as referring to the Romans rather than the nymphs. 159 Venus,

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assembly160 and debated amongst themselves in the temple of Juno, it seems to me. [5911–5924] Hersilia spoke first. She was the daughter of the king and the beloved of Romulus, who was king of Rome. She said: “This is going on too long – this chaos, this hostility, that has arisen over the abduction of our companions and friends, for we were all abducted – and it would be very ill-spirited of us not to feel compassion for it. I recommend that we put some thought into it and intervene in such a way, if we can, that peace results. For I’m afraid it will go badly for us one way or another if this battle goes on any longer, regardless of the outcome. If our beloveds are victorious, our fathers will be the worse for it, and if we lose our lords, our loss will be even greater. No matter who loses or wins, no matter who is killed or maimed, the injury will be to us. You would be wise to trust me, and do what I will do and what I will advise you.” [5925–5950] They said: “We’ll trust you and we’ll do as you recommend.” [5951–5952] At once Hersilia was the first to untie and let down her hair; and the others did likewise, and put on mourning clothes. And away they went, sad and woebegone, dressed in black with their hair disheveled, carrying their children on their shoulders. They found the two armies separated in the place where the mortal blows were to be meted out, about to engage each other. The trumpeters were preparing to sound their trumpets, it seems to me, to bring the two armies together – there was nothing left but the actual fighting. That was when the ladies got involved: in the middle of the field, disheveled, sad, weeping and woebegone, with clasped hands and wet faces, they knelt on the ground. They begged their fathers and their beloveds to make peace. The children on their mothers’ shoulders were crying. [5953–5975] The fathers and husbands looked at them and felt great compassion for them. They amicably abandoned the war that they had undertaken and perpetuated for a long time. They unlaced and took off their helmets and hugged and kissed each other. In this way the war was appeased, and they gave each other the kiss of peace, on condition that Tatius would hold on to his kingdom as long as he lived and would rule over the Sabines, and when Tatius passed away, Romulus would rule uncontested over both empires, and the Sabines would be obedient to the king of Rome, and the two kingdoms would eternally become only one. [5976–5994] [miniature, fol. 385v: herod oversees the massacre of the innocents161]

160 In

Copenhagen (p. 838), vv. 5921–5922 are reversed: “They held an assembly amongst themselves because this conflict made them unhappy.” 161 Fols 25v and 385v have comparable miniatures of this.



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Moralization {T}he foolish, treacherous tyrant who “dispossessed Numitor and stripped him of his inheritance” through fraud and outrage can be understood as the devil, the traitor, the deceitful one, who once robbed humankind of the kingdom of paradise and, in his insolence, he ruled like a king over the human race. Meanwhile, God, the helpful Father, the Almighty, Governor of Heaven, the world, and the abyss, had engendered – from himself, through eternal engendering, without end and without beginning,162 from the very substance of the Father without the carnal seed of a mother – that Divine Wisdom which begins and ends everything, that is, the Son, equal and similar to God the eternal Father.163 Likewise, as I understand it and as Scripture recounts, he resolved to conceive – in time, by his pleasure, from the very substance of a Mother, without the carnal seed of a father, “through the touch of a flower” – Divine Mercy, a valiant Son of great worth who could, without a doubt, be called a “powerful god” and “mighty in battle.” [5995–6026] This God saw the “holy priestess,” the humble handmaid, the humble servant of God, who dedicated herself without any malice to divine worship, and was as if “asleep” in pure devotion and true contemplation, and he resolved to make her his beloved. He desired her164 and she pleased him so much that he chose her over all others and joined himself to her carnally, so beautifully and marvelously that the Lady “never noticed” any carnal delight when she conceived. She carried the divine seed for nine months, then gave birth, when she came to term, to a Child of dual substance: true man and true God, without a doubt. [6027–6044] But the one who had waged war on the first man at the biting of the apple, and dispossessed him and ousted him from paradise through fraud – the one 162 Par pardurable engendrement, / Sans fin et sans commencement, vv. 6009–6010, gets at whether the Son had ever not yet been engendered by the Father: Bonaventure said yes (the Father came first, then engendered the Son from his “originary plenitude,” hence “we can conceive of the hypostasis of the Father himself without conceiving another person”); Aquinas said no (“If we take paternity out of consideration, then we can no longer conceive the Father’s hypostasis”). See Emery (2007), 168–172. The OM seems to be siding with Aquinas here. 163 Samblable / A Dieu le pere pardurable, vv. 6015–6016, would seem to risk reviving the vigorous fourth-century debates about consubstantiality involving homoousians (who held that the Father and Son were of the same substance or essence), homoiousians (who held that they were of similar substance or essence), and homoians (who held that they were similar without reference to substance or essence). However, Aquinas himself says that “the Son is by nature similar to the Father” (Filius autem est per naturam suam similis patri, In ad Eph. I, 6, lect.2., n.16), so it would appear that such a statement could now be made without major theological controversy. 164 Tant la convoita, v. 6035: “he coveted her,” but the subject is God, who is above the sin of covetousness. Or this could be taken solely as a reference to the tale being glossed, i.e., “he ‘coveted’ her.”

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in whom all malice abounds – tried in his foolish effrontery to have the Son of the Virgin Mary be lost unjustifiably “in the current” of this world, and to put him to death “via his servants,” when through Herod and his men he destroyed the Innocents in hundreds and thousands out of malice towards him. He thought that the one who controlled the power of life and death and was to save everyone must be snuffed out and dead among the dead. But this plan did him little good, for God, who can do everything, saved him and delivered him so that he did not perish. [6045–6066] He came safely to Egypt. His relatives, the wicked Jews full of hubris, wanted to murder him, and the faithless pagans, a savage and mad people who can justifiably be compared to a wild she-wolf, did him no harm or injury; rather, they received him joyfully and raised him lovingly until he came back to his land. [6067–6077] This was the extraordinary Child who really seemed to be, without a doubt, “the son of the mighty god of battle.” He is the one who destroyed the devil, the traitor, the deceitful one, and stripped him of the dominion he had over the human race, and caused the heavenly estate to be returned free and clear165 to his ancestor, who had been ousted from and dispossessed of it by the devil, through his fraud. [6078–6088] He is the one who reigns and will reign, and his Kingdom will last for glorious eternity. He is the one who built the city of Holy Church, who is now lady and leader of the world, and founded it firmly on a strong foundation. And he completely surrounded it with “walls,” that is, with commandments, and issued his decrees166 and his prohibition that whoever dared to break his prohibition or “cross” his commandments would incur the death penalty and die. The human race crossed his commandment and broke his prohibition, incurring the deadly penalty. [6089–6105] But the Son of God saved it: he protected it from this sin167 and rescued it from this misfortune, resolving to render his body up to death to deliver men and women and to save the human race. For the body of God did not enjoy any more advantage in the matter than another would have had; rather, it was necessary that it receive death to appease the divine wrath and to pay off all our debt, to which Adam had indebted us. Hence the Son of God was feared as sovereign and most high King in heaven, on earth, and in the abyss. [6106–6120] He is the King who mercifully admitted sinners, thieves, and plunderers to penance, and, in his goodness, “took them into his company along with his 165 Elsewhere

the “free and clear” expression is franchement et à delivre; here there is only franchement, v. 6086, but to translate “freely” might suggest the devil freely gave it up. 166 For de Boer’s les establissemens, v. 6098, Rouen (fol. 386r) has ses establissemens and we translate accordingly. 167 For l’avoa de cest pechié, v. 6107, C has l’acquita, “acquitted it.”



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own retinue,” and crowned them along with his saints. He is the one who set an example for his friends, his servants, his men, and his people, of how they should go about “seizing and abducting their wives.” [6121–6132] Anyone who wants to “marry well” must “announce a tournament” against the world. Job says that this mortal life is a great act of war.168 They must spur the horse of the flesh with the irritants of labor to make it gallop faster toward the works of their salvation, and must encounter in a tournament, fight against, vanquish and strike down every vice. The “wife” that everyone must take is that everyone – strong and weak, great and small – must heed the example of our Savior and practice penance. Everyone must bear and take it on according to what they can endure, for no one must load their body with more penance than they can carry, without a doubt, or harm themselves through foolish excess. A good Christian must “wed penance in marriage” and “make it their beloved” all their life. [6133–6156] {K}ing Tatius and his followers represent the wicked awareness of carnal delights and vain temptations, which keep the body company as its people and its retinue: that’s what the Apostle names them.169 They waged war on the king of Rome and the Romans, that is, the spirit that takes enjoyment and delight in the worthy fruit of penance. Tatius led people whose continence was different, as the Apostle describes. [6157–6169] These two armies are engaged in a very vicious and ruthless battle, and neither of them slackens in trying to trample the other. The body strives to delight itself, and to have the carnal delights of wine, food, and bed, and wants all vain comforts, and seeks all carnal delights, and wants to carry penance away from the spirit that can be so pleasing to it. The spirit wants to work, pray, fast, and stay awake, to live in woe and distress, in penance and in hardship, to obtain eternal life. [6170–6185] So this war between them goes on, and it’s impossible to judge or tell who is getting the better or the worse of it, and it is not easy to know which will be victorious. But I see very well that the spirit is in danger of perishing via two gates, for the “deluded woman” who guards the highest gate – Guards it? No, not at all! But she should have guarded it well, that excellent spring, with a shrewd and sturdy heart, if she’d known how, I think!170 – she is soon grant chevalerie, v. 6136: alternatively, “deed of knighthood,” “knightly undertaking.” But “act of war” matches Job 7:1: “The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.” Any translation of chevalerie consistent with Job will fail to capture the obvious linguistic connection of chevalerie to the charnel cheval in v. 6138. The engaignemens de travail, v. 6137 – the “irritants of labor” – seem to connect to Job’s “days of a hireling.” 169 Compare Romans 7:21–25. 170 De Boer gives v. 6198 as Ceste excellente dois, ce cuit! Rouen (fol. 386v) seems to have Ceste excellence dois ce cuit, while Copenhagen (p. 842) has Ceste excellence dont ce 168 Une

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deceived and overcome when she sees the damnable elegance of the ornaments the body wears, and soon surrenders her “gate” to those who wage war on the spirit and are in a frenzy for its undoing, and grants them entrance and passage. This “gatekeeper” who cheats and deceives her lord and takes in his adversaries is not wise, and she can well expect it to turn out badly for her – and so it does, for merely by looking, as long as her consent coincides with it, she is extinguished and snuffed out.171 [6186–6212] Then the spirit can suddenly die and perish, for after the gate is open, it can suffer harm and loss if it cannot defend itself against them and lets itself be defeated or captured. But a good, strong spirit fights against the forces of the carnal delights and the vain temptations, and drives off, shuts out, and keeps away every evil appetite from which disgrace or misfortune might befall it, for no one must hold on to any of them that they do not shut out or mortify, for anyone who trusts in them at all is a fool. [6213–6228] {T}he other gate is more harmful, more to be feared, and more perilous with respect to keeping the enemy army from coming through it and overwhelming the unprepared soul by night, in its sleep. “Juno,” who represents abundance and plenitude of goods, opens this gate, for when a person is well-fed, jolly, and thoroughly drunk, and the belly, which asks for nothing but good wine and good food, has what it loves to its satisfaction, then the flesh has the ease and leisure to inflict harm on the spirit. Then carnal concupiscence can enter unrestrained, for “the gate is secretly opened,” and the soul is asleep in forgetfulness and, not thinking about it, cannot mount much defense at this point. So, perhaps, it can lose, if it does not get help from elsewhere. [6229–6252] But, as the tale says, Venus, who is friendly and favorable to the Romans, “heard the gate being opened and thought to close it,” but she could not undo what the other had done, so at least she did what she could: she entreated the water Naiads to put some thought into it and help the Romans, and for love of her, they did so. They filled the conduits of their spring with burning sulfur, and then a great river burst forth, and a foul smoke arose at the gate, so that the

cuit, which confirms that this is a difficult line. Although the tale associates the naiads with the second gate, opened by Juno, our guess is that the excellente dois refers to the source of their waters within the city, and its counterpart within the spirit of a Christian. We translate it as being in apposition to la, the object of garder in v. 6196 – or it could actually be the object of garder on the off-chance that la is really adverbial là. Could the dois be the object of seüst, hence “she should have guarded it well, if [only] she had known, with a shrewd and sturdy heart, about that excellent spring, I think”? O cuer vezie et recuit, v. 6197, seems more likely to modify garder than seüst, which would disallow that reading. 171 Compare Matthew 5:27–28 (“whosoever shall look on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart”), which involves a similar principle.



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whole army that was trying to pass through was smothered by it. Meanwhile, the king had his people mass together and his empire arm itself. [6253–6271] Now I will tell you what “Venus” means. She is the ardor of lust – foul, stinking, full of burning. She notices and knows, without a doubt, when carnal appetite forces its way into a person’s heart and when it “opens the gate,” but she cannot turn aside the undertaking in which she is a knowing participant. But the vain ones, at her request, fill the conduits of their spring with burning sulfur, so that it is full of foul stench, and the river overflows at the back gate so that a stinking smoke arises, suffocating the whole army that surrounded the gate and forcing it to withdraw. [6272–6288] Such is the effect of lust – foul and stinking and full of burning – that, above all, it ends up leading to eternal death those who fall asleep and are distracted by it, and who make evil use of it. The appetite burns and spurs so much, and the delight is so small! Small? Truly, and soon over; and, even if it were so much longer, if anyone would beware of the filth and the torment that last so long, and would well think better of it, their heart would never fall asleep so deeply in evil folly or in the vain delight of lechery that it wouldn’t immediately awaken and equip and prepare itself to defend itself like a hero against the damnable assaults of the carnal delights and vain temptations that attack from this gate. [6289–6311] Some people do a good job of preparing and equipping themselves hastily to defend themselves valiantly against the carnal appetites while their power is slight, before they have penetrated too far into their heart, for if they let them penetrate and gain dominion over them, the soul could soon die from it through damnable consent. The wise fight virtuously, and mortify and slay the vain appetites in their hearts through strong abstinence, confession, and penance, but fools foolishly lose by consensually clinging to the vain delights that rush upon them, from which they incur spiritual death. [6312–6330] This is, without a doubt, how this dire battle stands between the soul and the body, and it is not easy to know which might get the better of it, or which must be victorious in the end. And there is a very perilous risk that one of them will perish in the process172 – either the body, or the spirit, or perhaps both of them – if the feud lasts for a long time. For many people, if I recall correctly, have lost both soul and body to satisfy the desires of the flesh, all its goals and all its pleasures. Anyone who is not afraid of this is negligent, and to avoid this fear, penance must intervene to bring peace to this battle. [6331–6348] 172 Moult est perilleuse chose / Que li uns d’eulz en soit perilz, vv. 6336–6337. Alternatively (though the added condition “if the feud lasts for a long time” makes it the less likely reading), this refers not to the level of risk but to the severity of the consequences: “it is a very perilous thing for either of them to perish.” In either case, this picks up on Hersilia’s speech in vv. 5925–5950 (“If our beloveds are victorious, our fathers will be the worse for it, and if we lose our lords, our loss will be even greater”).

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Penance must intervene between them to eradicate the feud. In this matter it must be the accord-maker, the mediator, and the peacemaker, belonging as it does to one side and the other and being their friend, for penance is born and comes from the body, and hence, perhaps, if the body did not have a natural sufficiency of sustenance, it would not be able to exist for long, or endure penance. It is also the beloved and the wife and the loyal spouse of the soul, without which, truth be told, the soul cannot have perfect life. And if the soul is dead, what good does it do for the body to harm and strain itself in penance without profit? Penance done hypocritically is not sufficient, and, as far as God is concerned, is worthless. The soul in which there is no charity is dead, in truth, nor does penance done in this state profit the soul at all. [6349–6374] This is undoubtedly how penance is related to the soul and the body, so it must be a mediating friend to both parties. And, without a doubt, it must exert itself to appease this dire battle between the soul and the body, which are so hostile and discordant. Penance should step in between them, and they will give each other the kiss of peace. This is how “the war was appeased.” [6375–6386] In the end, in my opinion, as the body is alive in the world and has free leisure to live according to its own pleasure, it wants to have dominion over its people and its retinue. Anyone who will want the spirit to rule and to possess both kingdoms – that is, of both the soul and the body – must mortify the flesh through harsh penance, it seems to me. Then carnal desires will be obedient to the soul and will serve at its pleasure, and the spirit will possess both empires without opposition. And God will undoubtedly reign in a person of such behavior, manner, and being, and will give them heavenly glory in heaven along with the glorified. [6387–6407] [miniature, fol. 388r: romulus (?) on the throne speaking to his subjects]

Romulus Becomes a God {W}hen King Tatius had passed away, Romulus was king of Sabina, Rome, and the Latin land, so he held two kingdoms in his hand. All the Sabines and the Romans were his liegemen and pledged him allegiance, and conducted themselves according to his laws, as the two peoples and the two kingdoms came under his jurisdiction without opposition. [6408–6417] Mars took off his helmet and begged and entreated the god of gods in this way: “Dear father, the city of Rome is now very stable, founded on a firm foundation, and a single prince governs Rome, Sabina, and all the Latin land. My son has the allegiance of all of them. Now I pray you, grant your grandson the promise that you made and promised to me long ago, that there would be



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a time for me to bring a man out of the world and deify him in the heavens: I remember it well. If it please you, dear father, it is now fitting to keep this promise to me, for now the time has come when, if it please you, I want to glorify and deify my son.” [6418–6438] The almighty god granted what his son Mars asked of him. He darkened the air with a thick cloud and from the sky came lightning and terrifying thunder. Mars saw this visible sign, and knew by this demonstration that he would have what he had asked for, without any doubt, and that it would never be lacking, and that his request would come to pass. He leaned boldly on his spearshaft, and hopped into his horse-drawn chariot whose shafts were bloody. He spurred and goaded his horses through the air and did not stop until he reached the Caprean marsh by the Palatine Hill, on a meadow where his son – the king of Rome, Romulus – was surrounded by his men, who were listening to his judgments and his laws and keeping his commandments. [6439–6460] Mars took him and carried him away, and soon purified and purged whatever was mortal in him. His face looked finer and purer than it first did, for exactly as lead, lifted and projected by a catapult, melts and is cleansed in the upper air, he, too, was purged and purified and took on a noble and divine form, and assumed great authority, great honor and dignity, and his name was made new, so that he whose name had been Romulus was called Quirinus. And this entailed a change in the name of the hill from which Quirinus was taken, and it was called the Quirinal Hill.173 [6461–6478] Moralization {F}or so long the enemy had ruled that the time had come for him to be deposed and dispossessed of the dominion that he held over the human race. So the Son of God possessed “dominion over two kingdoms,” and the body that the Son had taken on in the Maiden of great worth from whom he resolved to be born in the flesh needed to be glorified and deified in holy heaven. For so God, the mighty Father, had promised him by oath in the council of his friends and of his saints, that when it would be time, the Son would glorify a man, and when the time came, he had to fulfil the promise. The Son asked it of God the Father, and the Father granted it to him, and, so that he would be believed, he sent him down a sign of lightning and thunder from heaven to earth. [6479–6501] The “god of battle” got into and climbed onto the “rich chariot” of the Cross, where the holy flesh of the Son of God, that was to be glorified, was crucified. Whatever mortal flesh he had taken on in the Virgin Mother was purified and cleansed and scrubbed clean by bitter death as he hung on the 173 Quirinus was in fact an early Sabine god of war, analogous to Mars. Ovid thus conflates a Sabine god and the Roman king who conquered and assimilated the Sabines.

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Cross. Just as a lead projectile is purged and cleansed as it melts, so his flesh became finer, purer, and of a more excellent nature, more nimble, more agile, brighter and more resplendent after his Passion, death, and Resurrection, than it was before, while he lived. [6502–6519] Jesus Christ carried off our human nature, so fine and so pure, up to heaven from the Mount of Olives, in the sight of his companions, his people, and his retinue – of the disciples who followed him and kept his commandments – and placed it on high at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory. [6520–6528] [miniature, fol. 388v: hersilia being approached by iris]

Hersilia Becomes a Goddess {M}ars had glorified and deified his son Romulus; but his beloved and his spouse, Hersilia, had no definite knowledge of this glorification. She was sad and inconsolable and her heart was utterly bereft, for she thought she had lost him, and the noble spouse wept and moaned and lamented for her beloved. [6529–6538] To comfort her, Juno resolved to send her messenger there – that is, Iris, who was to comfort her and, on behalf of her lady, bring her a definite sign of her husband, and teach her the truth about him, and say to her:174 “O, worthy queen, flower of Rome, flower of Sabina, worthy queen and worthy lady, who alone was worthy to be the wife, spouse, and beloved of such a king, set aside your grief and disarray. Quirinus, your spouse, is glorified and deified! And if you hunger and desire to see him at your pleasure, you will see him. Now, without mockery, come with me to the branching woods that grow green on the Quirinal Hill, where his holy temple stands.” [6539–6558] Iris came down to earth on a colorful rainbow175 and delivered her message word for word to the lady to whom Juno had sent her. And when the noble lady, the queen, saw her, she was embarrassed, bowed her head, barely daring, it seems to me, to lift her face toward the messenger who was bringing her the news, and she said: [6558–6568] “Worthy and beautiful goddess – for you are truly a goddess, but I wouldn’t be able to rightly say or specify who you are – if you could lead me to the place where I might see my spouse face to face, I would, in my

174 Literally, everything that Iris is supposed to do is expressed in vv. 6541–6545 with a present-tense relative as though she is already performing the actions: Yris, qui la reconforte, etc. But it is clear from vv. 6558ff. that none of it has happened yet. 175 Arc point, v. 6559: lit. “a painted arc.”



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opinion, be the queen of heaven, and I would surpass all other women in good fortune and joy.” [6568–6577] At once Hersilia set off with the messenger Iris and climbed the Quirinal Hill. There, a star came down from heaven to earth to come and fetch her, and its resplendence made her more resplendent and beautiful, and she ascended to the heavens with the star. There she was received by the young man, the king of great authority who founded the city of Rome, Quirinus, who sat her next to him on high on a noble seat, and he made her entirely new in body and name: now she is called Hora, and she is held in great honor as a goddess united with her lord. [6578–6594] [miniature, fol. 389r: an angel directing holy women (mary, mary, and martha?) to the tomb]

Moralization {N}ow I will tell you the allegorical interpretation. The Son of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, in whom all goodness abounds, the Savior of the whole world, had been killed and hung on the Cross and his blood had been spilled, whence we were all brought to life, and God had already glorified him through true Resurrection. Some of his followers, who had served him, were present at his death and Passion and saw it well, and knew definitely how the false Jews had wrongly condemned him, in their treachery and envy, to lose his life under a sentence of bitter death. His sweet Mother, the Virgin Mary, knew this better than anyone, and she was woeful and upset when she saw her Son, her Father, her Beloved, so vilely consigned to mortal destruction176 at the hands of his enemies. [6595–6618] But his spouse, Holy Church, did not yet know anything about his holy Resurrection or his Glorification, thinking his body was dead and lost. Her heart was sad and bewildered because of the death of the Crucified One whom God had glorified. But to appease Holy Church, Divine Mercy resolved to send a messenger from heaven, as Scripture recounts, to announce his Resurrection to the three ladies who were seeking him, telling them that they would find him in Galilee, where he would be, and that there he would make himself visible to his friends, so they should tell them to seek him in Galilee, for he was going to appear to them there. He revealed himself in person to Peter and the Magdalene, and thus, in different places and in different ways, convinced Holy Church of his holy Resurrection. [6619–6644] Hence his disciples were glad, and celebrated when they saw him in visible form, that is “the resplendent star” illuminating all of Holy Church with his di176 Mortel dampnement, v. 6616: “mortal damnation” does not seem appropriate since this is Jesus, therefore we have translated “destruction.”

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vine resplendence, who came down from heaven to earth to seek out and save his beloved, and he carried our humanity into glorious eternity. The Church Triumphant is there in heaven, seated with her Spouse on a royal throne, in great honor, where she reigns with her Lord, and now prays assiduously to God for our salvation. [6645–6660] {I} can provide another allegorical interpretation, explaining this whole tale in terms of the Virgin Mary. She is the beloved, the bride to whom he in whom all goodness abounds – the Savior of the whole world, the Son of God, the true Governor and Founder of Holy Church – deigned to be united in the flesh. She was singularly tested above all other women, and she alone was found worthy to take and have such a Spouse and to conceive such an exalted Son. She is the queen, she is the lady, the sovereign Flower and gem of Judea and of Gentilisa, and the honor of all Holy Church. She is the sweet, kind woman who was so able to please the King of Kings that he made her his spouse and his Mother. The worthy queen, the compassionate woman of noble birth, felt harrowing and bitter suffering, and was very hurt and aggrieved, to see her Son – the King of Kings, whom she loved so much – raised up on the Cross. The spear that pierced his side also pierced her soul. She fainted out of grief and anguish when she saw her Son die, but death could not have dominion over the body of the Son of God for long; rather, he was gloriously resurrected and was exalted at the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory. [6661–6696] Never again was the glorious Spouse perfectly joyful in the world: rather, she was as if bereft, having lost the bodily presence of her dear Son on earth, until the Son of God came to fetch her. He took her joyfully away to heaven and sat her gloriously beside him, at his right hand, where she is crowned lady and Queen in heavenly glory. She was born in an auspicious hour, for thanks to her, life was given back to those who had lost it. She is the Star and Port of the Sea that all mortals must love. She is the compassionate tender-hearted one who assiduously offers prayers and invocations to her Son to bring us to salvation. [6697–6716]

Book 15

Numa Visits Crotona [miniature, fol. 389v: numa’s coronation]

{W}hile the land of Rome was without a king, they sought a worthy man, wise and loyal, who would know how to govern the land well and be able to succeed such a valiant king1 in holding such a great kingdom. They chose a worthy man of great renown, wise and valiant, named Numa, to be king by election. The king devoted his attention not only to learning and discovering the rights and laws of the land, its customs and usages – in these things the king was sufficiently wise – but he also wanted to work at and strive towards learning greater knowledge. Hence he put his study and care into learning the art of nature and the powers, natures, and strengths of created things. [1–20] To focus more diligently on study and learning, he left the land and country where he was born and to which he was native, and the people of his homeland, and came to the city of Crotona, located on the borders of Lombardy, to study philosophy. A Greek had founded and established it there in the Greek style, and Numa asked how it had been instituted differently from other cities located in that country, and by whom. An elder of the kingdom, who was very sensible of heart and knew the customs and usages of olden times, told him: [21–39] “Long ago Hercules came here from Spain, with rich booty that the hero had won there. He stopped by this shore and made landfall and let his livestock graze on the grass. While the cattle were grazing, Hercules, because of the exertion that weighed on him, came to the home of a worthy man who was generous and courtly. The people of those olden times named him Croton. He was courtly, as I understand it, and those who sought his hospitality found that hospitality courteously provided. Croton lodged Hercules well and handsomely. When Hercules left there, he said to his host: ‘A time will come when this house will become a city of great authority.’ He said it, and it was true: it is very evident that the promise was sound. [39–60]

1

Romulus.

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“Now you’ll hear how and in what way the city was later founded here. A powerful man, worthy and sensible, the son of Alemon, born in Greece, a valiant man of great renown, lived in Argos. His name was Myscelus. His manners and being were very pleasing to the powerful gods, the heavenly gods. At that time there had never been a more honest man, it seems to me, nor one so pleasing to the gods, nor one who had their grace as purely as he did, for he served them with a loyal heart. [61–74] “One night, in his sleep, the gentleman saw a vision in which the club-bearing god (Hercules) appeared before him, and told him to leave the country and the kingdom he was native to, and set off, without any delay, to live in another area. He ordered him to found and build a city on the river Aesar, which would become his residence, and to know that he would pay dearly and be sorely punished if he infringed this command. [75–88] “When Myscelus awoke, he was astonished and marveled at the vision he had seen that night, and did not know what he should think or say about it, because he did not dare contradict the god and must not infringe his command. On the other hand, he dared not break the law promulgated in his country, for anyone who could be seen to want to leave the country and the kingdom they were native to, to go to another area to take up residence there, would be cruelly accused of treason, arrested and taken prisoner, and sentenced to be put to death, for such was the law of the land. And so the worthy man was fearful and distraught about what he should do. [89–109] “The day passed, night came, so he went to bed, and when he happened to fall asleep, the god returned just like the previous night and admonished him to carry out without any further hesitation the command he had given him. And the god bore him great ill-will for having sought any deferment in carrying out this command, and great shame and misfortune would come to him if he did not carry it out at once, without question. Fearing the divine wrath, Myscelus put his affairs in order to set off without any delay. He wished to go live in another area, but the rumor of it spread, because his neighbors knew, and as soon as they could, they said that he wanted to break the law and infringe the statute of the country by going to seek residence in another land. Thus he was accused of treason and arrested by the judges, who wanted to know if what they had been told was true, that he wanted to leave the kingdom. No witnesses were brought forward, for Myscelus admitted without calling witnesses everything he had in mind to do, and because of his admission he was sentenced to death without delay. It was no wonder that he was afraid! His coloring, which had previously been scarlet, became discolored and pale, and his face was wan and gloomy. He stretched out his hands and face toward the heavens and prayed to the gods with a humble heart to help him and deliver him in this need. And he appealed and



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prayed humbly, specifically to Hercules, as the one who had put him in this dire peril, to be friendly to him in this need. [110–156] “The city where he was about to be condemned had a marvelous custom, for they took black and white pebbles and put an equal number of each into an urn. And if righteousness discharges and exonerates a person who is wrongly accused, the black pebbles that have been tossed into the urn, when they are withdrawn, must take on the opposite color and become similar in color to the white ones; in that way it can be known that they are not guilty of the crime with which they are accused and charged. And if someone who is suspected and accused of a crime is knowingly guilty, the white pebbles turn black. Thus it is known who is harmful and who is not, and the guilty one is punished for their obvious crime; and the white pebbles are protection for the innocent and secure their release.2 [157–179] “Myscelus was tried according to the aforementioned custom and was found not guilty when the black pebbles turned white, freeing him from the sorrow of death. In this way Hercules saved him through a visible miracle. Myscelus thanked him with goodwill and joyfully prepared to effect and accomplish, without making any further delay, everything he had charged him to do. He and his people loaded all his equipment onto a ship and he set off, sailing swiftly across the sea with his equipment. [180–195] “He passed Tarentum and Sybaris and many other places; he passed so many cities and ports that he found the mouth of the Aesar,3 which was where he was to establish his dwelling and residence. And he founded the city where he was to live upon the grave4 of the worthy Croton, and named it Crotona after the name of that worthy man at the time when he lived. This is how the city, splendid and of great nobility, just as it can now be seen standing at the heel of Italy, was established.”5 [196–210]

2 The OM’s description of how the pebbles change color normalizes what is apparently a one-time miracle in Ovid (Met. 15.41–48): “The ancient custom was to vote using black and white pebbles: the black to condemn: the white to absolve from punishment. Now, also, the harsh verdict was determined in this way, and every pebble dropped into the pitiless urn was black: but when the urn was tipped over and the pebbles poured out for the count, their colour had changed from black to white, and, acquitted through the divine power of Hercules, Alemon’s son was freed” (Kline). 3 Qu’il a trouvé le chief d’Isaire, v. 199. The context requires “mouth” but otherwise we might have expected a river’s chief to be its source or headwaters. 4 The grave is a fosse, v. 203: in Ovid (Met. 15.55–56), it’s “the tumulus beneath which the earth covered the sacred bones of Croton” (Kline). 5 An isolated line appears after v. 210 in Rouen, noted by de Boer, and preceding the miniature: “{A}fter the Holy Passion, etc.” This line corresponds to de Boer’s (and our) v. 2309 in the corresponding moralization.

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[miniature, fol. 391r: pythagoras teaching his students]6

Pythagoras {T}here was a clerk of great authority in the city of Crotona: a great philosopher, very sensible, Pythagoras, born on Samos, who was a very good naturalist and wise astronomer. In his day there was no one equal to him or greater. Out of hatred for the earthly lord who ruled Samos, and to live in greater freedom, away from evil oppression, he left the region of Samos7 to live in exile in Crotona. He was a worthy man and holy person, wise and very discerning as regards the secrets of the heavens. He knew so much about the secrets of nature that no other created being knew more. And, being welleducated, he taught what he had learned to those who listened to his lessons, showing them how they should live in the world and how they should behave. And he told them where snow, thunder, and lightning could come from. And he said to whoever was willing to believe him that everyone should shun drinking blood and eating flesh. And he tried to show by reason that it is not right for a mortal human to destroy and slaughter the body of another to satisfy themselves.8 [211–242] “There are enough other foods with which humans can be suitably fed and provided for. Let them eat grain and grapes, pears and apples, to sustain themselves: those are the kinds of food humans should eat. I readily grant that they should consume sweet grasses, plants, milk, and honey. The earth is generous and generously gives everyone their fill, as much as must suffice for each. Wild beasts, full of anger, are used to harming the bodies of others to relieve their hunger; they stuff and feed and nourish and fatten themselves with blood and killing. Armenian tigers, lions, bears, and wolves, who are filled with rage, feed on the harm of others, which is appropriate to their cruelty, their rage, and their viciousness. [243–264] There are other, gentler creatures that have no use for slaughter: horses, donkeys, oxen, and sheep, which graze on the grasses. That is their life, their fodder. Therefore human nature must never cause harm or injury to another to fill their belly. For it is tremendous disloyalty and wicked cruelty for any soul to destroy another to nourish itself. Can one not find among all the riches, goods, and delights that the earth, so fruitful and generous, nurtures and 6 Fols 61r, 73v, 126v, and 391r have comparable miniatures of a philosopher or theologian teaching students. 7 Lessa Same et sa region, v. 222: more literally, this is either “left Samos and its region” or “left Samos and his [native] region.” 8 Pythagoras seems to start being directly quoted at v. 243; the first use of first person is otroi je bien, “I readily grant,” in v. 250. His speech ends at v. 1228.



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provides, enough food and fodder to nourish a human body without spilling blood, eating flesh, and offending against the body of another by wounding it? That was what the giants used to do.9 Can a person not appease their belly without destroying or wounding another? It was a most wicked lesson to commit such a fault. [265–290] There was a time long ago when people nourished themselves in lordly fashion, without meat, upon fruits growing on the trees, upon cabbage, herbs, and roots. The people then were of noble birth,10 fruitful and blessed, and this was called the “golden age,” on account of the people, who were good. In those days the little birds flying through the air had nothing to fear: nobody troubled them, for at that time no one set traps or snares to catch birds, and the hares played safely in the fields, and the fish swam in the water without fearing hooks. Nothing had any suspicion of being the object of fraud or guile. In forest, plain, field, and village everything was safe, without fear of any misfortune, in peace, in joy, and without fear. [291–313] “But after the debauched gluttons – whoever the first ones were – wickedly broke this peace and these accords to fill their gluttonous bellies and live on fleshly food, they resorted to all kinds of cruelty, and their attention and care was devoted to all manner of fraud, all manner of harm, and they first showed the rage and fierceness in their hearts by killing savage beasts.11 It should, at least, have been enough for them to destroy savage beasts, the ones that strive to harm human bodies and that kill people; but those who defile themselves with such foul and vile fare do wrong. Such beasts, it seems to me, have well earned death because of their ferocity, but they should never be eaten, for it is most unseemly. [314–335] “Now the cruelty, the wickedness, and the outrage have increased, because they do not just put to death the savage beasts, but everyone takes delight in and becomes attached to eating them, and it is even worse than it used to be, because now they kill the simple beasts without reason, seeking cause and occasion to slay and destroy them. They say that the pig has earned death by its insolence, because it causes tremendous damage to the harvest with its snout, chewing and devouring it; and the goat in turn should be put to death for grazing on the grapevines. [336–351] In Ovid (Met. 15.93), this refers to the Cyclops. De franche orine, v. 296: this usually means “of noble birth,” and could be read here as synonymous with “noble,” but given the range of franche, it could also be interpreted as “born free.” 11 Sauvages bestes is used in v. 325 and v. 327, and bestes sauvages in v. 338. The usual translation of bestes sauvages would be “wild animals,” and perhaps vv. 327–328 should be read as “among wild animals, [only] those that strive to harm …” But this section in general seems to distinguish only sauvages bestes that harm people and simples bestes that don’t, without especially providing for harmless wild animals. 9

10

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“Suppose this harm does befall them because of their fault and their transgression, but how have the gentle ewes transgressed? Why do they deserve to die? We can work out that they are more valuable to us alive than dead: they are where we must get the wool with which we cover ourselves, and we get from them milk, curds, and cheese, which are good for the human race. And how have the oxen sinned? For what act or sin must one destroy or slaughter an animal so gentle and kind, an animal without fraud or malice, from which we derive so many benefits? The ox is our farmhand, plowing and cultivating the land that gives rise to the grain and seed from which our nourishment comes. A person who destroys their laborer, their servant, their farmhand, is poor in knowledge and well deserves penury! [352–376] “It is still not enough for them to do such great wickedness; rather, they attribute their madness to god,12 saying that without this carnage god could not be satisfied, and they think he is well honored with the blood and the slaughter of oxen. It is a great mockery to make such a sacrifice to god! And they commit even greater wickedness: from the intestines and entrails they make charms and signs, thinking that by the guts of the dead beast they can ascertain the truth of the divine judgments. And they do an even more vile and despicable, ugly and abominable injury: they feed and nourish and stuff and fatten themselves with the flesh of the oxen and heifers they slaughter in the sacrifices! Where does the urge and hunger come from that makes any human being want such unsuitable food? What madness overcomes them when they kill their laborers and devour and eat them? They should never have done this. Such food, so horrible and vile, should never please a mortal, it seems to me. Good people, for God’s sake, don’t feed yourselves on such food – no good can come to you from it! [377–411] “But take pains to retain what I am going to teach you, and I will reveal to you – since god, who instructs me to do so, has given me the grace for it – the decrees and laws and heavenly secrets enclosed within my mind.13 More will be revealed to you by me than the ancients knew or could discover. [412–422] “I will go among the stars and explain openly to you what many could never learn. I will leave behind earthly vanities and go away, flying through the 12 Ains en metent sor Dieu la rage, v. 379. As de Boer notes, Ovid has plural deos in Met. 15.128, or in context (Met. 15.127–129): “they involve the gods in crime, and believe that the gods above delight in the slaughter of suffering oxen” (Kline). But the OM, as confirmed by the singular verbs in vv. 381–382, refers to only one god. While Dieu is of course not capitalized in the manuscripts, it makes sense that the OM would be referring to the Christian God who is the divine reality masked by polytheism. 13 In Ovid, the “mind” referred to here is that of the god (Met. 15.143–145): “Now, since a god moves my lips, I will follow, with due rite, the god who moves those lips, and reveal my beloved Delphi and the heavens themselves, and unlock the oracles of that sublime mind” (Kline).



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air. To wretched people, to the woeful without sense or discrimination, who, in their foolish opinion, fear death so much that no one strives for anything good, I will show how they should live, if they want to follow my teaching. And I will show them how destinies are determined, without a doubt. [423–436] “O foolish people prone to excess, bewildered and wayward people, from whence comes this vain fear, this dread, this fright that makes you so fearful? Why are you afraid of death? Why are you so besotted that you fear hell and shadows, or the infernal gods? These are false vanities of which poets tell, which have no value and amount to nothing! Be certain of this: whatever may happen to the body, whatever end it comes to, whether it is burned or rots away, souls cannot die – nor, truth be told, can the dead bodies where the souls used to reside suffer or experience harm anymore.14 The souls change their place of residence and live in new bodies. [437–457] “Long ago, I was – for I recall it well – another person at the time of the Trojan War, named Euphorbus, son of Panthoüs. Menelaus, the younger son of Atreus, pierced my chest with his spear. I’ve recognized since then, without a doubt, the shield I bore at that time: it’s still hanging in the temple at Argos. [458–466] “Everything changes and transforms. Nothing dies, but when the soul or spirit departs from one permutation,15 that is, from one body when it perishes, it wanders until it finds another body to cover itself with, the first it comes across. Thus the spirit comes and goes, changes and transforms its residences, and the souls of wild animals often pass over into human bodies, and our spirits, no less and no more, fly into wild animals. [467–479] “Just as soft wax can have different forms and impressions without removing any of its substance – nor does the variety of stamps into which it is transformed change or remove any of the substance proper to the wax – so I can rightly state that the soul is one, without a doubt, and the substance proper to it is not transformed even though it might be disguised in shapes of various kinds. Thus anyone who destroys another body to feed their gluttonous belly is extremely evil-natured because, as I’m explaining, in destroying any animal, they could well be doing violence and injury to the soul of their cousin, relative, or neighbor. The person who feeds on blood goes all too wickedly against their nature; no one should love such food. [480–503] “Since I have set sail on the deep sea and have unfurled my sail and set it before the wind, since I have undertaken and begun this voyage, I want to state without any delay what I have conceived in my heart. I know, and I have well Copenhagen (p. 854) omits vv. 454–455, giving: “souls cannot die or suffer or experience harm anymore. The souls change their place of residence and live in new bodies.” 15 Mes quant d’une mue, / C’est d’un cors, vv. 468–469, could be using mue in one or both of two possible senses: “permutation” or “prison, confinement.” A connection could be made with Philippians 3:21 and 2 Corinthians 5:1–10. 14

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observed, that all things vary, change, and diversify; there is nothing in the whole wide world that can stand still. Just as water never stops running night and day, without resting or stopping, but flows and constantly courses, with one stream joining up with the next, so the time and hour changes, and the time in which we now are did not exist yesterday and won’t tomorrow. Time slips away, evening and morning, without stopping or resting: after night, day returns, and when day fades and ends, night comes along again. [504–528] “In this way, time never stops, nor do the heavens stand still, either night or day, and the sun is not the same color when it rises or sets – because it is nearer the earth – as it is at noon. And I say the same about the moon: its form is not always the same, it seems that the moon is constantly changing its state and form: sometimes it is full, sometimes horned. It changes every night, and the shape it has tonight is unlike what it had yesterday, and it is smaller today, to my mind, than it will be tomorrow if it is waxing; and when it is waning, is larger today than tomorrow. A declining moon shines brighter in the morning, and a new moon more in the evening. [529–549] “In this way, the year changes and renews itself in four different seasons: spring, summer, autumn, winter – each with different qualities – are the year’s four periods, which resemble and follow the stages of human life. When spring is new again, the season is tender and new and moist, resembling a child: fresh, new grass is born and grows, weak and tender, unable to withstand a hot spell or frost; rather, it would immediately be burned or frozen. Seeing the new grass, peasants take hope and rejoice. The fields grow green and everything blossoms. Flowers spring up in the fields and meadows, woods and trees sprout leaves, but the young, tender leaves are all too feeble at this time. [550–572] “Summer comes after spring and resembles a young man who has more strength, so I understand. The season is reinvigorated and gathers strength and the grass firms up, becoming strong and hardy. It’s a dry time full of heat: likewise, youth is hot-natured and strong to withstand more than childhood. After that must come autumn, maturing between hot and cold, between youth and old age too, reasonably tempered, neither too old nor too young, with gray mixed in its hair. Afterwards comes winter, very trembling, looking old and decrepit. This time has lost its hair or, if it has any, it is white and hoary. [573–592] “Human bodies, likewise, cannot long remain in one state, in one form; rather, the being and shape of the human body changes, transforms, and deforms, and we will not be tomorrow as we are right now. And, if anyone should really pay heed to it, they would be able to observe and know that this is true. There was a time when, in the beginning, we were only a seed enclosed within our mother’s belly in a vessel called ‘mother’ or ‘matrix,’ without having any form. But Nature, through her skill, put in so much work that she



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gave us form and soul and life. And we grew so much that we found the belly confining and we injured our mothers, even though we were weak and tender; we caused the belly to expand until Nature pulled us out of our mothers’ belly and body. [593–616] “When we had come into the open, we lay there weak and naked, powerless and unaided: no one would ever have been able to help ourselves. Then we grew and gained strength until we crawled on all fours in the manner of a wild animal. Afterwards our age and strength increased until we could with a little effort hold ourselves upright on two feet, with a little help. This is how the strength and age of people change and transform until we are strong and youthful. Then the time of youth passes. [617–631] “Next, if I’m not lying, a human enters middle age, and is more mature in heart and much more moderate. When this age is past, then comes old age. Then people fall back into weakness. Then they lose their strength and vigor, their weight and their fine coloring. And someone who was strong and fierce in their youth can no longer support or help themselves in their old age; and someone who used to take delight, when they were of younger age, in showing their bright face around, which used to be scarlet, meaty, and full, on seeing themselves thin and pale and full of colorless old wrinkles, can, at that time, feel great woe in their heart, and lament and sigh when they look at themselves in their mirror and see their colorless countenance. Old age wastes and destroys everything, it seems to me, and it eats away, devours, and consumes everything bit by bit, leading it to death, deceiving us so slowly that we don’t notice it.16 [632–658] “In this way everything, in various guises, mutates and assumes new guises, and even the four elements mutate in various ways. There are four elements from which everything in the world is drawn and made. These are the natural building-blocks17 of the whole world, and nothing in the whole world is made without them. The heavy two are earth and water, which are thicker and more massive, and situated lower because of their weight. The other elements – air and fire – which weigh less, are situated higher above these two. These four are situated in four different places, widely separated, and nevertheless all things are composed of a combination of them and hidden in them, and these four likewise immerse themselves in one another. Earth dissolves into water, and the others do the same: water into air and air into fire, changing both their form and their location. Each purges and rubs itself out by attenuating its nature: fire thickens and loses its lightness to become air, and 16 This passage on the ages of man, the elements, and the subsequent discussion on the humors, recalls the neo-platonic Tractatus de quaternario (c.1100), preserved in Cambridge Gonville & Caius College MS 428. 17 Li naturel merrien, v. 665: literally, “the natural timber.”

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air thickens into water, and water thickens into earth. In this way, each of the elements transforms itself in various ways and alters the shape and kind that are proper to it. [659–694] “In this way, Nature transforms and renews things, giving them a new form different from what they had before. In this way, it is necessarily the case that nothing in all the world can perish; rather, it changes and appears other than it first appeared, and through the renewal of its form, when it renews it, it seems to be born completely new. Hence one says ‘this is born,’ but what is ‘to be born’? Only for a thing to begin to be something other than it was. And ‘to die’ is when it transforms and gives up its first form: even though it mutates and transforms itself, it does not die. But nothing remains except for a brief period in one form or appearance. [694–713] “In this way, the ages change, and ages that were golden have become iron. In the time of gold, the people were worth gold, then silver, then bronze and iron, having been transformed. Even landscapes change in many countries: what used to be land is now sea, and one can now sow on arable land and fields in many places where the sea used to be. This is easy to prove, for one can find, as one gathers in the crops in fields far from the sea, shells of creatures18 that used to swim in the sea, while anchors19 can be found in the mountains. What used to be a broad, long plain is now a valley, hollowed out and deepened in many places by the flow of the current; and what used to be a mountain has been so eroded that it has been turned into sea by the rushing surf. And what was once a muddy swamp is now sandy, arid land, and what once was arid wasteland is now covered by water. [714–742] “Springs burst forth here and dry up there, and rivers flow out in many places throughout the world. Elsewhere their water dries up and dwindles, because when the earth gapes and opens it swallows and sates itself on the waters and drinks them down and devours them: they then flow entirely underground to burst forth, reappear and be reborn in other lands, and then they flow above ground. In this way, Erasinus, a great wide river, is swallowed up, and is then born and re-emerges in Argos; and Caïcus runs differently, in another land and bed, than it did at first, having abandoned its original channel. Amenanus in Sicily now runs, now doesn’t run at all. Long ago, Anygras was a river that was good and easy to drink from, but, as some bear witness, after the centaurs bathed in it, no one could drink from it without being harmed by the drink, because they poisoned its waters when they used it to wash the wounds that Les coquilletes des poissons, v. 728: literally, “little shells of fishes.” Les autres, v. 730, is indeed the reading in Copenhagen (p. 858): “the others” (presumably, other seashells). What Rouen has (fol. 393v) is less clear: it could also be ancres, which is what we would expect based on Ovid (Met. 15.264–265): “seashells lie far away from the ocean, and an ancient anchor has been found on a mountaintop” (Kline). We translate accordingly. 18 19



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valiant Hercules gave them with the arrows he shot. And therefore no one has drunk from it since. The Hypanus flows in Scotland;20 its brackish, bitter waters were once sweet and potable. [743–776] “Antissa and Pharos, the two islands, Tyre and many other cities, used to be surrounded by water, but are no longer. Thus things change. In olden days Leucas was joined directly to farmable land, but now it is completely enclosed by the sea. Zancle was joined to Italy: now it has been separated from it by the sea. Anyone who might seek Helice and Buris would find them under water: they were cities of great renown, but now only rocks remain of the ruined walls sunk beneath the sea. [777–792] “As they tell and recount, near Troezen in Pittheia21 there was once a broad plain that is now a high mountain. This was created by the winds, which engulfed and drove themselves underground, and once they were engulfed and driven beneath the caverns, they wanted to burst forth but couldn’t because there were no crevices or paths through which they could escape, so they caused the plain to bulge and swell from their blowing, just like the rustic piper causes his goatskin bag to expand when he pipes,22 or as when one blows into a bladder. The swelling could never again be leveled, so there is still a tall mountain there, ever since that time. [793–812] “I have heard much, and seen much, and learned and absorbed much; and I shall teach you a little of the many things I can comprehend. Everything, as I say, varies and takes on new guises. Water itself likewise changes form and appearance in different ways in different places. In Libya there is a little spring of marvelous nature which changes and renews its state three times from night to day: it is hot around midnight, around noon turns frigid, and grows tepid at dusk and dawn. Elsewhere there is yet another river of such force and character that wood catches fire when thrown into it, so hot and burning are its droplets when the moon is crescent. [813–833] “In Ciconia there is another river so powerful that it turns the entrails of whoever drinks from it as hard as marble or stone. And there are waters very close to our land that, if anyone were to wash in them, would make their hair and tresses look like gold or electrum. And there are waters of other natures that marvelously transform bodies and hearts as well, which is a great marvel to behold. [834–845] “Salmacis has such power that it transforms all those who bathe there; its strength is well known. In Ethiopia there is a river such that no one can In Ovid (Met. 15.285), Scythia. Cf. Book 8, vv. 3322–3362. In Ovid (Met. 15.296, 506), Pittheia is an adjective meaning “of Pittheus,” but the OM treats it as a place name in its own right. 22 The translation “rustic piper […] pipes” doesn’t capture the full adnominatio here, which includes the goatskin bag: Le chevreterres qui chevrete / Enfler la pel de sa chevrete, vv. 807–808. 20 21

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drink from it without going mad or having to fall asleep so that no one can awaken them. And isn’t this a marvel: any mortal who drinks from the spring of Clitorius – it’s true! – will never want to drink wine from then on, as long as they live. Now, no one knows why this comes about, except perhaps that some say the water has a nature contrary to hot wine. This is why they have no interest in savoring or drinking wine after tasting this water. Others say otherwise, because after Phenix,23 the son of Amythaon, had cured the daughters of Proetus, who were insane, and had made them medicines out of charmed herbs and roots, he tossed the rest of these herbs into the water, and the water immediately took on the nature of the herbs, so that ill-will towards bitter wine abides there still: whoever drinks it cannot love wine. There is yet another water of a different nature: any human being who drinks it is intoxicated and staggers and behaves as if drunk. There is a river in Arcadia that is bad and tasteless by night, such that anyone who drinks from it at night receives loss and peril from it, but one can drink of it by day without taking any harm from it, truth be told. In this way, rivers throughout the world change in many ways. [846–888] “There was a time when Ortygia was a crumbling mass surrounded on all sides by current; now it is set firmly on dry land, with no disintegration. 24 The Symplegades were once huge floating rocks that the winds and waves pushed across the sea, causing many a ship to often be crushed and break apart when they struck it. The sailors on Jason’s ship were afraid of how they clashed together. Now they are solidly set, with no fear that waves or wind will move them, no matter what stormy wind blows. [889–903] “There will come a day when the great flame of Mount Etna, which continually spews blazing flame, will cease, and there will be a time when it will no longer be fiery, for if the earth has life and a soul, as some assert, and the flames that leap and burst forth from the earth when it breathes rise up in many places, the conduit through which the flame comes forth and spews out of the earth’s body could become sealed up. Then the flame would go elsewhere to seek out other conduits for bursting forth, and Etna’s conduit will fail. Or, if the earth moves like a beast, it changes and transforms the conduits through which the flame escapes, and vomits the fire out elsewhere. There are others who propose that Etna spews blazing flame continually for another reason: the blowing of the winds, which engulfed themselves in the earth and drove themselves beneath the caverns, and, in their impetuosity, they make rocks collide violently underground, and, without a doubt, blaz“Amythaon’s son” in Ovid (Met. 15.525) is conventionally identified as Melampus. De Boer wonders where the OM got Phenix (which is the reading in Rouen, fol. 394v, not Phenin as de Boer has it; Copenhagen, p. 859, has Fenix), and suggests it came from a gloss. 24 Ortygia = Delos, a floating island in the Mediterranean, hence en riviere, v. 890, can’t mean “in a river.” 23



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ing flame must burst forth because of this. But when the blowing subsides, then the blazing flame with which the mountain burns will cease. According to a third opinion, this blazing combustion is born of bitumen and sulfur burning: when it loses the supply of the remaining sulfur and bitumen, which nourish the devouring fire, the flame will die out and have to finish, having nothing to feed it. [904–944] “They say that in the north there are people in a region called Palantea who, when they have frequented the marsh of Tritone nine times,25 are covered all over by feathers like a bird. But it is hard to believe that such a thing could be true. And it is said that some malfeasant women in Scythia – cunning women, witches and enchantresses – can do the same. [945–956] “But if there is anyone who wants to believe something that is true and well proven: from carcasses and rotting flesh, little animals of other form are created and nourished. For bees are created and formed from the bellies of rotting bullocks. Dung beetles26 in turn are born and nourished on horses slain in battle. If anyone were to rip off the feet of a crayfish27 and bury the rest of the body, this buried part, without a doubt, will turn into a scorpion, that stings with its curved tail. And butterflies are formed from caterpillars by sprouting wings, and fly like little birds. [957–974] “From the mud of the earth is formed a base, formless seed from which footless frogs are born: later they are given legs, and in order to jump better, the rear ones are longer than the front ones. When the she-bear gives birth, her cub seems to be no more than a chunk of flesh, barely alive and poorly formed: afterwards it is given form by its mother licking it, who, by licking, shapes and molds it until its form appears, very similar to its parents. [975–988] “The offspring of bees, covered over and hidden in wax, are first born without legs, but then legs and wings come to them later on and they are perfected like she who made them. Anyone who sees the eagle, the peacock or the dove would scarcely believe – if they hadn’t previously known and proven and discovered it – that they were born from the yolk of an egg and could become as they are. Nonetheless, it is the pure truth. Some say that serpents can be born and come from the spine of a dead and buried man when it decays. [989–1005] “Regardless, one sees that these things I’ve named are formed out of other species; but there is only one creature that is regenerated and renewed from itself alone: it is a bird called a phoenix that lives in Assyria. Of this bird I can truly say that it does not live by the food that nourishes the others; it lives Cf. Book 2, vv. 2623–2672. Ovid (Met. 15.358) has Tritoniacam...paludem. L’escharbos, v. 964. In Ovid this is a crabro “hornet” (Met. 15.368). 27 L’escreveïce, v. 966. In Ovid this is a litoreus cancer (Met. 15.369; “land-crab,” Kline). The escreveïce corresponds below to the astrological sign of Cancer. The moralization of this passage (vv. 5969–5992 below) describes the crayfish as moving backwards: crayfish do, in fact, walk forwards but swim backwards. 25 26

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only on cinnamon, incense, spices, and cardamom. After a time of five hundred years has passed, it uses its beak and claws to build up a nest of spices at the top of a tall tree, and there it lies down in the delightful, perfumed nest which puts forth a sweet smell, where it ends its days in sweet odor. And from it is easily born, as I understand it, a little phoenix that is to live for just as much time. When it has lived long enough to be strong and to gain vigor and strength, it takes up its father’s nest and the crib where it was raised and carries it high into the sky, where it places it honorably in the city before the temple of the Sun (Phoebus), which is large and spacious. [1006–1036] “But if anyone marvels at this, there is yet another marvel that is marvelous and shocking. There is a serpent of such a kind that it renews itself doubly: the hyena, as it is called, is sometimes male and sometimes female. A bird, that is, the chameleon, that lives purely on air and wind, changes its color to match the form of everything it approaches.28 There is a beast named the lynx that pisses only stones, because its piss turns to stone as soon as it hits the air and touches the ground. Coral, in turn, is of such nature that out of water it is hard stone, and when covered with seawater is a green, tender shoot. [1037–1056] “It would take me too long if I tried to tell here about everything that transforms and transmutes itself into a new and different species; rather, the day would finish before I could reach the end. Everything changes, hence we see some peoples that were very weak and are now strong, and many that were of great might have fallen into great weakness. Troy was of such great nobility, endowed with wealth and friends, and it caused great harm to its enemies and destroyed many of them, and vigorously held out for ten years against so many adversaries, having little esteem for the Greeks. But now it is fallen and impoverished, reduced to a vast wasteland, and there is nothing to see there but ruins. Sparta was of great valor; the city of Mycenae was populous; Thebes and Athens held great authority. But now Sparta is in great disgrace and Mycenae in turn has fallen. What has become of Athens? Nothing but the name remains! Thebes endures: it still bears its name. It doesn’t exist except insofar as it is named.29 [1057–1087] 28 Ovid doesn’t call the hyena a “serpent” or state the name of “that animal […] fed by wind and air” mentioned in Met. 15.411 (Kline’s “the chameleon” is a gloss on the original), which of course is a type of lizard rather than a bird. There might be a source that would explain the serpent: in Bartholomew Anglicus, the hyena “hath the neck of the adder” (Steele 1905, 158). 29 Unremarked-on by de Boer, Rouen (fol. 395v) is missing the second half of vv. 1084–1092 even though the page is intact, and without a corresponding gap to indicate the other side of the exemplar was unreadable, as we might expect if there had been a hole or tear. We might hypothesize a blot or stain on the exemplar. For v. 1086, de Boer has Durent Thebes. Encor a nom. Copenhagen (p. 862) has Durent Thebes encoires non, “Thebes no



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“Now a new Rome is rising, where people are busy building walls and a strong foundation. It is growing day by day and will be so wealthy and powerful that it will be queen and head of the whole wide world. No one will be able to stand against it. This is what the sorcerers say and the prophets have prophesied:30 that Rome is written and destined to have lordship and mastery over the world. This is what must become of it. [1088–1101] “Helenus, son of King Priam, said so to Aeneas long ago, if I’m remembering this, when the fate of Troy was in the balance. Aeneas was undoubtedly weeping at the peril to the city. Helenus, who knew the truth of things to come, said to him: ‘You should hold back from weeping, and if you knew what I know, you would never weep over it. You will restore the harm and loss to the mighty lineage of Troy, and you will escape from it. You will pass through iron and fire safe and sound; they will give way for you. You will carry with you the gods of Troy and will come by good fortune to a safe and hospitable land where you will found a city, wealthy and of great authority, where your descendants will rule. [1102–1123] “‘There is not now, nor will there be, nor was there ever in the past, a city nearly so strong and powerful. It will be governed by many lords who will make it strong and powerful. But then there will be born of your lineage a powerful lord of great valor who will make it the mistress and head of the world, and will subjugate all lands and kingdoms. Thanks to the might of this man, there will be no one born of a woman who is not under the empire of Rome. His worth will be greatly esteemed. When he has brought peace to the earth,31 he will rise joyously to the heavens, where at last the king will be deified and glorified as a god.’ [1124–1142] “This is, without a doubt, what Helenus prophesied to comfort Aeneas, who came here from Troy bearing the gods he had rescued from the flames of Troy. I well remember and rejoice in seeing Rome so powerful, growing day by day; and I rejoice that the Trojans were defeated, for the Greeks brought them great joy and great advantage by overthrowing great Troy, because, through this overthrow, the Trojans rose and will rightly rise still more to such

longer exists,” which is compatible in meaning with de Boer’s text if durent Thebes is supposed to be true only because encor a nom, as we have translated. 30 Ensi de distrent li sorcier / Et li devin l’ont deviné, vv. 1096–1097. This is close to Ovid (Met. 15.435–436): “So, it is said, the seers predict, and the oracles that tell our fate” (Kline). But sorcier and devin, which could be “soothsayers and diviners” from a pagan standpoint, resonate differently in a Christian text. Since Pythagoras is speaking here, it would be debatable how much of a pejorative sense to bring to sorcier. A reader anticipating the moralization might take it to mean that not only true prophets but even false magicians can predict the rise of the Church in Rome. 31 La terre apaisie, v. 1138: terre can simultaneously mean “the land” that he rules, or “on earth” as opposed to the heavens.

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nobility, such honor, and such loftiness as the Romans must have. And if the prophet could speak true, they will have peace, joy, and rest. [1143–1161] “But since I must not stray any farther from my theme, I want to return without delay to my original matter. So I can well affirm and state that both the heavens and the earth and whatever is in them, even the sea and the abysses, change their form, it seems to me. And we ourselves, all jointly made up of souls and bodies, change our forms and our being and, because this is possible, we pass on, and we hide within the abodes and bodies of wild animals. [1162–1176] “Therefore it is not a proper thing for any human to kill another animal to feed and fatten their own body; rather, they should leave them in peace, because the souls of our fathers, our friends, or our brothers, or the souls of other people who were once such as we are, could be living and abiding in them. It is a great shame to devour a body for which one bears personal responsibility.32 [1177–1187] “It is great woe, great misfortune, and great cruelty to slit the throat and belly of a calf, and anyone would have a hard heart not to be moved to pity when they hear it cry out and bellow. Who could stand to listen to a baby goat moan and cry the way a child does? Anyone who would slaughter it would be pitiless indeed, and hard and cruel. Who could kill and eat a little bird they used to feed? What profit is there in such cruelty, and what is such treachery worth, to maim and kill animals? [1188–1203] “The ox must live and work the fields to feed us; or, if it dies, then, without a doubt, let it die of old age. Likewise we should let the sheep live and provide us freely the clothes we wear. Let the goat live, and we will milk her for milk or cheese, and for curds for our use. Take down your snares and hunting-nets and no longer trick the birds or the harmless animals. Let the fearful, trembling deer live in security. You must not deceitfully conceal or bait your hooks to catch and fish for fish. Let harmless animals live in peace, and destroy the destructive ones, and let that be sufficient for you, without eating from such kills: take care they never pass your throat! There are plenty of other foods on which a human body can freely live, without fault or sin.” [1204–1228] [miniature, fol. 396v: the nymphs trying to comfort egeria?]33

Cors qui li apartient en chief, v. 1187. Copenhagen (p. 863) omits vv. 1187–1188. Before the miniature, Rouen has {O}r me donist Diex grace et savoir / De bien espondre et mettre a voir, etc. (vv. 2503–2504 in the edition). De Boer interprets these lines as a space filler, but it seems the scribe is signaling the corresponding passage in the moralization. 32 33



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Numa’s Reign {A}bove, you heard the tale, as Pythagoras tells it, of how things vary, change, and differentiate in various ways at various times. Like a wise and learned man, Numa very attentively learned and diligently retained his instruction. Then he returned to Rome full of knowledge and learning. The Romans wanted to have him as their master and governor. They made him emperor and granted him mastery over the kingdom of Romania. [1229–1244] They gave him the choice of a beautiful and very rich wife, noble and worthy, courtly and wise, of high lineage and great parentage. They both loved each other well: he loved her and she, him. His court was well populated and furnished with wise lords. He was the first to add two months to the calendar – January and February – because previously the year had had only ten. He was wise in words and deeds, and knew well how to govern his land in times of peace and war. He taught the strong, belligerent people, who had devoted their zeal and effort only to work, combat, and battle, to live joyfully in peace. Hence he – strong, wise, and helpful – maintained the kingdom of Romania in peace all his life, then died full of days and years.34 [1245–1268] Egeria and Virbius Those of the land and kingdom – men and women, young and old – grieved greatly at his death. But above all others, the beautiful Egeria, his spouse, grieved the most. She wept, lamented, and mourned. In grief she left the city of Rome and fled, without any woman or man knowing it, and without stopping, went to hide herself away in the valley of Aricia. There the beauty wept and sighed. There she grieved so greatly for her beloved that no one could see her without being seized with great pity for her. The nymphs who lived in the woods strove to comfort her, but she would accept no comfort. [1269–1285] Virbius,35 who is called Hippolytus, strove mightily to cheer up the woeful, disconsolate one in her sadness, her woe, and her distress, and he showed her with an example that she should restrain herself from grief, and that she could alleviate her sorrow via the misfortune of another; he told her a dire and harsh event that had once befallen him. [1286–1296] “Did you ever hear,” he said, “how Theseus had his own son torn apart at the urging of his wife, who foolishly tried to whore herself out to the young man, her own stepson? And how his stepmother, when she saw that he did not Plains de jors et d’ans, v. 1268. This resembles the biblical phrase normally translated “old and full of days” or “old and full of years.” See for example Genesis 25:8 and 35:29, Job 42:17, 1 Chronicles 23:1, and 2 Chronicles 24:15. 35 Virbius, who is worshipped at the grotto of Egeria in Aricia, is a reincarnation of Hippolytus (see vv. 1423–1428 below), and Ovid refers to him only as “Theseus’s heroic son” (Kline, for Met. 15.492) and Hippolytus (Met. 15.497) at this point. 34

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deign to listen to her on the subject of pursuing her foolish desire, attributed her insanity to him and falsely accused him to his foolish, credulous father? And how the wicked deceitful woman said he had tried to make her his whore and make her violate her marriage? Either because she was upset at being turned down and refused by the young man who had rejected her, or because she was afraid of being accused of her own vice and sin, she turned the misfortune upon him and said that he had tempted her. [1297–1317] “The father, not knowing the truth, did not believe his son, who was blameless, and believed the woman, who was full of iniquity. In pure truth, I was the one of whom I speak, who was accused by my false and foolish stepmother. For this reason, my father drove me out of his house and city, a disinherited exile, greatly disturbed in my heart, and he called down dire curses on me. [1318–1330] “I, sad and weary, was going along the seashore toward Troezen in Pittheia, my heart filled with anguish and bitterness. Near Corinth I suddenly saw the sea swell up high like a mountain and it seemed, without a doubt, that it lowed like cattle. Then a bull emerged from the top of the water and genuinely stood in the open up to its chest, and had a huge gaping snout from which it spewed seawater. My companions were stunned and terrified by the misbegotten beast when they saw it, but I was not terrified at all, for I felt sufficiently betrayed, overwhelmed, and bewildered by having lost my country and did not think, to tell the truth, that anything worse could happen to me. [1331–1352] “But the strong horses that were pulling the chariot where I sat took fright and were totally panicked on hearing the monster, and with ears pricked up, rushed up a hill slope and fled with great lack of control; my chariot bounced against the rocks and impulsively I tried in vain to drive and guide my chariot and check my horses, and I tried to pull back on my reins. And I put so much effort into it that, in spite of all their rage, the strong horses could not overpower me, and I would indeed have held them back with the effort I put into it, but the wheel of the chariot shattered in passing over a huge log. I was thrown down from the chariot and caught on the log where I fell as if hobbled,36 and would not have moved from there, but the horses dragged me in their reins, which held me entangled, and so ripped me apart and tore my entrails: all my limbs were dislocated and my bones were broken and shattered. I seemed more dead than alive. I did not have, in face or in body, a form that anyone

Et fui pris come en un traval / Sor le tronc où je fus cheüs, vv. 1374–1375. In Ovid (Met. 15.521–525): “the horses’ madness would not have exhausted my strength, if a wheel had not broken, and been wrenched off, as the axle hub, round which it revolves, struck a tree. I was thrown from the chariot, and, my body entangled in the reins, my sinews caught by the tree” (Kline). The OM’s Sor un grant tronc où el passa, v. 1372 – word for word, “on a huge trunk where it passed” – would seem to suggest going over a log rather than sideswiping a standing tree, and the traval or “hobble” would suggest that his foot was entangled. 36



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who might have seen me could ever have recognized. There was nothing in me that could still be harmed. [1353–1387] “So you can’t compare your misfortune and loss to the pain that I have suffered. I saw the shadowy punishment of hell that punishes those in hell; I myself was in hell, from which I would never have had any refuge, help, or rescue in getting out of the infernal prison, and I would never have returned to life, if I had not had the aid of the worthy, highborn physician Aesculapius, son of Apollo. The good physician of great renown, Paean, whose name was Aesculapius,37 by the power of herbs set me free from hell and made me live again in spite of my being held by Pluto, the king of hell, who was grieved by it. [1388–1406] “Because my lady and my beloved, Lady Diana, did not want a soul to recognize me who might be envious or disdainful at seeing me resuscitated, she obscured my face and figure in a new cloud and gave me a form and shape that no one would recognize, so that no one would have occasion to harm or injure me, and she gave me corresponding age.38 She was in doubt about what to do – whether she would leave me in Crete or in Delos – then she put me here for fear of my enemies, and, regardless, she took away my original name, Hippolytus, meaning ‘of horses,’ and no longer wanted me to be called that;39 rather, she wanted me to be named Virbius, and since then I am still named Virbius. Now divine honor belongs to me, and I am one of the lesser gods, and since then I dwell in this grove in obedience and homage to Diana who saved me.” [1407–1433] No matter what Virbius said or what effort he made to comfort her, Egeria’s heart was no less upset: she was tremendously woeful and upset. Her grief, which she could not assuage at all, did not stop increasing; rather, she hid at the foot of the mountain and, summoned by her sorrow, wept and lamented constantly, and the poor woman wept so deeply that she destroyed herself and completely melted and dissolved.40 Diana took pity on her grief and, in friendship, transformed her body into a cold spring, and caused the beauty’s limbs to dissolve into everlasting water: thus she was a flowing spring.41 [1434–1452] As de Boer notes, Ovid does not use Aesculapius’s name here: In Met. 15.534–535, Hippolytus says he was saved “by the power of herbs and Paean’s help” (Kline). Kline identifies Paean, “Healer,” as a name for Apollo, but the epithet was shared by Apollo and Aesculapius, and some commenters have no doubt that Aesculapius is the one Ovid is referring to: see Fumo (2010), 60–61. 38 In Ovid (Met. 15.538–540), it is clearer that she ages him to make him unrecognizable: his age corresponds to his new appearance, not to his previous age. 39 More literally, vv. 1423–1426 would be “and in any case she took from me the name ‘of horses’ that I had at first, and no longer wanted that I should have the name Hippolytus.” We reordered this for clarity. 40 Qu’ele se confont / Et toute remet et refont, vv. 1445–1446. While remet et refont most obviously mean “melt away” (as de Boer notes, “remet = ‘fondre’”), re- might suggest other possibilities along the lines of “remade and refashioned.” 41 Rouen (fol. 398r) has an entirely different reading for v. 1452 (Qui moult fu chose merveillable, “Which was very much a thing to be marveled at”; de Boer adds that merveill37

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[miniature, fol. 398r: the prophet tages and the crowned (or, per the story, horned) cipus, sacrificing lambs]

Tages and Cipus {A}bove, you heard the tale of how Egeria was newly transformed into a spring. The nymphs who knew of this were marvelously stunned, having never heard of such a great marvel, it seemed to them. Virbius was more astonished42 than the Etrurian farmer when he saw a beast moving by itself, without a mover, amidst the mud and take on the form of a man, and saw it open its mouth to tell and reveal to people the things that were to come. The people of Tuscany called him Tages, and he was a wise prophet. Virbius was as stunned as Romulus had been on seeing his dry spear sprout greenery and lose its former dryness, clinging to the earth like a living tree and giving shade to those in its shade,43 whose hearts rejoiced at it. [1453–1476] Hippolytus was more astounded and amazed at this marvel than Cipus truly was when he first gazed at his horned face in the water – and when he had seen it like that, he did not consider it true that a man could have horns, nor did he truly believe that he could be what he saw reflected. He felt with his hands to find out if it was true that he could feel on his forehead the horns he had seen, and when he had felt them with his hands, he knew it to be true without a doubt. As he was returning44 from battle against the enemy, having defeated them, he stopped of his own volition, humbly raised his horned face and his eyes toward the heavens, and said: [1477–1497] “O heavenly god, what can such an event be, and what can it signify? If it pleases you to confirm it, I pray you, make me sure of what it means! If it is a sign of good fortune or of something that bodes well, let divine grace and love be upon Rome and the Romans; if it is anything that bears the fear of evil, loss, or trouble, may it fall upon me, not on anyone else!” [1497–1508] able is not used elsewhere in the OM), while Copenhagen (p. 867) omits the line entirely. De Boer adopts the reading Si fut fontaine escalorgable (his esealorgable is probably a typo) from ms B. 42 Virbius plus s’en esjoï (“rejoiced”), v. 1460, for which de Boer reports no variants, is a misreading at least with respect to Rouen (fol. 398r), which has esboy, as does Copenhagen. 43 Et doner ombre aus ombroiaus, v. 1475. Another option: “giving shade to the Umbrians.” 44 Si com il vint, v. 1492. Ovid is using a simile (ut victor domito remeabat ab hoste, Met. 15.569: “like a victor returning from a beaten enemy,” Kline), so it would be in keeping with the Metamorphoses to translate this “As though he was returning,” notwithstanding de Boer’s gloss of si come as “lorsque.” But the moralization in vv. 6442–6443 below relates this episode to Christ’s victory over the devil, so the OM seems to be making a deliberate revision whereby Cipus actually did win a victory here.



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Then he immediately sacrificed on an altar made of green turf, and he poured wine into a chalice and had the prophet45 reveal in the entrails of a dead lamb what this marvel signified. The prophet gazed into the entrails and saw that this marvel foretold great things, but nonetheless he could not perceive the mystery of the sign via any of the entrails he looked at, until he brought the light he was shining upon the entrails up to Cipus’s horns. Then, without a doubt, he saw the mystery revealed, and then he cried aloud: [1509–1524] “O king, may god save and bless you! You will have lordship over Rome, and the Romans will obey you and bow down before your horns, which will be in authority. Now enter the city at once: see the gates standing open. Indeed, this is destiny: for you to be proclaimed king as soon as you enter the city, and you will eternally wield securely the scepter and lordship of the kingdom of Romania.” [1525–1538] When Cipus heard this, he turned back and away from the city, saying that it would never please god for him to have such honor on earth, and that he would much prefer to live free and at liberty in exile than rule an earthly kingdom. Then he had the senate and people of Rome assemble and come to him, but not before he had covered his horns in beautiful and gracious fashion with a green laurel wreath. Cipus addressed the people and the lords of Rome, and said: [1539–1552] “Among you is a man who will be king and lord over you, and he will inherit all the Roman empire, if he enters the city of Rome. Now it is right for me to inform you, not by right but by sign,46 who this man is who will be king and will rule all of you if he enters Rome. So says the prophet, whom no one contradicts: it is one with horns on his head. And he would have been able to enter the city immediately, and would have been allowed to: no one would ever have opposed him except me, but I challenged him and stopped him at the entrance, though no one is closer to me or more related to me than he is. Now keep him from entering Rome or, if it is right to bind up such a man, let him be captured and put in chains – or, if it please you, kill him to escape such a threat.” [1552–1575] Then47 there arose a great clamor among the princes of the Romans, so that it seemed no more nor less than a mighty wind rattling the bushes, or the sea Tages, named above in v. 1469. Non pas par droit, mes par ensaigne, v. 1558. In Ovid, this is signo, non nomine (Met. 15.595), “not by name, but by a sign” (Kline). Non pas par nom would have had the same syllable count, so the OM seems to be making a point here. “Not by name, but by a sign” is how Jesus identifies Judas as his betrayer in John 13:21–30, whereas “not by right” or “not by law” suggests a contrast like the one in 2 Corinthians 3:6 (“not of the letter but of the Spirit”) – not by the letter of the law but by divine revelation. 47 Cors, v. 1576, is an obvious typo for Lors. 45 46

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breaking on a mighty rock. In this way the people murmured and yelled, and everyone asked in unison who this was, and went looking for him and asking questions to find the horned one, but they did not see him. Cipus told them that he was among them, then he uncovered his head and showed them openly the new horns he had. [1576–1589] When the Roman people saw this, they murmured and did not know what to do; they all lowered their faces because they did not want to look at him, but in spite of themselves there was no way to keep from seeing his noble head, and in any case they would not forgo paying fitting honor to such a lord. They adorned his head with a splendid crown of honor,48 and because he did not want to enter Rome, the lords gave him as much land outside the city as his domain and patrimony as he could enclose and encompass with a team of oxen in a day. And to remember forever the form he had, they had a horned image carved in pure gold on the walls of Rome, in the semblance of a man. [1590–1612] [miniature, fol. 399r: people praying to the golden statue at the oracle of delphi]49

Aesculapius Comes to Rome {N}ow it is right that I tell you how and in what manner the son of the maiden Coronis50 acquired divine honor in Rome, and how he came to the city. I know it well on the authority of the poets and prophets51 who knew the divine secrets, and I will tell you, without a doubt. [1613–1621] Long ago there was a plague in Latium that tainted everything and polluted the whole atmosphere; soon all the people were sick and ill with it, and they were all pale and mangy. And the afflicted sought aid and comfort from the physicians, but the disease was so strong that medicine was useless against it, for no one could find health through herbs or roots. Then everyone wanted to go or send word to Delphi to beseech and pray Apollo to bring them 48 In Ovid (Met. 15.614–615), “Not allowing him any longer to be dishonoured, they replaced the festal wreath” (Kline). 49 Or, less likely, this is the statue of Aesculapius in his temple at Epidaurus. Fols 31r, 89v, 91r, 161r, 212r, 215v, 233v, 252v, 256v, 290v, 322v, 360v, and 399r have miniatures of idol worship or prayer to pagan gods (plus fol. 366r’s statue of Picus) that share comparable elements. Compare the scenes of Christian prayer on fols 32v, 91r, 145r, 234r, and 292v, which have similar composition. 50 Aesculapius. The story of Phoebus and Coronis is told in Book 2, vv. 2121–2454. 51 Par l’auctorité / Des poëtes et des devins / Qui sorent les secrez devins, vv. 1618– 1620. Here Ovid invoked the Muses (Met. 15.622–624): “You Muses, goddesses present to poets, reveal, now (since you know, and spacious time cannot betray you) where Aesculapius, son of Coronis, came from” (Kline).



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help and aid against this terrible disease, and to give them speedy relief from the damnable plague that had brought Rome such distress, such anguish, and such sadness. There, Apollo miraculously made the place and the whole oracle tremble: the temple curtain,52 the statue above the altar, the crown, and the quiver. A voice came to them like a thunderclap, frightening and astonishing those who heard it, and said to them: [1622–1651] “You have come here to a distant land to seek help, but you would have found it closer if you had sought it closer. And if you want to find it, you must seek it closer by. There is no need for me to aid you, but my son must you give you aid. He is the one who must relieve your pains and assuage your woes. Through him you will be healthy and safe. Go to him with good fortune and call him to your aid.” [1651–1663] The Romans turned back without delay, but first they asked where this son was to be sought. In Epidaurus, he informed them, and gave them a certain sign about the land where they would seek him and how they would find him. The Romans put to sea and sailed night and day, holding their course, until they reached Epidaurus. They spoke to the Greeks, revealing to them the reason for their trip, and that they had come to this land to seek aid and succor from their god, so that by his presence the terrible plague that was harming the Romans would end. [1664–1681] The Greeks did not want to do as the Romans requested, because, they said, they could do no more and no less than not relinquish their god53 or hand him over to the Romans, because one must never bequeath to another what one might need. Some were well in accord with the request, affirming that they should not refuse the god to anyone who might have need of him. Their opinions were very contrary: some said that their savior must not leave the city, others that it would be an iniquity and great wickedness for whoever would refuse to give the Romans the god who might succor them. They let the day go by without bringing the matter to a conclusion. [1682–1701] The Romans, with pure and humble hearts, prayed to the god to rescue them from the great malady that overwhelmed them. That night, as the Romans slept, it seemed to them that in their sleep they saw the god as he customarily looked in his temple: in his left hand he held a peasant’s staff, while with his right he stroked his hair and beard, thick as a bush. And he addressed them softly and said amicably to them: [1702–1714] 52 De Boer identifies this cortine, v. 1645 as “le trépied des Delphes” mentioned in Met. 15.634–636: “The ground, the laurel-tree, and the quiver he holds himself, trembled together, and the tripod responded with these words, from the innermost sanctuary, troubling their fearful minds” (Kline). But no dictionary supports this; if not a curtain (cortine in DMF, courtine in Godefroy), this cortine might be the alcove or the temple sanctuary (gordine2 in Godefroy). 53 Since it can’t be subject case, the spelling lor diex in v. 1685 suggests a plural, but le in v. 1686 confirms it should be read as singular.

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“Don’t be afraid. I will help you, and leave my simulacrum behind.54 I will go with you to Rome without fail, but not in the proper form of a man: know that I will take on the form of a serpent, and become like this serpent you see coiled around my staff, except that I will have a larger form – as large as befits a true god. Now look carefully at the image of this serpent and you will have more wisdom to recognize me in this guise, when I will have taken on such semblance, for that is how I will appear to you tomorrow.” [1715–1729] The Romans awoke at once and lost the vision and voice of Aesculapius. Night passed and day returned. The Greeks did not know what to do: whether to give or hold onto the god. They had all the people come to the temple and took counsel there. They beseeched and prayed to the god to grant and show them a certain sign to dispel their uncertainty, so that by it they might know and see and clearly understand where he would prefer to have his seat and where it would please him to dwell. [1730–1745] As they were focused on praying, the god came to a stop among them in the form of a crested serpent; hissing as he approached, he miraculously caused the statue, the altar, the temple pavement, the door, and the curtain to visibly tremble. His gaze was redder than a burning coal; he looked all around, and stood chest-high in the temple. Everyone who saw this portent trembled and were distraught by the sign they had seen. [1746–1760] The priest in his vestments recognized the mystery of the sign and shouted joyfully: “It’s the god, it’s certainly the god! Worship him with mouth and heart and honor him devoutly!” Then he requested that it please the god to come help the entire company, and that he be willing to be helpful, kind, and favorable to the devout people who were honoring him. All those present worshipped him and repeated after the priest: “Amen, Lord. Let it be so!” The Romans begged for mercy and prayed with mouth and heart for him, in his mercy, to help them. [1761–1777] The god, as a sign of friendship and assent, nodded his head, shaking his golden crest, and hissed with his tongue. Then he slithered and flung his body out of the temple down the stairs, turning his face back toward the temple he was leaving and toward the altar, saluting the altar and the temple tabernacle. With joy and solemnity he went surging through the city,55 whose streets were strewn with fresh flowers and green grass. The people followed him with great delight. [1778–1793] Mes simulacres lerai, v. 1716, corresponds to veniam simulacraque nostra relinquam (Met. 15.658), which Kline translates “I will come, and I will leave a statue of myself behind.” But the statue in the temple already exists, so “the statue of myself” would be more accurate. This is moralized below as Jesus leaving his body behind when he dies. 55 Vait sailletant, v. 1790: sailletant would normally be “hopping,” but unless the snake is imagined to have feet (as in Rouen’s miniatures on fols 242v and 246v), this would need to be an action a snake can perform, distinct from slithering or the biblical “creeping.” 54



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The god did not stop until the port. There he paused and, with kindness and humanity, took leave of the people who had accompanied him. Then he entered the Roman ship. The ship onto which the holy body leapt rocked and trembled all over under the divine load. When they saw the god on the ship, the Romans felt great joy. Without delay they sacrificed a bullock on the shore, then unanchored their ship and joyfully got in. They raised the sails high. The wind seized the ship, which was beautiful and well equipped and painted, carrying them away at great speed. There was no need for anyone to deploy oars to sail faster. The god went and rested his head on the stern deck and glanced forward and backward. [1794–1816] The wind carried them smoothly along. They sailed joyfully and effortlessly, so that the Romans reached Italy on the morning of the sixth day. The ship set its course and made its way past the temple of Lacinia, very close to the shore of Scylaceum; it left Iapygia and sailed on until it passed the rocks of Amphrysia and Cocinthia, Plevura,56 Caulona and Narycia. They had a good and propitious wind. They passed Pelorus and its narrow straits, but the ship did not remain there: it passed Tuscany57 and then Temesa; it passed Leucosa and Paestum and Capreae, and without stopping passed Mount Pallas and Surrentum and Cortona, if I’m not lying, and Stabia and Parthenope, then the temple at Cumae, the hot springs, then Liternum; it passed the river Volturnus, filled with deep silt; Sinuessa, full of serpents;58 Minturna and Taygete,59 and the palace of Antiphates; then it passed marshy Trachas and the dangerous region of Circe. [1817–1847] It sped and sailed until it stopped at the shore of Antium. There the sailors put into port because the sea was harsh and overpowering. The god uncoiled and straightened up, and headed straight to the temple where his father was worshipped. The next day, at dawn, the god returned to the ship. The ship was again calm and peaceful, so they set off again, and held their course until they came to the mouth of the Tiber. [1847–1860] All the people of that land came to greet them where the ship stopped. The nuns from the temple of Vesta processed there with joy and devotion, and sang with joyful hearts. On both banks the people rejoiced to greet the De Boer did not recognize Plevure, v. 1827. Ovid (Met. 15.705) has Romethium. Toscane, v. 1832. This is geographically impossible, given the ship’s course. Ovid mentions the Aeolian islands here. 58 Met. 15.715, given in many editions as niveisque frequens Sinuessa columbis, “frequented by snow-white doves,” is also found as niveisque frequens Sinuessa colubris, “frequented by snow-white snakes.” Riley (1858) comments: “Sinuessa was a town of Campania; Heinsius very properly suggests ‘columbis,’ ‘doves,’ for ‘colubris,’ ‘snakes.’ We are told by Pliny the Elder, that Campania was famed for its doves” (547n76). Bucking the trend, the edition by Tarrant (2004) prefers colubris. 59 See Book 14, v. 1727. 56 57

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approaching god, striving to make him welcome. There were altars on both banks where great fires were lit, and the air was filled with the fumes from the fire of incense that they burned, and from the beasts they sacrificed arose a great fragrance that perfumed and embalmed the air. Women and men alike celebrated. [1861–1879] The ship proceeded until it entered Rome, and the serpent, without further day, arose and rested his head on the mast, looking to see if there was a fitting place for him to be. There was an island located in Rome that divided the Tiber into two parts, which flowed completely around both sides of it: the island split it into equal halves. The ship headed that way and the serpent made a mighty leap, springing from the ship onto the island. There he stopped and without delay resumed his divine semblance, which he had originally had: and he saved the people and by his presence healed and cured all of Rome.60 [1880–1898] [miniature, fol. 400v: caesar and vassal]

Julius Caesar {A}bove, I told you the tale, just as the author tells it, of the god who came from Epidaurus to Rome, and what happened to Rome and all the Romans. He came from a foreign land in the east,61 but was received in Rome and served and believed in as a god. But Caesar was served and honored as a god in the city that was under his authority. And well he should be worshipped there, for in times of peace and of battle he was, without a doubt, the most valiant and the wisest sovereign over every mother’s child. In times of both peace and war he was the most esteemed in the land; through his courage, his sense, and his heroism, he was victorious over all his enemies. [1899–1919] But he gained more honor and glory through the valor and worth of his brave and learned son:62 he was more quickly glorified, turned into a star, and deified, for his son’s sake than by any deed he ever did himself. So help me God, I do not believe that he ever did a greater deed, or one that might bring him greater honor, than having such a valiant son – brave and noble and full of knowledge. By battle and war, Caesar conquered Egypt and England, Flan60 After v. 1898, Rouen has {I}adis en la terre de Rome, etc: “{L}ong ago in the city of Rome, etc.” De Boer believes this repeats the opening line of Book 15, but the cross-reference doesn’t match. In fact, the cross-reference to v.1 appears later (see n. 66). 61 Cil vint d’estrange terre au mains, v. 1904. The translation depends on reading au mains as “[in the direction of] the morning”; the normal reading would be “at least,” but it’s hard to make sense of that here: perhaps “a land that was, at the very least, foreign [if not outright barbarous]”? 62 That is, his adoptive son Augustus Caesar.



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ders and Brittany, Normandy and Germany, Poitou, Auvergne, Gascony, all France and all Burgundy and many other fine lands, some by peaceful means and others by war, but nothing compares, it’s true, to the praise and glory he was due for engendering such a noble man, under whom the Roman empire had dominion over the whole wide world. And with such a lord, the gods did great honor to the whole world. [1920–1946] Without a doubt, Julius Caesar, if he were not of mortal seed, would have been made a god without opposition, as the tale tells, but nature opposed it. Lady Venus, who was the mother of Aeneas and head of his lineage, when she saw the loss and harm of the death of Caesar being pursued through treachery which, without being openly threatened, had been plotted and sworn to, she became very sad and woeful and went totally pale. Her delicate complexion was darkened by sorrow. She showed all the gods she met the misfortune that was to come to Caesar, and said, because she could not restrain herself: [1947–1964] “Don’t you see how I am spied upon with treachery and cunning? Don’t you see the great harm planned for my descendants? Will I be forever alone? I cannot hide or keep silent about the wrongs that are continually being done to me. Long ago, Diomedes, full of hubris, wounded me with the iron tip of his spear. Next I was saddened and indignant over the destruction of Troy. Then I was once more greatly distressed over my dear son Aeneas, full of prowess, whom I loved so much, who wandered across the sea for so long in fear of being lost, then saw the infernal depths, and then faced great hostilities from Turnus. But what good does it do me now to rehearse the dire perils and the harm that my lineage has suffered in ancient times and days gone by, for now I have so much more to lament? I see the swords being sharpened to cut down my lineage, and – it’s the truth! – put to death the powerful duke, the noble priest who performs the rites of Vesta. Who will be able to endure such evils? Lord gods, for love of me, your beloved, do not stand for them! For Vesta, if she loses her priest, will lose her secrets – it’s the truth! – and I in turn will lose my nephew, who holds Rome in fealty to him.” [1965–2000] In this way, Venus went on lamenting in vain, not slackening in her expression of the grief she felt, or in her attempts to move the sovereign gods, if she could, to succor her by rescuing her nephew from death. And they would gladly have helped her to do this if they had could have, but there was no way to avert his destiny, for Caesar’s death was decreed by order of those sisters63 whom none can forestall. [2001–2013] But as a sign of the grief and wrath that was to befall the world they caused marvelous signs to appear and be revealed in the air, most fearsome and most 63 The three Fates, who presided over the destinies and length of life: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.

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dreadful: arms of flame appeared among the clouds, which grew dark and were heard to thunder; horns and trumpets blared horrifyingly in the sky, showing covertly that some dire and dreadful happening was to befall the world. As a sign of woe, even the sun changed color to black and cloudy, without a doubt; in the air one saw many a burning torch, and bloody rain fell from the sky; and Lucifer, if I am not lying, was pale, his face covered with an ugly iron color. The moon changed color over this. Owls, whose song is too perilous, sang songs of sadness and woe in a thousand places. In more than a thousand places, it’s the truth, one saw ivory statues weep at that time, and the rocks as well. Horrifying, threatening songs were heard sung in the temples and the woods. [2014–2044] When the Romans had seen these portents, they were distraught by them, and had sacrifices made to discover what these events might signify, but no sacrificial entrails could give them any more certainty about this agonizing evil beyond the fact that they could see and recognize that some great chaos was to come, and in the entrails they beheld a most wicked and horrifying sign, representing a severed head. As a sign of agonizing misfortune, nocturnal dogs, full of iniquity, that surrounded the temples, howled through the city; and the souls of the dead wandered everywhere through the town, and Rome shook mightily. All these signs were seen, but not even on account of this was the coming event or misfortune made known until it was accomplished, nor could anyone, without a doubt, have averted the dire misfortune or the cruel destiny that had been decreed and ordained, and there was no one who could have saved mighty Caesar from dying. [2044–2074] The traitors, keeping their sharp swords carefully hidden and at the ready, secretly entered the temple to kill Julius Caesar. Brutus and Cassius, filled with anger, entered the temple with their followers, because it seemed to them that there was no better place in all the city to commit such wickedness, such madness, and such iniquity. Venus shook with anguish and grief; she beat her breast with her hands when she saw they were seeking out Caesar to destroy him. She tried to hide and save Caesar with the thick dark cloud she had used to cover Paris when Menelaus openly tried to wound and smite him; but hiding him was of no avail, for he was condemned to death, without a doubt, and neither hiding nor concealment could save him. Jupiter saw that Venus was striving in vain, for one’s destiny cannot be subverted by strength or intellect, so he spoke to her as follows: [2075–2102] “Daughter, you are vainly trying to avert the preordaining of destinies, but you are striving in vain, and you are wasting your efforts and your pains, for, without a doubt, their decrees cannot be averted. If you were where the three sisters live, you would see their ordinances enduringly carved on everlasting adamant, harder than iron or steel, such that no one can chop up, subvert, or contravene them, and do not fear the assaults or the wrath of the heavens,



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lightning or tempest. There the destinies of the Roman people are written and set down. I saw them there and made a note of them, and so that you will be certain of them, I will tell them to you and I want you to listen to this. [2103–2122] “Caesar, the one for whom you are exerting yourself, has suffered a great deal on earth, so the time must come for his travails to end, and he must be glorified, made a star, and deified in the heavens, without much delay, because of his son and because of your love. [2123–2130] “His son Augustus, who will be the son and heir of the god, will rule and be king throughout the whole wide world; he alone will be emperor and will avenge the death of his father on the misbegotten fools. And he will force the mighty city of Mutina to beg for mercy, and will cause so much blood to be spilled in the land of Pharsalia, in the field of Philippi, in Emathia, that it will be a marvel. And he will cause the name of Pompey to be completely extinguished and cut short by slaying its heir. Cleopatra, the wife of Antony, will devote care and effort, trusting in her lord, to make Rome bow to the glory of Egypt, and will boast of it; but she will be basely defeated and fall from her foolish undertaking, consigned to shame and damnation. [2131–2154] “I don’t know, my daughter, what to tell you, nor why I should relate all the peoples he will take over. There will be no land or region between the two seas that will not be subject to his jurisdiction and answerable to him. All inhabitable land will be under his governance: even Getia and Pontus64 will be subjugated by war and force of arms. Once there is sweet peace on the earth, he will want to employ his heart in making laws, in guiding people to uphold right and loyalty and to maintain justice. So he will cause rights and laws to be written down and, through the example of how he lives, which will be honest and noble, he will govern the morals of the people, who will live by his example. His sons and his heirs and lineage to follow will do a good job of imitating his valor: they will reign over the whole world and be named by his name. [2155–2180] “When he will have lived long and joyfully in the world and his time will have come, by his merit and his deeds he will in turn be glorified and made a star on high in the heavens, so that all his good deeds will be evident. But meanwhile, take up the soul of his father, which has been plundered and torn from his body, and make of it a shining star; and, without opposition, let Julius Caesar, your beloved now deified and made a star, be set near my temple to watch over the Capitol and the Forum.”65 [2181–2195] Gete et Ponde, v. 2164. Not in Ovid. Getia (in Dacia) and Pontus are reasonable guesses since the Romans did conquer them. 65 In Ovid (Met. 15.840–842): “Meanwhile take up Caesar’s spirit from his murdered corpse, and change it into a star, so that the deified Julius may always look down from his high temple on our Capitol and forum” (Kline): the OM’s “near my temple” is new. 64

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Before Jupiter had said this, Venus – without appearing to any born man – came into the Senate, took the soul of her intimate, and carried it intact to the heavens, because it was not her will to let it vanish in the air. As Venus was carrying the soul she felt it become hot and inflamed and take on divine form. Venus removed it from her breast and it flew alongside her higher still: it is a comet or meteor trailing a long, flaming tail, bright and resplendent. [2196–2211] Now Caesar has divine honor. Now he has great gladness and great glory, but he takes the most joy – it’s the truth – in the acts of valor and good deeds of his son, which surpass his own deeds and are of greater authority. Augustus knows in truth that his deeds surpass those of his father, and there is no one to whom this is not apparent, but he denies it and defends his father like a good child, refusing to put his good deeds ahead of his father’s or compare them, for no doubt he does not want to. But Fame (Rumor), who fears no one and would not give a person delight except insofar as it is right, esteems and praises them – in spite of themselves, no matter what they urge66 – much more than their father, and dares to counter them in this alone and nothing else. [2212–2232] This is how it was in the past: Atreus was much lesser than his son Agamemnon; Theseus, it cannot be denied, surpassed his father in nobility; Achilles, in turn, had greater prowess than his father Peleus; and Saturn, when he reigned, was less esteemed and still is than Jupiter, his son, is now. Jupiter has his kingdom in the air, and exerts dominion as he pleases over the threefold kingdom of the world;67 just so, Augustus has every land on earth to rule. We should esteem them both and consider them our father and master: the one earthly, the other heavenly. May they be given glory and honor! [2233–2251] {O} you gods, companions of Aeneas, who passed through sword and fire until you stopped at Rome;68 and you gods of Roman birth; and you, Quirinus, father of the kingdom, who founded the city; and you, the god of battle; and you, Vesta, holy goddess, holy nun, holy priestess, sacred to the Caesars; and you, god, sovereign father, Jupiter, master and maintainer, who hold the Tarpeian tower; and all the gods who are celebrated, to whom I can make request licitly, without being in error: I devoutly pray to all of you, with a good heart and will, that Augustus may live for a long time in peace and in good health, without harm or impediment, keeping all the world at peace. And may I never see him leave this earthly empire, even though it is lesser and worse than the heavenly one where he will go when he departs the earthly one. And there he Reading de Boer’s l’oë, v. 2230, as loe: the manuscripts do not have punctuation. Ovid’s “the kingdoms of the threefold universe” (Kline, for Met. 15.859) are conventionally understood as the sky, sea, and earth (or underworld). Through v. 2269 below, the first-person perspective is Ovid’s, corresponding to Met. 15.861–879. 68 Second person plural passastes and arrestastes, vv. 2253–2254, are consistent with Ovid’s Latin – di, precor, Aeneae comites, quibus ensis et ignis / cesserunt (Met. 15.861– 862) – in a way that is not entirely obvious from a translation like Kline’s “You gods, the friends of Aeneas, to whom fire and sword gave way.” 66 67



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will be glorified and deified with his father, and will be favorable and helpful to his people, although far off. [2252–2282] {N}ow I have brought my matter to its conclusion, and I have completed such a work that, in my opinion, it in no way fears the wrath or disdain of Jove, nor will it ever be annihilated by fire or iron, nor will it be obliterated by old age, which obliterates everything. When it pleases death, let it do as it pleases with my body, no more, because it has no power or permission to destroy my soul or my fame: these two things must remain with me in spite of it. When it takes my body, the best part will remain with me, for I will live eternally since I will have these two things – my soul and my fame, which death will not be able to obliterate. My soul and my fame will never die under attack by death or envy, as long as this earthly existence lives on and as long as the power of Rome is great, extending over everyone. This book of mine will be taken into every land, into every kingdom, and everywhere they will want to read it, if any poet can speak truth.69 [2283–2308] Moralization: Numa and Crotona {A}fter the holy Passion, death, and Resurrection of the Son of God, who mercifully died for our salvation and rose again, ascending to the right hand of God the Father in heavenly glory, and installed our humanity in glorious eternity, Holy Church was left bewildered, having lost the bodily presence of her Lord on earth. The “senators” of Holy Church wished to find and elect someone to whom the care and government of the Church could be entrusted, and who would wisely maintain such care and bear such a burden. And by divine election they chose after St. Peter, without dissent, St. Clement,70 who well and appropriately governed all Holy Church. [2309–2331] Or, Numa can be taken to mean the office and dignity of bishop: the bishops and archbishops that the holy apostles established in various regions throughout the world and set to govern the bishoprics. They understood what sin was, and what one must do and not do. They were agreeable, humble and gentle, wise and prudent.71 They knew the law and decretals, and devoted all their attention to serving God – if I am not lying – and to maintain the Christian faith without fraud or hubris. [2332–2346] They left behind their mansions, their lands, their possessions, and the pleasures they used to have because they wanted to separate themselves entirely from worldly servitude and to live, as on a pilgrimage, in discomfort and hardship, in penance and distress, apart from the vanities and temptations 69 Here Rouen (fol. 402v) inserts a cross-reference to the opening line of Book 15 {T}andis com la terre de Rome, etc. (“While the city of Rome, etc.”) 70 St. Clement I of Rome, pope from 92 to 99, consecrated by the apostle and first pope, Peter, himself. 71 Compare 1 Peter 3:8–18, Proverbs 1:1-6 and 8:12.

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of the world. To serve God more freely, and to acquire and deserve the love, grace, and intimacy of Divine Wisdom, they cast aside this world – the better to live according to their free will in the city of our Lord, which at that time was more beautiful and greater, more expansive and much more populated than it had been in the past. [2347–2366] It was only a humble hovel when the Blessed Maiden sheltered the wise and mighty one, the Son of God, who, through his efforts, “confronted the evil giant with his heavy club”72 when he defeated the devil with the Cross, where he suffered death, and drew his “livestock” out of wretchedness and imprisonment; that is, when he drew his people and his friends, held captive by the enemy, out of the infernal prison. He is the one who fed and filled his people “on sweet fodder, in pastures full of greenery.” He said, when he left the world, that the house of Holy Church would become a city filled and teeming with people, who would populate it well in the times that were to come.73 He spoke truth, it is very evident. Holy Church grew until she became great and wide and populous, in a different guise and manner to those other “cities,” that is, the religions that do not believe in God, which are founded on their bellies, whereas Holy Church was well and firmly founded on penance.74 [2367–2395] {N}ow you will hear why and how the city of Holy Church was founded and established on the pagans. St. Paul, the master of the people who first raged against the Christian faith, not through pride and hubris, but because he thought he was doing good, since he had no use for pride, was, as I understand it, in charge of the masters of ancient times, the wisest and greatest, the bishops and lords, who upheld Judaism and considered him a worthy, wise, and experienced man. If Christians were found who kept the law of Jesus Christ and called upon his holy name, then, if he could, he would capture and bind and imprison them, or send them to Jerusalem to be punished. All those who loved Jesus Christ and called upon his holy name were in grave danger. He had them martyred cruelly, being – truth be told – asleep in foolish ignorance and damnable unbelief. [2396–2424] But the Son of God called him back to his love and revealed himself, when it so pleased him, directly to Paul.75 He told him in a threatening way to abandon his foolish ignorance and his damnable unbelief and the error he had undertaken, and, in order to found Holy Church, to go through the whole world preaching to the ignorant and uncouth people, full of hardThis moralizes Hercules, probably with reference to Cacus (cf. Book 8 of the Aeneid); but the synopsis in the OM doesn’t mention a giant. 73 This seems to be referring to the Great Commission, Matthew 28:16–20; compare Acts 1:8. 74 De Boer gives v. 2394 as Et ceste fu por penitence, but Rouen (fol. 403r) clearly has sor penitance. 75 The story of Paul’s conversion is told in Acts 9:1–30. 72



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ness, full of disloyalty, to introduce them to the new law, and to convert the pagans to the belief of the Christians. And he must not fear prince or king, or any baseness or rashness or scorn that might be done to him, but place his hope in God, who would help him everywhere he went and deliver him everywhere. [2425–2444] St. Paul consented most devoutly to this command, without objection or disloyalty; he abandoned the law of his fathers to put this duty into practice. Those of the law he had originally held considered him to be acting out of supreme malice, treachery, and disloyalty, and when it became known, everyone considered him a traitor, a deceiver, a prevaricator with respect to the laws of his fathers. They brought him to trial and accused him, before judges, of violating the law; they planned to put him to death if they could, and they might have killed him if God had not saved him. It did not please God to let them condemn or destroy his servant, and no one can hurt or harm anyone whom God wishes to help. [2445–2467] No matter how much the wicked and maddened Jews – who are rightly compared to “black pebbles,” because their hearts are hard and blackened by hardness and dark obscurity – wished for and sought and pursued his death before the judges of the earth, it was not enough to prevent the Son of God from rescuing him in his mercy, saving him from death and imprisonment with the help of the white stones, which subtly subverted the sentence of the rabble. The “white pebbles” are rightly the disciples, who kept the law of Jesus Christ and believed what St. Paul taught them, who diligently strove to grow and found Holy Church on the rocks of Gentilisa. Through these, without a doubt, St. Paul escaped the death sentence that the Jews sought for him, threatening him with death, and went away free and at liberty. And he composed so many epistles and books that by his holy preaching, and by his writings likewise, he guided a great many pagans to the belief of the Christians. And he devoted so much attention to this that by his predication he established and founded Holy Church upon the hardness of Gentilisa.76 [2468–2502] Moralization: Pythagoras {M}ay God now grant me the grace and knowledge to explicate well the great predication77 made to us by Pythagoras, who told us a lengthy tale, and to make the sense and explanation of it match truth. May it be, first, to the glory and exaltation of the perfect Trinity, which God is in simple unity, and 76 Here Rouen (fol. 404r) has, after v. 2502, {U}n clerc de grant auctorite, etc. (“There was a clerk of great authority, etc.”). This corresponds to v. 211 and appears to provide a cross-reference for the moralization. 77 The analysis by Tilliette (2009) would argue for translating la grant predicacion, v. 2506, as “the great predication” and not, say, “the lengthy speech.” (“Le terme de « prédication » est sans équivoque sous la plume du poète : c’est l’exposé au bénéfice du peuple,” 218.)

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for which I have undertaken this whole endeavor; and to the honor of Holy Church; and to the advantage of those who will hear it, for many – if it please God – will benefit from it. [2503–2516] There are some who, hearing this tale, condemn and deny it, saying that it is madness and outright heresy to speak it, and that one should not read this book because of the mendacious matter it speaks about and which is undoubtedly contrary to right belief. It is true that if one were to take Ovid literally and not understand any sense or understanding other than the author clumsily brings to it while telling the tale, it would all be misleading, barely profitable and very obscure, not just here but throughout the whole thing.78 And anyone who believed the tale to be true in this way would be in error and it would be overt heresy. But beneath the tale lies hidden its more profitable meaning. Hence whoever considers it nothing but a tale does not really care what it means, and whoever thinks that in tales there is another sense, another understanding, should not be too hasty to blame or criticize the tale if they cannot understand it or the good meaning it can have. Whoever knows well how to explicate the text can impart to it a meaning that is good and in accord with truth. In the same way, Holy Scripture is confusing and obscure in some places, and seems to be nothing but a tale. Anyone who does not bring to it an understanding other than what seems to be there on the literal level, and, in their ignorance, would believe there is no other meaning in it, would deceive themselves, without a doubt, and consign their soul to damnation. [2517–2557] Pythagoras, who left Samos and the country where he was born and to which he was native, his possessions and his inheritance and his earthly residence, to live freely and independently in exile, can rightly be understood as the hermits who lived long ago, who, purely for love of God, cast aside the world to live better, according to their own free will, in the hardship of penance, in fasting, abstinence, vigils, and prayer. They left their own homes, their possessions and inheritances, to live freely in hermitages, away from worldly vanities and the harmful impulses of earthly existence, from the temptations of carnal delights; thus they scorned the riches, the lordship, and the distinctions and the delights that exist in the world. [2558–2581] And they served God pure and spotless of all stains of sin, for they were not attracted to eating meat or fish, but only food from the bushes, such as rose hips, hawthorn berries, strawberries, blackberries, and plums, which they picked in order to eat them. Nor did they reject grasses and roots: fruit from trees, acorns and beechnuts, were their life and fodder, the tasty nourishment 78 Non pas ci, mais tant come il dure, v. 2532, might seem to mean “not just now but as long as it endures.” But just as ci can have a temporal sense, durer can have a spatial sense, as in tant come il dure a la reonde, referring to the world, which we translate “the whole wide world.”



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on which the holy hermits lived, who shunned the ease of the body in order to gain spiritual life. And, even though their bodies were on earth, their souls frequented heaven through contemplation, and dwelled there. [2582–2601] These holy hermits taught, by good example and the doctrine of salvific discipline, how people should live if they were to deign to follow them. They lived without harming anyone else, without detaining any soul. They did not make snares or hunting nets to capture animals or birds, and they did not bait hooks on the line to go fishing. They lived among the animals without hunting any of them, rather letting them live in peace among them, without harming or pursuing them, as if they were their rightful shepherds. [2602–2617] And in honor of the Creator they spared the creatures without causing them any harm or offense, and the beasts were deferential to them because of their holiness and were obedient to them, as if they were capable of reason, in whatever the hermits asked of them. And the hermits loved them and said that there was such brotherhood between them that no one should harm or disturb them, as long as they were not harmful beasts that might injure, maim, or kill human bodies. And it rightly was brotherhood, because both man and beast were created by the Creator alone: this could not be denied by any person with sense. [2618–2637] And, if there were an animal that might harm a human body by taking its life, and might deserve death, they would well grant that it should receive death. But even then they would not eat of its flesh, for it seemed to them a gluttonous act to break their fast for the sake of eating meat. Never would they deign to eat meat, instead they ate very meager grasses and the fruits they found on the trees, on which they lived meagerly, and this was more than sufficient for them. [2638–2649] This is how the holy hermits were in times past, and even better. Today’s hermits, whose habitations are in the “wastelands” of religious orders, are different. They have no desire to live like this. Do not think that they limit themselves to feeding off the bushes, but rather on the tastiest freshwater and ocean fish. This is the sort of food they love now! One can find both tame and wild meat in their kitchens. Salmon, pike, perch, and eels, and various types of birds, are now the food for gluttons, rather than the hawthorn berries and rose hips on which most people, as I understand it, lived in olden days and chastised the foolish people who, to please their false idols, slew various beasts as a sacrifice to their false gods of stone or wood or metal, whichever it might be, and lived off the sacrifice. The holy men considered this to be great wickedness, and rightly so; and we should do the same nowadays, for God condemns and forbids this in Scripture: anyone who dishonors the Creator and worships created things offends God. [2650–2682] They also said, it seems to me, that the base, ignorant fools who did good and evil for fear of hell transgressed in this, because one should abandon evil

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and do good not just for fear of damnation, but because it might be pleasing to God.79 One who is perfectly good must do good and refrain from evil for God’s sake, in charity. God help me, those who refrain from doing evil only for fear of torment, and not in charity, for God’s sake, don’t deserve much: they would never give up doing evil, and good deeds would not please them, if they weren’t afraid of suffering!80 This is how the holy hermits used to live long ago, and they would follow God and humble their souls in the world to keep them pure and clean for heaven, in eternal glory. [2683–2705] Nevertheless, there can be another allegorical interpretation in keeping with the tale that is well in accord with truth: Pythagoras can be understood as the masters, preachers, and holy teachers descended from Holy Church, who in holy baptism received the light of true faith and abandoned the hubris, foolish error, and ignorance, and damnable unbelief of shadowy Gentilisa, who had set her foolish attention on believing in and worshiping false gods, and honoring idols. [2706–2722] But the Son of God, in his mercy, with the “point of his lance” – that is, the reprimand of holy predication – pierced their bodies deeply, so that by the indoctrination of his virtuous word, which pierces and penetrates and flies quicker than a spear with a penetrating point, which pierces deep enough to dislocate the marrow and the entrails and seeks out the secret places of the heart, he gave them enough knowledge to see their ignorance and their misguided folly, which would have led them to grief if God had not instructed them and illuminated their hearts. [2723–2740] But God, by his holy doctrine that sets straight and illuminates the heart, mortified the ancient sin with which they were stained, which aged and overcame their souls. He took off of them the old man, who had made them aged and feeble, and dressed them with the new man, who renews them according to God and makes their souls strong and new.81 And when they had turned from their foolish error, and recognized the unbelief they had been in and the faith they should take on, just as God had inspired them, they introduced all the other ignorant and stupid people – who, in their foolish error, disbelieved – to the path of salvation. [2741–2759] They said that “one must not shed blood or kill animals.” Now I will tell you what this means. The animals, collectively, can rightly be understood as the people with uncouth minds who live like animals. The simple ones are the simple people; the cruel and harmful ones are understood to be people who

V. 2688 starts with Ne, not De as de Boer has it. Mal traire (“suffering”), v. 2698, echoes mal faire (“doing evil”) in v. 2697. Translating mal traire as “enduring evil” would capture the wordplay but misrepresent the sense. Compare Matthew 6:1, Ecclesiastes 12:14, Aquinas ST I–II, q. 125. 81 Compare Ephesians 4:22–24. 79 80



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inflict harm – murderers, robbers – who seek in their cruelty to shed blood and kill people. [2760–2772] According to God, according to Holy Church, the death penalty must not be imposed on any person unless they are at least a savage and inhuman person, who seeks in their cruelty to shed blood and kill people. Once a person becomes accustomed to killing people, they can, in short, be punished and killed without pity. Anyone who commits such a disloyal act pays well for their wickedness, their folly, and their cruelty. One can kill the killer, for that is how it is, to my knowledge, in the law God caused to be written down; but that should suffice at least, for after lay justice decides to condemn someone to death for their fault and transgression, or for murder when they commit it, that should be sufficient for it. [2773–2793] Why does justice strive, why does it desire, why does it thirst to attract the murderer’s blood to itself? Why does it want to grow fat on it? It should never touch it, but instead should be greatly ashamed of the “blood,” that is, the bloody wealth that the thief has bloodily gained by destroying the substance and life of another. It should never desire to acquire such a bloody acquisition; rather, it should seek to discover who this wealth belonged to and who the thief had won it from, then return it or have it returned to the one entitled to expect it: that is, the lord to whom it should belong. And if one cannot discover the master – the one who lost the object – at least their heir should have it, for he has the greater claim; but if one cannot find the lord or heir, they should give it to the poor, the needy, the indigent, not keep it or hide it away, for the wealth should go to those who are poor and don’t have enough to live on, so that they go about begging for food. [2794–2822] This is what justice should do by right, but burning covetousness so overwhelms earthly existence nowadays that no one has any intention of doing right, and judges prefer to keep things for their own benefit rather than return the wealth to those to whom it is due. They want to keep all for themselves, whatever they can grab or seize, and nothing can escape them, no matter where it comes from, once they get it in their grasp. They want to grab and pocket all of it. I see judges falling over themselves to raise and levy fines rather than thinking to render good justice. [2823–2838] Now they all hang murderers on their leash, since they have money with which they can make generous gifts!82 Now those who can give generously can safely transgress – it’s swept under the rug, not a word is said about it. Gifts from wealthy wrongdoers make judges mute and silent. But they know well 82 Tuit pendent or à lor corroie / Les murtriers, vv. 2839–2840. The point seems not to be that they hang murderers to confiscate their fortunes, rather that they substitute the “leash” of personal favors and quid pro quo for the hangman’s noose the murderers deserve.

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how to condemn those who do not have enough to give: nowadays they accuse them against right and reason, torturing with false accusations the powerless common folk, whom they skin and pluck completely. They suck out their blood and substance. They devour and consume everyone, even those who work for them, who produce and cultivate the goods on which everyone else lives: those who weave and those who make the fabric with which all people cover themselves, and those other workers who are necessary to all of earthly existence and who sustain us all. Now judges have reached such a point that not one thinks of loyalty! [2839–2865] It is truly a damnable cruelty to ransom and destroy these people who are more helpful than harmful; but now nobody cares about that, for everyone strives and exerts themselves to destroy and devour the simple, who are unable to avenge themselves. First the lay judges and then the clergy skin them all, pluck them all, and suck up their blood and substance. They have, and want to have, all their wealth, no matter what. That wealth hardly matters to them at this point, but covetousness is now so great that, out of desire for the wealth they want to extort and possess, the judges sentence many to lose their lives who have not deserved death. It should never happen that anyone is sentenced to be put to death without having committed a very great transgression! [2866–2887] Long ago, Holy Church and the masters who held control of she taught the people, according to the example of their most sovereign and great Lord, that it was better for one who sins and transgresses to reform, abandoning their transgression and coming to true repentance, than be lost. They established mercifully, according to the laws of Holy Church, that no one should be subjected to the death penalty, but rather that anyone who transgressed should do fitting penance for it according to their fault. Hence those who transgressed would be captured and imprisoned, or otherwise punished according to what was appropriate, without putting anyone to death or wiping them out. Many of these, through long penance, came to true repentance and purged themselves of the sins with which they were stained. [2888–2912] This was right! This was appropriate! No one should destroy or wipe out their brother in Christ or their neighbor. We are all brothers and relatives: poor and rich, great and small, we all come and are descended in the flesh from a single carnal father, from Adam, and from a single carnal mother. Even our souls are related: eternal and divine, they have been given to all of us by God, and created by a single Creator. God created the Jew’s soul, the pagan’s soul, just like the Christian’s soul, to live, and to be in the heavens in his heavenly glory after this first life, if it did not lose heaven through its folly. [2913–2930] Therefore no one should persecute anyone or put anyone to death, but let all souls live together in good peace, in safety. And no one should despise anyone, because often the person who is considered the worst, and who is most



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direly stained with crime and mortal sin, when God wishes to shed his grace on them, mends their ways, and can soon take to doing good, and reforms. And many times83 a just person strays off the proper path, misled by the devil, and expires. And in the end no one knows for certain if they are worthy, no matter what they do, of the hatred or the grace of God, who is Judge over all. The thief on the cross was saved as swiftly as was St. John, who suffered many torments for God’s sake and was righteous his entire life. God by his grace gives life to sinners and sets them straight, when it pleases him, and puts them on the path to do good, for their salvation. And through his secret judgment he lets some of the righteous go astray. Hence everyone should take care to live in true charity and to maintain brotherhood, without pride and without arrogance. [2931–2963] What good is human presumption? I do not see why any mortal person is presumptuous! If anyone should be proud of their riches, their intellect, their strength or prowess, their beautiful body or beautiful face, their nobility or their great lineage, this is foolishness or great silliness, for it is all vain vanity. The goods of the world are all too vain, all too changeable and fleeting, and cannot remain in one place. Just like water never ceases – it runs and never stops running – one thing slips away and the next hurries after it, and rushes off without stopping. Hence the goods full of mutability do not remain in any firm stability. Everything changes and shifts. [2964–2983] Time itself fluctuates, and runs along every day never to return, so that no one can hold it back. Hence everyone should look to how they can best use the time they have at present, for whoever wastes it foolishly and spends it in bad ways can incur shame and harm in doing so. [2984–2992] Moralization: Time and the Seasons {W}e are to understand “day” as the holy righteous people84 who can be an example to us, and a light for doing good. “Night” can represent, by contrast, the sinners full of hardness and shadowy darkness, who are not accustomed to be in a constant state; rather, they change in various ways. For the good go from a good situation to a better one by reforming: they begin well and prove themselves better. And the evil are worsening, as sin drags them from bad to worse. And nevertheless an evil person can abandon their evil path and become good, just as the opposite can occur, with a good person falling into wickedness. [2993–3011] {T}he good Lord full of mercy who covered his divinity under the shield of humanity, Jesus, the true Sun of justice, the light of Holy Church, was not of such appearance, such condition, such semblance, when he was first born into 83 84

De Boer’s Manites, v. 2943, should be Maintes. Les sains justes, v. 2994: alternatively, “the righteous saints,” but compare v. 3069.

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this world, and likewise not when he suffered Passion and death, as on the day of his Ascension. For even though his heart and body were not stained by one single sin on the day of his Nativity – rather, he was without any iniquity – still he had the appearance, coloring, and semblance of it because of the flesh he had taken on, which seemed stained and overshadowed because of the deception of the first man, who ate of the damnable apple. [3012–3032] And when the Jews captured him and caused him much shame and abuse by their false judgment, he seemed to be a purely mortal creature, with no divinity, and the humanity he had assumed was stained with a red stain, as Scripture bears witness. The true Sun of justice had a different semblance and a different guise when he had ascended to the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory, where he shines so purely that no one can estimate or measure his resplendence, his beauty, and his aspect. For at the very moment he ascended, his great splendor surpassed human senses, and those who beheld his great splendor marveled at it. [3033–3052] {T}he “moon” represents Holy Church. She is not constantly in one guise or in one place; rather, she transforms in various ways. In her first beginning, she was smaller and less visible, without a doubt, than later on, and less powerful. Then she started growing day by day until she reached the full extent of her brightness and splendor, spreading her light of good example and doctrine throughout the world in great abundance. But now it seems to me that she is declining, and her beauty is waning, and her splendor dims, because there are fewer of the righteous who were shining in the world through doctrine and decency. They are different from how the ministers of Holy Church were before, to such a degree that their beauty is diminishing; rather, it is already so diminished that Holy Church is less esteemed than she was long ago, when they lived holier lives. [3053–3078] {B}y the “year,” I can represent indeed the entire community of Holy Church, for just as there are, without pretense, four different seasons in the year – spring, summer, autumn, winter – the whole institution of Holy Church contains four different types of people, with different morals and qualities. [3079–3087] “Springtime” properly represents those who are newly coming to recognize the Christian faith, or those who rise up again from mortal sin, with which they were stained, and renew themselves, and rebel against the enemy, leaving behind their cold iniquity and hard incredulity, who flower through repentance and the effects of penance, to which they henceforth want to devote themselves. They resemble a young and tender child, newly born of its mother; they are newly reborn, by the grace of God the Father, in the body of Holy Church, their mother, through the baptismal font or through true confession. They are weak and could easily relapse into damnation if someone does not apply diligence and intervene to teach them and instruct them as to what



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can help and what can harm them, what they should do and not do, and how they should confess themselves. And someone must feed them a diet of sweet and mellow nourishment: they must be given the food of salvific doctrine and the milk of tender discipline to sustain them until they can become strong; and the more they go on growing from good to better, the more their penance and good works will increase. [3087–3123] {N}ext comes85 summer, covering itself with flowers, leaves, and fruit. The trees and the fields are all full of fruit, and the fruit grow and swell from day to day. The weather then is hot and stable, and beauty86 shines forth and gains strength, and one can do more at this time than at any other, as I understand. [3124–3132] {T}his time is associated with and comparable to the young man in the prime of life, because, if I am not lying, a person is “hotter” in the state of youth: they are stronger, fiercer, more vigorous, more bitter and irritable, more industrious, as I understand it, and capable of more than at any other time. [3133–3140] {T}his season, and this stage of life,87 resemble a person of strong heart, ready to do good in every way, to do penance and bear suffering for God’s sake, purely, without faking. Charity, in which their body gains strength, moves and inflames them to this; it strengthens and fortifies them to do that which God wills, and they bear fruit, flower, and leaf: the leaf of good affection, the flower of conduct, and the fruit of good works as well. [3141–3153] {A}utumn, full of moderation between heat and cold, comes after summer. It ripens the fruit. It is the proper season to fill barns and houses and cellars with fruits that are acceptable and good. It is the prudent season that measures and gathers all the fruit on which people feed and with which they must sustain themselves in all other times to come. This season is in accordance with, and corresponds to, the stage of human life approaching fifty years old, or sixty. At this age, if I am not lying, a person matures and is perfected: at that time they possess more moderation, more reason, more temperance, more sense, more knowledge than in either of the other two ages. And whoever is not wise at this age can scarcely become wise in the fourth period of their life to come. To this age and to this season, as I understand it, corresponds the state of perfection, which has more discretion, temperance, and moderation. A person in this state devotes all their heart and care to perfecting and maturing The verb is actually past tense (vint, v. 3124), but the rest of the seasons are introduced with the present, so we translate accordingly. To make sense of the past here, it would be saying that summer came next in the list at the beginning of this section. 86 Literally, “the beautiful”: li biaux s’esclaire et s’afferme, v. 3130. 87 Cilz estas de temps et d’aage, v. 3141, is more literally “this stage of time and of age,” i.e., this season of the year and of a human life. Copenhagen (p. 888) has Cilz estez, “this summer.” 85

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themselves, to acquiring and procuring the fruit of spiritual life in order to live in eternal glory. [3154–3186] {A}fter autumn comes winter, a horrid and variable season, full of hardness, full of cold, without fruit, without flowers, and without greenery. This season is bald and hoary, poor and denuded of all goods; and whoever lacks them must do without, for at that time nothing can be obtained. It is the most scorned of all seasons. [3187–3195] {D}ecrepit old age resembles and corresponds to this season. A person stoops and shrinks then; and loses their plumpness and coloring, their sense, their strength, and their prowess; and they cannot help another or themselves, except by quarreling and pleading like one who is poor and denuded of knowledge. He is all bald and hoary at that time, and full of filthy corruption and cold complexion. Someone who has sinned mortally corresponds to and resembles both winter and old age, it seems to me, for the error of mortal sin denudes them of all grace; it takes away, overshadows, and erases all the goods they once possessed, because once a person has fallen into mortal sin, there is no doubt that afterwards they no longer do anything good that serves them in obtaining eternal life. They stoop and bend down “toward the earth,” that is, to love earthly goods; their heart is sad and full of bitterness, baseness, filth, and cold misfortune. [3196–3222] {T}his is how the comportment of people transforms and goes on changing in the ways I am saying, and the state of Holy Church, in turn, has been much transformed from then to now, since Christianity began. [3223–3228] {J}ust as the child forms in its mother’s body and takes form before it is born, a person must similarly be spiritually formed and instructed. When the child is well formed, it is born, but it still cannot help or sustain itself without the help of others: likewise one sees it happen that, when a person has “taken form” through baptism into Holy Church and is raised upon the holy font, they are so weak and of such little sense that, unless someone instructs them well in it, they will never behave according to faith; rather, they must be instructed and nourished in true doctrine until they can become strong enough to go along using the “feet” of the four Evangelists to support themselves. [3229–3249] Then they become so strong and agile that they go along on three feet, without a doubt: that means they have true knowledge of the perfect Trinity, which is God in simple unity. Then they go along solidly on two feet, that is, when they believe perfectly, as they find it written, that in our Lord Jesus Christ there is complete double substance, one human, the other divine, for he is truly both God and man. One rightly walks on one foot who believes there is one Creator, one single God, the Lord and Judge who will judge all of earthly existence. [3250–3265]



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This is how the states of human nature change and will change, and some who were once “full of greenery,” handsome and prosperous, strong and vigorous in doing good, “bearing fruit and flowers,” “leafing out” with good effect, later “grew old” through their inclination to malice, and declined from a good state into evil, losing their desire to do good, and making only vain and slow attempts at the works of their salvation. This is the wicked “aging” of the “young people” who once so pleased the King of Paradise that he made them his spouse and lover. They then “grew old” and no longer please God as they once pleased him. [3266–3283] When they look upon their “faces” – that is, their condition and comportment – in the mirror of their conscience, they can greatly lament and grieve to have lost, through their ignorance and great disloyalty, the excellent beauty they had, and to have grown old, foul, wrinkled, and withered. And their hearts are darkened and dried up by unbelief and sin, which leads them to perdition through damnable corruption. And once their hearts were touched by the “old age” of sin, which kills and destroys men and women and corrupts the virtues of the soul, they never stopped their slide, ending up in shame and baseness. [3284–3302] Anyone who ever falls into such “old age” sickens their soul and sends it into weakness that will strip all virtue from it. Anyone who wants to guard their soul from such sickness and from old age, keeping it safe and sound, “in the prime of life,” brave and strong in divine love, must learn the medicine that keeps the soul healthy and clean. [3303–3311] Moralization: The Elements, the Body, and the Humors88 A person is comparable to the world, and long ago was rightly called a “microcosm.”89 The world has four elements: the heavens,90 the air, the earth, and the sea. And from these four, all things are made up, and they are reduced to these four in the end. Likewise, in a human body there are four principal parts, which by analogy91 are converted into the four elements mentioned

88 Tilliette (2008b) has identified vv. 3312–5767 here as a translation of De medicina animae, “On the Medicine of the Soul,” by Hugh of Fouilloy (Hugo de Folieto, c.1100–1172), for which see Migne, Patrologia Latina 176, 1183–1202. Yearl (2014) discusses Hugh’s text along with William of St. Thierry’s contemporary De natura corporis et animae, “On the Nature of Body and Soul.” See further Tilliette (2018) on the OM’s use of Hugh. 89 Maindre monde, v. 3314, which could also be rendered as “a ‘lesser world’” (in terms of scale). The Latin has both: microcosmus, id est minor mundus, 1183. On this idea, see Robertson (2019). 90 This element is usually fire: compare Book 1, vv. 189–228, which associates fire with the firmament, and v. 3422 below. 91 Par semblant, v. 3322, which could perhaps be paraphrased as “on the basis of apparent similarities.”

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above. There are the head and the chest, the stomach and the feet. Now let us hear how and why we can compare the one to the other. [3312–3327] The heavens, higher and lighter, can be compared to the head; and the air to the chest; and, again, one can clearly compare the belly, which is full of moisture, to the sea, which contains all kinds of moisture;92 and the earth, which supports everything, to the feet, which support the whole body. This is how these things coincide. [3328–3336] God is seated on high in the heavens, and the soul is properly situated in the head. There are three persons in God, and the soul has three good powers, which entirely govern the body. One is understanding, the second is meditative reason, and the third is the power of judgment.93 In the heavens are two great lights, the moon and sun, and on a person’s visage they have two eyes plainly situated in the “firmament” of the face, which illuminate the whole human body. And the eyes instruct the heart about what they have seen outside, and by them it is made known to the heart. [3337–3352] Clouds float through the air, and in the chest float the various desires, thoughts, and wishes, as the clouds do in the air. Sometimes there is the brightness of gladness, at others the darkness of sadness, winds of vain temptations, thunder from the lightning bolts of jeers and hostility;94 and fire of anger and hatred, which oppresses lesser folk.95 This kind of storm is suppressed by “rain, snow, and hail”:96 while the admonishments of holy preaching make some people restrain themselves, and hesitate lest they err, some people must be soothed by flattery and praise and gentle comforting; harsh criticism and reprimands make other people mend their ways and hesitate lest they commit 92 Le ventre, qui d’humeur est plain / A mer, qui les humors contient, vv. 3332–3333: this amplifies the corresponding sentence in the source, which says just mare ventri … assimilatur, 1183, and is clarified by vv. 3378–3380 below, so we know not to translate “the humors.” 93 Here De medicina animae, 1184, lists intellectus, ratio et memoria. The “three powers of the soul” are found in Aquinas as the vegetative soul, sensitive soul, and rational soul (ST I q. 78), and more commonly as memory, will, and reason. Bonaventure maintains the same threefold distinction in 2 Sent. d. 17, art. 1. 94 Escrois de corruscacions, de ramposnes et d’ataïne, vv. 3360–3361: our translation disregards de Boer’s comma, since neither DMF nor Godefroy recognizes a figurative sense of coruscation (something like “incandescent angry outbursts”). For this sentence De medicina animae, 1184, has diviso aere fiunt coruscationes irae, sequitur ignis odii, id est combustio animi… (and see next note). 95 Qui les maindres vait opressant, v. 3363: perhaps les maindres should be “the lower elements” or “the lower parts of the body,” but De medicina animae, 1184, has this as a prelate venting his anger on those under his authority: (see previous note) … qui quoties extensus ab alto, videlicet a praelato descendit, toties subjectos laedit. 96 It might seem strange to think of a thunderstorm as being suppressed by precipitation rather than causing it, but the moralization and the source make it clear that this is the correct reading. We do say in English that “the storm gave way to rain,” and the logic here is apparently similar: if steady drizzle replaces a tempest, the drizzle “prevailed.”



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folly. So some must be argued with, others must be flattered and cajoled, and others are to be criticized. [3353–3377] The belly resembles the sea, because the humors build up there, and the waters pile up at sea. Blood flows into the liver and overwhelms it, so that, I believe, the bile spills out. And just as Charybdis sucks up the seawater, then regurgitates it and yields it back, the lungs attract and swallow up the phlegm, then spew it forth and regurgitate it. Circe, full of hardness, is like the spleen when it is contracted and hard. [3378–3389] {W}hen a person eats to excess and fills their stomach outrageously, they must purge and relieve themselves by throwing up the burdensome load that is taxing and harming the stomach, or else relieve themselves naturally through the lower part without shaming the upper; for just as the sea, which can tolerate no filth without immediately casting it out and regurgitating it, purges itself, so the belly, which desires good and appropriate food – fresh, new, and nourishing – to feed and sustain the body, cannot hold or retain any filth within itself for long, but cleanses and purges itself naturally and casts out what is not profitable for the body. [3390–3410] {T}he feet, cold and dry by nature, resemble the cold hard earth, because they share a degree of similarity in their makeup. Hence, when the feet of a sick person grow cold, that is, in short, a sign of approaching death, when of necessity they grow more like, and return to, their nature, that is, to earthly cold. [3411–3420] {N}ow there are four elements in the world: fire, air, earth, and water;97 and there are four humors in a human body: blood, red and black bile,98 phlegm; and there are four different seasons in the year: spring, summer, autumn, winter. Fire and red bile, along with summer, have a hot and dry quality, it seems to me. Air, blood, and springtime are hot and full of iniquity.99 Cold and dry, as I understand it, are earth, autumn, and black bile. Cold and moist, it’s true, are water, phlegm, and winter. In this way, four different elements correspond to the humors and the seasons, as our masters state. [3421–3438] The soul in turn has its own elements: one is subtle understanding, which the soul makes use of or should make use of, as fire; the next is pure thought, which must serve as air; the third is that it must keep itself, for earth, in firm stability, and, for water, in nimbleness of bright ingenuity.100 [3439–3447] Cf. vv. 3315–16, where “heavens” substitutes for “fire.” Red (also “yellow”) bile is also known as choler; black bile is also melancholy. 99 For plain d’iniquité, v. 3430, which is indeed the reading in Rouen (fol. 409r), Copenhagen (p. 891) has d’humidité, which is a better fit for the context (and the source likewise has calidae et humidae [naturae], 1185). 100 The enumeration of L’un, v. 3440; l’autre, v. 3442; and Li tiers, v. 3444, without specifying the fourth, makes it tempting to try and relate d’engin cler, v. 3447, to both earth and water, as in “the soul’s bright (or, evident) ingenuity, which it must keep perfectly 97 98

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Through understanding, the soul senses exactly what it should sense and understand about faith, and must render pure judgment concerning it: it must firmly believe and swiftly obey the commandments of the faith, so that, without fraud or hubris, it lives well and acts in a healthy way, for faith is dead without good works.101 And it must of necessity temper subtlety with healthy and pure discernment. Purity, in turn, is what tempers subtlety of understanding, and nimbleness should be tempered by firm stability, and may things be so ordered that the soul does not rise too loftily through subtle understanding and sense more than it should,102 with understanding losing its way and parting from truth through frivolous subtlety. But sober and pure discernment keeps understanding moderated, so that it does not sense too loftily; it prudently keeps itself from letting dissolution enter in. Nor must any one of these lapse in the soul due to one of the others, but the soul should keep itself in check and make use of these four things in concert so that it can benefit from all of them. It should be worthy and quick to listen to good instruction, if it hears it spoken, but slow to speak and slow to anger if it wants to have proper morals.103 [3447–3483] Likewise, the soul also has four humors: for blood it has the sweetness of gladness; for melancholy it has sadness; and for red bile it has bitterness; and ordered thought for phlegm. For the physicians, who know what these things amount to, say that the sanguine are rightfully of a sweet and glad nature; the choleric, in turn, are bitter; the melancholic are sad; and the phlegmatic rightly have a well-ordered body. [3484–3496] Now, sweetness of the soul must be in thinking of the heavenly kingdom; bitterness in recalling one’s sin, which nips at one’s conscience and wounds it; it must feel grief and sadness for how it has ever transgressed, and in making amends for its transgression, it must order itself well and properly. But it must be on guard that its spiritual sweetness not be troubled or lost through temporal bitterness; and that the bitterness for the evil and sin it has committed never be corrupted by the sweetness of carnal delight. And it must guard against hatred or wicked sloth troubling or leading astray its good and healthy sadness, or that its beautiful conduct descend into vain presumption. [3497–3518] Likewise the soul also has its seasons, for, by way of “autumn” and “spring,” it should behave moderately and act temperately, as is right, in sober moderation, and live in good temperance. And, by way of “winter cold,” it should have sloth and powerless rigidity when it comes to carrying out any stable for earth, but changeable for water.” But this would not square with the reflexive in qu’ele se doit tenir, v. 3444, or with De medicina animae, 1185, where the qualities are listed as intellectus subtilitate, mentis puritate, rationis stabilitate, and ingenii mobilitate. 101 James 2:20. This is a direct quotation in the source, 1185. 102 Romans 12:3, directly quoted in De medicina animae, 1185. 103 James 1:19, directly quoted in De medicina animae, 1185.



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evil temptation. And, by way of “summer,” the soul that grows strong enough to keep true charity, and whose heart is cold, feeble, and slow to do iniquity, should have pure and steadfast charity, and it should temper the desires of its heart in sober moderation. It should keep itself safe and sound in a state of prosperity, without peril or adversity. [3519–3538] For the benefit of souls, I also want to speak about the four humors of the body, to demonstrate different habits according to the effects of the humors, starting with phlegm, which is by nature moist and cold. It resides in the lungs, and is analogous to water,104 winter, and old age. It makes a person sluggish, slow, forgetful, and sleepy. It is purged and cleansed through the mouth. In wintertime, it grows and abounds. In winter, the phlegmatic is much worse off than the choleric, and an old person much worse off than a young one. And in this season one must eat hot and dry food, for it makes the phlegm thicken. In winter, the sickness born of phlegm is more severe than in summer, and more oppressive and troublesome than those from bile, and can harm the invalid more. [3539–3561] I can compare proper ordering of thought to phlegm. It is very true that phlegm resides in the lungs, which can breathe air in and out at will: in the same way, the proper ordering of thought comes directly from good and wise discernment, which sets aside what is potentially harmful and chooses to take in and retain whatever can and does lead to profit. It is of a “cold and moist” nature: the “cold” is what cools down the soul from the fire of sin, and if the soul happens to have sinned, it must purge the filth and vice of its sinful malice through the humor of compunction or by “moist” contrition.105 [3562–3580] It makes a person “sluggish and slow and forgetful and sleepy”: slow to begin or commit evil, and slow to anger, forgetful of transitory goods, and sleeping in pure and true peace.106 But if wicked corruption enters into the train of thought, its “cold” makes it fall into slothful rigidity when it comes to doing good, and “slows the moisture,” burdening and weakening the soul when it comes to repenting of its vice. And once it abounds in wickedness, charity grows cold and lacking in it,107 and so it happens that through a defect in the phlegm – that is, in a mind corrupted and disordered108 – the soul becomes slothful in doing good, and forgetful in remembering and recalling the 104 For

v. 3546, Rouen (fol. 409v) clearly has yaue and not yame.

105 Here De medicina animae, 1186, quotes Psalm 39:13 (Vulgate 38:14) and Psalm 6:6–7. 106 Here

De medicina animae, 1186, quotes Psalm 45:10 (Vulgate 44:11) and Psalm 4:9 as positive examples of “forgetting” and “sleeping,” respectively. 107 Here De medicina animae, 1186, quotes Matthew 24:12. 108 Si avient que par le default / Dou fleume, c’est de la pensee / Corrompue et desordenee, vv. 3597–3599. This corresponds to De medicina animae’s ex corrupto phlegmate, id est ex corruptae mentis compositione, 1186, which argues for not translating le default dou fleume as “lack of phlegm.”

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good things its Creator has done for it, hence it is sleepy and falls asleep in sin, which leads to its death. [3581–3604] {T}he state of thought is analogous to the sea, winter, and old age simultaneously, for just as the sea disguises itself in many states, in many guises – flooding and surging at one moment, rough at another, calm at another, at another trembling and agitated due to the wind – so thought is changeable: at times it is troubled and unstable, then it is sure, then doubting, then it wavers and floats among vain and various notions. And it storms like the sea due to the various temptations of vain cogitations.109 [3605–3620] And it has the nature of an old man, that is, of Adam, who ate the apple for which the world was damned. We certainly seem to be born of Adam: we are not unlike him, without a doubt, because pride and disobedience and the lure of sin have so seduced our hearts that our thoughts can scarcely be turned away from them without being constantly lured. Thought is “purged, cleansed, and washed through the mouth,” for when repentance touches it, it must cleanse itself of its malice, its filth, and its vices through the mouth, in confession, with tearful contrition. [3621–3638] {I}n “wintertime,” phlegm increases and abounds, drowning the soul, for in times of tribulation, the moisture of temptation, which is dangerous and fearsome, increases. [3639–3643] {I}n wintertime, the aged and phlegmatic are more susceptible than the choleric youth. The phlegmatic and the aged are cold and moist; on the other hand, youth and the choleric are hot and dry. The “phlegmatic” are those who weep for the sins which with they are still stained and aged. The “youth” I take to represent those who have devoted all their love and care to heaven, who are hot and dry by nature and all aflame with charity, for in times of tribulation and temptation, the hearts of those who have contrition for the iniquity they have committed are more likely to fail them than in the case of those who are on fire with love and are not overwhelmed by sin. That is when the sickness that is born directly of phlegm – that is, the very turmoil of foul and dissolute thought that turns corrupt – is dangerous and fearsome and most harmful. It is a constant hot fever full of burning, that is, the burning of carnal lust. Then the phlegmatic should live only on “hot and dry food,” that is, by following the example and the good deeds done by holy, worthy people, who all burn with divine love and the fire of pure charity. [3644–3678] {T}he cold of the winter season110 comes about and originates for this reason: because the sun distances itself from us, and there is nothing to give 109 While

vaines cogitacions, v. 3620, looks like a calque on Latin theological vocabulary, De medicina animae doesn’t actually use a corresponding term here; it has no equivalent to this sentence of our translation, only to the previous one. 110 For v. 3679, Li frois de l’infernal saison, which would mean “the cold of the hellish season,” Rouen (fol. 410v) has Li frois de hiuiernal (or possibly l’iuuernal) saison, and we translate accordingly.



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us warmth.111 When the true Sun of justice, that is, God, who loathes all sin, distances us for the sins with which our hearts are burdened, from whom can grace come to replenish our hearts? From no one, if God does not help us. [3679–3689] {I}n wintertime, the sun descends and travels through Capricorn,112 which is a sign that is distinguished by a goat’s horn. Capricorn rightly represents a heart seduced into the foul stench of sin, which stinks more than a horned goat – vile, stinking, and corrupt. Goats stand upright and climb to feed up high on the mountainside.113 [3690–3700] {W}hen the sinner delights in recalling and reciting the words and good deeds that holy people have spoken and done, and has an eager desire to follow those of lofty life and live by their example, then the sun comes to dwell low in Capricorn: that is when God, who is the true Sun of righteousness, mercifully resolves to look upon the sinful creature with tender mercy and show them their wrongness, their wickedness, and their deficiency. [3701–3715] {A}fterwards the sun climbs a little higher into the sign of Aquarius, when God resolves by his grace to lead the sinful soul to weep and shed tears, and to see to cleansing its filth by weeping and shedding tears. Then the sun climbs still higher, leaping into the sign of Pisces, when winter ends and God through his grace illumines the sinner so that they abandon their sins through true confession, and resolve to live in sighing and weeping. Fish, without a doubt, are nourished by water; thus there is nothing that avails a sinner and advances them as much as living in true penance, in tears and sighing, praying piteously to God to forgive the transgressions and the outrages they have committed. 111 The sun is actually closest to the earth in January. It is colder then because the sun is above the horizon for a shorter period each day and because it does not pass as close to overhead as in the summer months. The astronomical observations in this and the following passages are of course complicated by the fact that the OM poet is observing through the lens of a pre-Copernican universe in which the earth, rather than the sun, is at the center. (Special thanks to Thomas Barnes and John Lacy, University of Texas at Austin, for astronomical matters in this section.) 112 Saying that the sun moves into Capricorn at the beginning of winter was true two thousand years ago, but now it is just moving into Sagittarius at the beginning of winter, and does not move into Capricorn until late January. It has changed because the axis of the earth’s rotation has precessed. Astrologers today have stuck with the position of the sun in different seasons as it was two thousand years ago, rather than using the current positions. The constellation boundaries were not sharply defined until the International Astronomical Union did so in 1930. In the fourteenth century the sun would have been in Sagittarius, about a third of the way across to Capricorn, at the beginning of winter. In 1320, it entered Capricorn on January 2. The dates in the footnotes for the beginnings of the seasons, as well as for the solstice and equinoxes, are according to the Julian calendar in use during the medieval period; these dates are all eight days later in the modern, Gregorian calendar, adopted on August 15, 1582. 113 Or, following de Boer’s punctuation: “Goats stand upright and perch on a rock to feed up high.” De medicina animae, 1187, says Quae tamen in altis rupibus pascitur.

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There is no truly confessed person114 who does this whom God will not restore to grace. [3716–3740] {A}fter the rainy wintertime, the delightful vernal time returns – that is, spring, full of temperance, hot and moist, whose nature is simultaneously analogous to blood, milk, and a child, it seems to me. After the tears and weeping, after the bitter woes that the sinner has felt for the sins in which they lay, the heart must right itself and come to a purity of thought and a new state of life. [3741–3753] Now I must write about the nature of blood, if I can. Blood is rightly situated in the liver, and it increases and abounds in the spring. As I understand it, disease that comes from melancholy, like a quartan fever, is less harmful in this season; and that which concerns and touches the blood is more harmful, dangerous, and fearsome, like that called synoque.115 [3754–3764] {T}he melancholy and aged fare better in spring than the sanguine or children. The art of medicine advises and forbids against the sanguine living off foods in springtime similar to the season, that is, they should avoid hot and moist foods. Rather, it recommends that they use and consume food that is cold and dry. [3765–3774] Blood, to my understanding, represents the sweetness of contemplation, which is properly located in the liver and is founded on it, for right in the heat of the liver is found, according to the art of medicine, the second digestion, which flows out from it, traveling to the limbs. The art of medicine claims that there must be in total three digestions in the human body. The first is in the stomach, the second in the liver, and the last is in various limbs of the body. Now, as I recall, from the ardor of delight comes the sweetness of contemplation, just as blood comes from the liver, flowing out into all the members of the body, and must be hot and moist by nature. The heat must be born of pure and perfect love, and the moisture is born of dread.116 [3775–3798] Hence blood resembles springtime and air, because it must have a new desire and a new way of living. “It increases in spring,” for when one is newly converted, one must freely have spiritual sweetness and delectation, which keeps the soul nourished. [3799–3807] {I}llness born of the blood is all too dangerous and fearsome, harmful and damning in this season, for it might happen in a new conversion that the con-

114 For homs mais confès, v. 3739, Rouen (fol. 410v) clearly has homs vrais confès, and we translate accordingly. 115 Sinouche, v. 3764, corresponding to synocha in Latin. The “fièvre synoque” is generally defined as a brief sustained fever of unknown etiology. 116 Paired with fine et parfaite amour, this cremour, v. 3798, would seem to be the fear of God.



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vert,117 foolishly, while their heart is delighting in recalling and reciting the good works abounding in it, just like sickly corruption is born of overflowing blood, falls into vain elation and prideful swelling. Blood, which should be a friend of nature and nourish life, will destroy it, I have no doubt, for the evil corruption of the vain delectation that they find in their own good deeds harms them, raising it up into damnable pride.118 [3808–3826] {I}n this season, the melancholic and the aged fare better than the sanguine or children, because their nature, which is in opposition to the season, protects them. And that is the cause and the reason why in every season the contraries should oppose and attenuate one another, and whoever wishes to live healthily must become accustomed to living on food contrary to the season. Hence in springtime one should seek out food that is cold and dry, because it cools and dries, and so the newly converted cannot be perverted and fall into elation through vain delectation. When they recall their good deeds, let them also remember their transgressions and their sinful lives. Let them recall the folly they committed in times past, and even if they are doing much better, still it would not be enough for them to appease the divine wrath that they had previously incurred by their base, dissolute lives. If they do so, I am certain, they will not become too haughty or have any cause to be prideful. [3827–3857] {I}n springtime I see new flowers on herbs and trees, of indigo, white, or green and all other colors, emerge from open pores in the earth; they are nourished by the hot moisture; and virtues of various habits must be born in our thought, so that it may all be in flower.119 In this season, the sun climbs, without stopping, first into the Ram, then into the Bull, and then the Twins.120 By the Ram, which backs up and comes charging back in order to collide better, I can understand that the convert must unhesitatingly flee every hold of wicked temptation. He must “back up” by fleeing, without heeding such a hold, then collide into temptation with the horns of contradiction. The Bull, which labors and works, represents the fact that the convert must, without fail, subject their body to the pain and travail of fasting and vigils, and pull beneath the yoke of penance, and sow within themselves such seed as can yield good fruit. I can take the Twins to represent the charitable joining of 117 The convertis (vv. 3812, 3872, 4332) and nouvel converti (3841, 4883) could be recent converts or, conversely, novices recently entered into a monastery. 118 That is, the vain delectation that they find in their own good deeds becomes evilly corrupted, which causes the delectation to swell into damnable pride: the antecedents of qui and la in Qui en dampnable orgueil la lieve, v. 3826, would be the corruption and delectation respectively. 119 Here De medicina animae, 1188, quotes Psalm 74:17 (Vulgate 73:17). 120 Aries, Taurus, and Gemini. On March 12, 1320, the first day of spring, the sun was midway through Pisces; the vernal equinox fell on April 1, when the sun first entered Aries upon leaving Pisces.

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love and dilection that they must have, as it seems to me, toward both God and their neighbor. [3858–3890] In springtime the weather is changeable, inconstant, and variable, and there is very good cause for that, for it is desirous of the winter that has just passed: for it is cold and rainy one moment and then hot and dry, because of summer which is adjacent to it. Likewise, those who are just coming to true repentance, when they recall the transgressions and outrages they have committed, easily weep and shed tears and are moved by past sins, and when they think of the joy of the heavenly hill (montjoie), upon which their hearts ponder and yearn and which, if it happens to be God’s pleasure, they desire and await, they are all dry and hot with desire. [3891–3910] But because springtime is so changeable, dangerous, and fearsome, those who are not attentive to it more easily get sick suddenly, because at first they are hot and then get chilled, and the cold that destroys them enters their bodies. Likewise, it takes very little for the newly repented to feel the temptation of the old corruption they had in the past, and they are more easily crushed by the cold grip of wicked temptation, and fall more easily into sin than if they had never sinned, unless they devote tremendous effort and care to keeping themselves from the cold of sin, which is more to be feared, more dangerous and more harmful when backsliding than it was before, and if they backslide with their consent they can scarcely ever recover; rather, they are in danger of perishing unless God extends to them his strength. [3911–3937] {N}ow I want to immediately be silent about blood and must turn my words to treating red bile, located in the gallbladder. It moves and stems from there and has a hot and dry nature; it makes a person easy to anger, subtle, ingenious, and lively. It resembles fire, youth, and summer, and is purged, it seems to me, through the ear and increases in the summer. Old people and the phlegmatic are in better health in this season than the youthful or choleric. At that time, the disease that comes from bile is more severe and afflicting than that which comes from phlegm. In this season one must eat food that is moist and cold, for it moistens and cools. [3938–3956] As I said in the first place,121 red bile can rightly designate bitterness, the third humor of thought, for just as we designate sweetness of contemplation to blood, so we must take and understand bile as bitterness, for just as the soul becomes delirious in reciting its good deeds, it must be bitter toward all vice and hate all evil. This bitterness must be hot and dry, and the heat must be born of the ardor of goodwill, and the dryness must be without122 121 De

Boer’s punctuation attaches v. 3957 to the remark on moist, cold food, but this has not been said before; what has been said above is that red bile is associated with bitterness: see vv. 3484–3496. Rouen (fol. 412r) starts v. 3957 with a big initial. 122 De Boer gives v. 3973 as Sanc, humour de pollucion, but Rouen (fol. 412r) seems to have Sans humour de pollucion, which is confirmed by Copenhagen (p. 898), and we translate accordingly.



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the moisture of pollution, of fluid cogitation. This must make the soul angry against all vice and ingenious in destroying the devil’s snares so that they cannot harm it in any way, and it can do a good job of fleeing and avoiding them. And it must make the soul sharp and subtle in knowing all things subtly and in judging wisely what conclusion it can draw from them; and the soul must be lively in retaining what it hears said and told, and must know what this can amount to. [3957–3986] The humor of bitterness simultaneously resembles fire, summer, and youth, which are hot and dry by nature, so that such bile should rightly be bitter toward all vice. May it have the vigor and strength of youth against sin and malice, and may it strive to vanquish the holds of the enemy and his evil temptations; and may it have the pure understanding of fire to know God clearly; and may it take on summer’s hot burning to love one’s neighbor. It must naturally be purged through the ear, for when the heart awakens to hear good words, it must flee all evil ones. It increases in summer, insofar as the ardor of pure charity is most abundant in a clean, pure, and spotless soul. Furthermore it must hate iniquity, such that it must hate and condemn the vice, and love the person. [3987–4010] In this season, the phlegmatic and the aged fare better than the young and the choleric. The phlegmatic and the old are moist and cold, and the latter, on the contrary, are hot and dry, whereby the suffering and sickness born of bile affects them worse in the summer than it does the phlegmatic, whose nature, which would be contrary to this malady, would succor and aid them. But if the choleric get sick in this season of bile, they should beware, because their malady is serious, more fearsome and more dangerous due to the double ardor that harms them. Likewise, if the soul stretches foolishly toward overly lofty thoughts, and if it inflames these thoughts with the desire for prelacy, even though its intention may be to profit rather than to lord over others, it is in danger of death, because this state is perilous to those who are starved for it. [4011–4036] In summertime, to protect themselves from sickness, the choleric should consume moist and cold food, which will moisten and cool them. Thus the soul that boils and burns with the fire of charity must guard against being overcome by “too much heat,” that is, being overtaken by the hunger and desire for honor and prelacy, nor should they be the occasion for it to desire to profit or for its heart to delight in those things. And so that it may better delay this heat, it should beware of the harms and perils involved, and the fact that many who sought prelacies and desired honors have perished. Lucifer was deceived by them! May the tumbles of the fallen be a well-confirmed example and lesson to good people! [4037–4058] The soul that burns with charity must think of the fragility of human nature and be on guard, with great care and great watchfulness, if it is upright, that it

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not fall,123 lest they come to misfortune in falling. For the higher one climbs, if they happen to tumble and fall, the falling is so much more fearsome, dangerous, and harmful. Hence the soul must temper with cold the heat that burns and inflames it, and its dryness with moisture, so that it not be wounded. No one, no matter how charitable, should have too much confidence in themselves. [4059–4074] If there is anyone too heated and burning with charity, they should pay heed to St. Peter, our shepherd, our master, our rector. He was too heated and put too much confidence in himself, and so he fell, without a doubt, which later brought him great grief and anger. Too great a fire of love, and too much confidence in himself, made him say that even if he must lose his life for Jesus Christ, he would not deny him.124 The more he burned, the sooner he dried up and the more easily he sinned. He was truly very dried up when he denied on oath that he had ever known or recognized his master Jesus, for which he later had to weep bitterly, to temper the dryness, and dissolve in tears to extinguish and destroy the burning confidence he had, which he had more of than he should. [4075–4098] Everyone should take example from and look to St. Peter and, for his sake, guard against being too foolishly confident in their goodness, for, truly, one would hardly find anyone on earth stronger than St. Peter, and if St. Peter came to misfortune because of his confidence, and fell, who will be able to support themselves any better? All those who think themselves steadfast and overestimate their goodness should remember St. Peter, for they are not at all more powerful. “Peter” means “knowledgeable.”125 Everyone must devote effort and care to knowing themselves and their nature,126 for there is scarcely anyone who has not sinned and had their heart dried up. They should moisten their dryness with tears, which will alleviate their heat, so that they won’t be too confident in their own goodness. [4099–4119] {T}he sun enters the summer in the sign of the Crayfish127 and continues to rise without stopping until it has remained in this sign; then the sun pauses, not passing the Crayfish by, and this pause is called “solstice.”128 What I say is true, for the holy soul must pause in perfect charity, and no stoppage must 123 Compare

1 Corinthians 10:12, directly quoted in De medicina animae, 1189. De medicina animae, 1189, quotes Mark 14:31/Matthew 26:35 for Peter’s pledge not to deny Jesus; Matthew 26:72–74 for his denying him; and Matthew 26:75 for his weeping bitterly. 125 De medicina animae, 1189: Petrus agnoscens interpretatur. 126 De medicina animae, 1189, cites the Delphic oracle as the authority for this: Est autem responsum Delphico Apolline dignum: […] nosce teipsum. 127 Cancer. 128 On June 13, the first day of summer in 1320, the sun was in Gemini and did not enter Cancer until July 3. On this date the sun was at its most northerly declination, which marks the summer solstice. 124 Here



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delay its making its way there. Charity is the highway taught to us by the apostle, that everyone should stick to, follow, and remain on.129 Now, the soul must pause in wise and perfect charity, without going beyond it, this way or that. Charity, for whoever has it to perfection, makes one love God above all things. [4120–4139] This sign is often called “retrograde,” for that is where the sun turns around when making its orbit, by descending in the opposite direction, starting with the Lion, until it is back in the Virgin.130 The soul must likewise love God more highly and above all others, and after God it proceeds charitably to love its neighbor chastely and for God’s own sake. [4140–4150] In its going and coming the sun must remain in three signs: the Crayfish, the Lion, and the Virgin. The soul must behave with love, which must stem from God, towards its neighbor charitably and without malice; this is represented by the Crayfish, which is retrograde and moves backwards. By the Lion, which has its eyes open when it sleeps, I can understand that the soul should be on guard and wisely have the foresight to love its neighbor purely, for God’s sake, without any other intention and without carnal affection, so that this love does not commit error: this is represented and shown to us by the Virgin, who is chaste and pure and has no use for carnal love. Now, therefore, love must be pure and clear. [4151–4171] In summer the roots of trees, and likewise grasses, dry up. The soul that, in charity, is thoroughly on fire and consumed with true love “dries up” and scorns in its heart all worldly love, which it considers dry and vain. And I say that “the root dries up in the earth,” when it is not attracted to it, and the soul does not have its hope or love in any earthly moisture. [4172–4182] {I} have told you about red bile; now I will hold forth about the black. Black bile is melancholy. Black bile has its dominion and predominates on the left side; it comes properly from and must originate and have its basis clearly in the spleen.131 Some people call it esclaim, but I do not care how I name it or anything else that needs naming, but only want to make known and understood succinctly what I want to say, to make my matter shorter. Nor do I care about rich rhymes: I do not seek them or strive after them, because if I sought double rhymes I would lengthen my matter just to seek medicina animae, 1189, calls the haute voie of v. 4132 eminentissima via, quoting 1 Corinthians 13:13. 130 Retrograde. The sun and several planets never actually turn around to go back into a constellation they have left. But from the earth, the sun and planets may give the illusion of traveling backwards through the zodiac; this is termed “retrograde motion” and is still noted today for the planet Mercury, for example. “By descending in the opposite direction” renders Par retrograde abessement, v. 4143. 131 This passage uses three different words for “spleen,” often in pairs: ratele, esplain, and esclaim. We use the only term available in English, “spleen.” 129 De

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empty praise, to no profit. Easy rhymes are enough for me.132 I don’t much care: I care about attaining the truth and following the proper path of my discourse, without deviating. I don’t much care about fancy rhymes, and I know very well that some might blame me, but it seems to me that they’re mistaken, because with such great subject matter I cannot speak both eloquently and briefly in all cases. Whoever wants to rhyme better, let them rhyme: a double leonine rhyme! [4183–4212] {B}lack bile or melancholy is cold and dry, I have no doubt, and makes people irascible, contrary, and fearful. Sometimes it makes them sleepy, and at other times it keeps them awake. It is purged and cleansed through the eyes. It increases and abounds in autumn: in this season young sanguine people fare better than the old and the melancholy do. In autumn, the malady that comes from melancholy is much more harmful and destructive to a person than that which comes from blood. In this season, one must consume food that is both hot and moist. [4213–4229] As I have said before, it seems to me, black bile represents sadness or moisture of thought.133 This sadness originates and comes to the soul when it is reminded of its transgressions and its folly, or when it thinks on the eternal life it wants to reach, but cannot yet get there; hence it suffers and laments, which makes it sad and tearful. [4230–4240] {B}lack bile dominates on the left side, because the soul that is filled with melancholy – that is, this kind of sadness – cannot get enough of the vices that are on the left.134 This black bile must be born from the spleen. The 132 The

terms are fort rime (v. 4197), double rime (v. 4199), legiere rime (v. 4202), biau rimoier (v. 4206), biau dire (v. 4209), and rime double leonime (v. 4212). A strong and/ or rich rhyme would have a vowel and a consonant sound in common; an easy (or poor) rhyme would lack the consonant; while a double leonine rhyme would have at least two, possibly three, consonants in common. 133 For Tristesce ou umour de pensee, v. 4232, Copenhagen (p. 901) has Tristesce en l’umeur de pensée, “Sadness in the moisture/humor of thought.” De medicina animae, 1190, has only intelligi potest tristitia, with nothing corresponding to the rest of the French. 134 Noire cole ou coté senestre / Seignorist, quar ne set souz estre / L’ame, qui de melancholie, / C’est de tel tristesce, est garnie, / Aus vices qui sont à senestre, vv. 4241–4245. De medicina animae, 1190, has Dominatur in sinistro latere, quia vitiis subjicitur, quae sunt in sinistra parte, “The black bile reigns in the left side because it is subject to the vices that are on the left” (translation in Klibansky, Panofsky, and Saxl 2019, 108). To get comparable meaning out of the negative quar ne set souz estre, souz has to be read as soûl (“stuffed, satiated”) rather than “subject to,” but then we might have expected des, not aus, in v. 4245. To make strict sense of this we could translate seignorist … aus vices: “Black bile, on the left side, dominates the vices that are on the left, because the soul that is filled with melancholy cannot be satiated,” but that seems distinctly unhelpful given the source. This passage seems to have caused confusion: Copenhagen (p. 902) has, for v. 4242, car ne scet son estre (meaning that a melancholic soul has no understanding of its situation with respect to those vices?).



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spleen causes laughter. Even if the soul is sad and angry about the outrages and transgressions it previously committed, or if it is sad because heavenly joy is delayed, still it rejoices, without a doubt, in the hope that it will not fail and that it will reach its desire, sooner or later, at divine pleasure.135 [4241–4256] Through the spleen, which by its nature causes laughter, it can happen that a person who is full of black bile now cries, now laughs, like a crazy person,136 for this is what bile and the spleen do. Black bile is dry and cold, drying and cooling the soul. Cold and dry, to my understanding, can have two meanings according to Scripture: a good one and a bad one.137 Cold is what stiffens the soul, and makes it slow, and cools it down against the burning of sin, so that its heart is not stained by any assault that ever tries to set fire to it. Likewise dryness is understood in two senses: the good dryness makes the soul clean and dry of all moisture of wickedness, so it is not fouled or stained by it. Otherwise, dryness can be understood in a bad sense: as the dryness that withers the soul, making it arid and dry of heavenly dew, so that it is not sprinkled with the grace of the Holy Spirit – but this dryness is damnable and scorned. The soul must choose the other dryness, avoiding and scorning this one. [4257–4288] {B}lack bile makes the soul irascible against every evil and fearful that it might fail and be in error by doing something that would displease God.138 It makes the soul sleepy at times and keeps it awake at others, for at one moment the soul is “asleep” in the cares of the active life, which no one reasonably forbids it, and with which it is burdened and harmed; at other times, it “lies awake” reflecting on the joy about which it keeps thinking, and which the saints experience in paradise, contemplating God face to face. [4289–4302] {B}lack bile, it seems to me, resembles autumn, earth, and old age simultaneously. May the soul be firm and stable like the earth, to comport itself well; and wise, like an old person, to behave with good morals, discerningly and sincerely, so that it may be ripe to provide good fruit. This is how autumn can be understood. [4303–4312] “{B}lack bile is purged and cleansed through the eyes,” if the soul is stained or soiled by any vice, which would make it sad and angry. Once it 135 An devin plesir, v. 4256: the time as God wills, or the state of joy in which the soul achieves its desire. 136 Come ame fole, v. 4260: word for word, “like a foolish/mad soul,” but unlike l’ame in v. 4264, which does refer specifically to the soul, this is idiomatic. 137 De medicina animae, 1190, doesn’t say “according to Scripture,” but does quote Scripture to this effect. For cold it adduces the Song of Songs 2:11, with the vanished cold of winter interpreted negatively as torpor devotionis, and Psalm 66:12 (Vulgate 65:12), with the cold of the refrigerium (“refreshment,” in Douai-Rheims) interpreted positively. For the positive sense of dryness it adduces Psalm 95:5 (Vulgate 94:5), and for the negative says that it is quando mentis ariditas coelesti, id est sancti Spiritus rore caret, as in the OM. 138 De medicina animae, 1190, quotes Psalm 4:4 (Vulgate 4:5) and Proverbs 28:14 as exemplifying positive anger and fearfulness, respectively.

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has confessed, it will purge itself through weeping. “Black bile increases in autumn,” because the riper and more discerning the soul is, the more it will grieve and lament and the more it will weep for its sins, if it thinks it has sinned. A wise old creature must lament more for their vice than a novice young soul. [4313–4326] In this season the sanguine youth fare better than the old and the melancholy do, as I already mentioned above. Blood, to my understanding, represents the sweetness of contemplation, in which the convert delights when they think on and repeat in their heart the goods of the joy to come, towards which they strive and think to come. In black bile is the sadness of sin, which pierces and wounds the soul when it senses that it has been in sin. [4327–4339] Springtime represents the newness of life, and autumn represents maturity, so the one must undoubtedly temper the other. If the soul weeps and repents of the sins it remembers, it must likewise remember, so that it does not grow too cold and perish through despair, the heat of its affection when it was newly converted. And, when it is ready to do good, so it must act now as it did when good works used to please it, for if anyone pays heed to both autumn and spring, they will each be tempered by the other, it seems to me. One must moderate the purity of a good life with mature counsel; similarly one must balance the sadness one has for transgressions with a good life and good deeds. Hence the soul must truly live and conduct itself differently at different times, for anyone who wants to come to true salvation. [4340–4366] In autumn, one must without fail eat hot and moist food, to temper the dry cold. The soul that cares not for sin must not merely keep from doing wrong; rather, if it wants to reach the state of perfection, it must take delectation in doing good and be sprinkled with the heavenly dew of the grace of the Holy Spirit. It must be content, it must take delight in the ardor of pure charity, in desiring divine love. [4367–4380] In this season, the sun runs through the Scales and from there advances into the sign of the Scorpion; then it makes its third residence in the sign of the Archer, or Centaur, who holds the bow and arrow about to shoot.139 In the Scales, day and night are both properly equal, the same measure. I’m uncomfortable with the Scorpion, for fear it stings me with its tail. The Centaur grips his bow to loose and shoot his arrow. [4381–4394] Likewise the soul must place its good and bad deeds on righteous scales and weigh them, and manage its life such that the good can exceed the bad.140 For if its scales are rigged and its life is badly weighed, so that the bad can 139 Here

De medicina animae, 1191, has a passage not rendered in the OM, whereby a person who wants to be wine fit for the cellar of the Supreme King, and to say “I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ” (Philippians 1:23), is advised to attend to the sign of Libra. 140 Various Bible verses refer to being weighed in the scales: see Job 31:6, Proverbs 16:11, Psalm 62:9 (Vulgate 61:9), Daniel 5:27.



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outweigh the good, this can really weigh it down, for it is in a very frightening situation. The Scorpion, which strikes and stings, will sting it with its stinger, for death, which will anoint the good – “anoint,” for via transitory death they will come to eternal glory – will lead it, without redemption, to damnable perdition. [4395–4410] The Centaur – who holds the bow and arrow about to shoot, and who has in himself a dual nature, dual form, dual shape, half man and half horse141 – I can take to represent two archers, one of noble birth, the other wicked and disloyal. The good and loyal archer is God, who is able to loose two shots. For he shoots at some in order to bring them to knowledge, love, and perfect fear of himself. This bow is true intelligence, clear sense, and proper knowledge; its string is true doctrine; and its arrow is discipline. The notch is the preacher, and the tip of this arrow is the speech or the fear with which God pierces sinful hearts when he moves them to renounce wickedness and do good in order to live eternally. The holy men, the preachers, also shoot with this bow to convert sinners who deign to hear the sermons urging them to do good and shun evil, when through their predication they show them the Incarnation of the Son of God, who in his goodness and with his full will deigned to come down for sinners’ sake and take on human, mortal flesh in order to clothe them in dignity, glory, and immortality. [4411–4446] Otherwise, without a doubt, God fires the arrow of a death sentence with the bow of divine wrath, when no predication can turn the wicked to wanting to pay heed to doing good and casting evil aside, nor do they deign to curb their heart, neither for the grace nor the love nor the fear of God, so that they remember God or do any appropriate works. [4447–4458] The devil, the evil beast, shoots with another bow and crossbow entirely: the bow of hidden malice, with which he moves and inflames one to commit every villainy. Its string is wickedness; the arrow is the deceptions of the perverse temptations which he shoots and looses to attract people to committing wickedness and evil so that they will be definitively lost. With this bow evil-doers, sinners, traitors, and cheaters likewise shoot the arrows of deception, cunning, and cavillation in order to deceive the simple folk, who are hardly able to notice their treachery and their ruses and their misleading lies, so subtly are they fired from ambush and from hiding. But God will shatter their bow and crush their arrows, and the just will be secure.142 [4459–4483]

141 Before proceeding to the bows and arrows, De medicina animae, 1191, interprets the centaur as reflecting the fact that those who live in a rational way (rationaliter) are worthy of heaven, while those who live like animals (bestialiter) are worthy of hell. 142 De medicina animae, 1191–1192, quotes Psalm 11:2 (Vulgate 10:3) for the arrows of the wicked, and Psalm 120:4 (Vulgate 119:4) for the punishing arrows of God; then it quotes Augustine’s commentary on Psalm 119 (see Patrologia Latina 37, at 1600) interpreting God’s

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{I}n the season of autumn, the fruit are ripe that rich people amass, which they store and pile up in their barns and houses. Old age brings the season when everyone must grow ripe if they want to acquire and procure that God should receive them and welcome them, and, for his part, choose to take them in. [4484–4492] {Y}ou have heard an interpretation of the elements in their essence; now I would like to tell you still more of how they are composed, for all things are composed of the four of them and they are hidden within everything, as I said at first. It is true that there are four elements: altogether, there are two heavy ones and two light ones. The two heavy ones, it seems to me, are earth and water, and the other two are light: they are air and fire. Of these, fire is more mobile, lighter, and more resplendent, and the air less so. Likewise for the heavier two: earth is heavier and water less so, it’s the truth. [4493–4509] And each of the elements of which I speak has two extremities and a middle that divides them.143 Fire has more subtlety in its highest extremity, and is

arrows as the Word of God inspiring love, with which the Sponsa of the Song of Songs is wounded: this perhaps explains the OM’s take on God’s arrows as preaching in the Church. 143 Agreeing with Empedocles, Aristotle believed that every visible thing is made up of some combination of the four elements: earth, water, air, and fire. (Empedocles is said to have proven that all visible bodies are a combination of the four elements, by setting light to a stick. Since the stick burns, it must contain fire. Since ashes are left behind after the burning, it contains earth. Since the residue is damp, the stick also contains water, and since the burning stick gives off smoke, it also contains air.) The infinite ways the four elements combine makes for the differences among bodies and determines the nature of all things, including human nature. Aristotle further classified the elements based on two fundamental pairs of opposite qualities: hot/cold, and wet/dry. Thus, fire and earth were dry; air and water were wet; fire and air were hot; earth and water were cold. This was a cornerstone of philosophy, science, and medicine for over two thousand years. (Aristotle also believed the stars were made up of a fifth element, aether, but that is not relevant to the present passage.) There is also “lightness” (legiers, legiereté) and “heaviness” (pesans, pesantez) in each substance, in three degrees (poins), which we can view as moving from lightest (in the upper end or extremity of each grouping of the elements) through medium (middle) to heaviest (in the lower end or extremity). According to Aristotle, heavy substances consist primarily of the element earth, with a smaller amount of the other three terrestrial elements. Lighter objects have less earth, relative to the other three elements composing them. Thus iron is “heavier” than a fish, but the fish nonetheless possesses heaviness (when compared to a bird), and thus is made up of more earth than a bird. The lighter a body is, relatively speaking, the more rapidly it can move. Among the lightest bodies are the birds in the air, with the lightest (and therefore highest flying and swiftest) being the eagle; of medium lightness is the crane, which flies slower and lower than the eagle but higher and swifter than the goose, which is the heaviest. Of those “heavier” bodies full of earth, fish are the lightest, followed by plants and trees in the middle, and stones and metals at the heaviest extremity. The four elements were indeed also used to describe the four temperaments a person might have, and Hippocrates used them to describe the four humors of the body. To be well, mentally and physically, the temperaments and humors needed to be in balance with each other.



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lighter, more mobile, more subtle, and more resplendent than144 in its lower extremity, which has less subtlety and is less bright, and thicker: that is the part that touches air. And the middle is directly between these two, of medium brightness, subtlety, lightness, and mobility. Air is similarly divisible, for in its high extremity it simultaneously has much more subtlety, brightness, and lightness than in its lower, it seems to me, while the middle truly is of medium brightness and lightness. Water is similar, for in its first extremity – that which is closest to the air – it weighs less and is less thick than in the extremity that is close to the earth: it is in the middle that I must seek the median. Likewise, the earth is less thick and weighs less the nearer it is to water, in its higher extremity; the farther it moves from there toward its lower extremity, the more it has weighty stability. [4510–4542] Just as the elements are divisible in themselves, so they are in their qualities, and have the same number of extremities. The qualities, it seems to me, are hot and cold, moist and dry, and these are combined in bodies in proper proportion. The heavy things are mixed and joined together with the light, and likewise the light with the heavy, and similarly cold with heat, dryness with moisture, in different ways in different bodies, sometimes more and sometimes less, appropriately, as is necessary.145 These different qualities, which are joined together in different ways in bodies – if physical science (physique)146 does not lie – produce different kinds of bodies. Some things are light, others heavy to different extents. [4543–4565] Things that are properly hot and dry by nature, without any other element conjoined, are lighter, and bodies in which the light elements escalate to their upper extremities rise higher. From this comes the lightness of birds, which, flying through the air, can support themselves at will. The greatest lightness and swiftness is meted out to those that have the highest extremity of lightness predominating in their makeup,147 which is why the eagle is lighter than any other kind of bird. Birds that have a medium amount of lightness become medium light: this is why the crane is less light than the eagle, and those that have the lowest extremity of lightness are and will be

144 For what seems to be the obvious meaning, En sa, v. 4517, needs to be read as Qu’en sa: compare v. 4528. 145 As punctuated by de Boer, Plus ou mains convenablement, v. 4558, seems to mean “more or less appropriately,” but Si come il est necessitez, v. 4559, suggests that the mixture of the elements varies in a way that is not only appropriate but necessary, hence our translation. 146 Physique, v. 4562: we normally render this as “physic” or “the art of medicine” (as in vv. 4849, 5040, 5112 below), but since the subject here is the interplay of the elements, a more expansive translation seems appropriate. 147 Literally, en la souveraine partie, v. 4577, “in the sovereign part.” We assume this means the lion’s share of the proportion; De medicina animae, 1192, uses praevalent.

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less light because of it, and fly more heavily, such as geese,148 which fly lower than the eagle or the crane. [4566–4591] Bodies that have received medium lightness are less light, it is true, than the birds, and nonetheless they are seen to be lighter, I believe, than those that have the very lowest extremity of lightness: there are three degrees, the same way I said about the birds.149 Those that have the very lowest extremity of lightness are, as physical science judges and senses, less light and more heavy in three degrees, just as I said about the bodies of medium lightness mentioned above. For those that have the very lowest extremity of lightness in the first degree are more mobile, more subtle, and more slippery, as the snake now is, more than any of the other creeping things. Those that have the middle degree, like the toad, become less swift. Those that come at the bottom of the very lowest extremity are more lethargic, like the slug,150 which slowly slithers along. [4592–4618] Bodies in which the heaviest elements predominate are necessarily heaviest, and those that have the very highest extremities of heaviness weigh less, exactly as the fish do, and this is also in three degrees, for those that come first at the highest extremity are more mobile, swifter, and turn more readily. The medium go at medium speed, and those at the bottom of this first extremity must move more slowly yet. Bodies that have a medium amount of the heavy elements are firm and planted in the earth and attached to it, never quitting it during their lives, such as trees, stalks, herbs, and other plants. And those that have the first degree of this medium weight grow better and taller. Those with a medium amount of this medium weight grow less and are not as tall; and those that have the very bottom of this medium weight grow and come up low.151 Bodies that have the lowest extremity of heaviness, such as stones and metal, are in the lowest position of all. [4619–4650] {S}o it appears that the elements produce different makeups in different ways in different bodies by their different admixtures. [4651–4654] Stars, having the nature of fire only, are rightly the good prelates and masters, who have, through contemplation, set their hearts entirely on the heavenly kingdom. And they burn and are on fire with charitable dilection, and teach and instruct us through good example and doctrine which sets us straight and illuminates us as to how one who wishes to reach true salvation must conduct themselves. And they are filled with the Holy Spirit. Others are of lesser merit,

medicina animae, 1192, has “geese, ostriches” (anseres, struthiones) here. translation “the birds” disambiguates premiere, v. 4600. 150 Limace, v. 4617, which could also be a snail. De medicina animae, 1192, has the tortoise/turtle (testudo) here. 151 De medicina animae, 1193, gives the pine and the fir (pinus et abies), the hazel (coryli), and shrubbery (virgulta) as examples of each type. 148 De

149 Our



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but they are nonetheless good enough and have surpassed all others in lifestyle and conduct. [4655–4671] These properly resemble the eagle, which flies above all other birds. The eagle teaches and schools its chicks in how to fly well. And it looks and gazes at the sun without impairing its sense of sight, and pays heed to which of its chicks look at it the same way. And it eagerly nourishes those who gaze fixedly at it, and those that keep from looking, it casts aside, making them fall or tumble.152 [4672–4684] {T}he eagle flies the highest, and the prelate must live most holily and lead his followers through doctrine and example to live well similarly. Thus he intelligibly makes them “stare at the Sun of justice” when he teaches and guides them to know God and his goodness. Those who have the goodwill to see and recognize God, he must teach and guide, and must administer to them the food of doctrine; and those who do not care to know or love God, he must rebuke and condemn and show their evil ways. [4685–4701] {I} can understand the cranes and geese, collectively, as all the different followers found among the congregations, religious orders and institutions, who “fly” by affection for high contemplation and who devote their effort and care to maintaining a state of righteousness, and the rule, the submissiveness, and the order of religion. The cranes have long necks and legs. I say that they are those who keep their hearts and desires far from earthly desires, and barely hold or touch them, keeping their mouths silent about them. The geese, which are noisier – because I must say what is true – are those who scorn silence, who praise and esteem themselves more, and are more dissolute, and who rip and tear each other apart with the beak of destruction, by speaking insults that denigrate their brothers, their neighbors.153 [4702–4727] Now it is proper that we take up, in order to better complete this material, the description of the large quadrupeds, such as oxen, asses, and mares, that give people relief and help by serving them. These large animals I am talking 152 Some of this is not in De medicina animae, which says only that the eagle forces its chicks to stare unflinchingly into the sun (Pullos suos … claritatem solis irreverberatis oculis aspicere cogit, 1193), which is interpreted as causing the minds of one’s disciples to contemplate the divine substance. The rejection of the chicks that look away is from Isidore of Seville, Etymologies 12.7.10–11, quoted in Hugh of Fouilloy’s own Aviarium (Clark 1992, 250–255, at 250–251). The Aberdeen Bestiary explains it more fully: “It is also said of the eagle that it exposes its young to the sun’s rays, holding them in its claws in mid-air. If any of them, struck by the light beating down from the sun, maintains a fearless gaze without damaging its sight, this is taken as proof that it has shown itself true to its nature. But if the young bird turns its eyes away from the rays it is rejected as unworthy of its kind and of such a father and, being unworthy of being begotten, it is considered unworthy of being reared. The eagle condemns it not in a harsh manner but with the honesty of a judge” (“Text and Transcription,” https://www. abdn.ac.uk/bestiary/ms24/f61r and https://www.abdn.ac.uk/bestiary/ms24/f61v). 153 Compare Clark (1992), 202–205 (the crane) and 224–225 (the goose).

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about are heavier than birds and swifter than reptiles, rising higher above the earth, but yet not separating or distancing themselves from it so that at least their feet stop clinging to it. These represent the simple folk, who are eager and diligent in the labors of the earth to acquire earthly goods for their sustenance, for their livelihood. And although they cannot pursue the holiness of religion, and their lifestyle is less esteemed and worthy, still they work at the labors of the earth to acquire earthly goods by which all others are supported, no matter whom, great or small; so their active life profits by feeding the contemplative. [4728–4756] Those that have the very lowest extremity of lightness, such as the toad and slug and snake, are heavier and creep on their bellies and chests, and are more base and scorned than the other animals I’ve touched on. People who are wicked and full of sin, full of evil and devoid of goodness, with hearts and bodies and wills earthbound and joined to the earth – that is, to acquiring earthly goods to make wicked use of them – can rightly be compared to the three types of crawlers: toads and slugs and snakes. [4757–4772] Those at the lighter end of the lowest extremity are lighter and more mobile, more subtle, more slippery, like the wicked serpent, which is subtle and cunning. The medium ones are heavier, like the toad, full of swelling, venom, and rottenness. Those that come last in the lowest extremity are the slowest, like the slug. I can freely compare three types of people devoid of goodness and grace to the three creepers I am talking about. The serpent is biting; the slug is slimy; the swollen toad is venomous. The subtle and the cunning, who with the sting of malice bite and sting and inflame people to speak ill or transgress, can much resemble the serpent, by whom many people are harmed. Those whose hearts are raised up and full of prideful swelling and base, venomous filth can be compared to the toad. Those who are neither bold nor nimble, but slothful to do anything good, can resemble the slug: they delight in the filth, the mud, and the rottenness of the earth, and devote their attention to the delectation of earthly goods, in which they become deluded and which they wickedly misuse. [4773–4810] {T}hose in whom the heavy elements predominate must necessarily be heavier, and those with the highest extremity of the heavy elements weigh less. These are properly the fish, which are constantly in the water or the muck. They are the ones swallowed up by the world, and worldly vanities, and the base excesses of vain and changeable earthly existence, more flowing, more fleeting than water, which never stands still, but flows and runs without ever ceasing. [4811–4824] Bodies with a medium amount of the heavy elements are planted deeper in the earth and adhere to the earth without ever quitting it as long as they live, such as the trees and plants, grasses and other stalks. These represent, it seems to me, those whose base and despicable hearts are inextricably rooted,



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without any desire to do good, in earthly covetousness, which so attracts and ensnares them that they never seek to get loose. Rather, they are always afraid of losing these goods that bring them no profit, and the more they have, the less it suffices them. [4825–4840] {B}odies that have the lowest extremity of heaviness, like stones and metal, are in the heaviest position of all. They are the ones obstinate in wickedness and hardness, whom no one can soften by cajoling or chastisement. [4841–4848] The art of medicine (physique) says that there are four additional powers154 in the human body that administer the human constitution: the first is the appetitive,155 which creates demand;156 the next is the retentive, which retains in the body or belly that which enters by the appetitive; the next is digestive and cooking;157 and the last is expulsive, which eliminates, as filthy waste, the harmful stuff not useful for nourishing the body, through natural channels that are proper for this purpose. These four have the duty and care of administering life and fodder to the body, through the appetitive function, and this is administrative to the generative force, because Nature, which strives mightily to keep the species in good health, operates wisely and does not want any creature to perish from lack of food. It has put in place these powers to sustain things that have been born, and indeed those still to be born, since they too need to feed. [4849–4876] Thus as soon as the child is born its nourishment is provided and it must have food; it must live on milk until it has grown a bit. The new convert is “fed and raised on milk,” I believe, when they are taught and led to uphold true humility, and that they must recall how God was full of humility and sweet benevolence. They must be fed on such milk until they have grown a bit and can eat bread, which gives them strength: that is the bread of pure charity, which invigorates, purifies, and strengthens the soul in every goodness. Whoever has the goodwill to be constantly fed with this bread will never be deceived or vanquished by any adversary who could harm them or do them ill, because of charity, which keeps them strong. [4877–4901]

154 Vertus, v. 4850. Compare Aquinas on the powers of the soul, ST I q. 77, and Bonaventure, 2 Sent. d. 24. 155 Apperitive, v. 4853, is an error for appetitive (Rouen, fol. 417r). The OM also uses appetit (v. 4856) and pastitive (v. 4865) to refer to what we translate uniformly as the “appetitive” power. 156 Aquinas, ST I q. 80, clarifies this somewhat: “natural appetite is the animal appetite, which follows the apprehension, and by which something is desired not as suitable to this or that power, such as sight for seeing, or sound for hearing; but simply as suitable to the animal.” 157 Cuisant, v. 4857. As explained by Cory (2015, 50), “digestive power exists in heat quasi-formally.”

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Charity endures everything, and bears everything, and devoutly accepts everything. It makes the constitution of the soul lively, healthy, and strong. The bread of pure charity is sweet and full of comfort, but there is rightfully a very great difference between the life and condition of the soul and of the body: if it happens that one delays providing food to the body, the longer it is delayed, the more it will desire it and the more it will burn with desire; but when the body eats all it pleases of the bodily food it seeks and desires and demands, the more it eats and feeds itself, the more it harms it, and the less it pleases it. [4902–4920] But with spiritual food, the less one has, the less one cares for it, the more base one finds it, and the less one esteems it. But the one who in chewing recognizes what flavor it has: without a doubt, the greater abundance of it they have, and the more they stuff themselves and feed on it, the more they delight in it and the more it pleases them, and the more they desire and ask for it. This food that spiritually feeds the soul is very sweet: the more one is stuffed with it, the more famished they are, and the more their desire increases, and the more pleasure the soul receives! The more one takes, the more they profit, the more they are pleased, and the more they delight in it. But with the bodily food, I believe, overeating is harmful and displeasing. [4921–4938] This spiritual fodder, which nourishes the soul, is the speech and doctrine of salvific discipline, and the powers I have named are naturally put in place to administer it to the soul and sustain a healthy constitution in both men and women. When the soul has great affection, great hunger, great desire, and great care for this spiritual fodder, and when it willingly hears the doctrine of salvific discipline, the appetitive power functions when it retains and puts into practice, with a fervent and joyful heart, what it has willingly heard. The retentive, and likewise the digestive, properly work on and turn into the humors158 – that is to say, into good morals – the food that the soul has taken in. [4939–4956] Now it is right for me to tell you what the value of the expulsive power can be. When the soul tosses aside and casts out from itself every filth that is not useful for its nourishment, the expulsive is doing its duty, for certainly and in truth, one gets, retains, and works in vain, in putting the doctrine to work, if the expulsive does not cast out everything that is harmful to the soul and body, that is, all the filth of sin, because all the good the soul might do would soon be stained and corrupted, if the corruption and filth were not removed. [4957–4977] But there are some who do not care to eat, and have no appetite for food, great or small. There are others who have a healthy desire for food and eat all they please, but immediately vomit it up, because they do not wait for 158 Tornent

en humors, v. 4959. Or “into moisture,” but compare v. 5031 below.



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the retentive. Still others eat and drink well, and retain well the food they take, but does them little good, because they lack the digestive power, which should prepare and cook the food and distribute its good matter to the limbs of the body. There are yet another type who eat well and retain the foods they receive, and who cook and prepare them well and distribute them to the limbs, but do not purge any of their filth through nature’s channels. [4978–4998] Those who have lost their appetite to eat are the lost who do not deign to listen to the speech and doctrine of salvific discipline, but rather flee the preachings, which bother them; and they cannot live long. David says of them in his book that they are close to the gates of death,159 because whoever is accustomed and used to fleeing the Word of God – that is, those who do not deign to hear it – runs directly to the gates of eternal damnation. [4999–5012] Those who eat well but soon throw it up are those who listen and attend well to the sermons and preachings, but forget them as soon as they’ve heard them; they undoubtedly languish. Those who eat and retain the foods that are appropriate for them, but do not prepare or cook or distribute them to their limbs because the digestive power does not function, are those who do not put into practice the sermons and preachings that they have heard and retained. [5013–5026] Those who do not purge their filth through nature’s proper channels are those who foolishly retain the unsuitable filth that perverts the humors and corrupts good morals, because the powers mentioned above, as they have been put in place, do not administer in their rightful way the sustenance and fodder for the body as they should. They corrupt and deceive and make it sick and infirm, as the art of medicine affirms. [5027–5040] The strength and sustenance of these powers must naturally come from the four elements. It must be so, for when the elements are mixed and joined together well and fittingly in any body, the hot and dry fire is rightfully the appetitive160 nature; the earth, both cold and dry, is retentive, it seems to me; the air, due to its moist heat, has digestive power; water, due to its moist coldness, is expulsive by nature. Now, it is by nature necessary for each of these four exact elements to resemble what it should. Hence it is necessary for the fire to attract. Then the earth retains and keeps what the fire attracts. What the earth has retained, the air should dissolve and make smaller, and water should soften it so that what is to be eliminated is eliminated via proper channels. [5041–5065]

159 This

is Psalm 107:18 (Vulgate 106:18): “Their soul abhorred all manner of meat: and they drew nigh even to the gates of death.” 160 Aperitive nature, v. 5048, is again an error for apetitive nature (Rouen, fol. 418r).

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{I} said above, if I remember well,161 that fire rightly represents the door of clear understanding. Earth signifies firm thought, and air purity of life. Water signifies changeable discernment. Now it happens that when understanding, which is all on fire spiritually with love and dilection, has devoted its cogitation to thinking about heavenly goods, it engenders in the heart of the soul and in the mind a new desire, which makes it seek and request food that nourishes the soul, that is, good instruction, which pleases the heart through clear understanding. Then firm and stable thought must hold onto it firmly and keep it remembered in the heart. After that, purity of thought must be wise and mindful to put it into practice and do good. And if there is anything that might be contrary to its life and morals, it should throw it out with good and wise discernment so that it does not corrupt the humors, and purge its heart. And whoever will protect themselves in this way, and temper their heart, will never have their heart stained or corrupted by any sin. Whoever will not maintain this temperance will be sick and in fear of dying, unless they have the help of a physician. [5066–5101] {N}ow I must relate and tell how the physician can know and judge truly about a sick person whether they are in danger of dying or about to get well. For he must be wise enough to know both the cause and the nature of every malady. There are nine signs, it seems to me, touched on by Hippocrates discussing prognostication in a book of his on the art of medicine,162 by which one can clearly know and openly judge whether the sick person will recover or die. Now I will name them for you briefly. [5102–5117] {T}he first sign of healing is, properly, the strength of the sick person who makes a good effort to endure their sickness well: it is a sign that they will not die of it. The opposite is weakness in the sick person who cannot bear the distress of their malady: it is a sign that they are unlikely to overcome their illness. The second sign is the agility of the sick person who moves easily: it is definitely a sign that they can heal. But if they are slow to move, it is a sign that they are unlikely to heal and are about to die. [5118–5134] {T}he third sign, if I remember well, is when the face and limbs are such, and have such color, as if they felt no pain or suffering: it is a sign that they will recover. And the opposite will be when they are of a different comport161 See

vv. 3439–3447, though his memory is not as good as he hopes: there, fire is “subtle understanding”; air is “pure thought”; earth is “firm stability”; and water is “nimbleness of bright ingenuity.” 162 Hippocrates of Kos (c.460–c.370) was a Greek physician generally recognized as the father of western medicine. Not all of the writings attributed to him are actually by him; many are the work of his disciples. One of the strengths of his practice was the use of diagnosis to determine the seriousness of diseases. The book referred to here, listing the nine signs and symptoms that follow, has been translated by Jones (1923) as Prognostic, F. Adams (1849) as On the Prognostics, and C.D. Adams (1868) as Prognosticon/Book of Prognostics.



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ment, a different color, a different appearance in their limbs than they had ever been before, when they were healthy. [5135–5144] {T}he fourth sign is properly when they are thinking well and have a good appetite: this is a sign that they can get relief. The fourth sign’s opposite is when their spirit is troubled and they have lost both their ability to think and their appetite. [5145–5152] {T}he fifth sign, as I understand, is when the sick person sleeps and rests well and at the appropriate time, and it does them good: this is a good thing. The contrary of the fifth sign is when they doze when they should not – that is, during the day and not at night – which harms and impairs them. [5153–5160] {T}he sixth is when the sick person’s breath is sweet and healthy; the contrary is when it changes to bad and corrupted. [5161–5164] {T}he seventh is when their pulse is regular and gentle, as it should naturally be; the contrary to the seventh is when the pulse wavers and beats irregularly, fast and slow163 and weak and strong: it is a sign of discomfort. [5165–5172] {T}he eighth, to my mind, is when they have a strong digestion and process well what they eat; the opposite is when they vomit up their food raw, without digesting it: this can hurt and harm them. [5173–5178] {T}he ninth is truly when the sick person properly and fully purges themselves through urine and through gentle perspiration all over: it is a sign of good purgation. But when the sick person purges themselves grossly, against nature, or if they happen to perspire only from the head and not all over simultaneously, this is not a sign of healing; rather, they are in danger of dying. [5179–5190] The physician must be wise enough to know maladies. The “physician” is the confessor or the prelate, who must be knowledgeable about spiritual maladies, and must also be so discerning and wise that he knows how to heal the sick, and not let sinners die in sin for lack of a physician. He should know the cause and the substance from which the malady originates or arises, because he needs to know it if he wants to render a good judgment concerning it. And he must forbid sinners anything that he sees is hostile to them, remove any occasion to sin, and forbid them all bad company, because one can only lose and not gain from bad companionship. [5191–5209] Those who move hearts to do evil and away from good are wicked, and he must recognize from their appearance the signs of their conscience. Hippocrates, master of the art of medicine, said in the Book of Prognostics that the physician must first attentively pay heed to the comportment and face of et petit et faible et fort, v. 5171. Assuming these pairs are not supposed to be totally synonymous, rather than “great and small” we take grant et petit to refer to the intervals of the heartbeats. 163 Grant

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the sick person to form an opinion. Prognostics is properly the signifying or showing of the things that are to come, and to what conclusion they can be brought. It is based, in the vast majority of cases, on present and past developments. [5210–5226] “Hippocrates” means a “horse-driver” or “-guide.”164 The horse, says Scripture, is of a temperate nature, behaving peacefully in peacetime and fiercely in battle. Anyone who wants to lead or guide a horse must use a bridle: I can say the same, it seems to me, of a good confessor, a good physician. He must use the “reins” of discernment to guide the intention of the soul to maintain equity, so that it does not run and possibly come to wicked dissolution, which would put it in the corruption of sin. Thus David says in the psalter concerning the sovereign Physician: “His face sees equity,”165 because God wants total loyalty and dearly loves a temperate heart that perseveres in good works. Equity gives life to the soul and temperance to life. Therefore the confessor, the good physician, must be a source of temperance for the sick person, knowing their conscience by their conduct and by the signs they show. [5227–5255] I want to tell you the interpretation of the nine signs by which he will know whether the sinner or tempted one will have death or health. [5256–5259] “{T}he first sign of healing is, properly, the strength of the invalid, who makes a good effort to endure their sickness well: it is a sign that they will not die. The opposite is weakness in the sick person who cannot bear the distress of their malady: it is a sign that they are unlikely to overcome their illness.” The “sick” are the tempted, who through evil temptation have fallen into the corruption of sin; but despair is death, impairing the soul when a person’s heart is stained with the sickness of sin. If they are strong and persevering in good deeds, it is an obvious and proven sign that they will not die. But if they are in such weak condition that they cannot coax their heart to begin or do anything good, it is a sign of despair, which leads and takes them to death in hell because of their weakness. [5260–5285] “{T}he second sign is the agility of the sick person who moves easily: it is definitely a sign that they can heal. But if they are slow to move, it is a sign that they are unlikely to heal and are about to die.” When a person has fallen into sin, if they are agile and move quickly to pick themselves up and confess, this evil cannot oppress them; but if they have a slow and cowardly heart, so that they have no desire or inclination to pick themselves up and repent, it is a bad sign, no lie. [5286–5300]

164 Hippocrates

is a compound of Greek hippos “horse” and kratia “rule” which has been interpreted as “superior in horses” but also as “ruler of horses”; the latter would be the basis for the explanation here. 165 This paraphrases Psalm 11:7 (Vulgate 10:7): “For the Lord is just, and hath loved justice: his countenance hath beheld righteousness.”



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“{T}he third sign, if I remember well, is when the face and limbs are such, and have such color, as if they felt no pain or suffering: it is a sign that they will recover. And the opposite will be when they are of a different comportment, a different color, a different appearance in their limbs than they had ever been before, when they were healthy.” The comportment and color of the soul that has no pain or suffering is the sincerity of a good life, and when the sinner strives to conduct themselves with sincerity and live temperately, as if they were in the state of grace, and keep from transgressing any more than if they had never sinned, this is a good sign in a person stained with a sinful malady. But if the sinner changes their life and comportment, and lives more dishonestly than they did in the time of grace, it is a sign that death is pursuing them. [5301–5326] “{T}he fourth sign is, properly, when they are thinking well and have a good appetite: this is a sign that they can get relief. The fourth sign’s opposite is when their spirit is troubled and they have lost both their ability to think and their appetite.” A person “has good sense and a good memory” when they want to hear and believe counsel when it is good, profitable, righteous, and salutary. They have “a good appetite,” I believe, when they willingly seek to hear the good doctrine of salvific discipline, which is spiritual food that keeps the soul nourished. But a person “has a troubled memory” and “has lost their appetite” when they do not deign to believe good counsel. If anyone’s heart is so lost that life, which feeds the soul, harms and troubles and displeases them, it is, without a doubt, a clear sign of death and despair. [5327–5352] “{T}he fifth sign, as I understand, is when the sick person sleeps and rests well and at the appropriate time, and it does them good: this is a good thing. The contrary of the fifth sign is when they doze when they should not – that is, during the day and not at night – which harms and impairs them.” A person gets “good and salutary rest” when they “sleep” at the appropriate time, “at night,” that is, in adversity, for whoever has tranquility of the heart in tribulation, and whose heart is not moved to sadness by dire persecution or any trouble they have had, their heart sleeps and rests in God, and it is a sign of something good, because this rest will profit them. But the one who sleeps and delights at times that are not appropriate, this sleep is not salutary, but is a sign of damnation. Whoever delights in the vanities of worldly prosperity sleeps uncomfortably. This sleep is not appropriate, but rather is dangerous and damnable. The more one sleeps and delights in worldly prosperity, the more it harms them and the less it profits them. [5353–5382] “{T}he sixth is when the sick person’s breath is sweet and healthy; the contrary is when it changes to bad and corrupted.” A person has “sweet breath” who sweetly and with sweet admonition comforts, corrects, and rebukes their neighbor who sins and is in error. But when it is very harsh and strong, it is a great sign of discomfort. A person has “harsh breath” who corrects all too

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harshly, and punishes cruelly, without pity, without divine love, those who are under their control. [5383–5396] “{T}he seventh is when their pulse is regular and gentle, as it should naturally be; the contrary to the seventh is when the pulse wavers and beats irregularly, fast and slow and weak and strong: it is a sign of discomfort.” Equity of the pulse signifies, it seems to me, equity in life, which must originate in and come from the heart; the good heart must move the soul to live well and temperately. But when the heart irregularly distempers the soul and body and moves it to do foolish things that are disordered and base, it is a bad sign, it seems to me. [5397–5412] “{T}he eighth, to my mind, is when they have a strong digestion and process well what they eat; the opposite is when they vomit up their food raw, without digesting it: this can hurt and harm them.” There are three digestions, I believe, where food is cooked in the body: the first is in the stomach, the second in the liver, and the last lies in various limbs of the body. I said elsewhere, I recall it well, that when the food that feeds the soul is well cooked in a man or woman – first in the stomach of remembrance, then second in the liver of dilection, and the third time, by good action, in putting it into practice – I say that the power of digestion is working well and strongly, and it is a sign and outlook that the sinner will heal and live. But if they have weak digestive power, and such weak digestion that no predication can move them to do good works, it is a sign of the mortal contrary. [5413–5442] “{T}he ninth is truly when the sick person properly and fully purges themselves through urine and through gentle perspiration all over: it is a sign of good purgation. But when the sick person purges themselves grossly, against nature, or if they happen to perspire only from the head and not all over simultaneously, this is not a sign of healing; rather, they are in danger of dying.” Anyone “purges themselves commendably and well” who confesses fully and suitably, and their confession should be complete with all the sins they know themselves to be stained by, because the sick person cannot achieve healing through “localized perspiration.” [5443–5462] If anyone tries to withhold and conceal a portion of their sins, I do not believe such a confession does them any good, if the “perspiration” does not come “from all over their body.” The sick person is not yet recovered when, in confessing, they tell one sin and leave off the other, if they are aware of and remember it. This is not good. The confession must come from “every limb.” They must, if they want to be free from fear, necessarily confess every sin and circumstance to put an end to their malady. When perspiration comes only from the head, this results from weakness of the body, and they cannot yet expect any healing from this perspiration. [5462–5481]



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By the sick person,166 I can understand the sinner who confesses, and does not say everything or omit everything. The head represents the intent. When, during their confession, they withhold what they remember, which must be told and should be confessed, I say that they delude themselves. Or, if in confessing, they excuse their intent by underplaying their sin, or they knowingly keep silent about the evil and speak about the good, I believe that they cannot heal from such a malady by such perspiration; rather, they are in danger of death. This is not a suitable purgation: they must “perspire all over” and purge themselves fully through confession, if they want to be healed. [5482–5499] There are some whose head hurts, and the pain comes to the head either from swelling or from heat. The “head” is the mentality of the soul. Pain comes when a man or woman ardently desires to have worldly honor, worldly wealth. I truly call this “pain,” because first of all one takes pains and strives to acquire it; then one simultaneously has care and wakefulness, great worry and fear about keeping it, it seems to me; then one has sadness and tears: losing them is painful. The pain of this is vast. [5500–5515] A “headache” also comes from the heat of covetousness, and anyone who wants to escape this pain must get rid of the cause and substance that so attracts them, and the pain will lighten. Give and share with poor people, for God’s sake, the temporal riches which it harms and injures one to worry about. Anyone who wants to relieve the pain that comes to the head from heat should first shave their hair,167 then rub their head with an ointment called “rose oil” until they have completely massaged and moistened the head with it.168 One “shaves their hair” who cuts off, trims, and casts out of their heart every harmful excess, every appetite for vanity. One “anoints their head” – that is, their thought – “with rose oil” who manages to think upon the pains and torments and dire persecutions suffered for God’s sake by the martyrs, who scorned the goods of the world and cast them all aside. Such an “ointment” can be very valuable for cooling “the heat that causes pain to originate in the head,” that is, the heat of covetousness, which ignites and inflames the heart. Anyone

166 De Boer has Par le malage puis entendre, v. 5482, which is indeed the reading in Rouen (fol. 420v): “By the malady, I can understand …”. But Copenhagen (p. 917) has le malade. Since the analogy is to the sinner and not the disease of sin, malade makes better sense and we translate accordingly. 167 Reë ançois la chevelure, v. 5527. The verb could mean several things, including dousing with water (see DMF, s.v. rayer3), but the translation has to anticipate the moralization, which compares what is done to the hair to “cutting off, trimming, and casting out of their heart every harmful excess, every appetite for vanity.” 168 Rouen (fol. 420v) confirms de Boer’s reading Tant que tout l’en art et arose, v. 5530. Copenhagen (p. 918) has Tant que tout l’en ait arrousé, “Until they have completely moistened the head with it,” which is clearer. Since the goal is to relieve the heat causing the headache, art is probably for arer (normally “plow,” etc.) rather than ardre, hence “massaged.”

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who feels the pain of this heat in their “head” – that is, in their heart – must “anoint” it with this “ointment.” [5516–5549] The other pain comes from swelling, when a person’s head swells and hurts, that is to say when they become accustomed to presumptuousness based on their good deeds. A person is sick, to my way of thinking, who is prideful because of their good deeds. If there is anyone who suffers in this way and has this sort of “headache,” they should incessantly “anoint their head” with “violet oil” to ease it. This “oil” can relieve any headache that is caused by swelling. It is a good ointment: this ointment is, in truth, the oil of true humility, which, without falsehood, locks and drives out all pride from the heart in which it resides. No one would ever be proud, I think, if they think well in their heart of how the Son of God humbled himself. [5550–5569] But there is a fake ointment that does not relieve the head; rather, it causes the soul much greater misfortune. If anyone desires this ointment, it is the oil of adulation, the oil of false flatterers, who flatter sinners and praise them for whatever they do. It kills, damns, and confounds the soul that loves this ointment. David had no use for this ointment. But anyone who wants to be healed must, without a doubt, anoint themselves with the oil of humility and perfect charity and keep from ever running out of it! [5570–5584] {T}here are yet others who have a different hurt in their heads, which causes those who endure such pain tremendous misfortune. This malady is very harsh, harmful, and difficult for the human body. It is a disease, I believe, called “migraine,”169 possibly because this pain descends and “migrates” through the “vertex” of the head, that is, the crown,170 and causes such discomfort to the sick person that it seems to them their head has split and been broken in two. Against such a disease, it is necessary to wrap and tie the sick head tightly with a binding. Such binding relieves this kind of pain. [5585–5601] By “the head,” according to the text,171 I can represent the mentality of the soul. The “crown” of a man or woman can be properly understood as reason, which appropriately governs the soul and the thought. When the soul is wise v. 5591. We agree with de Boer that the context (that it feels like the head is being split in two) calls for “migraine” and not, as the dictionaries have it, “vertigo.” The corresponding section of De medicina animae, 1200, is entitled De dolore verticis. 170 Por ce, se devient, / Que tel dolour descent et vient / Parmi la vertis de la teste, vv. 5591–5593: “migrates,” with “migraine,” approximates the connection being made between vertin and vertis, although the verb in French is unrelated. (If we did translate vertin as “vertigo” here, then “vertigo” and “vertex” would match.) Here De medicina animae, 1200, quotes Psalm 7:16 (Vulgate 7:17), in verticem ipsius iniquitas ejus descendet, “his iniquity shall come down upon his crown.” 171 Selonc l’escripture, v. 5602. This could also mean “according to Scripture,” but if not (as suggested by de Boer’s decision not to capitalize), the text would be De medicina animae, 1200; since De medicina quotes Scripture in the corresponding passage – Psalm 68:21 (Vulgate 67:22); 2 Timothy 2:16–17 and 23–24 – this is not an obvious call. 169 Vertin,



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and mindful to live reasonably and to follow the orders of reason – which divides and separates good from evil, casting aside the evil and taking the good which can be valuable, and separates good affections from cogitations that can turn contrary, just as the crown does when it divides and separates one’s hair to the left and right – it does not feel this pain. But the soul that in its folly, its excess, its vice, and its damnable wickedness latches onto reason and divides it in various ways, to where, it seems, it is broken in two,172 has a “split crown.” Anyone who wants to heal from such pain – that is, from such damnable folly – must tie and bind themselves up with a white cloth or binding, that is, with salvific doctrine, which surrounds the soul and teaches it to uphold reasonable understanding in its full entirety. [5602–5636] There are some who have hair white with age, others who are bald and bare and have no hair at all on their bare foreheads. This baldness, they say, along with the whiteness, comes from cold and physical weakness, and those who make this claim173 affirm that hair comes from the thick vapor, which is moist and hot, that rises from the body to the head above, and as long as the vapor rises and lasts, hair appears and grows; as soon as it ceases, the hairs that have sprouted on the head necessarily fail and fall out, just as one can see with plants that necessarily leaf out when their sap rises and comes up that far, and when their sap ceases and ends, their leaves wither and fall. But once a person’s head is bare of the hair they have lost, there is nothing they can do later, no matter what, to make the hair return to them. [5637–5660] But if this vapor comes into existence all disrupted, and is stained or corrupted by some accident that befalls it, the scalp is necessarily stained and changed according to how the vapor is changed; so one’s head will be white, or, perhaps, of another color, according to what happens to the vapor. But one can also certainly find some remedy that will serve to keep their hair in good shape and prevent it from looking different, or at least keep it from misfortune that makes all their hair fall out. [5661–5674] As I said before, the “head” of the soul represents the thoughts of men or women. By the “hair” of the soul I can denote discerning affections,174 wise cogitations that keep thought covered up so that no one can see uncovered what the heart is thinking and planning. It is a most unfortunate thing for a soul to foolishly disclose all its thoughts and workings. These discerning affections, these wise cogitations come from the vapor of prudence and are truly nourished and sustained by prudence, because a person who prudently thinks and plans what they must do conceals and covers up their affairs so that they et derrompue, v. 5627: literally, “double and broken up.” qui la maintienent, v. 5643: perhaps this might be read as “those who keep up such baldness,” but De medicina animae, 1200, simply states as fact that hair arises from the vapor. 174 Discretes affections, v. 5679: alternatively, “discreet affections.” 172 Double 173 Cil

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cannot be perceived and thereby deceived in the matter. But a person lacking in prudence cannot restore the lack of wise cogitations. What counsels, what protections can rescue or aid a foolish person without prudence? Whoever has no prudence must, without a doubt, necessarily also be lacking in wise cogitations, and reveals their actions and the plans of their heart to a degree that brings them shame and harm. [5675–5708] But some people have not completely lost prudence, only had it altered by some bad morals. In the same way, the human body changes and alters by an accident of the humors, the thick vapor that gives rise to hair so that it grows and stays attached. Thus its head is white, or stained with some other appearance, according to how the vapor varies in appearance. [5709–5718] By the color of the skin, no doubt, one can know the whole cause from which its sickness comes. If it is hot and dry, the cause that has stained their head must come from red bile, and with medicine one can save and protect their hair from being stained or corrupted, or at least keep it from breaking off the head: yellow myrobalan, violet and wormwood175 can help someone keep their hair if they do not want to go bald. These three things and similar ones are helpful for such medication because, as the art of medicine states, yellow myrobalan is useful for improving the sight; violets are humble and small, and wormwood is bitter and strong. [5719–5739] These three things are very advantageous and comforting, no doubt, in remaining prudent, to preserve the affections, the wise cogitations, so that the soul is not bald and bare. Diligently, with the sight of the heart, one must seek out the sin with which the thoughts are stained, confess176 them humbly, and repent of them bitterly, and these three things will save the person from “having their hair fall out.” “Hair falls out,” truly, when a person sets their understanding, their thoughts, and their desires to desiring earthly goods. But a heart has its “hair” well and righteously rooted that strengthens and roots itself in thinking about divine love and acquiring sovereign goods, and not in the vain delights of the earth. [5740–5762] 175 The

Old French terms are citerne mirobalone, violete, and aloine, vv. 5729–5730. The first most likely refers to emblic mirobalan, also called Indian Gooseberry, which has yellow berry-like fruit. It is used for folk remedies and is also currently being studied for medicinal purposes. It is mentioned in the Régime du corps (a thirteenth-century Old French health guide: see Kibler and Zinn 1995, s.v. Health Care) and the Parisian Glossary 7692. For violete, it is impossible to determine which of the hundreds of viola species is meant, but many varieties of violets contain strong antioxidants and were commonly used in medieval medical practice. The Anglo-Norman Dictionary references a thirteenth-century medical prescription manuscript (Peterborough fragment). Aloine is wormwood, a key ingredient in absinthe. It was indeed “strong and bitter,” and is also found in the Peterborough fragment. Wormwood is frequently found today in homeopathic remedies for digestive disorders and insect bites. (Thanks to Logan Whalen, University of Oklahoma, for contributing to this note.) 176 As de Boer notes, rejoïr, v. 5749, is for regehir, “to confess,” hence C has regehisse.



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{N}ever would a soul that comports itself this way grow old; it would never be weak or ill, but remain young, healthy, strong, and firm, perfect in all good morals. [5763–5767] Moralization: Pythagoras’s Natural Philosophy Now I have told you about the four humors and about the medicine of the soul; it is time for me to get back on track with the explication of the tale, as Pythagoras tells it, that says that the state and being of both people and earthly existence keep changing completely. Earthly existence was first “golden,” then “silver,” then “bronze,” and then “iron.” [5768–5778] The first were the holy martyrs, I believe, who were like pure gold, refined in the fire of tribulation. They were red-hot with torment, pure and refined with charity, resounding with good doctrine, with which they taught all the people and illuminated Holy Church. [5778–5786] Then came another sort of people who resembled white silver: the holy confessors who came afterwards, who lived virtuous and beautiful, in pure cleanliness and the whiteness of chastity. They echoed with the doctrine of salvific discipline. [5787–5794] Afterwards came the bell-ringers and master trumpeters, who were like bronze, less worthy than the former, people without worth and without reason, who had no more than the echo of doctrine, and in appearance they were of good behavior, more openly than in secret. [5795–5803] Now things have gone so far that everyone has a heart of iron – hard, resistant, and so locked up that nothing can soften them. One wants to steal from the other and, right or wrong, the strongest have dominion nowadays. And such as had once been strong and steadfast in the stability of belief and true faith are now full of hubris, pride, and malice, plunged into the depths of vice; and such as were once full of sin are all “sandy and dried out” through confession and repentance, and others of firm hope are, in turn, on the mountain of contemplation;177 and such as excelled through honest living without any vice, now are overflowing with malice; and such as were full of gladness, righteousness, and loyalty, are abased and completely cast down into the valleys of filth; and such as were once “full of moisture,” full of grace and good morals, now have dried-out hearts; and such as were once in sin are now full of grace and “moisture,” abounding in divine love. Things that once were good to do would be damnable and injurious to those who would want to do them, and they would sin by doing them. People who in olden days were humble and

au mont contemplatis, v. 5821. Mont is almost certainly “mountain” and not “world” (with a meaning like “they remain contemplative in the world”), considering the passage being moralized, which describes how flat ground swells into a hill (vv. 793–812 above). 177 Remest

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devout have now been lifted up high by insolence, pride, and presumption, which are so lodged in their hearts that they cannot be removed. [5804–5844] On earth there are various rivers and various types of waterways. The spring of the true Savior – the gentle, humble Redeemer, who to deliver his people resolved to give himself up to death on the Cross – is pure and perfect charity, and of a marvelous nature: at the noon of prosperity it is so very cold that nothing can warm it, but in the night of temptation, in the time of tribulation, it cannot be cooled. There are so many other rivers of other natures and appearances that flow through the world in great abundance: the river of avaricious covetousness, the river of envy and hypocrisy, of lust and lechery, of gluttony and sloth, of anger and agonizing sadness, and any unfortunate contact with them transforms the heart in various ways, because some inflame and cook hearts; and others, I believe, fill them with misfortune, stubbornness, and hardship; others decorate the exterior, in spite of what is inside the body; others soil and defile them; others infuriate them and put them in a rancorous rage; others inebriate the heart so that it has no sense or moderation; others make people heedless of gladness or comfort. Some people, who used to float on the waves of ignorance and doubt the faith, are now steadfast and strong: they believe steadfastly and nothing would make them disbelieve in what their faith adheres to. [5845–5887] Etna, that burning mountain, will not burn eternally. Some believe with certainty that hell is located beneath Mt. Etna, and for them this burning chimney that spews the flame and smoke that are constantly visible there is named “Gehenna.” After Judgment Day, when earthly existence will be judged and all the wicked cast down, soul and body, into the infernal flames, it is possible that the mountain that smokes and flames can then cease to do so via the crater from which the flame comes; or, to show clearly that the infernal punishment is never yet completed, the chimney will perhaps open wider to receive those yet to come; or, so that some might take from it a sign and example to hold themselves back from wickedness and evil-doing, so that they will not be housed there where the wicked are shackled in pain and misfortune, it will perhaps be closed up so that the flames can no longer spew out, and will become inactive. [5888–5916] I do not care to allegorize things that the author himself does not believe can really come true: people growing feathers and having them all over their bodies for having plunged into the marsh, or witches who fly by magic. [5917–5924] Some shepherds know that from the entrails of a dead bullock are born those courteous little flies – the bees – that suck at flowers to take in honey and wax. Regarding the death and suffering of the “bullock” who for our wickedness was sacrificed to death, it is the Son of God, who died for his own and gave rise to the swarm of apostles, preachers, and master teachers who “suck” at Holy Scripture and the flowers of learning to draw forth from them both



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honey and wax, that is to say, it seems to me, the sense of the holy doctrine that feeds and illuminates the soul.178 [5925–5942] {D}ung beetles are born from the entrails of horses slain in battle. “Horses,” according to Scripture, are people without reason and moderation, without sense and understanding, who graze like mares on filth and refuse, on the vain excesses of the worldly goods on which they grow fat. “Dung beetles are born from horses” because, without a doubt, gluttons are not satisfied with their own gluttony, but transgress even more because they teach and instruct their little “dung beetles” – their sons, their little “toads” – to follow their own wicked lifestyle, their filth, their gluttony, and their disgusting behavior. And those who have begun to live so filthily from tender childhood live more dissolutely than their elders, I believe, and their life is more base and foul, more corrupt and full of filth and stinking rottenness. [5943–5968] {B}y the crayfish I can represent the disloyal, full of malice, who are always retreating, for the more they should go toward the mother of salvation, the more they foolishly distance themselves from her.179 If one were to cut off the “feet” of these wicked sinners who are always retreating – that is, their strength and power to afflict and cause injury to others – still they would not lose the heart or wicked thoughts they had, but would deceive with flattery “out front,” like the scorpion, with a tongue of adulation, cajoling and flattering, and would sting people “from behind,” procuring their misery with the stinger of deceit and false detraction. Such people, who seduce out front with flattery and sting with treachery from behind, resemble scorpions. [5969–5992] {T}he foul and dirty butterflies,180 which come forth from gluttonous caterpillars, represent the base and lustful, for with those who comfortably feed their base and shameful carcass and tend to gluttony, the fuller and fatter their bellies are, the sooner they give over their obese carcass to the filth of lust and whoring. [5993–6002] {F}rom the mud are born frogs, that is, the base and vicious tongues of the liars, the fabricators, and the lying detractors who never cease jeering, detracting, chattering, uttering scorn and abuse. Such people feed in the filth of envy and hateful sin, with which their hearts are stained, and this makes them chatter and argue. [6003–6013]

178 The

soul would seem to be “fed” because of the honey and “illuminated” because of the wax, which is used for candles. 179 As an alternative to la mere, v. 5973, Copenhagen (p. 923) has la voie: “the path of salvation.” As noted above, crayfish do swim backwards. 180 The negative interpretation of butterflies here runs counter to the generalization that in the Middle Ages, “[b]utterflies maintained their status as the iconic representations of the soul”: see Nazari (2014), 229.

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The she-bear, which fattens by beating,181 signifies the holy disciples, who disciplined their bodies to gain the sweetness of paradise, and the more the saints were tormented and abused for God’s sake in actions or in words, the more steadfast and purer their thoughts were on divine love. The baby birds and baby bears, that seemed no more than a lump of raw flesh when they were born, are those who converted because of the disciples’ good admonitions. At first they were crude and imperfect in the faith, but just as the bear forms and perfects its cubs by licking them, they took shape and perfection through the preaching of the saints who taught them, until they were well formed in belief and made to conform with it. [6014–6036] The “bees” are the contemplatives, the perfect and best, whose whole intention, heart, and affection are fixed on the sweetness and delight of the love of God, which surpasses every spice and sweet perfume – which completely illuminates and sets ablaze, and completely feeds, the heart that delights in it. But such pure and elect people cannot exist in the beginning, because at first, when they are newly formed, and made to conform to the faith of God, they do not have such high contemplation or such devoted affection; but with the passage of time, in the end they can develop, as I understand it, “wings” of contemplation and “feet” of pure affection. And they can so perfect themselves and profit that they are all nourished and take delight in the sweetness and thought of revealing the divine secrets, and they convert the “flowers” of all Scripture to the cultivation, praise, and honor of Jesus Christ, our Lord.182 [6037–6064] By the birds, which fly high, I can rightly denote all the people of high estate whose hearts are so elevated that they overcome and get the better of the world, 181 Qui engraisse par batre, v. 6014. This looks like it could mean “which bulk up by fighting” or even “by being beaten,” which might seem to work with the first part of the moralization, which refers to the disciples. But there is nothing in Ovid, the OM’s account of the bear (vv. 981–988), or the bestiary tradition that would correspond to this, suggesting that adult bears are supposed to grow burly or fat this way. (Bartholomaeus Anglicus does describe bears being beaten and killed – see Steele 1905, 169–170 – and the bestiaries follow Pliny in saying that not even wounds can wake a hibernating bear, and also that bears fight bulls.) The bestiary tradition (see, for example, the Aberdeen Bestiary at https:// www.abdn.ac.uk/bestiary/ms24/f15v) indicates that the offspring the mother bear licks into shape are not only shapeless but small (carnes paxillulas, “tiny lumps of flesh”; compare braon in the OM, and “little more than a mouse” in Bartholomeus), so they must grow as the mother licks them. Hence v. 6014 seems most likely to mean “which fattens [her offspring] by beating [them],” with the body then analogized to the offspring. 182 Les flours de toute escripture, v. 6061. Toute escripture could mean either “all Scripture” or “every text.” Biblical exegesis might be a more characteristic pursuit for these lofty contemplatives: not only the Old but also the New Testament were subject to the four levels of interpretation, and the Bibles moralisées testify to the vitality of this. Meanwhile, de Boer’s decision not to capitalize escripture might suggest that he preferred the reading “every text,” which would be compatible with the first lines of Book 1 of the OM (“whatever is written in books is all for our instruction”): in its approach to Ovid, the OM itself supports the proposition that every text can be turned to the “cultivation, praise, and honor of Jesus Christ.”



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and rise and fly up into the air through high contemplation. And they make their residence in the heavens, where their hearts delight, and do not dwell or live elsewhere. The “eagle” of high understanding, the “peacock” of beautiful conduct, the “dove” of simple humility and sweet benevolence, without the gall of rancor and envy: people who exist and live like this come from a steadfast heart full of integrity, which is brooded, warmed, and hatched in pure and perfect charity, and thinks so much of divine love and heavenly delights that its nest and bed is in the heavens. Such people can fly high, and overcome and get the better of the world. People who have spent their hearts in various places, and hung them on secular vanities full of attractions, cannot fly like this; rather the world is used to dominating and getting the better of them, grounding them so much that all their hearts are buried in the earth. [6065–6096] {F}rom the spine of someone who has died, and been buried after death, a serpent can be born and spring forth. After the Son of the heavenly King, true God and true man, Jesus Christ was, as the Scriptures say, dead according to the flesh, taken down from the Cross, and entombed, the “wise serpent” without malice, that cast off its mortal skin under the agonizing oppression of death, was marvelously formed and gloriously resurrected “from the spine of the dead man,” for the flesh that was dead and buried, secured beneath two stones, came forth purer and more alive, brighter and more nimble than it had first been. [6097–6115] {T}his same Son of God who let himself be crucified can be represented by the phoenix.183 When five centuries had passed since the world was made, Jesus, true Phoenix without peer, made his “nest” and his preparations on the high “palm tree” of righteousness, that is, in the pure and spotless Virgin, who was full of all virtues, where the sovereign Deity resolved to descend and become incarnate in order to redeem and unburden us. That was the soft nest full of spices, full of sweetness, full of delights, incense, myrrh and perfume, cinnamon and other fragrances, where the true Phoenix lay down. [6116–6133] And when the time approached that for our redemption he resolved to suffer Passion and death, he died on the tree of the Cross, but death never had dominion over him, for he rose again and acquitted the human race of the ancient bite of the bitter apple, which put to death the first man and brought earthly existence to perdition. And when his Resurrection was manifested and made known, and the truth was believed by those who were in doubt about it – that is, the apostles who doubted in unbelief and weakness – who had seen the distress of the death that he had suffered, he rose, it is obvious, into the heavens, into eternal glory with God, the spiritual Father, where he reigns in 183 Compare Clark (1992), 230–235. In the Jewish Midrash, after Eve eats from the Tree of Knowledge, she gives its fruit to all of the animals. Only the chol (phoenix) abstains. And so, while death is decreed on all other animals, the phoenix lives forever and is rejuvenated every thousand years. (In the Talmud, the phoenix becomes immortal when it does not wish to bother Noah for food on the Ark.) Jewish, Greek, and Vulgate translations of the Old Testament reference the phoenix in Job 29:18.

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eternity. And there he carried the humanity that he drew from the womb of his Mother, and there he placed the first father, Adam, from whom he took human flesh. In this sovereign city his Virgin Mother, in turn, was seated beside him, the true Sun of justice. [6134–6162] {T}he hyena, which changes its state,184 denotes and represents people who, against nature, disguise themselves in the act of lust, making the male female or the female male; and those who do this, female or male, are, it seems to me, extremely abominable and vile, and God hates such commixture. [6163–6171] {T}he plover – that is, the chameleon185 – which feeds on the wind and air and lives on no other food, and, whenever it touches something, tints and colors itself with a tint similar to what it is touching, represents those foolish people who feed on frivolity, vanity, and vol-au-vent. Whoever invents flatteries is only feeding the wind,186 that is, the vain flatteries and “windy” gossiping that flatterers bring them, in which they distract themselves and revel, and with every piece of gossip told to them, their hearts change and become fixed by consenting to the liar’s flattery. [6172–6190] {T}he lynx represents the prudent, the wise, and the clear-sighted, who possess such clear understanding and deep insight that no one deceives them without their becoming aware. Such wise and prudent people have such steadfast and stable hearts that they never do anything that is not beneficial, no matter what appetite strikes them. [6191–6200] {B}y coral, which is a tender shoot under water, and in the air, out of the sea, is strong, hard, and pure rock, it can be understood that the man or woman who engulfs their soul in the bitter waves of the world is so weak and changeable, so soft, empty, and bending, that they bend changeably according to the various movements of favorable or contrary fortune. But anyone who manages to remove their heart from the vain fluctuations of worldly temptations, and make themselves steadfast in God on high, has a heart so stable and steadfast that nothing can soften it or take away its firm purpose. [6201–6218] It would be much too long to write if I wanted to expound all the secrets of nature word for word, according to the meaning that one might expound from them, to show reasonable causes for which all of earthly existence is changeable, nor am I discerning enough to draw a moral from all the secrets of nature. Nonetheless it seems to me that there was little Ovid told in all his tale that I have not expounded appropriately by some comparison, in different ways in different places, so now I want to stop here. In order to finish my story sooner, I want to get through it briefly. Everything ultimately dies except 184 That

is, per vv. 1041–1043 above, it changes sex. v. 1044, where the chameleon is called a bird. 186 Rouen (fol. 424r) confirms de Boer’s reading pestre le vant, v. 6182, but Copenhagen (p. 926) has pestre de vent, “feeding on wind.” 185 See



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good works, but whoever does good will ultimately find it; and whoever does evil will likewise ultimately fall because of it. Hence everyone should draw their heart to abandon evil, and to do good, and to love brotherhood. Love one another in charity. One must not eat, destroy, or injure another, because we are all brothers in God, all being created by one Father. [6219–6248]187 Moralization: Egeria and Virbius {N}uma can be taken as the holy, upstanding people of great worth who lived long ago: St. Anastasius,188 St. Clement,189 St. Silvester,190 St. Boniface,191 and the other saints who were full of God’s grace, who upheld the government of the Church of Rome wisely and well, and who were as holy and wise as they should have been to hold such government. Through their knowledge they maintained Holy Church in a state of peace, and had the laws and canons written down, which has upheld the faith since. [6249–6263] Holy Church was very forlorn when she lost such spouses. The people were very forlorn when they lost such governors, and under the false emperors who had secular power and worshipped idols, Holy Church suffered much anguish and much anger, and many of God’s servants were abused at the hands of their enemies through dire martyrdom, some of whom were hacked apart, others were flayed alive, others were dragged and torn apart by horses over hills and valleys,192 as St. Hippolytus193 was, for having rejected the unbelief and treachery of the false pagan law, because of which most people had lived in false unbelief. [6264–6284] 187 After

v. 6248, Rouen (fol. 424v) inserts v. 1229, referencing the beginning of the story of Numa’s death: Dessus vous ai conté le compte, etc. (“Above, I told you the story, etc.”) Good works are evidence, not means, of salvation: see Titus 3:5–8. 188 St. Anastasius the Persian was converted after serving in the army of Chosroes II. He was martyred on the Euphrates in 628 after preaching the Gospel to the Persian army at Caesarea. 189 For St. Clement, see above, note to v. 2329. 190 St. Silvester I was an early pope of Rome, elected just a year after the edict of Constantine in 313 brought some stability and peace to the early Church. He died in 335. 191 St. Boniface was born in England but left to preach the Gospel to the Germanic tribes. In his later years, as a bishop, he helped reform the Frankish church. He was martyred in 754 or 755 in Holland by the heathen Frieslanders. 192 For par terres et par vaulz, v. 6277, Rouen (fol. 425r) clearly has par tertres et par vaulz, and we translate accordingly. 193 St. Hippolytus of Rome was one of the most important early writers of the Church and an invaluable source for early church worship and practices. He wrote the oldest extant work of biblical exegesis, on the Book of Daniel; his most important work was a refutation of Gnostic teachings, the Philosophoumena. He is often – as here – confused with a fictitious Hippolytus associated with the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, whose death recalls that of Hippolytus of Greek myth, who was dragged to death in his chariot. His story is recounted above in the translation of lines 1297–1387.

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On the sea of damnation is the head of perdition, the marvelous wicked monster, the horrible and proud bull, the sea-going bovine, the vile devil.194 Through wild and untracked places, across mountains of pride and arrogance and rocks of unbelief, obstinacy, and hardness, and through potholes of unhappiness, it used its delusions – that is, its false enticements – to make their carnal horses run wild in order to cause souls to be lost and injured, until, by divine judgment, they were spiritually dead, and incurred infernal punishment, just like the wicked who died in their false incredulity. [6285–6303] But the merciful Deity bestowed remedy and medicine on them, and the Physician of noble birth, the Son of God, who can give a dead person the remedy for death – who let his flesh be crucified to bring the dead to life – resuscitated them by his grace, in spite of the fraud and falsehood of Satan, who held them prisoner until they remembered God and recognized the ignorance, the error, and the false beliefs in which the devil held them prisoner, and through repentance made amends for how they had been in error, coming to recognize God, who had delivered and saved them from mortal peril. [6304–6322] Their way of life was renewed by the regeneration of baptism, and their old lives were hidden from Satan, who because of their changes had lost track of them, and their former names, which were written in his register, in his ledgers, were then removed and eliminated. And so that the enemy could not trouble them, God resolved to give them new names, which he wrote in the Book of Life, even though some, I have no doubt, had died completely, having incurred a death sentence in body and soul, and descended into shadowy hell, and saw the punishment that awaited them, if God had not protected them from it, raising them from the dead and bringing them forth from the shadows. Through the grace and prayers of certain saints who asked this of him, God restored them to life. And from then on they set about serving God without reserve, well and handsomely and devotedly, with humble, devout, and pure hearts, persevering until the end, such that God rewarded them for their good works and gave them divine and eternal honor in heaven, in spiritual glory, as a reward for their service. [6323–6357] Their good deeds are now recounted in Holy Church, and how they lived before and after their conversions, and how for their holy lives they have earned glory and honor, in order to instruct other people how they must live and behave in this dry vale full of misery. And Holy Church was the river and spring of ablution, for through the preaching of the holy priests, holy rectors, holy fathers, and doctors who defended her to the death, the streams of her sacraments and teachings, which are universally in use and which will last eternally, spread throughout the whole world. [6358–6376]195 194 This

alludes to the sea monster that caused Hippolytus’s horses to panic and drag him to his death (vv. 1331–1387 above). 195 After v. 6376, Rouen (fol. 425v) cross references vv. 1453–54: Dessus auez la fable oye / comment fu muee eg’ie. etc. (“Above you heard the tale of how Egeria was transformed,” etc.)



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{H}ippolytus or Virbius, as the other allegory says, can be understood as the converts who suffered death and torment to defend Holy Church, and were so astonished by the predication of Holy Church that they converted to the faith. They were truly astonished, like the Etrurian farmer196 in ancient times when he saw on the ground, amidst the mud, some mud move by itself and take the form of a living man, who was named Tages, a wise prophet of great renown. The Etrurian farmer denotes the shepherds of old, to whom God revealed his holy Incarnation, when he resolved to be born from she who was a Virgin Mother and Maiden. She is truly the “green mud,” who was never changed or touched by carnal contact. She is the blessed new Mother who bore within her virgin sides the “prophet” who brought us peace, joy, and redemption – that is, God, who without corruption and without carnal contact resolved to be born on earth, that is, from the earthly cell of the Virgin Maiden’s womb. She was the greening mud, the flowering shaft in whom God resolved to become incarnate to unburden all of earthly existence, which brought joy to the earth. [6377–6415] Moralization: Cipus {C}ipus, whose head was horned, can signify the Son of God, who let himself be crucified to save the whole world. He is the one who resolved to feel “the horns” of the Cross “on his head,” and had his hands197 and feet pierced and nailed to the Cross for the whole human race. And he alone resolved to stake his body to acquit all the others,198 and to suffer to profit the world; and he took the curse on himself to give the blessing to those who had lost it.199 His “horns” signified the great mystery and great lordship that he had over the human race. [6416–6432] He is the one who fittingly made a sacrifice and sacrament of himself by transforming the bread and wine into divine flesh and divine blood. He is the one who resolved to offer himself as a humble Lamb200 to suffer death to give life to all people, and let himself be taken and bound to the stake and harshly beaten. He is the one who gloriously vanquished his wicked adversary.201 He is the one whom the people should have made an earthly King, but he did not wish it, because he preferred with a devout heart to serve the world and enslave his body rather than make others serve him. [6433–6448] He is the one whom the Jews sought in order to put him to death, but they could not approach, recognize, or lay hands on him against his will; yet he 196 See

above, vv. 1460–1467. poins, v. 6421, the options might be “wrists” or “hands.” The Vulgate uses manus (e.g. in Luke 24:40), so we chose “hands.” 198 Si volt seulz son cors metre en gage, v. 6424: as against “he resolved to stake his body alone/his one body,” we take seulz with the subject of volt, not with son cors. 199 Compare Galatians 3:13. 200 Come humble oëille, v. 6438: more precisely, perhaps, “like a humble ewe”; but of course Jesus is the Lamb of God. 201 Vv. 6442–6443: see the note to v. 1492 above. 197 For

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willingly resolved to reveal himself to them, and said, without hiding anything, that he was the one they wanted. He is the one about whom the Jews, full of iniquity, murmured. He is the one who was led out of the city to suffer pain and death on the Cross, on Mount Calvary. He was “horned,” that is, crucified, and his body was glorified, and like a lord his horns were raised to sovereign honor. [6449–6464] He is the one who conquered as much land as Holy Church’s “cart, oxen, and workers” – that is, her preachers – will be able to attract to the cultivation of Jesus Christ and his name while earthly existence lasts. The false Jews, like it or not, saw his “horns” honored: they are now painted and gilded in churches everywhere in sign and remembrance of the Cross on which he deigned to hang, who resolved to shed his blood for all, to give them life and repose. [6465–6479] Now let us come to our point. Those who long ago converted to the true faith were astonished just like the shepherds to whom God, born of the Virgin, revealed his holy birth, for the shepherds joyously announced his holy birth and the holy converts preached that God had come to earth and become a man for his people. And they were astonished also like the one who saw his dry spear grow green, flower, and bear fruit, for they, who had previously been dried out by the dryness of sin, grew green by grace and flowered, and produced the fruit of good works, and many were converted to doing good by their good example. And they were astonished a third time, like the one who was hanged on the Cross to redeem all his friends, and they were also put to death and let their precious blood be shed to defend Holy Church. [6480–6506]202 Moralization: Aesculapius {O}nce, in the city of Rome, there were two princes, valiant men who dearly loved one another, being very close.203 They were powerful and renowned. One of the two was named Titus and the other’s name was Vespasian, as I have heard it related and told by the ancients. One of them suffered a dire setback, that is, a terrible disease called leprosy or scaliness, which completely infected and afflicted him, taking over his whole body, which pained him very much and caused all the people to grieve. [6507–6522] 202 After v. 6506, Rouen cross-references vv. 1613–1615: Or est drois que je vous devise / En quel maniere et en quel guise / Li filz Coronis la meschine . etc. (fol. 426r). 203 For v. 6507, Copenhagen (p. 930) has Iadis en la cite de l’omme, “Once, in the City of Man” (by contrast with the City of God). Com cil qui molt s’apartenoient, v. 6510, would be “being closely related” if we credit the OM with knowing that Titus was the son of Vespasian, which it never explicitly says either here or in Book 13, vv. 2105–2127. Vespasian was Roman Emperor AD 69–79. The founder of the Flavian dynasty, he was succeeded by Titus, who ruled AD 79–81.



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There was a maiden at this prince’s palace, a noble and wise young lady, who had come from Galilee. She had heard of the fame of the miracles that the good Physician had performed, who knew how to cure every illness, the Son of the Virgin Mary. And she said that if anyone could find him, surely he would cure the sick prince of his malady. Immediately messengers were sought to go to Jerusalem to ask for news of this holy Physician so that they might find him and bring him back to Rome with them to cure and heal the prince. But the wicked Jews had already killed him by crucifying him. [6523–6541] The messengers came as quickly as they could to the city of Jerusalem to ask if they might truly find the holy Physician they were seeking for their prince. And since they asked for news, they found many who told them of his life, his status, and the miracles he was accustomed to perform: that by his words alone he would cure absolutely everyone of whatever disease they had, whether they were blind, deaf, or leprous. Even the dead he freely resurrected and brought back to life, but in their envy and treachery those of the Jewish law crucified him with mortal torment. The messengers were mightily grief-stricken, but they diligently inquired if they might find a bit of his clothing or body that still remained on earth. [6542–6564] They asked and inquired so much that they found an old woman who had a veil on which his image was imprinted when he wiped his face full of sweat, when the dogs full of stench, the wicked Jews, made him carry the Cross on which they hanged him. It never stopped appearing on it after that. They thought that this veil might cure their sick prince if he had it, but this woman who had it did not want to give it up to them without her: she would rather travel to Rome herself204 than lose the form and face of Jesus Christ, whom she loved so much. [6565–6580] She came to Rome with the veil and when the prince saw the form imprinted on the headscarf he was completely healed of the grievous misfortune of the leprosy he had had and his flesh became healthy. And he praised God for the marvel, and all the people marveled, and the two princes both rejoiced. They diligently inquired205 what had become of the one from whom such a sign had come, which could cure such an illness. The worthy woman and the messengers told them and let them know the whole sequence of events and the whole truth about how the Jews had crucified him. And the two princes sent 204 According to DMF, travailler in this sense (meaning II.B.3: “Se fatiguer, faire des efforts en voyageant, voyager”) is distinctively Picard (or Anglo-Norman). 205 De Boer gives vv. 6588–6592 as Et tous li pueples s’en merveille / Et joie orent communement / Li dui prince. Ententivement / Enquistrent qu’estoit devenus / Cilz dont tels signes est venus … The period after prince is not in the manuscripts, so alternatively we could read Et tous li pueples s’en merveille / Et joie orent communement. / Li dui prince ententivement / Enquistrent…: “And all the people marveled, and they collectively rejoiced. The two princes diligently inquired …”

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back to destroy and put to death all those who had crucified and killed him. This is how Rome was comforted by the “vernicle”206 that was carried there, that came from Jerusalem to Rome at that time, they testify, and the vernicle is considered holy and a relic. [6581–6606] {T}here can be another interpretation, which is very much in accord with truth, for since this time of which I speak the Romans had cooled so much in faith and belief that they all forgot about Holy Church and no one dared recognize it openly or say they were Christians because of the pagans. For the false judges destroyed all those who upheld this faith, not only in Rome, but everywhere, and they were all, without a doubt, in the languor of unbelief, which was damning every people, every nation – so much so that God resolved to visit them and rescue them from this error and make them recognize his love and belief in him. [6607–6628] {T}here was a valiant prince in Rome, whom the text calls Constantine. He was humble and without hubris, but he knew nothing of the Christian faith because he was a pagan, until God gave him the light of belief in him and of his law. For barbarians full of treachery came to attack his kingdom, intending to destroy and obliterate everything, or make it all subject to them. When the noble king heard this he was very afraid and troubled; he was downcast and afraid that the worst would happen. [6629–6644] One night when he was afraid like this, he saw that a man of very beautiful appearance stopped before him and said: “King, do not be afraid. Look to the heavens and a sign will appear to you that will save you.” The king raised his eyes to heaven and saw a radiance precisely in the form of a cross, with golden letters clearly apparent that told him he would have victory over his enemies through this sign. He put the sign in his memory and the next day had one made in the exact form and shape that he had seen in the heavens. [6645–6661] Under this sign the Romans set off to attack those who thought to mistreat them, and vanquished them completely. Then the king clearly saw that the cross possessed a great mystery, but he did not know what it was, and wanted to know. Without delay he summoned the priests of his law and asked them all together what they thought and what this sign seemed to them to signify. By chance there was one who said: “It is a sign of the heavenly God, but we do not know who he could be.” [6662–6676]

206 English name of the veil of St. Veronica, who is said to have wiped the sweaty face of Christ as he carried the Cross to Calvary. There is no reliable evidence for this extremely popular story, but the vernicle has been preserved at St. Peter’s in Rome since about the eighth century. The name Veronica comes by popular etymology from Latin vera icon (“true image”) and may have been transferred from the veil to the compassionate woman. See Attwater (1995), s.v. Veronica.



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Then a few Christians, who for fear of the pagans had stayed concealed and hidden, came and revealed everything to the king: how God, in order to redeem his people, had his dear Son come to earth and take on human, mortal flesh, and let himself to be raised and hung on the Cross and suffer Passion and death for the redemption of his people, whom he acquitted; and on the third day he was resurrected and rose to heaven to the right hand of God the Father, in heavenly glory. Those who believe this will be saved! By their advice and counsel King Constantine was baptized. [6677–6693] Then he sent his men, with his sainted mother Helen, to seek out, with due diligence and effort, this Cross by which life had been regained. They held their course until they came to Jerusalem. The lady summoned all the Jews before her and asked for the Cross on which Jesus had hung. There was one among them who forbade her to be informed about it, but the wise and well-informed woman so pursued, so hounded, so compelled, and so threatened them that the very one who had forbidden it brought her to the place where he knew the Cross was hidden. And they searched without delay until the Holy Cross was found and tested by the miracle of bringing a dead person to life. The queen sawed it in half, left one part, and returned with the other to her son, who honored it greatly. And all the people worshipped it, rejoicing in its coming, and the Cross was held in great honor throughout Holy Church, as history relates. [6694–6724] {I} can interpret this tale in still another way. Long ago, everyone in the world was stained with the sickness of sin, which condemned to perdition all the progeny who descended from the first man, who ate the damnable apple by which, without remedy or physician, the good and the evil alike were subject to mortal torment in hell, where both the weak and the strong ultimately descended. And they requested the comfort and aid of the sovereign Physician, asking him to help them in the dire torment that confounded all earthly existence. [6725–6741] But God the Father answered through the prophets, who possessed his Holy Spirit and knew how God would ordain in this: that his dear Son would help them. The Son was closer than they had hoped, and they would find him very close to them, for he would come from heaven to207 earth in his own person, and the Physician in whom all good abounds would bring joy and salvation throughout the world. And the Father told them the signs by which they would believe in him when they saw him and know that he was the one who would rescue the world from ruin.208 [6742–6756] 207 De Boer gives v. 6749 as Quar dou ciel et terre vendroit (“For he would come from heaven and earth”), but Rouen (fol. 427v) clearly has dou ciel en terre. 208 Qui le monde trairoit d’exil, v. 6756. Exil (see DMF, s.vv. exil1 and exil2) can mean “exile” or “destruction.” Since the story being moralized describes a plague among the Ro-

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The ancients requested the aid of the true Physician so much – they moaned and wept so much and called to him so humbly – that in his mercy he heard them and fittingly appeared to them in the womb of the Virgin Maiden, which was the temple and divine cell in which the Savior became incarnate, who unburdened the whole world of the bite of the damnable apple, which put to death the first man and all his descendants. In it became incarnate209 the one who resolved for the sake of all to come down from the heavens to earth and become a true man, the true Physician, full of knowledge, to those who sought him from the heart and hoped by his coming to recover joy and salvation: first of all to the shepherds on the night he was born on earth; and to the kings of foreign kingdoms on the day of the Epiphany, to the three who, with devotion, presented him with three different gifts; and then at the temple, where his parents carried him and offered him to God. Many there rejoiced, including the priest Simeon,210 who devoutly received him and said: [6757–6789] “Through your grace, Lord God, now I see face to face your Savior and your Anointed.211 If it pleases you, now is the time and moment for me to depart this earthly existence in peace. You promised me, without a doubt, that I would not leave earthly existence before I had seen him, because I so desired it. Dear Lord God, now it has pleased you to reveal to me, your servant, the Light of all people who brings joy and glory to the world, to those who with a pure and spotless heart will welcome his coming.” [6789–6803] The Baptist likewise knew him when he saw him coming for baptism, and immediately said: “This is the pure and spotless Lamb of God, who comes to cleanse the world and to save everyone.”212 His disciples knew him by the signs213 and followed him, abandoning the world after they saw his miracles mans, not their banishment, “destruction” seems more appropriate, although of course the destruction of the human race by original sin corresponds to banishment from Eden. 209 “Became incarnate” translates two different expressions here: s’aombra, v. 6765, and prist … incarnation, v. 6770. Notwithstanding one instance in Wright (1841), 126, translating Philippe de Thaun (Que Dés prist incarnatiun pur la nostre redemptiun, rendered as “that God took incarnation for our redemption”), it is not standard in Christian theology to say that God “took incarnation” in or as Jesus. Meanwhile, “took incarnation” is in common use for Hinduism. We avoid it here to avoid the impression that the Christian God might have become incarnate any number of times. 210 For Simeon and the presentation of Jesus in the Temple at Jerusalem, see Luke 2:22– 35: vv. 6789–6804 are a loose poetization of the famous Nunc Dimittis (Luke 2:29–32). 211 De Boer gives v. 6791 as Ton saluaire et ton enjoint, with a variant sauveor for saluaire but no variant for enjoint, which seems to be a mistake: Rouen (fol. 427v) and Copenhagen (p. 933) have enoint and anoint respectively, and we translate accordingly. 212 John 1:29–30. 213 Ensegablement, v. 6810 (see DMF, s.v. enseignablement), corresponds to docibiliter in Latin, and seems to be referring to the disciples’ aptitude to recognize Jesus as the Messiah: compare John 1:37–51. (In Book 10, v. 2792, we translated the same word “intelligibly,” which wouldn’t work here.)



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openly. He said to them with certainty that he would leave behind his “simulacrum,” that is to say, it would please him to leave behind the body he had taken on in the Maiden of high worth to cover the divine essence, and take on “the serpentine form that befits a true god,” that is to say, that he would hang upon the Cross, not by his own fault, but to save all.214 His disciples, who heard that he would leave them, advised him against it, because parting was grievous to them, and they for their part said that he should not let himself suffer so much or be led to such a vile and shameful death. [6804–6831] There were others, it seems to me, who bore witness that it would be good for him to die and be crucified, so that earthly existence would not perish. But in spite of anything anyone could say, it could not happen other than he had ordained, nor could those who advised against his death in any way postpone the hour and time when he resolved to offer up his body to endure pain and death. Nor could those who desired his death put him to death other than how it pleased him, no matter how hard they tried. It was entirely a matter of his ordaining and his will when and how he would die to save and rescue the human race from the sickness of sin, which oppressed everyone. [6832–6851] And when the time approached, he came to the temple in Jerusalem,215 where there was a great and ample crowd of lenders and money-changers, of sellers and buyers, and he reproached and threatened them and drove them from the temple, upsetting their tables and stalls, because his gaze was so fearsome that no one dared stay there to their sorrow, or oppose him. [6852–6862] The holy children knew him well, receiving him with great joy.216 They entered the holy city with festivities and celebration, and the simple children – the common folk – sang at his arrival: “Blessed be our Savior, our King, our Deliverer, God, the true Son of David, who for the salvation of all comes in the name of Our Lord.” With great joy and great honor they followed him through the city, and the way and road were all strewn in celebration with flowers, cloaks, and green branches. [6863–6878] The true Savior without malice welcomed this ceremony, and was pleased by the festivities the common people put on for him, but the wicked Jews went crazy with the envy they felt and thought that, without the crowd being aware, they could through treachery and envy put to death the Lord of Life. And the traitors did so much that they caught him in the end and led him away tightly bound at the behest of their court. But just as the worthy and sensible children 214 This

moralizes the serpent form of Aesculapius (see vv. 6097–6115). What connects the serpent to the Crucifixion is probably the exegesis of Numbers 21:4–9, where Moses mounts a bronze snake on a pole to cure the Israelites of snakebite, which is understood to prefigure Christ dying on the Cross to save everyone. 215 See Matthew 21:12–13, Mark 11:15–17, Luke 19:45–48, and John 2:14–16. 216 See Matthew 21:8–9 and 21:15. The “holy children” are explained below as the common folk.

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had led him devoutly, with devotion, love, and affection, the princes led him shamefully, dishonoring him. He looked at the women who followed after, weeping for love of him, and said: “Women, do not weep for me, but for your households; you should have sad hearts for your sons and your husbands, who are losing themselves because of their presumption, the pride in their hearts, and their disloyal envy.”217 [6879–6910] {W}hen he had come to the port of life – that is, to Mount Calvary, where he was to receive death and torment to bring the world to salvation – he climbed aboard the ship – that is, the Cross, the very “ship” on which earthly existence came to life. There the “bullock” was sacrificed: that was he, who was crucified on the Cross. When he was put upon it, the Son of God recognized his friends. Then this “ship,” which carried the Lord of Life, “sailed so far across the sea” – that’s how far the power of his Passion was announced to all peoples, and through the predication of his disciples, who preached to the world and announced the Cross, the mystery became known. And the Crucified, through whom life and salvation abound, was announced throughout so many different places in the world that most people converted to true belief and gave up their error and their ignorance. And this belief spread until it came to the city of Rome, where faith in the Crucified was held in great authority. Now things have come to where the Crucified is, without a doubt, held in great reverence in Rome, and the Roman people “honor him and serve and worship him as a god.”218 And he must indeed be honored there, served and worshipped as God, for he is the Savior of the world, through whom life and salvation abound in those who serve and love him, and acknowledge him true-heartedly. Through him Rome came to salvation, which formerly was sick, and those stained with the sickness of sin regained life and health, and Rome was free of bereavement. [6911–6956]219 Moralization: Roman History through Julius Caesar and His Apotheosis {N}ow I will tell you how the tale is to be believed on the historical level. After Romulus there were six kings in Rome named in the text. The first was Numa Pompilius, and the second Tullus Hostilius, the third was called Ancus Marcius, the fourth Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth Servius Tullius, and 217 See

Luke 23:27–31. por Dieu le sert et aore, v. 6944, and Por Dieu servis et aorez, v. 6946: Dieu is not capitalized in the manuscripts, hence both instances could be read “as a god” (from the pagan perspective, and referring specifically to Aesculapius) or “as God” (from the Christian one). We chose one of each to highlight the transition from one perspective to the other. 219 After v. 6956, Rouen (fol. 428v) inserts: Dessus vous ai conte le conte/ Si com li autours le raconte/ Dou fil Coronis la meschine, etc. (“Above I have told you the tale, just as the author recounts it, of the son of the maiden Coronis, etc.”) This appears to serve as a cross-reference to the story of Aesculapius in the beginning of Book 15, and paraphrases vv. 1899–1901. 218 Et



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the sixth was Tarquinius, surnamed “The Proud.”220 These six kings I just named had mastery of Rome after it was founded and built, and they ruled – some more and some less – over the Romans for two hundred and sixtyseven years. They were valiant and conquering, and greatly expanded their kingdom. [6957–6975] Tarquinius the Proud had a foolish, unrestrained son, full of madness, who forcibly violated and had carnal knowledge of221 a worthy and wise woman, Lucretia, the wife of Collatinus, a powerful man in the Latin kingdom. The lady felt such grief over this that she killed herself with a sword, but first she revealed to her father and husband what had happened. The king and his son saved themselves from death by fleeing, because they would have been killed if the Romans had captured them. [6976–6988] Because of this wrong and this outrage, the Romans did not deign to have a king after that, but collectively ordained that they would live free without a prince or lord, and that each year they would elect a consul, who would preserve their rights and govern the land. At the end of the year they would change him and elect a new consul. The Romans were seven hundred and four years, no less, without a prince, their land and all the countryside governed by a consul, and the Romans were so lion-hearted and full of bravery that they sent their armies to far-off kingdoms and tried to submit forcibly to their control every people, every nation, receiving tribute from them all.222 And their lands increased so much that a single man, no matter how wise and prudent he was, could not suffice to rule such a vast empire, so three consuls were elected to govern the realm: two would leave the country for foreign nations, to conquer those regions, and the third would stay put to keep the Romans at peace. [6989–7020] One of the three was named Mark Antony, who by his intellect and effort caused the Easterners to submit to him. The second, as I read it, was Julius Caesar, without a doubt, who through arms and battle went to conquer in the West. He had many good qualities, for he was a good scholar and a good administrator. He was a generous giver and a good warrior, valiant and chivalrous, wise and so combative that nothing endured before his sword. The third consul was named Pompey, who remained in Romania to rule the nobles. [7021–7036]

220 The

first seven kings of Rome ruled, according to legend, from 793 BC, when Romulus founded the city, until c.509 BC, when Tarquin the Proud was overthrown by a popular uprising that established the Roman Republic. 221 Corrompi par force et cognut, v. 6981: lit. “corrupted by force, and knew [in the biblical sense].” 222 Et de tous avoirs le treüz, v. 7009: Rouen (fol. 429r) does indeed have avoirs, but avoir (which is the reading in Copenhagen, p. 936) seems correct.

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Caesar went west and remained there ten years, and from the borders of Romania he and his troops conquered all peoples, all nations, islands, kingdoms, and regions on one side of the sea and the other. Caesar was not to be blamed if he could conquer so much in ten years! When all were tributary to him and he had placed his guards everywhere to keep and uphold Roman laws and justice, he wanted to return to Rome. But Pompey opposed him and urged the Romans not to receive him in Rome, because he feared that Caesar and his men wanted to take over the mastery, the rulership, and the dominion he had long exercised; Pompey was grieved by his approach and demanded that he hold off and never come to Rome, because, without a doubt, he would never enter the city unless it was through force of battle. [7037–7062] When Caesar saw that he opposed him, he summoned all his forces and made ready to assault Rome and to fight. He would destroy and level it all sooner than fail to take it! Now see how Pompey readied the city, because once he had refused entry to Caesar, he223 wanted to conquer Rome, the rulership, the countryside, and the whole world by force of arms and war. And since he could not be co-ruler, he wanted to make himself lord and master over all by the edge of the sword; he captured Rome and chased Pompey until he slew him in the end. [7063–7078] When the war had come to an end Caesar was the lord and king of Rome and the Romans, who had been without a lord for a long time, were his men, so he had power over nearly the entire world in his hands. But the Romans detested his lordship and domination, and when they were able to take revenge for it, they took most cruel vengeance by killing him in the Capitol. [7079–7088] And they thought they would remain free, but Caesar had an heir, Augustus, valiant and vigorous, a good scholar and very chivalrous, who ruled the empire after Caesar. He had Caesar’s killers killed, as well as Pompey’s son and Mark Antony, who foolishly, through the advice and pleading of his wife Cleopatra, who was from Egypt, tried to get his hands on the Roman empire and the whole world, and, as history tells us, transfer the lordship and seat of power from Rome to Egypt. This is what Antony’s wife was thinking, but Caesar224 anticipated it and killed them. From that time on, the entire world was in his hands, both foreigners and Romans, and he had dominion over all lands. [7089–7109] During his time, the Savior and Lord of the world was born, Jesus, in whom all goodness abounds, the Son of the Virgin Mary, she alone in whom fer223 This

makes it sound like Pompey is the one with ambitions to rule the world, but v. 7076 makes it clear that Caesar is the one referred to here. The confusion could be deliberate: Caesar is moralized below as God, rescuing the human race from servitude to the devil, “who sought to submit everything to himself” (v. 7225), and the devil corresponds to Pompey. 224 Augustus.



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tile virginity and virginal fertility are wed. By the administrators of his empire, Augustus had a census taken of the entire Roman world, as St. Luke recounts,225 in order to know the number and total of those who lived and had households within his empire, and the amount of tribute he was owed. Then there was seen in the East the sign and the resplendence of a star of such size that it surpassed all others, but it was not fixed in the sky; rather, it moved along low in the air: this was rightly the star that guided the kings of Tarsus and led them to Bethlehem, where they found the King of Kings, the Son of God, to whom they presented gold, incense, and myrrh together, as a sign, it seems to me, that he was king, God, and man. [7110–7137] Many people and many nations have spoken and told tales about the star that was seen. Most who heard about it or happened to see it were astonished and thought, because the poets pretended as much, that Caesar was deified and thus turned into a star. And Ovid did likewise,226 wanting to establish in a pretended way, through tales and fictions, various transformations that are touched on in this book, because in so doing he thought to easily acquire the grace of Augustus, who had banished him from his lands for having written The Art of Love. There was another, more disgraceful reason, more harmful to him, because he had seen Augustus at a base and unsuitable moment. And there was a third cause, even more harmful, for Augustus had found him upon Corinna and proven it.227 For these three reasons, without a doubt, Ovid incurred the ill-will of the prince, and by writing his book he thought to appease the ill-will and anger of Caesar Augustus, but no pretending or tale-telling could reconcile Ovid to him.228 Caesar was buried with great nobility under a pyramid twenty feet high, and was then worshipped in Rome, served and honored as a god, and the foolish and silly people held celebrations and rites in his name. [7138–7176] {T}here can be an allegory for this that is well in accord with the truth. By Caesar I can denote, without a doubt, the God of Hosts and of battle, the one who reigns and rules over every land and every kingdom, who can help and harm above all others; the one who can make the Egyptians be lost and destroyed in the Red Sea; the one whose lordship and power cannot be reckoned by anyone. And even though his substance, his praise, his glory, and his 225 Luke

2:1–4. The magi, however, are in Matthew 2:1–2. Ovid’s contribution to this, see vv. 2120–2212. The deification of Caesar is the last of his metamorphoses. 227 Ovid’s exile in AD 8 to Tomis (the modern-day Black Sea port of Constanța, Romania) by Augustus has never been fully explained. He says merely that it was due to “a poem and a mistake” (carmen et error). Medieval commentators came up with a number of fanciful explanations, of which we have three here. Corinna was one of Ovid’s lovers, to whom his Amores were addressed; perhaps she was also a lover of Augustus? 228 The Metamorphoses were actually completed by the time of his exile. 226 For

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honors cannot be more nor less great in themselves, for he is ungraspable by human understanding, he was more exalted and believed, more esteemed and better known through his Son, in whom all goodness abounds, the Savior of the whole world. [7177–7196] Through him, God was glorified and his holy name made clear to the people who did not know him. And even though his works are always great and virtuous and praiseworthy and marvelous, as the Psalmist states, nonetheless his mercy surpasses everything, and it is true that God acquired more honor and glory through his Son, whom he sent to earth to seek out and save the world, than by any works or blessings that God had ever previously done. God did us generous goodness when by his holy will he sent such a Lord into the world, through whom peace and righteousness abound, and through whom Rome and Holy Church have the power and justice to rule all the world. [7197–7217] No one can prevail against him, because he is the greatest of the great, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, and the one who through his prowess rescued and saved the human race from servitude to the devil, the traitor, the deceiver, who sought to submit everything to himself. But the Son of God knew well how to vanquish and put him down: the war ended and peace and joy increased on earth.229 And he gave a model for living and an example to anyone who wants to follow his deeds and his teachings. His life and his actions, his words and his doctrine, his salvific discipline, were proper examples for living. Above all he caused the Old and New Testaments to be written, in which are all the teachings about how anyone who wishes to come to true peace should conduct themselves. [7218–7240] God’s flesh could not be raised to heaven or glorified except through death, for he was mortal by nature through his Mother. And when the time came, as God had ordained it, when he must depart this mortal life, he was put to death out of envy by the false Jews full of falsehood, empty and devoid of goodness and grace, who had lost moderation and reason worse than a dumb beast, who had plotted his death. This made “Venus” most sad and grief-stricken – that is, the noble lover, the glorious Virgin Mother, who surpassed all lovers in loving, she who is the Star of the Sea, a shining and pure star that illuminates all others and surpasses them all in brightness. Her heart was very full of bitterness, anguish, and grief, and her fresh complexion grew pale, when she saw her dear Son crucified. [7241–7265]

229 De

Boer gives vv. 7226–7229 as Mes bien le sot vaintre et demetre / Li filz Dieu, s’achena la guerre / Et aquist pais et joie en terre. Rouen (fol. 430r) has sathena or satheua for s’achena, which Copenhagen (p. 939) gives clearly as s’acheva, and we translate accordingly. In v. 7229, both have a crut instead of aquist, although this could be read as “he increased/achieved peace and joy on earth.”



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{O}r by Venus are understood the prophets full of goodness, who were shining and resplendent in deed and will, and who cast their great resplendence into the shadowy law of the false people full of treachery. Through the spirit of prophecy it was shown and announced to them, long before it happened, the pain that he would undergo when he hung on the Cross for his people. And they could not be restrained from saying what they knew about it, and they manifested plainly the pity they felt over it. And they spoke of it in different ways, for some said, without a doubt, that he was pierced and stabbed in the side with the point of the spear; others said that his feet and hands were pierced, and that he nearly drowned in great peril at sea,230 and that he visited hell; others said that the city which was once rich and prosperous was laid waste and reduced to misery: that is, Judah, of which the heavenly king used to be lord and master; now, through its corruption, it has been reduced to desolation. [7266–7296] The prophets announced well and with assurance, long before it happened, the grief and misfortune that God’s enemies would cause, who out of envy would put to death Jesus, the eternal priest, when the time had come that this must be accomplished by pure force, as had been ordained by God, whose word, whose mandate no one could, without a doubt, put off, repeal, or contradict. The Son of God was subjected to torture and hung high on the Cross: then the elements showed signs of anguish and suffering. [7297–7313] The sun lost its color, and “from the heavens there fell a rain of blood” – that is, if I’m not lying, the precious blood that dripped from the wounded holy body, flowing in great abundance. His blessed Mother, whose pure and bright resplendence made her seem the Morning Star, was filled with anguish and sorrow. The false Jews, the mastiffs filled with rage and iniquity, barked through the city with barks of defamation, insults, and derision that they threw up against the Son of God as they rejoiced in his death. Non-sentient creation was not so hard against him; rather, without a doubt, it showed signs of anguish and sorrow: the hard rocks were split, the tombs opened and several of the dead rose again, showing themselves to many.231 All of Holy Church trembled, sad and frightened at the death of her dear Lord. [7314–7341] Such signs and many other greater ones were seen openly, by which it could be amply known that this was truly the Son of God, who was sentenced to the penalty of death, and it was necessary for him to die, but death could have no dominion over him and was defeated, vanquished, and routed by him. He passed through death and hell, but he rose again and passed on, and his body was brought to life and resurrected and glorified in the heavens, where he reigns at the right hand of God the Father in heavenly glory. [7342–7356] 230 This 231 See

probably refers to Psalm 69 (Vulgate Psalm 68): see the note to Book 4, v. 7008. Matthew 27:51–53.

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Now his sons and grandsons have the care, guardianship, fealty, and spiritual rule of the whole world, and all Holy Church is in their governance. St. Peter, and also those who came and will come after him, hold, held, and will hold Holy Church. And may God by his grace make them so holy and perfect that they can keep her in peace, now and in times to come, first to the honor of God and then for the common benefit of them and of all Holy Church, which is granted and entrusted to them; and that by their holy doctrine they can attract and move the Jewish and Saracen peoples, and all those who by their ignorance are in the error of unbelief, to the knowledge of the truth and to the Christian faith, so that they abandon their hubris, their unbelief, and the hardness on which their foolish hearts are fixated. [7357–7382] And may God in his mercy give true peace and true concord to everyone, so that Holy Church might fulfill her service in peace and the pope might peacefully have the governance of all, and guard them so well that he might gain the love and grace of the heavenly King. He is our father on earth and can bind and unbind, absolve or excommunicate,232 and may God grant him to act so well that through this he may recover, after transitory life, honor and eternal glory. [7383–7398] May the powerful Lord who rules over all empires, powerful King and eternal God, God, the spiritual Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, grant this for the love and merits of the Glorious Maiden, who is temple and divine cell, saintly religious nun, saintly gracious priestess, and who reigns in eternity with the perfect Trinity; and likewise for the merits of the saints, who charitably follow Jesus Christ in this present world and suffer pains and persecutions for him, and pass through tribulations of iron and fire, toiling so for Holy Church until they leave behind their flesh. Afterwards I implore and call upon all233 those born in fealty to Holy Church, who lived so well and holily in the world that they fittingly deserved to have feasts and services performed in their honor by Holy Church, that they pray to the heavenly King, if it please them, that it may be so. [7399–7428] Closing Invocation {T}o you, perfect Trinity, God reigning in single unity, be glory and eternal honor – true, kind and propitious God, who deigned to guide and direct me, the least of the least, an unschooled and novice child, to bring such a great work to completion, without paying heed to the grievous sins by which I am very stained. It was not at all due to my merit that you by your Holy Spirit spread grace in me, enough that through long exertion I have accomplished 232 See

Matthew 16:19; compare John 20:23. ceuz, v. 7421, is clearly a typo for Tous ceuz.

233 Pous



Book 15 1117

this work; but rather through your compassionate mercy, which spreads your grace, when you wish, to the young as well as to the old, to the poor as to the rich, for you are not stingy or miserly in spreading your holy knowledge to those who deign to listen to it, and through the mouth of the unknowing you rebuke the vices of the knowing. [7429–7452] To you, Glorious Maiden, who was chamber and cell of the Son of God, who alone was a Virgin Mother, who alone gave birth to your Father, to you be praise and honor above all after our Lord. And I give thanks devoutly to all the saints collectively, whose exploits have helped me to compose this present poem. And I pray that God, by his grace, give to this poem such efficacy that those who will hear it told and recited will be able to profit by it. And may the effort that I have put into it be told before God and taken as penance for the transgressions and excesses I have committed, so that God will be appeased by it. I do not wish to be paid for it in any other way. [7453–7472] Next I pray to all readers, all masters, all rectors who will hear and read this poem, that if there is any vice or error that should not be there, or if there is lacking, through forgetfulness or defect, anything I should have put in it, that as lords and as friends they overlook the unknowingness, the faultiness, and the insufficiency of my ingenuity, for I do not have so much sense or philosophy that there can be nothing to criticize, and that another could not have said much better than I, if they had undertaken it. [7473–7487] And if I have erred – may God by his pleasure keep me from that, for I have no hunger or desire to say anything contrary to the faith – I wish to amend without fraud or hubris whatever I can, and to trust good and true counsel. Then I pray that no one scorn me or have any disdain or scorn for my having dared to undertake such a task. And if they hear any vice reproached for which conscience might reproach them, I pray that they not take this as scorn, for it is not my intention to reproach any individual person but, in giving the interpretation of the author as faithfully as I can, I have condemned and reproached the vices in general, with no intention of having contempt for any living individual, for neither out of love nor out of envy have I praised or condemned anyone. No one should consider themselves defamed by any reproach, for I have had no intention to reprove or reprimand any office or order, excepting only the state of sin. And if anyone feels stained with sin, it would be only wise for them to mend their ways, without hating me in their heart. And if there is anyone who hates me for this, let God be the judge of their thoughts, because someone who wishes to tell the truth in all things cannot have everyone’s favor. God himself was hated for it by the false envious evil-doers who did not wish to be reproached and for whom hearing the truth was painful. [7488–7528] And may God, in his holy mercy, give such grace to this book here that there be nothing in it that displeases him or that is rightfully to be reproached;

1118

THE MEDIEVAL FRENCH OVIDE MORALISÉ

and may it not be possible for it to be erased, burned, lost, or torn apart by envy or the enemy, nor forgotten because of old age; rather may it be publicized and read, recalled throughout the whole world as long as this earthly existence endures. [7529–7539] And when my body will pay its debt to death, which collects its tribute from all, without playing favorites or sparing anyone, may God have my soul carried from it to holy heaven in his company, to live in eternal life, and may my name be written in the book where God has his friends inscribed. [7540– 7548]234 The End. Here end the tales by Ovid the Great.

234 The scribal explicit at the end of the Rouen MS clearly includes the moralizations as part of the corpus itself: Explicit. Ci finent les fables d’Ovide le grant. (“The End. Here end the tales of Ovid the great.”) In contrast, a relatively modern hand indicated the end of the tales, proper, at v. 2308. (And de Boer notes that v. 2308 is also where B leaves off.)

Index Abaris  411 Abas Companion of Lycabus  832 Companion of Lycus  979 Enemy of Perseus  412 Son of Belus  255 Abel 166 Ablution  456, 1102 Abraham  56, 165, 166, 498, 521 n.4, 561, 624 n.115, 737 n.159 Absalom  389 Abstinence  251, 252, 258, 276, 301, 364, 433, 434, 459, 478, 481, 486, 494, 501, 560, 573, 591, 602, 728, 742, 861, 989, 1035, 1074 Absyrtus  527, 529 Abydos  351, 354 n.124, 355, 358 Acastus Companion of Meleager  595 Hermit 779 Acestes  935 Achaea 197 Achaemenides  951–955 Achaia  454 Achas, King  276 Acheloüs  604, 605, 606, 610, 615, 623, 627, 629, 630 n.6, 631, 636 River  198 Acheron  681 n.9 Achilles  73, 595, 756, 773, 811–813, 815, 819–820, 822–828, 843–844, 847–876, 880, 884, 888, 890, 894 n.40, 895, 897, 900, 907 n.63, 1048 Acis  914–921 Acoetes  296, 299, 303 Aconteus  415

Acmon  978–979 Acrisius  255, 295, 380, 381, 382, 383, 384, 388, 428 Acrota  992 Actaeon  268, 269, 270 n.24, 271, 272, 273, 650 Acteïn  248, 249 See also Athens Actor  410 Adam  3, 31, 76 , 131, 139, 167, 238 n.122–123, 239 n.126, 242, 272, 349 n.114, 528, 529 n.21, 538, 545, 580, 586, 691 n.38, 729, 771, 818, 838, 839 n.80, 845, 903, 940, 948 n.53, 969, 991, 1010, 1056, 1066, 1100 See also First Father, First Man, First Parents, First People Admah  165, 942 n.37 Admetus  240 Adonis  137 n.56, 705, 706, 707, 712, 713, 730, 731, 732, 734 Adrastus, King  649, 650, 651, 652, 653 Adversary, The  168, 380, 452, 470, 475, 600, 633, 843, 846, 857, 880, 955, 983, 1001, 1103 Æas 197 Aeacus, King  548, 549, 551, 561, 656, 753, 754, 755, 867, 868 Aeëtes, King  523–527 Aegaeon 191 Aegeus  538, 545, 757 Aegina City  549, 551–555, 753, 754 Queen  466, 754

1120 Index

Aegisthus  255, 257, 259 n.166 Aegyptus  255 Aeneas  31, 156 n.132, 763, 852, 900–901, 902 n.53, 904, 905–907, 910–911, 929, 931–933, 935, 937– 941, 950–954, 957 n.70, 959, 973, 975–977, 982, 984–986, 989–993, 1033, 1045, 1048 Aeneid  2, 18 n.44, 23, 47, 137 n.57, 156 n.132, 875 n.8, 906 n.60, 907 n.62, 911 n.67 Aeolus  32, 367, 398 n.215, 659 n.85, 781, 790, 935, 937 n.24, 955, 956 Aesacus  794–796, 797 Aesar  1020, 1021 Aesculapius  225, 233, 235, 236, 1037, 1040, 1042, 1104, 1109 n.214, 1110 n.218–219, 1037, 1040–1044, 1104–1110 Aeson  519, 530, 531, 532, 533 Aethalion  298 Aethion  413 Aethon  195 Africa  18, 228 n.95, 275 n.38, 276 n.41, 398 n.217, 942 Africans  164 n.153 Agamemnon  807, 809–811, 814 n.20, 815–816, 843–844, 866, 873, 875, 888, 901–902 Agenor  255, 260, 263, 265 n.8, 380 Aglauros  223, 231, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 254 n.157, 255 Agmon  198 Agyrtes  413 Aisne 197 Ajax  73 , 634 n.16, 689, 755, 845, 846 n.96, 848, 856, 865–878, 882–883 Alabastore see Alastor Alain de Lille  31 Anticlaudianus  31 Alastor  875 Alba  991, 994, 996 Alba, King  991 Alban Kings  991–993 Alberic of London  19 Albertus Magnus  50

Albunea  941 Alcander  875 Alcandrum see Alcander Alcathoë  567, 572 Alcithoë  307, 333 Alcmaeon  652 Alcmena  466, 603 n.68, 627, 631, 642–643, 645–647 Alcon  905–906 Alcuin of York  2, 24 Alemon  1020 Alexander  763, 764 See also Paris Alexander Neckam  19 Alexander of Hales  50, 51 Alexander of Villa-Dei  43 Doctrinale  43 Alexander The Great  948 Alin see Halius Alis  198 Allecto  368 Almighty, The as God  146 n.93, 190, 218, 425, 427, 443, 513, 516, 534, 550, 586, 598, 726, 1003 n.147, 1009 as Jupiter  154, 486, 551, 688, 1015 Alpha  422, 456 n.106 Alphenor  479, 480 Alpheus River God  435 n.55, 453–455 River  197, 450, 451 Altar  140, 167, 195, 294, 307, 310, 401, 408, 410 n.8, 411, 418, 419, 423, 437, 485, 486, 507, 532, 624 n.115, 647, 670, 692, 717, 732, 733, 748, 753, 790, 817, 826, 831, 862, 884, 888, 897, 939, 974, 990, 1039, 1041, 1042, 1044 Althaea  600–604, 648 n.58 Amascuus  198 Amathus  690, 691 Amazon(s)  637 n.28, 851 n.109, 863 n.122 See also Feminia Ambracia 906 Ambrose of Milan, Saint  845 n.92

Index

Amenanus  1028 Ammon/Amun  411 See also Jupiter as the Ram-God Amun under Jupiter Amphiaraus  650–652 Amphimedon  410 Amphion  476, 479, 480, 491 Amphitides  838 Amphitryon  466 Amphrisus 197 Amphrysia  1043 Amprysus 179 Ampycus  411, 835 n.68, 838 n.78 Ampyx  414, 835 Amraphel  165 Amulius  1004–1005 Amymonen 197 Amyntor  595 Amythaon  1030 Anagrus 197 Anastasius, Saint  1101 Anaxarete  997–999, 1004 n.151 Ancaeus  597, 602 Anchiale  333 n.66 Anchises  901,905, 938–939 Ancient of Days  814, 904 Ancus Marcius  1110 Andraemon  644 n.46 Androgeos  548–549 Andromache 907 Andromeda  384 n.183, 398–402, 406, 420, 429, 996 Andros  902, 904 Anemone  713 n.87 Angel(s)  11, 44, 51, 52, 56, 57, 75, 132, 151, 152, 209, 230, 254, 273, 363, 384, 392, 396, 428, 460, 546, 547 n.52, 548, 645, 728, 819, 820 n.32, 864, 886, 1003, 1017 Angelic Hosts  405, 594 Angelic Nature  190 Angelic Orders  151, 152, 460, 548 Archangel(s)  151, 152, 273, 548 Cherubim  151, 273 Dominations  151, 152

1121

Fall of the Angels  11, 189, 291, 460, 461, 513, 585, 796 Foolish Angel, The  363 Gabriel, Angel  174, 376, 516, 630, 645, 779, 864, 1002 King of Angels  405 Michael, Archangel  11, 949 Powers  151–152, 273 Principalities  151, 152, 548 Rebel Angels  189, 460, 585, 796 Seraphim  151, 152, 273, 548, 593 Thrones  151, 152, 273, 548 Virtues  151–152, 548 Anius  900–904 Anna  933 Annunciation  174, 376, 516, 630, 645, 779, 864, 943, 1002 Anointed, The  1108 Anselm of Canterbury, Saint  21 n.64, 50, 52, 238 n.123, 322 n.28, 716 n.99, 737 n.161, 846 n.92 Proslogion  21 n.64, 50, 52 Antaeus  637, 641 Antandros 901 Anteia  390 n.198, 391 Anthonoë  268 Antichrist  63, 203 n.47, 204, 208, 302, 380, 540 n.40, 820, 882, 887, 895, 899, 948, 949, 970, 977, 979, 983, 986, 988 Antigone  8, 125 n.1, 466, 472, 473, 648 Antimachus  836 Antioch  198 Antiope  466 Antiphates  955–959, 1043 Antiphys  764 n.54 Antissa  1029 Antium  1043 Anubis  667, 674 n.117 Anygras  1028 Aonia  156 n.131 Aonian Mount  3 n.2 Aphareus  832 Apennine Mountains  197, 943 Aphidas  832 Apidanus 179

1122 Index

Apis  667, 674 n.118 Apocalypse  310, 338, 593, 778 See also Second Coming Apollo  1, 32, 63, 166, 168 n.164, 169, 171 n.175, 174, 189, 263, 365 n.148, 455 n.103, 477–482, 644 n.46, 651 n.65, 656, 688, 747 n.16, 748, 752, 844 n.88, 862, 872, 884, 939, 1037, 1040, 1041 Apollonia  942 n.37 Apollonian Harp  176, 489, 682, 713 Apollonius  496 Apollonius Rhodius  862 n.118 Apollodorus  512 n.84, 651 n.66 Apostle(s)  280, 405, 419, 423, 425, 459, 471, 615, 622, 721, 727, 747, 817, 827, 881, 883, 886, 894, 913, 930, 936, 944, 967, 969, 986, 992, 1002, 1049, 1096, 1099 Apple (from the Garden)  139, 238, 240, 242, 254, 272, 349, 376, 402, 409, 529, 535, 586, 608, 683, 725, 776, 780, 796, 839, 845, 857, 858, 864, 881, 903, 925, 969, 989, 999, 1000, 1003, 1009, 1058, 1066, 1099, 1107, 1108 See also Forbidden Fruit Apple  352, 360, 365, 608, 629, 907, 917, 918, 993, 999, 1000, 1002, 1022 Apple, Golden  392, 637, 711, 736, 744, 760–763, 764, 765–769, 772, 773, 799, 808 Sorb-apple  134, 608, 686, 918 April  38, 727 Apulus  981–984 Aquarius  726, 1068 Aquilea  532 Ara  195 n.16 Arabia  169, 705, 851 Arachne  1, 8, 125 n.1, 463–469, 473, 475–477, 538 Aracinctus 196 Arar 197 Arcadia  135, 147, 148, 182, 196, 198, 210, 211, 214 n.67, 1030 Arcadian Boar  637

Arcadian, The  211 Arcas  214, 217, 219 Arctos  876 Archangels see Angels Ardea  985–989 Areos  832 Arethusa  434–437, 450, 453–457 River  198, 433 n.53, 451, 452 Argea  650–651 Argonaut(s)  520, 522, 655 n.77 Argos  197, 276, 295, 380, 381, 492, 519, 603, 648, 649 n.61, 650, 651, 652, 803, 807, 808, 809, 1020, 1025, 1028 Argus  180–185, 188, 221 Ariadne  581, 582–585, 587, 801, 805 Aricia  1035 Aries  637 n.28, 688, 727, 1069 n.120 Aristeus  63–64, 677 Aristotle  10, 12, 33, 34, 36–47, 49–50, 52, 55, 62, 64, 66, 71 , 73 , 74 , 77 , 78 , 126 n.9, 127 n.14, 159 n.140, 177 n.201, 214 n.65, 277 n.47, 337 n.81, 337 n.83, 338 n.87, 373 n.161, 424 n.34, 441 n.67, 470 n.20, 508 n.76, 510 n.78, 680 n.6–7, 684 n.16, 737 n.161, 1078 n.143 Of Generation and Corruption  36, 52, 337 n.81 On Memory and Recollection  45, 441 n.67 On the Heavens  38 Physics  36 n.131, 38, 52, 127 n.14, 338 n.87 Arithmetic  49, 851 Ark of the Covenant  23 Armenia  159, 851, 946, 1022 Arnulf of Orléans  14, 34–38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 126 n.7, 139 n.74, 159 n.140, 482 n.40 Allegoriae  14, 34, 35, 37, 41, 159 n.140 Arsippe  308 n.4

Index

Arthurian Romances  7, 264 n.6, 712 n.84 Asbolus  832 Ascalaphus  434, 436, 445, 451–452 Ascension  261, 425, 474, 615, 719, 992, 1058 Ash Wednesday  38 n.140 Ashur  163 Asia (Minor)  656, 764, 768, 798, 800, 801, 802, 810, 813 n.15, 851, 855, 889, 941, 946 n.50 Assaracus  763 Assyria  163, 164, 165, 1031 Assyrians  163, 164, 410 Asterie  467, 474 Astraea  142 n.80 Astreus  413 Astronomy  49, 200, 235, 394, 851 Astyages  415 Astyanax  884, 887 Atalanta  125 n.1, 594–597, 600 n.60, 707–711, 734–735, 996 Athamas  295, 346, 359–361, 367, 369, 371, 651 Athanasius, Saint  845 n.92 Athas 197 Athos, Mount  196, 784 Atlantis  28–29, 163 n.149, 394 n.207 Atlas King  393, 394, 395, 396, 429, 637 n.29, 763, 950 n.59 Mountain  196, 199, 394 Athenians  547–549, 551, 569, 572, 580, 582, 653 Athens  2, 22 n.67, 156, 196, 223, 228, 244, 247, 248, 249, 457, 465, 469, 493, 494, 498, 508, 513, 515, 527, 538, 540, 541, 544, 546, 547, 548, 549, 551, 556, 561, 567, 580, 582, 593, 594, 604, 629, 652, 810, 811, 812, 821, 830, 906, 1032 Athis  409–410 Athos, Mount  196, 784 Atreus  41, 1025, 1048 Atropos  494, 1045 n.63 Attis  686 August  731, 883 n.24, 1067 n.112

1123

Augustine, Saint  2, 3, 13, 14, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 31, 41, 50, 51, 56, 60, 61 n.209, 64, 66, 71 , 73 , 77 , 127 n.11,128 n.19, 141 n.77, 162 n.144, 198 n.30, 273 n.31, 357 n.127, 421 n.27, 441 n.67, 483 n.41, 517 n.93, 540 n.39, 604 n.70, 732 n.147, 736, 846 n.92, 949 n.55, 1077 n.142 City of God  2, 17, 61 n. 209, 73, 357 n.127, 949 n.55, 1104 n.203 Confessions  2, 13, 21, 22, 23 n.70 On Christian Doctrine  3, 13, 20, 21 n.64, 23, 51, 127 n.11 Unfinished Literal Commentary on Genesis  21 n.63, 61 n.209 Augustus  944, 1044 n.62, 1047, 1048, 1112, 1113 Caesar  1048, 1112 Aulis  797 n.1, 813, 815, 873 Aura  560–561 Aurigena  381, 383 See also Perseus Aurora  194 n.13, 556, 565, 655, 756, 861, 896–897, 900 Auster  131, 555, 567, 573 See also Wind(s) Autolycus  775 Autonoe  299–300 Autumn  140, 192, 1000, 1026, 1058, 1060, 1063, 1064, 1074, 1075, 1076, 1078 Auvergne  198, 1045 Avarice  66, 142, 143, 227, 237, 342 n.100, 343, 345, 348, 362, 363, 364, 370, 405, 438, 449, 469, 484, 492, 514, 574, 598, 599, 615, 717, 721, 723, 744, 754, 766, 909, 913, 936, 958 Lady  808 Aventine, Mount/Hill  197, 992 Aventinus, Prince  992 Axona 197 Babel  47, 143, 145, 163, 988 n.116 Babylon  145 n.89, 163–165, 255, 309, 311, 379 n.170, 403 n.226, 411, 941, 942, 988

1124 Index

Babylonia  198 Bacchanalia  588 n.35, 744 Bacchantes  743 n.9 Bacchus  68, 69, 275–277, 278 n.49, 278 n.51, 292, 293–303, 307–308, 333, 340, 341, 346, 359, 361, 380, 381, 431, 467 n.13, 585, 588, 743–745, 756, 759, 902 See also Born of Fire, Bromius, Eleleus, Iacchus, Liber, Lyaeus, Nyctelius, Nyseus, Planter of the Vine, Son of Two Mothers,Thyoneus, Unshorn Baebius Italicus  5, 821 n.35 Bagrade  198 Baptism  9 n.15, 161, 207, 208, 219, 244 n.137, 282, 364, 422, 534, 591, 614, 615, 673, 717, 748, 826, 909, 922, 944, 987, 1054, 1058, 1060, 1102, 1108 Barnabas  426 Bartholomaeus Anglicus  43, 1098 n.181 Battle of the Seven Arts  34 Battus  240–244 Baucis  7 n.10, 37, 606–610, 623, 775 n.63 Baudri of Bourgueil, Bishop  25 Bavaria  26, 851 Bear, The  214, 215, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 264, 393 n.202, 703 n.67, 876 Beatific Vision  13, 73 79 , 152, 417 n.17, 848 n.103 Bede  14 Bela  165 Belides  75 , 255–259, 360, 678 Bellerophon  388–392 Bellona  870, 878 Belua  398, 402, 403 Belus the Elder  163, 164, 255, 360 n.139, 367 Belus the Younger  255 Benediktbeuern  26 Benoît of Sainte-Maure  47, 637 n.28, 807 n.12, 821 n.35, 822, 847 n.97, 862 n.117, 884

Berecintus 196 Berencyntian Flutes  739 Bernard of Chartres  3, 5, 31, 33 Glosses on the Timaeus  5 Bernardus Silvestris  14, 31, 41, 43 Cosmographia  31 Beroë  274 Bethlehem  1113 Betis 197 Bible  11, 20, 21, 23, 50, 53, 56, 57, 61, 62, 162, 164 n.153, 267 n.18, 445 n.75, 509 n.77, 575 n.16, 735 n.155, 999 n.142, 1076 n.140, 1098 n.182 Acts of the Apostles  459 n.114– 116, 475 n.29, 736 n.158, 839 n.80, 1050 n.73, 1050 n.75 Chronicles  521 n.4, 848 n.102, 1035 n.34 Colossians  395 n.210, 488 n.53, 620 n.104, 944 n.41 Corinthians  10, 11, 75, 226 n.91, 244 n.137, 273 n.31, 408 n.2, 423 n.31, 439 n.63, 445 n.74, 447 n.78, 450 n.87, 476 n.32, 488 n.53, 491 n.59, 534 n.32, 548 n.53, 563 n.71, 592 n.44, 684 n.16, 718 n.108, 733 n.150, 735 n.156, 1025 n.15, 1039 n.46, 1072 n.123, 1073 n.129 Daniel  452 n.93, 948 n.52, 1076 n.140, 1101 n.193 Deuteronomy  339 n.92–93, 365 n.149, 379 n.172, 452 n.93, 575 n.16, 599 n.56, 716 n.102, 718 n.108, 815 n.23 Ecclesiastes  141 n.77, 509 n.77, 1000 n.142, 1054 n.80–81 Ephesians  226 n.91, 238 n.118, 421 n.25, 443 n.70, 447 n.78, 452 n.93, 456 n.107, 548 n.53, 673 n.116, 1054 n.81 Esdras (Ezra)  471 n.22 Exodus  3 n.1, 10, 23, 149 n.101, 218 n.76, 365 n.149, 395 n.210, 742 n.6

Index

Ezekiel  177 n.199, 360 n.137, 405 n.229, 417 n.16, 450 n.86, 456 n.106, 566 n.84, 575 n.16, 599 n.56, 690, 718 n.108, 417 n.16, 450 n.86, 950 n.56 Galatians  423 n.33, 846 n.92, 944 n.42, 1103 n.199 Genesis  45, 61 n.210, 132 n.43, 133 n.45, 138 n.66, 144 n.88, 149 n.101, 149 n.103, 281 n.60, 379 n.173, 389, 394, 398 n.214, 521 n.4, 716 n.102, 718 n.108, 737 n.159, 839 n.80, 999 n.142, 1035 n.34 Gospel of John  22 n.68, 65, 71, 152 n.118, 176 n.195, 342 n.100, 358 n.129, 395 n.210, 404 n.228, 421 n.27–28, 449 n.83, 459 n.118, 488 n.53, 546 n.50, 550 n.55, 621 n.106, 623 n.111, 664 n.94, 846 n.92, 879 n.12, 895 n.42, 943 n.40, 1002 n.144, 1039 n.46, 1108 n.212, 1109 n.215, 1116 n.232 Gospel of Luke  3, 56, 150, 160 n.142, 218 n.77, 227 n.93, 281 n.60, 304 n.116, 345 n.104, 348 n.112365 n.149, 383 n.181, 404 n.228, 443 n.70, 449 n.84, 471 n.22, 563 n.72, 575 n.16, 640 n.37, 645 n.38, 734 n.153, 742 n.5, 879 n.12, 951 n.61, 1103 n.197, 1108 n.210, 1109 n.215, 1110 n.217, 1113 n.225 Gospel of Mark  160 n.142, 227 n.93, 256 n.162, 281 n.60, 348 n.112, 443 n.70, 529 n.21, 731 n.143, 879 n.12, 1072 n.124, 1109 n.215 Gospel of Matthew  3, 54, 57, 75, 125 n.5, 126 n.8, 150 n.107– 108, 150 n.110, 160 n.142, 175 n.188–189, 178 n.203, 218 n.77, 227 n.93, 256 n.162, 273 n.31, 281 n.60, 330 n.46, 343 n.101, 345 n.104, 348 n.112,

1125

358 n.130, 365 n.149, 404 n.227, 418 n.20, 425 n.41–42, 442 n.68, 443 n.70, 445 n.75, 446 n.76, 449 n.83, 452 n.93, 488 n.53, 489 n.55, 489 n.57, 491 n.60, 550 n.56, 591 n.42, 604 n.70, 640 n.37, 674 n.119, 674 n.121, 714 n.88716 n.97, 717 n.104, 718 n.108, 719 n.110, 719 n.112, 720 n.113, 737 n.161, 742 n.5, 820 n.32, 824 n.44, 879 n.12, 900 n.47, 925 n.86, 937 n.23, 938 n.25, 943 n.40, 950 n.56, 951 n.61, 1002 n.144, 1002 n.146, 1012 n.170, 1050 n.73, 1054 n.80, 1065 n.107, 1072 n.124, 1109 n.215–216, 1113 n.225, 1115 n.231, 1116 n.232 Hebrews  21 n.64, 218 n.76, 358 n.128, 449 n.83, 488 n.54, 546 n.50, 564 n.73, 674 n.120, 846 n.92 Hosea  459 n.118 Isaiah  21, 77, 281 n.60, 330 n.46, 343 n.101, 358 n.129, 379 n.172, 404 n.228, 405 n.229, 443 n.70, 469 n.17, 475 n.30, 575 n.16, 581 n.24, 592 n.44, 624 n.115, 673 n.116, 846 n.92, 950 n.56, 1002 n.144 James  281 n.60, 339 n.92, 358 n.129, 373 n.162, 439 n.64, 449 n.83, 509 n.77, 516 n.92, 621 n.106, 624 n.114, 716 n.96, 751 n.25, 1064 n.101, 1064 n.103 Jeremiah  281 n.60, 575 n.16, 599 n.56, 639 n.35, 716 n.102, 848 n.102 Job  343 n.101, 521 n.4, 592 n.44, 724 n.121, 1011, 1035 n.34, 1076 n.140, 1099 n.183 Jude  548 n.53 Judges  350 n.116, 718 n.108 Kings  575 n.16, 599 n.56 Leviticus  281 n.60, 599 n.56

1126 Index

Malachi  335 n.76, 673 n.116 Numbers  475 n.31, 718 n.108, 1109 n.214 Obadiah  56 Peter  371 n.156, 419 n.21, 443 n.70, 446 n.76, 548 n.53, 616 n.90, 714 n.88, 846 n.92, 1049 n.71 Philippians  273 n.31, 445 n.74, 533 n.28, 1025 n.15, 1076 n.139 Proverbs  175 n.188, 226 n.91, 330 n.46, 331 n.52–60, 405 n.229, 439, 452 n.93, 489 n.56, 509 n.77, 562 n.70, 592 n.45, 621 n.106, 657 n.80, 719 n.111, 848 n.102, 880 n.16, 997 n.137, 1075 n.138, 1076 n.140 Psalms  350 n.117, 358 n.128, 464 n.2, 545 n.48, 623 n.110, 1092 n.171 Revelation  204 n.48, 218 n.77, 343 n.101, 358 n.129, 379 n.173, 396 n.211, 402 n.222, 405 n.229, 456 n.106, 540 n.41, 548 n.53, 566 n.82, 735 n.155, 778 n.66, 849 n.105, 895 n.42, 950 n.57, 962 n.76, 970 n.88 Romans  3, 125 n.3, 146 n.91, 348 n.112, 395 n.210, 408 n.2, 419 n.21, 438 n.59452 n.93, 564 n.75, 565 n.81, 673 n.116, 716 n.102, 940 n.29, 1011 n.168, 1064 n.102 Samuel  720 n.114 Song of Songs  330 n.51, 1075 n.137 Thessalonians  204 n.48 Timothy  395 n.209, 419 n.21, 449 n.83, 718 n.105, 1092 n.171 Titus  365 n.147, 742 n.5, 1101 n.187 Zechariah  456 n.107, 747 n.16, 848 n.102 See also New Testament, Old Testament Bienor  833 Bisaltis  467

Bise see Boreas Biston  198 Black Sea  942 n.37, 1113 n.227 Blanche of Castile  38 n.140 Blessed Mother  282, 1115 Blessed Sacrament  717, 733 n.150, 1103 Boar of Cremona  637 Boar of Crommyon  541 Boccaccio  58 Genealogy of the Pagan Gods  58 Boeotia  228 n.95, 797 n.1, 851, 905 n.56 Boethius  26 n.89, 28, 32, 33, 43, 142 n.77, 443, 540 n.38–39, 618 n.96–97 Consolation of Philosophy  2, 31, 443 n.69, 618 n.97 Bohemia  851 Bonaventure, Saint  ix, 12, 14, 39 n.141, 50, 51, 52, 53, 55, 57, 61 n.209, 72 , 73 , 74 , 76 , 79 , 142 n.77, 143 n.83, 151 n.111, 152 n.114, 153 n.119, 159 n.140, 171 n.175, 176 n.191, 177 n.196, 177 n.201, 178 n. 202, 178 n.204, 238 n.123, 244 n.137, 278 n.47, 330 n.51, 337 n.81, 342 n.100, 343 n.102, 373 n.160–161, 376 n.166, 395 n.209, 404 n.228, 409 n.4, 419 n.21, 421 n.25, 421 n.27, 422 n.29, 423 n.32, 424 n.34–36, 425 n.43, 426 n.44, 437 n.57, 441 n.67, 450 n.88, 451 n.90, 452 n.93, 456 n.106, 470 n.20, 483 n.41, 513 n.87, 517 n.93, 528 n.20, 529 n.21, 540 n.39, 545 n.47, 546 n.50, 569 n.6, 604 n.70, 616 n.90, 619 n.100, 665 n.95, 674 n.122, 682 n.13, 716 n.98–99, 729 n.139, 732 n.147, 733 n.150, 839 n.80, 845 n.92, 848 n.103, 944 n.43, 1001 n.143, 1009 n.161, 1062 n.93 See also Breviloquium Book of Life  735, 973, 987, 1102 Book of Prognostics  1087 Book of Revelation  961 Boniface, Saint  1101

Index

Bordeaux  198 Boreas  131, 155, 156, 515–517, 556, 801 See also Wind(s) Born of Fire  308 Bractia  164, 851 Breviloquium  14, 51, 52, 61, 76, 142 n.77, 143 n.83, 151 n.111, 153 n.119, 159 n.140, 171 n.175, 177 n.196, 177 n.201, 238 n.123, 244 n.137, 278 n.47, 342 n.100, 373 n.101, 395 n.209, 404 n.228, 409 n.4, 419 n.21, 421 n.27, 422 n.29, 423 n.32, 424 n.35–36, 425 n.43, 426 n.44, 437 n.57, 450 n.88, 451 n.90, 452 n.93, 456 n.106, 470 n.20, 483 n.41, 513 n.87, 528 n.20, 529 n.21, 533 n.28, 540 n.39, 545 n.47, 546 n.50, 569 n.6, 665 n.95, 682 n.13, 716 n.99, 729 n.139, 732 n.147, 733 n.150, 839 n.80, 845 n.92, 848 n.103, 944 n.43 Briseis  843–845, 888 Brittany  851, 1045 Bromius  308 Bromus  836 Bronze Age  141–142, 1028, 1095 Broteas Brother of Ammon  411 The Lapith  831 Brutus  1046 Bubastis 667 Bull  545 n.46 Acheloüs  610, 614, 627, 629, 630 Cerastae 690 Constellation  193, 1069 Cretan  541, 545, 571, 575, 577–579, 582, 637, 669 Jupiter as a  40 n.147, 259–262, 263, 466, 473, 568, 571 of Marathon  636 Minotaur  584 Sacrifice  401, 405, 507, 553, 605, 1043, 1096, 1110 Perseus Fights Firebreathing Bulls  520–526, 529, 531, 537

1127

Burgundy  12, 197, 851, 1045 Buris  1029 Busiris  636, 640 Butes  551 Buthrotus 906–907 Byblis  656–666 Cacus  541, 1050 n.72 Cadmus of Miletus  656–664 the Wise  260, 263–268, 273– 274, 278 n.51, 293, 295, 300, 377–378, 380, 650, 651 n.64 Caeneus Perrebus  69, 821 n.34, 827, 836, 837, 838, 921 n.82 Caenis  828, 829, 921 n.82 Caesar see Julius Caesar, Augustus Caïcus, River  823 Cain  138, 200 n.39, 255 n.161 Calabria  851 Calaïs  516, 521 Calchas  815–816, 844, 860 Calcidius  2, 28, 43, 127 n.11, 267 n.17 Calliope  431, 434, 440 n.66, 443, 452, 453, 457, 460 Callirhoë  647, 652, 655, 656, 764 Callisto  6, 25, 210–217, 219–220, 693 n.46, 703 n.67 Calvary, Mount  1104, 1106 n.206, 1110 Calydon  198, 492, 594, 595, 601, 602, 603, 627, 628, 631, 651, 977, 996 Calydonian Boar  594–598, 648 n.58 Calydonius  594 Calymne  589 Camisus  198 Campagna 196 Canaanites  162 Cancer  193, 686, 724, 1031 n.27, 1072 n.127–128 Canen(s)  964, 967, 970, 971–973 Canicinos  893 Capaneus  650, 651, 652 Capetus  992

1128 Index

Capitol  942, 1047, 1112 Cappadocia  198, 851, 946 Cappus  763 Capreae  1043 Caprean Marsh  1015 Capys  992 Carapem see Charopes Cardinals  203, 752 Caria  334, 339 Carthaea  686 Carthage  931, 933, 935 Carthaginian(s)  933 Caspes 196 Cassandra  764, 884, 978 Cassius  1046 Castor  466, 595, 596, 806 n.11, 807 Cato  187 n.218, 495 Caucasus, Mount  45, 196, 612, 948 n.54 Cauldron of Story  13–14, 33 Caulona  1043 Cecilia, Saint  736 n.158 Cecrops, King  223 n.83–84, 248–249, 469, 547 See also Daughters of Cecrops Celadon The Mendesian  413 The Centuar  831 Celmis  333 Cenis, Mount  197 Centaur(s)  8, 125 n.1, 233, 248 n.142, 249, 366, 631–633, 806, 829–838, 841, 843, 1028 Archer, constellation  233 n.103, 1076, 1077 Ceos  686 n.20 Cephalus Father of Lucifer as Morning Star  194 n.13 Husband of Procris  515, 550, 551, 555–566, 567 Cephas  516 See also Peter, Saint Cepheus, King  399, 407, 408, 413 Cephisus  283 n.63, 293 Fords of  157, 161, 263

Ceramon see Coaeranos Cerastae  574 n.15, 690, 728 Cerberus  40, 358, 369, 543, 544, 634 n.15, 636 Cercidamas  875 Cercopes  935–937 Cercopians  935 Ceres  412, 431, 433–437, 444–445, 447–453, 457–459, 492, 542, 610–612, 655, 702, 756 Ceyx, King  194 n.13, 773, 774–776, 777–778, 780–789, 794 Chaillou de Pestain  65 Chalcedon  945 Chaldea  163, 164 Chaon  764 Chaonia  413, 907 Chaos  129 Charaxus  831 Chariot of the Sun  9, 45, 62, 63, 132, 192–197, 199–200, 202–203, 205, 209 Charity  73 , 74 , 142, 161, 170 n.170, 175, 176, 177 n.196, 178, 202, 203, 244, 250, 252, 253, 258, 331, 344, 349, 364, 373, 375, 376, 388, 397, 405, 419, 427, 429, 448, 469, 475, 476, 488, 534, 550, 564, 574, 603, 624, 630, 665, 717, 720, 721, 722, 731, 732, 736, 827, 839, 857, 898 n.44, 899, 903, 904, 951, 967, 1014, 1054, 1057, 1059, 1065, 1066, 1071, 1072, 1073, 1077, 1083, 1084, 1092, 1095, 1096, 1099, 1101 See also Good Love Charlemagne, Emperor  2, 24 Charles of Anjou  38 n.141 Charon  543 Charopes  875 Charybdis  906–907, 913, 914, 929 n.9, 1063 Chastity  159, 174, 186, 212, 230, 244 n.138, 258, 314, 382 n.179, 423, 424, 427, 468, 482, 483, 591, 659, 665, 691, 715, 721, 773, 803, 808, 1095

Index

Chaucer  7 n.11, 59, 60, 78, 134 n.48, 141 n.77, 458 n.112, 627 n.28, 780 n.69, 815 n.22 Canterbury Tales  7 n.11, 134 n.48 Troilus and Criseyde  815 Chedorlaomer  165 Cherubim see Angel(s) Chimera  388, 389 n.194, 391, 392 Mount  27, 390, 662 Chione  775, 780 Chios  296, 299, 303, 585 Chiron  69, 225, 233, 235, 239, 240, 541 Chrétien li Gois  503 Chrétien de Troyes  7, 12, 47, 493, 513, 515 See also Arthurian Romances Chrisicropus  271 Christianity  1, 2, 3 n.2, 19, 22, 39, 52, 60, 65, 154 n.127, 934, 970, 973, 992, 1060 Christian(s)  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 11, 13, 15, 19, 21 n.62, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 n.88, 28 n.96, 36, 42, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 66, 75 , 77 , 126 n.11, 162, 177 n.193, 217 n.70, 417 n.17, 548 n.53, 609 n.77, 641, 663, 690, 732, 792, 843, 896, 900, 911, 946, 949, 980 n.103, 993, 1011, 1012 n.169, 1051, 1056, 1106, 1107 Christian Doctrine  30, 38, 39, 62, 65 Christian belief/faith  25, 51, 52, 160, 161, 176 n.193, 202, 239, 323, 332, 345, 418, 423, 459, 529, 624, 641, 647, 654, 715, 717, 719, 721, 723, 735, 742, 746, 780, 793, 814, 879, 882, 886, 887, 896, 898, 904, 909, 912, 930, 936, 944 n.43, 954, 955, 958, 962, 967, 969, 976, 977, 983, 986, 988, 990, 1049, 1050, 1058, 1096, 1099, 1101, 1103, 1104, 1108 n.209, 1116

1129

Christian Prayer  163 n.150, 167 n.162, 207 n.1, 311 n.8–7, 437 n.56, 477 n.33, 593 n.46, 600 n.62, 643 n.47, 647 n.51, 692 n.42, 702 n.65, 785 n.73, 790 n.76, 862 n.116, 950 n.58, 1040 n.49 Christian Scripture  20, 22 See also Scripture Christian Text  5, 1033 n.30 Christinus, Saint  736 Chromis Slayer of Emathion  411 Killed by Pirithoüs  832 Chromius  875 Chryse  844 n.88, 872 Chryseis  815 n.22, 843–845, 888 Chryses  843, 844 n.88 C(h)thonius  835 Church of Rome  1101 Church Triumphant  417, 452, 1018 See also Ecclesia, Holy Church Cicero  17, 22, 23, 136 n.56, 638 n.31 Hortensius  22 On the Nature of the Gods 17, 136 n.56 Ciconia  516, 677, 1029 Ciconian Women  739, 743 Cignus  198 Cilicia  260, 389 n.195, 390 n.196, 941, 946 Cilix Mount 197 King  260 Cillenus 196 Cinyras  466, 473 Father of Myrrha  693–705, 729, 732 n.148 Cipus  1038–1040, 1103–1104 Circe  251 n.148, 926, 927–929, 957 n.70, 959–966, 969, 974–975, 1043, 1063 Cistercians  12 Cithaeron 196 Citaresus 197

1130 Index

Clamidia  851 Clanis Killed by Perseus  413 Killed by Peleus  833 n.61 Claros  171, 780, 872 See also Apollo Clémence of Hungary, Queen  7 Clement Of Alexandria  20 Of Rome, Saint  845 n.92, 1049, 1101 Cleonae  492 Cleopatra  1047, 1112 Clergie  73 , 185, 200, 225, 235, 266, 267, 396, 429, 437, 438, 439, 440, 441, 442, 876 Clerk of Sainte-Maure see Benoît of Sainte-Maure Clio  440 n.66 Clitorius  1030 Clotho  1045 n.63 Clymene  62, 188, 189, 191–192, 206–207 Clymenus  411 Clytie  323, 325–326, 330–333 Clytius  413 Clytos  551 Clytus  411 Coaeranos  875 Cocalus, King  590, 593 Cocinthia  1043 Cocytus  681 Cognition  133, 177, 470 n.20 Colchis  347, 349, 519, 520–522, 805, 867 Collatinus 1111 Commandment(s)  177, 178, 243, 262, 342, 429, 448, 529, 576, 633, 664, 1010, 1064 See also Ten Commandments Concord  904 Confession  162, 186, 237, 244, 249, 250, 320 n.24, 370, 423, 439, 449, 450, 451 n.89, 456, 457, 473, 489, 491, 493, 535, 573, 673, 674, 683, 718, 723, 732, 733, 748, 750, 792,

826, 936, 1013, 1058, 1066, 1067, 1090, 1091, 1095 See also Penance Conrad of Hirsau  25 Constant  948 Constantine, King  945, 1101 n.190, 1106–1107 Contention  231, 232 Continence/Continent  74 , 76 , 77 , 153, 175, 258, 344, 397, 405, 423 n.33, 484, 615, 618, 619, 620, 621, 665, 723, 730, 732, 967, 1011 Corinna  1113 Corinth  492, 541 n.42, 649 n.59, 977 n.99, 1036 Cornelis de Boer  59, 67, 69, 72, 74, 128 n.16128 n.20, 129 n.23, 130 n.28, 132 n.43, 133 n.45, 136 n.54, 137 n.59, 139 n.72, 142 n.80, 143 n.85, 146 n.92, 148 n.96, 150 n.109, 152 n.115, 152 n.117, 153 n.120, 156 n.130, 157 n.135–136, 161 n.143, 164 n.153, 169 n.166–167, 170 n.169, 171 n.172, 173 n.180, 176 n.194, 183 n.209, 183 n.211, 190 n.222, 207 n.53, 216 n.69, 217 n.72, 241 n.134, 278 n.51, 283 n.66, 302 n.108, 341 n.99, 386 n.187, 391 n.199, 397 n.213, 398 n.215, 416 n.15, 423 n.32, 438 n.58, 440 n.65, 445 n.73, 445 n.75, 448 n.81, 449 n.82, 450 n.85, 451 n.91, 454 n.99, 454 n.101, 457 n.109, 458 n.111, 460 n.119, 461 n.123, 464 n.4, 466 n.11, 472 n.23–24, 485 n.46, 489 n.58, 496 n.68, 499 n.71, 512 n.81, 531 n.24, 539 n.37, 561 n.69, 564 n.77, 565 n.80, 566 n.83–84, 578 n.19, 582 n.26, 586 n.31, 589 n.38, 592 n.43, 596 n.52, 599 n.58, 605 n.71–72, 610 n.79, 617 n.91–03, 617 n.95, 618 n.96, 619 n.98–100, 620 n.101–102, 621 n.108, 625 n.116, 639 n.33, 639 n.36, 640 n.37, 647 n.55, 654 n75, 662 n.90, 665 n.96, 696 n.56. 699 n.61–62, 713 n.86, 716 n.100, 718 n.106–107, 731 n.144, 735 n.155,

Index

740 n.2, 743 n.7, 746 n.14, 748 n.20, 749 n.21, 753 n.29, 754 n.30, 756 n.35, 757 n.38, 759 n.44, 760 n.46, 761 n.47, 763 n.50, 764 n.53, 769 n.55. 773 n.57–58, 774 n.62, 799 n.3–4, 804 n.9, 806 n.10, 807 n.12, 813 n.16, 813 n.18, 815 n.21, 821 n.35, 824 n.44, 825 n.46, 826 n.48, 831 n.55, 836 n.72, 844 n.89, 846 n.93, 848 n.99–100, 849 n.104, 840 n.106, 859 n.114, 862 n.118, 885 n.26, 890 n.33, 905 n.58, 909 n.65, 912 n.69, 916 n.75, 934 n.15, 935 n.20, 936 n.21, 939 n.28, 941 n.31, 942 n.36, 942 n.38, 942 n.39, 946 n.48, 948 n.51, 950 n.59, 951 n.60, 951 n.62, 953 n.63, 955 n.64, 956 n.67–68, 958 n.71, 972 n.92, 973 n.93, 973 n.95, 975 n.96–97, 982 n.105, 982 n.107, 984 n.109, 986 n.112, 987 n.115, 990 n.120–121, 993 n.131, 996 n.136, 1004 n.152, 1010 n.165, 1011 n169, 1021 n.5, 1024 n.12, 1030 n.23, 1032 n.29, 1034 n.33, 1037 n.37, 1037 n.40–41, 1038 n.42, 1038 n.44, 1041 n.52, 1043 n.56, 1044 n.60, 1048 n.66, 1050 n.74, 1054 n.79, 1057 n.83, 1062 n.94, 1067 n.113, 1070 n.121, 1070 n.122, 1079 n.145, 1091 n.166, 1091 n.168, 1092 n.169, 1092 n.171, 1094 n.176, 1098 n.182, 1100 n.186, 1105 n.205, 1107 n.207, 1108 n.211, 1114 n.229, 1118 n.234 Coroneus, King  223, 228, 229, 232 Coronis  221–232, 1040, 1104 n.202, 1110 n.219 Cortona  1043 Corythus Fighting with Perseus  412 Killed by Rhoetus  831 Covetousness  63, 65, 134, 141, 142 n.77, 143, 151, 203, 204, 242, 243, 249, 250, 259, 332, 342, 348, 363, 364, 374, 409, 417, 438, 449, 483, 484, 514, 528 n.20, 562, 618, 623, 655, 681, 700, 708, 747, 754, 767,

1131

793, 808, 839, 879, 936, 947, 956, 957, 958, 986, 1009 n.163, 1055, 1056, 1083, 1091, 1096 Lady  736 Crantor  833 Crayfish  1031, 1072, 1073 See also Cancer Creator, The  10, 22, 25 n.82, 35, 127, 128, 149, 190, 218, 310, 323, 409, 425, 442, 443, 451, 459, 474, 514, 550, 561, 624, 640, 645, 646, 655, 726, 729 n.138, 733, 758, 759, 921, 1053, 1056, 1060, 1066 Spirit of God  132 Sub-creator  3 Crenaeus  832 Crete  134, 136, 137, 140, 144, 184, 196, 233, 261, 262, 263, 473, 548, 580, 582, 588, 656, 666, 668, 669, 726, 797, 798, 801, 804, 809, 906, 947, 1037 Cressida  815 n.22 See also Chryseis Creusa Married to Jason  536, 538, 540 Married to Aeneas  763, 933 n.11 Crispin, Saint  736 n.158 Crocus  333 Crommyon see Boar of Crommyon Cromyn see Chromius Cronomon see Ennomos Cronus  136 n.56 Cross  167, 205, 232, 236, 273, 282, 301, 371, 379 n.173, 388, 396, 402, 404, 405, 408, 417, 420, 422, 423, 426, 446, 475, 529, 533, 534, 563, 587, 591, 600, 603, 604, 641, 653, 664, 672, 714, 724, 746, 752, 790, 792, 824, 825, 826, 827, 840, 843, 865, 893, 903, 908, 909, 910, 912, 922, 925, 948, 957, 980, 991, 1002, 1015, 1016, 1017, 1018, 1050, 1096, 1099, 1103, 1104, 1105, 1106 n.206, 1107, 1109, 1110, 1115 See also Holy Cross Croton  1019, 1021 Crotona  1019–1021, 1022, 1049–1050

1132 Index

Crow  221–224, 228–232 Crucifixion  78 , 377 n.168, 716 n.103, 731 n.143, 1109 n.214 See also Cross, Holy Cross Cumae  937, 940, 941, 1043 Cupid  72 , 136 n.56, 137, 138 n.62, 168–169, 177, 446 See also God of Love (Cupid) Curetes  333 Cyane  433–434, 447, 449 Cybele  135, 658, 686, 712, 735 n.154, 757, 759, 984 Cycnus  207 n.54, 819–828 Cygnus  206–208 Cyllarus  834–835 Cyllene, Mount  454, 775 Cymelus  835 Cynapses  198 Cynossema see Canicinos Cyntus 196 Cyparissus  272 n.30, 686–687, 723–725 Cyprus  137 n.56, 196, 690 n.35, 692, 711, 712, 807, 997 Cythera  807 Dacia  851, 1047 n.64 Dactyls  334 n.66 Daedalion  773–776, 780 Daedalus  579–580, 588–593 Damascithon  480 Damascus  271 Damin  833 Damnation  139, 177, 228, 238, 249, 258, 259, 273, 292, 340, 343, 370, 402, 417, 418, 420, 429, 439, 446, 452, 475, 517, 528, 546, 561, 562, 586, 592, 624, 638, 672, 673, 716, 718, 719, 731, 733, 746, 755, 824, 825, 843, 865, 914, 975, 981, 986, 988, 1017 n.175,1047, 1052, 1054, 1058, 1085, 1089, 1102 Danaë  168 n.163, 380–384, 399 Danaids  255–259 See also Belides Danaus  255–259, 360 n.139, 367 n.152

Dante  2, 11, 13, 16, 23, 35, 37, 38, 43 n.156, 48 n.169, 49, 72, 73, 74 , 76 , 127 n.14, 153 n.119, 187 n.218, 200 n.39, 244 n.138, 335 n.75, 358 n.130, 362 n.144, 391 n.200, 435 n.55, 443 n.72, 446 n.76, 453 n.97, 463 n.1, 482 n.40, 483 n.41, 508 n.76, 558 n.66, 573 n.12, 599 n.57, 604 n.70, 703 n.66, 714 n.88, 848 n.103, 868 n.1, 938 n.26 Daphne  1, 8, 125 n.1, 168–176, 179, 455 n.103, 721 n.116 Daphnis  333 Dardanus  763 Dares Phrygius  519 n.1, 756 n.37, 797 n.1, 821, 858 n.112, 862 n.117 Daughters of Anius  900–905 of Cecrops  222, 223, 224 n.84, 228, 244–254 of Danaus see Danaids of Minyas  8, 125 n.1, 307–309, 310–311, 323, 333, 340–345, 346 of Proetus  1030 David  350, 404, 521 n.4, 714 n.88, 720, 925, 972, 1085, 1088, 1092, 1109 Day of Judgment  175, 210, 426, 574, 593, 882, 900, 910, 1096 Divine Judgment  370, 561, 603, 887, 1024, 1057, 1062, 1102 Last Judgment  9 n.15, 62, 63, 64, 209, 428, 546, 674 n.121, 819, 886, 909, 912, 913, 949 Judgment of Evil Angels  548 n.53 Judgment of God  50, 51 Judgment of Hell  261 Judgment of Paradise  249 Judgment of Souls  143 n.83 Second Coming  52 Sword of Judgment  640, 814, 934 De mundi universitate  31 Dead  11, 176, 209, 233, 236, 239, 244, 258, 262, 350, 358, 384, 396–397, 425, 426, 428, 446, 471,

Index

493, 496 n.69, 534, 546, 550, 562, 614, 638, 663, 672, 684, 715 n.92, 719, 732, 742, 751, 794. 819, 886, 893 n.38, 894, 909, 911, 981, 1010, 1014, 1017, 1046, 1099, 1102, 1105, 1115 Dead Sea  166 Deceiver, The  451, 654, 896, 955, 1114 Deianeira 996 Deianira  603–604, 627–633, 634 n.18, 635–636, 639–642, 832 Deïphobus  764 Deity  128, 151, 177, 218, 322, 383, 405, 468, 529, 603, 614, 640, 719, 743, 779, 827, 904, 921, 1003, 1099, 1102 Deliverer, The  281, 304, 379, 383, 392, 404, 475, 754, 840, 903, 1109 Delos  182 n.207, 296, 255 n.104, 478, 486, 589, 747 n.16, 851 n.108, 901, 1030 n.24, 1037 Delphi  171, 775, 780, 941, 1024 n.13, 1040 Delphic Oracle  1072 n.126 Deluge  159–161, 615, 725 Demoleon  833 Demons  11, 140, 880 n.15 Deois  466 Dercetis  307–310 Despair  170, 227, 320 n.24, 397, 419, 476, 540, 599, 675, 734, 1076, 1088, 1089 Deucalion  37, 154, 156–163, 166, 690 n.37 Devil, The  11, 56, 57, 63, 64, 75 , 141, 167, 168, 178, 185 n.214, 194 n.13, 227, 228, 231, 238, 249, 254, 262, 272, 278 n.50, 309, 310, 323, 349, 358, 363, 366, 380, 387, 392, 396, 398, 402, 403, 404, 406 n.231, 420, 426, 428, 439, 446, 447, 448, 449, 451, 452, 460, 468, 470, 472, 476, 477, 500, 510, 517, 528, 529, 533, 538, 539, 540, 563, 573, 575, 576, 581, 582, 586, 587, 591, 594,

1133

599, 600 n.60, 603, 614, 630, 633, 639, 640, 653, 654, 674, 677, 683, 684, 709 n.78, 717, 719, 724 n.119, 725, 727, 732, 742, 742, 779, 780, 790, 796, 824, 839, 842, 846, 849, 857, 880 n.15, 887, 921, 922, 940, 954, 955, 957, 958, 959, 962, 970, 976, 988, 1009, 1010, 1038 n.44, 1050, 1057, 1071, 1077, 1102, 1112 n.223, 1114 See also Adversary, Deceiver, Enemy, Evil One, False Prophet, Foolish Angel, Leader of Pride, Master of Folly, Satan, Serpent, Traitor Devils  132, 190, 220, 305, 343, 392, 412, 438 n.61, 439, 460, 461, 464, 485, 507, 513, 517, 545, 585, 598, 684, 796, 880, 911, 970 See also Demons Dialectic  22m 267 n.14, 851 Diana  60, 169, 170, 174, 182, 187, 210–215, 218, 268–270, 272–273, 365 n.148, 431, 432, 455, 477 n.34, 479–482, 558, 594, 596 n.49, 597, 603 n.68, 642 n.44, 651 n.65, 756, 775, 816–817, 1037 See also The Arcadian Dicteüs 196 Dictys  297, 832, 862 n.118 Dido  2, 931–935 Diligence  244 n.138, 277, 333, 345, 426, 439, 461, 622, 791, 1019, 1051, 1058, 1094 Dindimus 196 Diogenes Laërtius  16 n.37 Life of Heraclitus  16 n.37 Diomedes, King  865, 869–870, 874, 877, 977–980, 981–984, 1045 Killed by Theseus  541 Overthrown by Hercules  637, 640 Dione  137 n.56 Dionysius  277 Dionysius, Saint  736 Dirapses  198 Dircen 197

1134 Index

Dis  135, 433, 435, 544 Discord  757, 759 n.44, 760 Divine Comedy  2, 10, 13, 23, 37, 72, 362 n.144 See also Dante Divine Flesh  423, 908, 910, 980, 1103 Divine Friendship  981, 1003 Divine Justice  989 Divine Mercy  370, 673, 896, 1003, 1009, 1017 Divine Word  161, 533, 564, 741 Divine Wisdom  477 as God the Father  232, 252 n.152, 358, 715, 725, 729, 753, as Jesus  32, 69, 74 , 78 , 177 n.198, 227, 254, 330, 357, 421, 460, 468, 529, 664, 840 n.81, 846, 857, 865, 912, 921, 940, 953, 954, 962, 980, 1009, 1050 See also Sapience Dodona  554, 563, 611 Dodonia 907 Dolon  870, 874, 877 Dominations see Angel(s) Dominic de Guzman  54 See also Dominican(s) Dominican(s)  12, 53, 54, 55, 58 n.191, 301, 487, 492, 750 Doris  192, 757, 851 Dorylas  412, 833 Dove  128, 221, 310, 420, 423, 516, 517, 574 n.10, 691, 730, 776, 902, 905, 918 n.77, 990, 1031, 1043 n.58, 1099 Draco  195 n,16, 264 n.6–7 Dragon  8, 9, 264–267, 294, 377, 532 n.26, 538, 598, 612, 677, 743, 794 Dragon’s Teeth  267 Driope  614 Dryas  831–832 Dryope  644–646 Dulichia  810, 811, 906, 951 Duns Scotus  50 Eagle  56, 466, 474, 482, 678 n.3, 687, 688, 725, 726, 726, 841, 1031, 1078 n.143, 1079, 1080, 1081, 1099

Eas 179 East  334 n.72, 413, 1113 Easter  405, 733, 827 Easterners  945, 1111 Eberhard of Béthune  43 Graecismus  43 Ecclesia  232, 417 n.17, 420 n.23, 474 n.26, 549 n.54, 587, 726 n.128, 726 n.132, 757 n.39, 845 n.91, 864, 893 See also Holy Church Echo  1, 48, 168 n.163, 282, 283– 286, 290, 802 n.7, 937 n.24 Echinades  623 Echion Father of Pentheus   293 Fought the boar  596 Edon 196 Effeneon  833 Egeria  1034, 1035–1037, 1038, 1101–1103 Egg, Ovid’s  9–11, 37, 43, 129–130 Egypt  2, 62, 183, 185, 186, 188, 189, 197, 248, 249, 255, 275, 276, 378, 431, 443, 445, 446, 545, 808, 851, 941, 1010, 1044, 1047, 1112 Egyptian(s)  3 n.1, 23, 29, 127, 186 n.217, 399 n.217, 581, 825, 905, 948, 1113 Elamite Kingdom  165 Elatus  828 Eldye see Elis Electra  763, 800 Eleleus  308 Elijah  881, 949 Elis  136 n.56, 197, 240, 435, 450, 453, 454, 636 Elisabeth  880 n.17 Elymus  836 Elysian Fields  Emathia  836, 1047 Emathion  411 Enaesimus  596 End of Time  962 See also Second Coming Enemy, The  150, 175, 178, 202, 406, 420, 421, 437, 470, 475, 528, 539, 550, 564, 565, 580, 604, 640, 653,

Index

654, 779, 827, 839, 846, 848, 857, 858, 880, 899, 908, 922, 954, 1002, 1015, 1050, 1058, 1071, 1102, 1118 England  39, 58, 458 n.112, 685 n.18, 851, 1044, 1101 n.191 Enip(h)eus  179, 198 Ennomos  875 Enoch  881, 949 Enrichon  595 Envy  246–255, 706 Vice  46, 66, 141, 143, 145, 147, 153, 154, 178, 221, 227, 232, 236, 237, 239, 240, 258, 273, 301, 331, 342 n.100, 362, 363, 364, 368, 370, 379, 391, 424, 438, 449, 469, 483, 484, 492, 528 n.20, 539, 545, 548, 550, 561, 574, 586, 599, 615, 638, 653, 654, 654, 683, 717, 721, 740, 741, 746, 754, 827, 839, 839, 865, 908, 944, 947, 948, 958, 993, 1017, 1096, 1097, 1099, 1105, 1109, 1110, 1114, 1115, 1118 Eoüs  195 Epaphus  183, 188–191, 255 Epidaurus  1040 n.49, 1041, 1044 Epirus  197, 554 n.60, 907 Epytus 991 Erasinus  1028 Erato  440 Erectheus  515 Erichthonius  223 n.84, 230, 246, 655, 726 n.130, 763 Eridanum  200, 206 Erigone  467 Erimethus (Erymanthus?)  198 Erimus  198 Eriphyle  651 Ermenrich of Ellwangen  24 Erymanthus  196, 454 Erysichthon  610–613 Eryx  415 Mount  196, 935 Esau  498 Eteocles  648–650 Ethemon  413–414 Ethiopia  200, 398 n.216, 851, 942, 1029 Ethiopians  189, 198, 581, 948

1135

Etna, Mount  196, 390 n.196, 920 n.80, 927, 1030, 1096 Euagrus  831 Euboea  902, 950 Eucharist  244 n.137, 600 n.60, 643 n.45, 716 n.103, 733 n.150 See also Blessed Sacrament, Sacrament of the Altar Euhan  308 See also Wind(s) Euhemerus  17, 19, 61 Sacred History 17 Eumenides  601 n.64, 678 Euphorbus  1025 Euphrates  198, 1101 n.188 Euriphilus  764 Europa  40 n.147, 259–262, 263, 466, 473 Europe  1, 37, 40 n.147, 49, 53, 54, 65, 194 n.15, 261, 703 n.66, 810 Eurotas  197, 688 Eurus  131 See also Wind(s) Euryale  384–386 Eurydice  42 n.154, 63–64, 677–685, 713 Eurylochus 960 Eurynomus  832 Eurystheus, King  637 n.23–24, 637 n.29, 639 Eurytus  596 n.52 Centaur  829–830, 839 Fought Perseus  410, 418 King  634 n.18 Eusebius Pamphili  22, 845 n.92 Euterpe  440 n.66 Evander 976 Evangelist(s)  202, 383, 420 n.23, 474, 549 n.54, 622, 726 n.128, 726 n.132, 757 n.39, 846 n.91, 864 n.124, 925, 1060 Eve  31, 76 , 167, 242, 349, 528, 538, 545, 580, 586, 603, 691 n.38, 725, 729, 838, 839 n.80, 903 n.54 See also First Mother, First Parents, First People Evenus see Licormas Evil One, The  204, 208, 456

1136 Index

Exadius  831 Ezekiel  202 Fables  24, 49, 75 , 125 n.6, 126 n.10–11, 235 n.109, 443 n.71, 714 n.89 Fables of Hyginus  13, 18, 347 n.106 Faith  12, 21, 22, 126, 133, 141, 142, 165, 203, 242, 244, 251, 258, 267, 282, 344, 364, 379, 397, 416, 421, 424, 425, 426, 427, 459, 470, 476, 614, 630, 655, 665, 736, 747, 751, 792, 817, 843, 849, 911, 934, 935, 941, 972, 973, 979, 980, 984, 1054, 1060, 1064, 1095, 1106, 1110, 1117 Falernum 196 False Idols  140, 163–164, 167, 243, 287 n.68, 292 n.91, 301, 307, 310, 437 n.56, 443, 445, 477, 593, 600, 604, 645, 646, 647, 693 n.44, 702 n.65, 785, 790 n.76, 862, 946, 948, 950, 962, 963, 1001, 1040 n.49, 1053, 1054, 1101 False Prophet, The  654 Fame  78, 818, 819 n.29, 1048 See also Rumor Fate  436, 437, 512, 656, 688, 816 Fates  600 n.63, 1045 n.63 Father, The  46, 128, 168, 178, 190, 204, 218, 236, 272, 273, 277, 281, 302, 303, 350, 376, 383, 392, 395, 396, 397, 402, 404, 409, 420, 421, 425, 426, 427, 438, 445, 446, 448, 449, 452, 474, 475, 516, 517, 529, 539, 540, 548, 581, 587, 594, 600, 623, 639 n.34, 641, 645, 647, 655, 662 n.91, 665, 673, 715, 717, 719, 725, 726, 734, 814, 827, 840, 845, 848, 880, 903, 904, 908, 909, 911, 921, 926, 936, 940, 943, 944, 969, 990, 991, 992, 993, 1009, 1015, 1016, 1017, 1018, 1049, 1058, 1100, 1101, 1107, 1115, 1116, 1117 February  1035 Feminia  637, 641, 851 n.109, 863

Feminine Land see Feminia First Father  603, 818, 845, 857, 1100 Man  272, 533, 717, 758, 839, 880, 903, 989, 1009, 1058, 1099, 1107, 1108 Mother  349, 376, 402, 404, 535, 546, 693, 796, 969, 1056 Parents  76 , 242, 903 People  683, 725 Flanders  1044 Flood  149, 154–166, 754 Forbidden Fruit  76 , 139, 349, 423 n.30, 528, 586, 771, 903, 925 Form  1, 8, 28, 30, 31 n.110, 33 n.119, 36, 127, 128, 129, 131, 133, 150, 158, 164, 166, 181, 191, 222, 245, 246, 260, 262, 263, 273, 279, 289, 314, 325, 333, 337, 338, 372, 373, 377, 383, 395, 442 n.67, 443, 447, 453, 455, 464, 467, 470 n.20, 526, 528 n.20, 534, 540, 565, 579, 580, 590, 610, 614, 630 n.5–6, 639, 640, 686, 688, 705, 725, 729, 732 n.148, 753, 756, 758, 759, 787, 788, 797 n.1, 834, 840, 841, 884, 898, 918 n.78, 926, 942, 966, 969, 970, 979, 990 n.120, 999, 1002, 1015, 1017, 1025, 1026, 1028, 1029, 1031, 1032, 1034, 1036, 1037, 1038, 1040, 1042, 1048, 1060, 1077, 1103 Fortune  76 , 156, 173, 195, 268, 269, 273, 274, 286, 347, 355, 377, 479, 480, 499 n.71, 560, 617, 618 n.97, 648, 649, 681, 688, 709, 710, 713, 727, 756, 776, 795, 831, 847, 856, 889, 891, 932, 971, 973 Forum  1047 Four Ages  42 n.154, 46, 134–139 Four Elements  28, 30, 37, 129, 130, 759, 851, 1027, 1061, 1063, 1078, 1085 Four Seasons  140, 850, 1000, 1026, 1058, 1063 Fourth Lateran Council  53, 54, 55

Index

Fountain of Narcissus  48, 76 , 286–292 France  1, 7, 13, 14 n.29, 15 n.29, 21 n.62, 38 n.140, 47, 53, 55, 58, 65, 77 , 715 n.95, 851, 885, 945, 947, 1045 Francis of Assisi, Saint  54 See also Franciscans Franciscan(s)  12, 53–55, 66, 301, 419 n.21, 487 n.51, 492, 750 French  1, 5, 6, 7, 10, 13, 15, 16, 32, 43, 49, 52, 59, 61, 66, 68, 69, 70, 72 , 75 , 76 , 79 , 125, 126 n.7, 138 n. 60–61, 145 n.89, 167 n.160, 186 n.217, 187, 196 n.17, 197 n.22, 198 n.29, 211 n.57, 222 n.82, 223 n.84, 234 n.107, 241 n.134, 264 n.6, 269 n.20, 271 n.26, 272 n.30, 275 n.39, 277 n.47, 283 n.66, 293 n.93, 304 n.115, 305 n.117, 332 n.63, 341 n.98, 356 n.125, 412 n.10, 497, 499 n.71, 524 n.8, 526 n.14, 528 n.18, 634 n.17, 636 n.22, 672 n.112, 688 n.27, 697 n.58, 704 n.68–69, 733 n.152, 741 n.4, 819 n.29, 829 n.52, 880, 885, 966 n.81, 971 n.89, 986 n.113, 1074 n.133, 1092 n.170, 1094 n.175 Friday  138 Friendship  71, 74 , 140, 150, 165, 219, 258, 322, 332, 358, 373, 419, 422, 427, 539, 545, 563, 588, 620, 684, 717, 725, 733, 734, 843, 914, 981, 990, 1003, 1004 Fulco of Orléans  34 Fulgentius  18, 32, 126 n.7, 281 n.58, 386 n.188, 389 n.194, 392 n.201, 440 n.66, 483 n.41 Mythologies  14, 18, 19, 360 n.138, 389 n.194 Fury/Furies  183 n.210, 358–361, 368, 369, 370 n.155, 678 n.4 Galanthis  642–643 Galatea  757, 914–920, 921 n.82, 922 Galatia  941

1137

Galerne  131 See also Wind(s) Galgunea  941 Galilee  604, 614, 941 n.35, 1017, 1105 Gallus 197 Ganges  198 Ganymede  687–688, 726 n.130, 763, 800 Garden of Eden  9, 10, 1108 n.208 Gargaphie  269 Gargara 196 Gascony  300, 1045 Gediz see Hermus Gehenna 1096 Gemini  1069 n.120, 1072 n.128 Gentilisa  69, 232, 254, 587–588, 604, 624, 645, 647, 914, 931, 962, 976, 1018, 1051, 1054 Geometry  49, 851 Germany  15 n.29, 26 n.88, 851, 1045 Gervais du Bus  65 Geryon  463 n.1, 541, 636, 640 Getia  1047 Giant(s)  27, 45, 46, 69, 143–148, 149, 240, 242, 431, 445, 478, 541, 636, 637 n.24–25, 640, 687, 725, 915–920, 927, 953, 954, 959, 1023, 1050 Gigantea  927 Gironde  198 Glaucus  8, 125 n.1, 388 n.192, 922–926, 927–931 Glorious Maiden  176, 254, 402, 639, 857, 1116, 1117 Gloss/Glossing  4, 5, 15, 31, 33, 35, 36, 40, 42, 43, 47, 50, 51, 58, 61, 69, 77 , 130 n.28, 132, 142 n.82, 162 n.147, 176, 308 n.3, 338, 357, 372, 385, 389, 396, 398, 408 n.3, 451 n.91, 468, 472 n.24, 540, 639 n.33, 671, 698 n.59, 726, 727 n.134, 728, 732 n.147–148, 737, 825, 862 n.118, 883, 895, 904, 909 n.65, 912, 969, 971 n.89, 972 n.92,

1138 Index

979, 1009 n.163, 1030 n.23, 1032 n.28, 1038 n.44 Glossator  389 Gluttony  66, 76 , 237, 258, 276, 300, 301, 341, 342 n.100, 343, 344, 345, 362, 363, 364, 370, 391, 392, 418, 424, 438, 469, 483, 484, 492, 514, 574, 581, 599, 641, 654, 682, 718, 766, 773, 793, 808, 839, 958, 962, 969, 980, 1001, 1096, 1097 God  3, 6, 9, 10, 11, 13, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25 n.82, 27, 28, 31 n.110, 32, 35, 36, 38, 41 n.150, 44, 45, 46, 48, 50, 51, 54, 60, 61, 63, 64, 65, 66, 71 , 72 , 73 , 74 , 75 , 76 , 77 , 78 , 79 , 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142 n.77, 144, 145, 146 n.93, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 158, 159 n.138, 161, 162, 163, 166, 168, 170, 171 n.175, 175, 176, 177, 178, 185, 186, 187, 189, 190, 201, 202, 203, 204, 206, 208, 210, 216, 218, 219, 220, 226, 227, 228, 230, 231, 232, 233, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 242, 243, 244, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 258, 262, 268, 272, 273, 276, 277, 278, 281, 282, 286, 291 n.86, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 322, 323, 325 n.33, 331, 332, 339, 340, 342, 343 n.102, 344, 345, 347, 348, 349, 350, 358 n.131, 363, 364, 365, 366, 370, 371, 373, 374, 375, 376, 378, 379, 380, 382, 383, 384. 387, 388, 390, 392, 395, 396, 397, 402, 404, 405, 406, 408, 409, 417, 418, 419, 420, 421, 422, 423, 424, 425, 426, 427, 428, 429, 437, 438, 439, 441 n.67, 442, 444, 445, 446, 447, 448, 449, 450, 451, 452, 454 n.100, 456, 457, 459, 460, 464 n.3, 464 n.5, 468, 469, 470, 471, 473, 474, 475, 476, 477, 483, 484, 485, 488, 489, 490, 491, 493, 495, 513, 514, 516, 517, 528, 529, 533, 534, 535, 538, 539, 540, 542, 545, 546, 547, 548, 549, 550, 561, 562, 563, 564, 565, 566,

573, 574, 575, 580, 581, 586, 587, 588, 591, 592, 593, 594, 598, 599, 600, 614, 615, 618, 619, 621, 622, 623, 624, 630, 631, 633, 639, 640, 641, 647, 653, 654, 655, 662 n.91, 663, 664, 665, 672, 673, 674, 675, 681, 683, 684, 685, 691 n.38, 709 n.78, 714, 715, 716, 717, 718, 719, 720, 721, 722, 724, 725, 726, 727, 728, 729, 730, 731, 732, 733, 734, 735, 736, 737 n.159–161, 746, 747, 751, 754, 757, 758, 759, 771, 772, 773, 776, 777, 779, 790, 792, 793, 808, 809, 814, 817, 818, 820, 825, 826, 839, 840, 842, 843, 845, 849, 851, 880, 881, 882, 883, 886, 889, 896, 898, 899, 900, 903, 904, 909, 911, 913, 914, 921, 925, 926, 930, 934, 935, 937, 941, 942 n.39, 944, 946, 948, 949, 950, 954, 957, 958, 967, 968, 969, 972, 975, 980, 981, 983, 984, 986, 987, 988, 993, 1001, 1002, 1003, 1004, 1009, 1017, 1052, 1054, 1055, 1056, 1057, 1062, 1067, 1073, 1075, 1077, 1078, 1081, 1083, 1088, 1089, 1091, 1098, 1100, 1101, 1102, 1103, 1104, 1106, 1107, 1108, 1113, 1114, 1115, 1116, 1117, 1118 See also Almighty God, Ancient of Days, Creator, Deity, Divine Wisdom, Father, God of Hosts, Heavenly King, King of Kings, King of Paradise, Judge, Lord, Sun of Justice God/god of gods Christian God  946 Jupiter  381, 726, 868, 1014 God of Hell as Pluto  432, 532, 544 God of Hosts  818, 820, 845, 904, 1113 God of Love (Cupid)  168–169, 176, 313, 314, 316, 706, 731, 756, 799, 928, 978, 994 God of the Sea  155, 355, 469, 606, 755, 757, 816, 822, 862, 915, 919 See also Neptune

Index

God of Sleep  785–787 See also Morpheus God of Wine  276, 293, 297, 303, 744, 746 Gog  948 Golden Age  134–139, 1023 Golden Armor  820, 860 Golden Calf  842 Golden Fleece  349, 350, 516, 517, 519–522, 527–529, 537, 805, 821, 867 Gomorrah  165, 725, 737 n.159, 825 Good Love  175, 177, 564, 565, 589, 717, 730, 771, 845 Gorge  603–604 Gorgon(s)  384–386, 401, 404, 414–416, 428 See also Medusa Gospel  22, 54, 201, 202, 204, 208, 249, 345, 379, 405, 425, 474, 485, 491, 538, 640, 720, 742, 912, 937, 1101 Gower  59 Granddaughters of Belus  360 n.139, 367 Grammar  27 n.91, 34, 35, 39, 43, 49, 51, 52, 267 n.15, 851 Great Bear  703, 876 Greece  1, 4, 16, 184, 185, 198, 248, 276, 381, 520, 522, 524, 527, 530, 551, 594, 595, 603, 637 n.23, 707, 773, 798, 801, 804, 806, 807, 810, 812, 818, 845, 851, 863, 873, 874, 900, 941, 942 n.37, 1020 Greed  65, 202, 204, 252, 342, 367, 387, 483 n.41, 528 n.20, 654, 745, 767, 839, 879, 947, 981, 982, 991 Greek(s)  29, 36, 46, 164, 184, 260, 267, 276, 398, 521, 522, 523, 527, 801, 810–822, 826–827, 836, 843, 844–849, 852–854, 858–865, 867, 869, 870, 872, 884–885, 888, 897, 907, 946, 947, 950, 952, 963, 985, 1019, 1032–1033, 1041–1042 Army  815, 865, 873, 888 Authors  2, 267

1139

Gods  4 n.8, 7, 166 n.150, 844 n.88, 1101 n.193 Gregory the Great  50, 846 n.92 Gregory of Nanzianzus  845 n.92 Grimaldus, Abbot of St. Gall  24 Gryneus  831 Guadalquivir see Betis Guibert of Nogent  24 Guillaume de Machaut  59, 135 n.50 Gulf of Aquitaine see Tabellicus Gyaros  872 Haemus  466 Mount  471 Hainault  851 Halcyoneus  412 Halesus  836 Halius  875 Ham  162–164 Happiness  304, 373, 374, 423, 424, 427, 488, 554, 565, 680 n.7, 912, 931, 934, 957, 975 Harpies  516, 906 n.60, 911 n.66 Harrowing of Hell  31, 167 n.161, 446 n.76, 538 n.35, 545 n.45, 838 n.79 Heaven  10, 11 ,126, 132, 149, 150, 153 n.119, 161, 176, 177, 190, 236, 242, 259, 262, 272, 273, 281, 332, 357, 358, 363, 370, 373, 374, 376, 377, 387, 392, 403, 406, 409, 423, 425, 439, 446, 451, 457, 459, 460, 471, 474, 491, 513, 540, 545, 547, 548, 550, 562, 564, 587, 588, 591, 598, 622, 639, 641, 719, 720, 722, 724, 726, 736, 753, 754, 791, 813, 814, 824, 840, 848, 880, 887, 894, 912, 943, 944, 949, 962, 973, 989, 991, 1010, 1014,1015, 1016, 1018, 1054, 1107, 1114, 1118 Heavenly Hill  77, 153, 358, 484, 485, 624, 631, 684, 722, 1070 Heavenly Host  220, 547, 638, 943 Heavenly King  133, 151, 218, 321, 606, 688, 912, 913, 946, 969, 1099, 1115, 1116

1140 Index

Heavenly Kingdom  484, 591, 614, 683, 718, 719, 742, 814, 820, 886, 940, 980, 993, 1064, 1080 Hebe  646–647, 652, 655–656, 757 Hebrews  248 Hebrus  198, 741 Hecate  525, 530 n.23, 531, 532, 537, 966 Hector  634 n.16, 764, 794, 797, 801, 806, 819, 822, 835, 844–845, 847–863, 867–875, 882, 884, 902 n.53 Hecuba  66, 764, 855, 861, 884–887, 888–896, 900 Helen  466, 522, 595, 596, 767–770, 797–804, 807–810, 816–817, 821 n.34, 858, 873, 889, 900, 996 Helen, mother of Constantine  1107 Helenus  764, 877, 907, 912, 1033 Heliades  206–208, 691 n.41 Helice  1029 Helices  411 Helicon, Mount  196, 385, 439, 459 Heliopolis  62, 189, 200 Hell  2, 11, 23, 31, 46, 132, 145, 150, 151, 160, 190, 204, 208, 220, 221, 236, 238, 242, 244, 253, 257, 292, 304, 305, 310, 342, 343, 350, 358, 363, 364, 365, 366, 370, 375, 376, 392, 402, 406, 426, 439, 446, 449, 451, 453, 460, 461, 483 n.41, 513, 514, 516, 517, 534, 539, 540, 541, 544, 545, 550, 586, 587, 591, 592, 599, 603, 604, 615, 624, 634, 645, 653, 663, 680, 681, 683, 684, 714, 718, 722, 735, 742, 743, 776, 783, 796, 814, 818, 840, 849, 858, 864, 900, 903, 909, 912, 914, 925, 940, 950, 951, 955, 957, 962, 975, 1053, 1088, 1096, 1107, 1115 Helle  346–350, 351, 383 n.180, 519 Hellequin  496 Hellespont, Sea of  347 n.109, 351, 352, 753

Hellmouth  167, 168, 358, 460, 538, 545, 585, 633, 677, 678, 680, 838, 856, 937 Helops  832 Helos  807, 809 Hemus, Mount  196 Henri d’Andeli  34 Herbert of Losinga  24 Hercules  17, 18, 234, 394, 466, 521, 540, 541, 544, 627–642, 643, 646–647, 753, 755, 763, 817, 821 n.34, 832, 841–843, 867, 868, 884, 886, 1019, 1021, 1029, 1050 n.72 Herestachia  941 Heresy  934, 936 Hermaphroditus  333–340 Hermione  268, 807, 907 Hermus  198 Hero  346 n.106, 350, 351–358 Herod  149, 150, 305, 403, 881, 883, 1008, 1010 Herodias  883 n.23 Heroides  5, 255 n.158–159, 257 n.165, 346 n.106, 351 n.118, 354 n.124, 522 n.6, 658 n.85, 797 n.1, 799 n.4, 801 n.5, 803 n.8, 804 n.9, 907 n.62 Herse  223, 231, 244, 245–255 Hersilia  1008, 1013 n.171, 1016– 1018 Hesiod  16, 136 n.56 Theogony 16 Hesione  522, 753 Hesperie  794–796 Hierapolis  946 Hilary of Orleans, Saint  34 n.124 Hildebert of Lavardin, Bishop  25 Hippalmus  596 Hippasus  596 The Centaur  833 Hippocrates  1078 n.143, 1086, 1088 Hippodamas  605 Hippodamia  806, 829, 839, 996 n.135 Hippolytus, Saint  1103 Hippomenes  708–712, 734–737

Index

Hipponous  764 n.54 Hippotes  955 Hisber 197 Hispanis  198 Hodites  835 n.68 Fought with Perseus  411 Holy Body  388, 727, 827, 840, 991, 1043, 1115 Holy Church  6, 63, 69, 127, 160, 166, 186, 202–204, 209–210, 232, 244, 254, 303–304, 331, 344, 345, 364, 379, 383, 409, 417, 419, 422, 425, 426, 443, 445, 447–448, 451, 459, 477, 516, 517, 529, 574, 587, 588, 594, 600, 614, 624, 640, 645, 647, 655, 672, 714, 720, 721, 724, 728, 735, 736, 747, 748, 752, 792–793, 814, 825, 840, 864, 882, 883, 886, 887, 893, 894–900, 904, 908, 909, 910, 911, 913, 914, 925, 930, 931, 934, 936–937, 954, 957–958, 962, 969, 970, 972 n.91, 973, 976, 977, 983, 984, 986–987, 988–990, 992–993, 1000–1002, 1010, 1017–1018, 1049–1052, 1054–1058, 1060, 1095, 1101– 1104, 1106, 1107, 1114, 1115–1116 (Holy) Cross  417, 948, 1107 Holy Physician  1105 Holy See  53, 54 Holy Spirit  9, 20, 128, 171, 239, 280, 281, 310 n.10, 404 n.228, 420, 421, 423, 426, 456, 459, 529, 564, 591, 665, 682 n.13, 737 n.161, 848, 990, 1075, 1076, 1080, 1107, 1116 Holy Trinity  10, 51, 52, 128, 132, 151, 202, 218, 273, 281, 369 n.154, 379, 420, 422, 426, 460, 474, 549, 587, 594, 645, 726 n.128, 726 n.132 Homer  5, 16, 17, 136 n.56, 228 n.95, 388 n.192, 443 n.72, 453 n.97, 495, 815, 821, 822, 843 n.87, 850 Odyssey  ix, 16, 191 n.3, 261, 453 n.97, 874 n.7

1141

Iliad  ix, 5, 16, 388 n.192, 843 n.87, 870 n.5, 874 n.7 Hope  23, 35, 42, 133, 168, 170, 208, 258, 345, 350, 365, 374, 375, 383, 397, 403, 404, 418, 421, 438, 540, 562, 563, 574, 609, 673, 675, 696 n.57, 720, 736, 751, 779, 791, 792, 903, 936, 973, 983, 988, 1001, 1051, 1073, 1075, 1095 Lady Hope  756 Hora 1017 Horace  14, 18, 19, 43, 695 n.55 Hours, The  194 Hubris  75, 203, 207, 219, 251, 346, 418, 603, 630, 647, 650, 654, 656, 663, 672 n.113, 728, 746, 747, 856, 896, 898, 909, 911, 930, 936, 941, 955, 973, 988, 1010, 1045, 1095 See also Pride Hugh of Fouilloy  6 On the Medicine of the Soul  4, 1061 n.88 Hugh of St. Victor  50, 51, 604 n.70 Hugo de St. Cher  57 Humble  150, 157, 162, 186, 201, 207, 208, 209, 227, 227, 238, 244, 251, 260, 271, 277, 285, 322, 372, 373, 396, 417, 448, 451, 464, 468, 473, 475, 487, 492, 517, 529, 534, 624, 634, 640, 672, 675, 717, 720, 723, 730, 733, 742, 825, 879, 904, 937, 958, 1009, 1049, 1054, 1092, 1096, 1102, 1103, 1106 Hungary  7, 851 Hunger  612–613 Hyacinthus  688–690, 883 n.21 Hyades  876 n.10 Hyale  269 Hydaspe  198 Hydra  234 n.105, 629, 632 n.12, 637, 640, 917 Hyginus  13, 18, 346 n.106, 402 n.223, 512 n.84, 862 n.118 See also Fables Hyle  905 n.56 Hyllus  641–642, 647

1142 Index

Hylomene  834–835 Hymen  494, 669, 671, 677, 683 n.15 Hymetus 196 Hypanus  1029 Hypermestra  255, 256–259 Hypseus  411 Hypsipyle  522, 805 Hyrcania  851 Iacchus  308 Ianthe  668–675 Iapetus  131 Iapygia  1043 Iasion  655 Icaria  590 Icarian Sea  589 Icarus  588–593 Ida, Mount  196, 334, 984 Idas Companion of Meleager  595 Slain by Phinas  411 Idomeneus  877 Ignobates  270 Ilia  1004–1005 Ilias latina  5, 43, 815 n.21, 821 n.35, 843 n.87, 844 n.89, 846 n.96, 847 n.97, 849 n.106, 858 n.112 Ilione  764 Ilioneus  480 Ilium  763, 764, 800, 862, 877, 878, 977 Illyria  165 n.156, 377 Ilus  763 Imbreus  832 Inachus  184–185 Inachus, River  179, 197 Inarime  935 Incarnation, The  3, 42, 51, 303 n.114, 364, 425, 533, 534, 547, 574, 604, 716 n.99, 814, 881, 903, 913, 921, 1077, 1103, 1108 n.209 Incontinence/Incontinent  238, 249, 276 n.43–44, 362 n.144, 473, 735 India  198, 334 n.72, 381, 383, 398, 532, 850

Indians  189, 276 n.41, 381, 409, 1094 n.175 Indiges 990 Indus  198 Innocents 1010 See also Massacre of the Innocents Ino  275, 299–305, 346–350, 359–375, 377, 519, 651 n.64 Integument  31, 32, 39, 40, 45, 174, 464 n.4 Io  8, 35, 37, 125 n.1, 179–190, 574 n.15 Iolaüs  595, 646–647, 656 Iole  634–635, 640–643, 646–647 Iphigenia  815–818, 873, 880 n.13 Iphis Child of Ligdus  666–675, 677 Admirer of Anaxarete  997–999 Ipomedon  650–651 Iris  155, 375, 785–786, 935, 1016–1017 Iron Age  141, 1028, 1095 Isaac  521 n.4, 561 Isaiah  236 Isidore de Seville  2, 43, 50, 173 n.182, 337 n.83 Etymologies  14, 19, 134 n.48, 164 n.153, 184 n.213, 371 n.157, 390 n.196, 392 n.201, 684 n.16, 1081 n.152 Isis  183, 666–667, 670–674 Ismene  648 Ismenides  307 Ismenus  479–480 Israel  562, 564, 565, 581, 664, 842, 878, 948, 980, 981 Israelites  475 n.31, 899, 953, 979, 1109 n.214 Italy  14 n.28, 851, 941, 945, 946 n.49, 990, 993, 1021, 1029, 1043 Ithaca  810 n.14, 906 Itis  494, 510–512 Iulus Ascanius  905, 933, 989, 991 Ixion  360, 366–367, 678, 681 n.11 Jacob  498, 561

Index

James, Saint  339, 1002 n.146 Janiculus 197 January  54, 1035 Janus  138, 757, 964 Japestour  763 Japheth  162 Jason  516, 519–531, 535–540, 596–597, 805, 806, 810, 821 n.34, 867, 1030 Jean Gerson  4 n.5 Moralized Grammar  4 n.5 Jeanne of Burgundy, Queen  12 Jenin  165 Jerome, Saint  20, 22, 604 n.70, 999 Jerozolima  165 Jerusalem  2, 22, 165, 459, 851, 949, 1003, 1050, 1105, 1106, 1107, 1108 n.210, 1109 See also Jerozolima, Salamis, Salem Jesse  396, 624 n.115, 724 n.119, 940 Jesus Christ  1, 19, 22 n.67, 27, 42, 62, 65, 70, 71, 72, 75, 126, 149, 150 n.108, 162, 167, 176, 205, 218, 235, 236, 239, 240, 242, 251, 254, 263 n.2, 277, 281, 282 n.61, 303, 322 n.28, 323, 344, 348, 371, 376, 379, 380, 382, 383, 384, 392, 395, 396, 397, 402, 403, 404, 405, 409, 417, 420, 425, 426, 427, 428, 443, 445, 448, 459, 460, 474, 475, 493, 516, 517, 529, 533, 538, 545, 573, 587, 603, 624 n.115, 639, 640, 653, 683, 714, 718, 729 n.139, 735, 741, 746, 780, 790, 814, 824, 826, 827, 838, 840 n.81, 857, 858, 863 n.123, 864, 865, 878, 880, 881, 882, 887, 893 n.38, 894, 895, 896, 898, 910, 911, 912, 913, 922, 930, 941, 943, 944, 945, 948, 949, 957, 958, 962, 974, 976, 977, 981, 986, 988, 992 n.128, 1002 n.144, 1002 n.146, 1003, 1016, 1017, 1039 n.46, 1042 n.54, 1050, 1051, 1057, 1060, 1072, 1098, 1099, 1103, 1104,

1143

1105, 1107, 1108 n.209–210, 1108 n.213, 1112, 1115, 1116 See also Anointed, Deliverer, Divine Flesh, Divine Friendship, Divine Wisdom, Holy Physician, Judge, King of Paradise, Liber, Lord of Life, Lord of Lords, Messiah, Passion, Redeemer, Resurrection, Savior, Son of God, Son of Mary, Sun of Justice, Phoenix Jeu, Mount  196 Jew(s)  218, 428, 446, 475, 529, 641, 653, 654, 664, 683, 716, 732, 741, 746, 827, 840, 843, 894, 895, 908, 909, 911, 925, 934, 943, 944, 948, 980, 987, 988, 1010, 1017, 1051, 1056, 1058, 1103, 1104, 1105, 1107, 1109, 1114, 1115 Jewish 66 Authorities  65 Belief  403 Community  65, 69 Law  239, 943, 944, 1105 Nation  945 Patriarchs  561 People  219, 384, 561, 604, 716, 843, 993, 1116 Race  930 Scholars  238, 848 n.101 See also Judah, Judaism, Judea, and Synagoga Job 1011 Jocasta  648 Jocus  137, 138 John, Saint  425, 474, 533, 653, 714, 746 n.12, 824, 826, 961, 1002 n.146, 1057 Gospel symbolized as the Eagle  425, 474 John Chrysostom  846 n.92 John Damascene, Saint  51, 743 n.7 John Milton  3 n.2, 59, 999 n.142 Paradise Lost  3 n.2, 999 n.142

1144 Index

John of Garland  14, 32, 37, 39, 40, 41, 43, 126 n.7, 159 n.140, 174 n.187 Integumenta Ovidii  14, 37, 39 John of London  39 John of Salisbury  3 n.2, 31, 33 Metalogicon  3 n.2, 33 John Son of Zechariah  878 See also John the Baptist John the Baptist  878, 879, 880, 883 Jordan  198, 534 Joseph, Husband of Mary  218, 382 Joseph of Arimathea  426 Jove  7, 45, 46, 138, 553, 687, 1049 See also Jupiter J.R.R. Tolkien  3, 13, 729 n.138 Judah  218, 378, 379, 380, 948, 981, 983, 1115 Judaism  65, 69, 331, 895, 913, 926, 972, 1050 Judas Iscariot  304, 741, 742, 843, 857, 865, 886, 908, 991, 1039 n.46 Judea  65, 69, 198, 218, 219, 232, 239, 332, 581, 587, 588, 624, 639, 640, 887, 893–896, 898, 940, 941, 979, 987, 1002, 1018 Judge, The as God  143, 151, 428, 439, 493, 548, 550, 575, 580, 581, 663, 672, 673, 758, 825, 886, 1057, 1060 as Jesus  719, 912 Judgment  50, 51, 52, 143, 758, 814, 886, 887, 909, 912, 913, 949 See also Day of Judgment Judgment of Paris  32, 756 n.37, 765–769 Julian of Toledo  51 Julius Caesar  42, 1044–1049, 1110–1116 Caesar  42, 1044, 1045, 1046, 1047, 1048, 1112, 1113 Juno  32, 33, 68, 135, 137, 138, 179–188, 212–219, 219–221, 221, 274–285, 358, 359–371, 373, 375, 376, 398, 431, 466, 486, 488, 551–552, 636–639, 642 n.44, 669,

671, 678 n.3, 703 n.67, 756, 759, 760–763, 765–769, 772, 785–786, 807–808, 897, 935, 985, 986, 989 n.119, 990, 1004, 1007, 1008, 1012, 1016 Jupiter  5, 35, 40 n.147, 62, 63, 69, 74, 77, 128 n.19, 135, 136, 137, 138, 138, 139, 140, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 154–156, 158, 171, 179–180, 184–185, 188, 190–192, 198 n.20, 199, 208–214 214, 218– 220, 230, 233–235, 240, 242, 248, 255, 260–262, 263–264, 274–278, 280–281, 283, 333, 347, 376, 381, 383, 398, 399, 401, 407, 431–432, 436–437, 445, 465–466, 473–475, 486, 551, 554, 559, 568, 571, 593, 606, 609, 740 n.3, 753, 754–758, 761–763, 800, 802, 803, 868, 871, 874, 884, 894, 897, 919, 935, 990, 992, 1004, 1046, 1048 as the Ram-God Amun  398 Justin Martyr  840 n.81, 845 n.92 Juvenal  43 Kindness  208, 244 n.138, 246, 258, 327, 423, 624, 718, 734 King of Babylon Amraphel  165 Belus  255 King of Hell as Jesus  176 as Pluto  136, 432, 433, 436, 507, 532, 542, 543, 679, 1037 King of Kings  864, 868, 968, 1018, 1113, 1114 King of Paradise as God  177, 250, 303, 396, 402, 405, 417, 598, 623, 663, 725, 845, 925, 953, 987, 1061 as Jesus  913 as Jupiter  687 King of Rome  944, 1006, 1008, 1011, 1015, 1112 King’s Valley  165 Krokale  269

Index

Lacedaemon  275 Lacedaemonia  275 Lachesis  1045 n.63 Lacinia  1043 Laconia  197, 275 n.40, 950 n.59 Lactantius  15, 22 Ladon  182, 198 Lady Covetousness  735 Laertes  595 Laestrygonians  959 Laius, King  558 n.66, 648, 649 Lamb of God  878, 879, 1103 n.200, 1108 Lamech  138 Lampetides  412 Lamus  956 Laodice  764 n.54 Laomedon, King  473, 521, 752–754, 755, 763 Lapith(s)  820, 831, 834–838, 841, 843, 996 Last Judgment  9 n.15, 62, 63, 64, 209, 428, 546, 674 n.121, 819, 886 Last Supper  405, 423, 474, 688 n.24, 827 Latins  56, 938, 976, 991, 992 n.125, 993, 1004 Latin Kingdom  1111 Latin Land(s)  976, 991, 992, 993, 1006, 1014 Latinus, King  938, 975, 976, 991 Latium  137, 1040 Latona  365, 477–485, 485–489, 491, 651, 756, 901 See also Leto Latreus  836–837 Laurel  1, 167, 168–178, 179, 478, 685, 721, 1039, 1041 n.52 Laurentia 197 Laurentum  964, 990, 992, 996 Laurissa  221 Lavinia  938, 975–977, 985, 991, 993, 996 Leader of Pride, The  948, 986 Leander  346 n.106, 350, 351–358 See also Hero Leander slain by Ulysses  875

1145

Learchus  361 Lebinthos  589 Leda  466, 475, 800 Lelegia  567, 573 Lelegians  573 Lelex  595, 605, 606 Lemnos  137, 228, 522, 817, 868, 876, 877, 881 n.20, 884, 886 Leo  193 n.9 Lerna  179, 234, 823, 844 Lesbos  741, 872 Lethe  30, 680 n.8, 786 n.74 Leto  360 n.135, 365 n.148, 478 n.35, 651 n.65 Leucas  1029 Leuconoe  323 Leucosa  1043 Leucothoë  323–332, 333, 372 Liber  276, 278 n.51, 293, 308, 378, 382, 902 as Jesus  304, 379, 380, 383, 475 Liber Dionysus  380 Liber Dionysus  380 Liberal Arts  49, 163, 267 Libra see Scales Libya  196, 197,198, 386 n.187, 388, 393 n.202, 410, 931, 942, 1029 Lice  198 Lichas  636–638, 640 n.38 Licormas 197 Liexum  835 Ligdus  666–668, 672 Light  Linceus  595 Lion  193, 1073 See also Leo Lion, Gospels  425 Liriope  48, 283, 293 Liternum  1043 Loire  25, 34, 197 Lombards  906, 946, 976 Lombardy  50, 137, 196, 206, 207, 851, 906, 907, 927, 931, 938, 946, 957, 963, 996, 1019 Longinus  727, 922 Lord, The  23, 55, 72, 74, 77, 132, 133, 150, 153, 178, 185, 204, 208,

1146 Index

218, 228, 237, 238, 240, 243, 303, 322, 323, 332, 362, 365 n.149, 383, 389, 392, 399, 402, 404, 422, 426, 444, 448, 535, 540, 553, 564, 565, 569, 574, 575, 580, 586, 592, 594, 609, 674, 720 n.114, 725, 728, 732, 736, 818, 820, 845, 880, 886, 887, 903, 904, 908, 909, 910, 921, 930, 943, 946, 949, 968, 981, 991, 1018, 1042, 1045, 1049, 1050, 1056, 1057, 1060, 1088 n.165, 1098, 1108, 1109, 1112, 1114, 1115, 1116, 1117 Lord of Life  240, 1109, 1110 Lord of Lords  1114 Lot  61 n.210, 165 Lotos  645 Louis X, King  7, 65 Love  172, 184, 260, 287, 290, 316, 317, 321, 329, 352, 353, 355, 372, 381, 399, 446, 496, 499, 500, 560, 584, 591, 634, 659, 691, 694, 696, 697, 698, 706, 708, 771, 789, 858, 994, 996, 1101 See also Charity Lucan  19, 43 Lucifer The Devil  190, 201, 460, 464 n.3, 1046, 1071 The Morning Star, Father of Ceyx  194, 774, 776, 785 as Mary, Morning Star  254 Lucina  60 n.206, 642–643 Lucretia 1111 Lucretius 19 Luke, Saint  305, 425, 474, 640, 904, 1113 Gospel symbolized as the Ox  425, 474 Lust  66, 73, 77, 138, 138, 230, 237, 239, 258, 279, 309, 324, 327, 328, 330, 338, 342 n.100, 343, 344, 356, 357, 362, 363, 364, 389 n.194, 391, 392, 418, 424, 438, 446, 449, 469, 483, 484, 492, 497 n.70, 574, 579, 581, 582, 599, 615, 625, 632, 634, 641, 661, 669, 671, 704, 716, 723,

726, 731, 757, 766, 773, 793, 807, 808, 820, 839, 909, 913, 914, 921, 958, 962, 969, 980, 982, 986, 1001, 1012 n.170, 1013, 1066, 1096, 1097, 1100 Lycabas of Tuscany  297 Lycabas the Assyrian  410 Lycabas the Centaur  832 Lyaeus  308 Lycaeus, Mount  182 Lycaon  37, 61, 69, 145–154, 214 n.67 Lycetum  835 Lycetus  411 Lycia  334, 339, 389 n.195, 390 n.196, 485, 489, 817, 823 Lycian  823 Lycidas  832 Lycomedes, King  812, 872 Lycopes  833 Lycormas  412 Lycurgus, King  308, 651 Lycus 979 Lycus, slain by Pirithoüs  832 Lydia  463, 477, 744, 851 Lynceus  255, 257–259, 414 Lyncides  411 Lyncus, King  457–459 Lynx  457 n.110, 458–459, 1032, 1100 Lyon 197 Lyrcea 179 Macareus Companion of Ulysses  951–959, 963, 971, 973, 974–975 Son of Aeolus  658 Slain by Cymelus  835 Macedonia  196, 942 n.36 Macrobius  28, 29, 31, 43, 443 n.71, 638 n.31, 680, 876 n.10 Saturnalia 19 Commentary on the Dream of Scipio 19 Maenalus  454 Maeonia  296, 308 Magnesia 779

Index

Magog  948 Magpies  430, 443, 459–462, 463 Man, Gospels  425, 474 Manegold of Lautenbach  26 Manto  477 Marathon  196, 541, 637 Marbod of Rennes, Bishop  25 March  38, 413, 727, 830, 1069 n.120 Marie de France  3, 4, 5, 48, 125 n.5, 211, 389 n.195, 643 n.45 Lais  3, 125 n.5 Mark Antony  1111, 1112 Mark, Saint  425, 474 Gospel symbolized as the Lion  425, 474 Mars  60, 137 n.56, 268, 323–330, 348, 637 n.28, 756, 757, 759 n.41, 822, 851, 928 n.5, 1004–1005, 1014–1015, 1048 Marsyas  489–491 River 197 Martha  203, 1017 Martianus Capella  14, 28 Marriage of Mercury and Philology (De nuptiis)  2, 14, 19, 32, 250 n.147, 334 n.70 Martomiris  764 Martomyris  885 Mary  162, 176, 205, 218, 254 n.154, 330 n.51, 382, 396, 397, 533, 653, 714, 731, 746 n.12, 824. 826, 857, 878, 880, 943 See also Blessed Mother, Glorious Maiden, Noble Virgin, Port of the Sea/World, Pure Virgin, Star of the Sea, Virgin Maiden, Virgin Mother Mary Magdalene, Saint  218 n.74, 282, 485, 733 Mary, Martha’s Sister  203, 1017 Mary the Egyptian  186 Massacre of the Innocents  149, 150, 979 n.101, 986 n.114, 1008 Massias 196 Masters of the Sacred Page  51, 53, 149 n.100 Master of Folly, The  948, 986

1147

Matter  9 n.18, 30 n.106, 56, 127, 133, 338 n.83, 338 n.87, 729 See also Form Matthew of Vendôme  43 Matthew, Saint  425, 474 Gospel symbolized as the Man  425, 474 Mauritania  942 May  72, 808, 877, 969 Meander 197 Medea  522–547, 805, 806 Medes  198 Media  198, 850 Medicine  171, 225, 233, 235 n.108, 486, 533, 1068, 1079, 1083, 1085, 1086, 1087, 1094 Medon  832 Medusa  384–388, 393–394, 399, 401, 406, 415, 428, 429 Megaera  368 Mejerdah  198 Melampus Dog  270 Son of Amythaon  1030 n.23 Melanchaetes  271 Melaneus  412 Melchizedek  165 Meleager  594–604, 648 n.57 Melicerta  361, 371–373 Melpomene  440 Memnon  861, 897, 898, 900 Memnonides  898 Memphis  189, 255 Menalon 196 Menelaus  797–801, 806–813, 816, 821 n.34, 832, 860, 865, 873, 875, 877, 884, 1025, 1046 Menoetes  823 Menthe  713 n.86 Mercury  136 n.56, 181–182, 184, 186, 241–254, 255, 259, 334 n.70, 401, 431, 606, 623 n.113, 756, 759, 761, 775, 960, 1073 Meriones  877 Merops  189 Mesopotamia 197 Messapia  981

1148 Index

Messiah, The  878, 879, 980 n.102, 1108 n.213 Methion  410 Michale 196 Midas  42, 743–752 Miletus  656 Milky Way  145, 153, 638 n.31, 876 n.10 Mimas 196 Mincius 197 Minerva  386, 466 n.10, 593, 978 Minos, King  261, 263 n.2, 547–551, 567–575, 579–581, 582, 588, 590, 656, 663 n.93 Minturna  1043 Minyades see Daughters of Minyas Minyans  526–527 Minyas  8, 125 n.1, 307–310, 323, 333, 340 Misenus  937 Mnemosyne  466 Modidani  835 Modoin of Autun, Bishop  24 Moguntinus, Archbishop  24 Molossus 907 Molpeus  413–414 Molphus  835 Monster of Parthenia  637 Montargis  184 Montjoie  77, 153 n.121, 358 n.128, 484 n.44, 1070 See also Heavenly Hill Monychus  837 Mopsus  596 Ampycus’s Son  835 n.68, 838 Morning Star  245 as Jesus  402 as Mary  573, 1115 Morpheus  786–787 Moses  2, 10, 21 n.61, 149, 378, 475 n.31, 663, 664, 842, 1109 n.214 Mount of Olives  949, 1016 Mulberry  175, 310, 317, 319, 320, 321, 322, 834 Mulciber  137 See also Vulcan

Munichus  907 n.61 Muse  429–431, 440–445, 459–462, 463, 525 n.11, 687, 725 n.123, 1040 n.51 Music  49, 851 Mutina  1047 Mycenae  797, 1032 Mychale  831 Myrmidons  551–555, 860 Myrrha  8, 76, 125 n.1, 693–705, 730–734 Myscelus  1020–1021 Naiad(s)  283 n.63, 558 n.66, 629, 763 n.52, 984–985, 1007, 1012 Nais  307–310 Narrationes  15, 18, 19 Narbonne 197 Narcissus  1, 7, 48, 76, 77, 282, 283–292, 293, 578 n.18, 691 n.40, 745 n.11 Narycia  1043 Nativity  218, 382, 639, 715, 882, 883, 943, 991, 1058 Natural Philosopher  159 Nature  129, 216, 260, 269, 311, 315, 381, 388, 495, 506, 519, 575, 576, 580, 595, 627, 656, 669, 693, 759, 1026–1028, 1083 Naxos  297, 298 Nedymnus  833 Nemean Games  651 n.66 Nemean Lion  541, 637, 639 n.36 Nemona see Noëmon Neoplatonic  10, 26 n.88, 28, 29, 31, 729 n.139 Neoptolemus  888 n.31, 907 n. 63 See also Pyrrhus Nephele  269 n.21, 346 Neptune  135, 190, 223, 224, 229, 355, 371, 372, 377, 384, 398 n.217, 465, 467, 469–470, 606, 613, 658, 708 n.77, 710, 753, 757, 759, 824, 828–829, 840, 841, 852, 862, 923 n.85, 985 n.110 Nerea  851

Index

Nereus  755 Nessus  631–637, 642 n.42, 832, 835 n.68 Nestor of Pylos  595–596, 809, 821 n.34, 827–840, 841–843, 862 n.117, 869 New Testament  51, 62, 303 n.114, 424, 447, 448, 562, 725, 967 n.83, 1098 n.181, 1114 Nicholas of Lyra  66 Nile  183, 197, 414, 415 Nileus  414–415 Nilus see Nile Nimrod  163 Ninus  163, 164, 255, 317 Niobe  477–485, 491, 493, 651 Nisus  567, 568 n.3, 570 n.7, 571–572 Noah  149, 159, 162–166 Ark  149, 159, 753 Nobility of Spirit  142 Noëmon  875 Nonacris 196 Normandy  1045 Notus  155–156 Numa Pompilius  1019–1021, 1035, 1049–1051, 1110, 1101 n.187 Numicius  990, 991 Numitor  1004–1005, 1009–1014 Nyctelius  308 Nycteus 979 Nyctimene  230, 232 Nysa  276, 381 Nysa, Mount  275, 308 n.3 Nyseus  308 Nyssa  743 n.7 Oblivion  231, 232 Oceanus  658 n.83, 851, 924 Octolia  198 Ocyrhoë  69, 233–240 Odysseus  874 n.7 Oechalia  634 Oedipus, King  280 n.54, 558 n.66, 648–651 Oeneus, King  594, 601, 603, 627

1149

Oenone  805 Oenopia  548, 549 Oeta/Oete  156 n.131, 196 Oëtum  835 Otfridus  24 Oileus  877 Oise 197 Old Testament  20, 21 n.62, 62, 218 n.76, 238 n.120, 303 n.114, 378, 424, 426, 521 n.4, 639 n.34, 840, 967 Olympus  4 n.8, 77, 196, 688 n.26, 915 n.74 Omega  422, 456 n.106 Opheltes  297–298 Ops  135 See also Rhea Oralie  637 Orantes  198 Orchamos  325, 330, 333 Orchemenus  454 Orcus  544 See also Dis, King of Hell, Pluto Oread  612–613 Orestes 907 Orient, the  276, 308, 334 Origen  3, 20, 421 n.27, 840 n.81 Orion  832, 876, 905, 910 Orithyia  515–517, 556, 801 Orléans  24, 25, 34, 36, 40, Orneus  832 Orosius  162 n.144 Orpheus  37, 42 n.154, 62, 63–64, 75, 299 n.105, 677–687, 688, 690, 691, 693, 694 n.47, 705, 707, 712, 713, 725, 737 n.160, 739–743, 744 Ortygia  182, 435, 455, 1030 Osiris 667 Ossa 196 Othrys 196 Otto  51 Ovid (the Great)  2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10, 11, 14–19, 24–28, 33–39, 43, 44, 45, 47–49, 50, 52–53, 57, 59, 61, 62, 65, 66, 68, 70, 73, 74, 75, 78, 125, 126 n.7 , 126 n.11, 127, 128, 129–

1150 Index

130, 136 n.56, 141 n.77, 142 n.80, 144 n.86–87, 146 n.90, 146 n.93, 147 n.95, 154 n.126, 156 n.131, 157 n.135, 158 n.137, 159 n.140, 162 n.144, 166, 167 n.160, 168 n.163, 168 n.165, 170 n.168, 171 n.173, 172 n.177–178, 173 n.181, 173 n.183, 183 n.209–210, 184, 198 n.27, 198 n.30, 199 n.33, 200 n.36, 207 n.53, 212 n.61, 216 n.70, 217 n.73, 223 n.84, 241 n.134, 243 n.136, 263 n.4, 264 n.6, 265 n.8, 266 n.10, 269 n.20–21, 271 n.25, 275 n.38–39, 276 n.41–42, 278 n.51, 283 n.63, 283 n.66, 296 n.102, 297 n.103, 311, 322 n.26, 325 n.33–34, 326 n.37, 33 n.66, 336 n.78, 337 n.83, 359 n.134, 360 n.136, 371 n.157, 373 n.163, 381 n.177, 382 n.178, 384 n.183, 388 n.191, 393 n.202, 401 n.221, 410 n.7, 433 n.52–53, 455 n.104, 459 n.117, 460 n.120, 465 n.8, 466 n .10, 467 n.12, 485 n.46–47, 497 n.70, 526 n.14, 527 n.17, 532 n.26, 554 n.59, 558 n.66, 568 n.3, 570 n.7, 572 n.10, 590 n.39, 597 n.53, 600 n.63, 601 n.64, 602 n.67, 603 n.68, 605 n.71, 608 n.76, 609 n.77, 610 n.78, 610 n.80, 611 n.81, 612 n.83–84, 614 n.86, 641 n.41, 644 n.46, 647 n.53, 653, 658 n.86, 666 n.98, 668 n.105, 670 n.108, 681 n.11, 686 n.19, 688 n.23, 688 n.27–28, 689 n.29, 690 n.37, 691 n.41, 697 n.58, 709 n.80, 711 n.83, 713 n.86, 735 n.154, 739 n.1, 740 n.3, 741 n.4, 743 n.8, 754 n.32, 755 n.34, 756 n.36, 774 n.60, 775 n.63, 778 n.66, 779 n.67, 780 n.69, 781 n.70, 786 n.74, 795 n.85, 815 n.21, 817 n.24, 823 n.39, 823 n.40, 828 n.50–51, 830 n.53, 832 n.58, 833 n.61, 834 n.63–64, 835 n.65, 835 n.68, 837 n.74–75, 863 n.119–120, 876 n.10, 890 n.33, 901 n.50, 902

n.52, 905 n.57, 906 n.59–60, 907 n.61, 915 n.74, 916 n.76, 918 n.77, 920 n.81, 927 n.4, 928 n.6–7, 929 n.8, 933 n.12, 937 n.24, 951 n.60, 956 n.66, 957 n.70, 963 n.80, 971 n.89, 986 n.112, 989 n.119, 990 n.121, 992 n.126–127, 993 n.131, 994 n.132, 996 n. 136, 998 n.140, 1021 n.2, 1024 n.12–13, 1028 n.19, 1031 n.26–27, 1032 n.28, 1033 n.30, 1036 n.36, 1037 n.37, 1038 n.44, 1039 n.46, 1040 n.48, 1040 n.51, 1041 n.52, 1042 n.54, 1043 n.58, 1047 n.65, 1048 n.68, 1052, 1100, 1113, 1118 Amores  25, 1113 n.227 On the Old Woman  25, 216 Remedies of Love  25 The Art of Love  26, 1113 Ovide moralisé en prose  14, 59 Owl Ascalaphus  436, 445, 452 Companion to Pallas  222, 223, 224, 230 Oxford, University of  39 Pactolus, River  198, 743 Paean  1037 Paestum  1043 Pagan(s)  47, 60, 128, 144, 162, 239, 303, 435, 513, 909, 911, 934, 946, 948, 993, 1010, 1033, 1106 Paganism  2, 3, 60, 69, 131, 232, 497 Palaemon  372, 923 Palamades  811, 868–869, 876 Palantea  1031 Palatine Hills  197, 1015 Palatine, Mount  963 Palatinus, King  993, 1004 Palermo  942 Palestine  309, 851, 942 n.37 Palladium  870 n.4, 877–878, 882, 978 Pallas (Athena)  16, 32, 33, 222, 224, 228, 231, 246, 254, 265, 266, 384, 385, 401, 409, 429, 430, 432, 459,

Index

460, 463, 468, 473, 477, 490, 538, 551, 590, 637 n.29, 756, 760, 761, 773, 826, 844, 846, 870 n.4, 978, 1004 See also Minerva Pallas, Mount  1043 Pammon  764 n.54 Pamphilus  43 Pamphylia  198, 851, 941, 946 Pan  182, 187, 748–752, 757, 982, 994, 1001 Pandion, King  493–503, 515 Pandrosus  223, 231, 244–255 Pangea 196 Panopus  198 Panthoüs  1025 Papal Bull  38 n.140, 54 Paphos  693 Parable  3, 56, 125 n.5, 126 n.10, 160 n.142, 175 n.189, 227 n.93, 281 n.60, 345 n.104, 348 n.112, 449 n.84, 734 n.153, 881 n.19 Paraclete  281, 423, 459 See also Holy Spirit Paradise  11, 133, 139, 141, 142, 143, 146, 153, 168, 186, 187, 201, 203, 218, 219, 230, 231, 232, 249, 253, 262, 277, 278, 291, 301, 304, 321, 323, 344, 358, 362, 363, 372, 375, 384, 423, 460, 469, 471, 516, 517, 573 n.12, 574, 599, 622, 631, 633, 645, 674, 683, 725, 727, 736, 750, 771, 776, 792, 793, 796, 864, 881, 904, 910, 911, 925, 967, 1002, 1009, 1075, 1098 See also Heaven Paris  32, 522, 756 n.37, 760, 763–773, 797–810, 817–818, 821 n.34, 855, 858–865, 873, 889, 890, 900, 1046 Paris, University of  4, 12, 34, 37, 38, 39, 49, 50, 53, 55, 66, 149 n.100 Parnassus  156, 169, 196, 776 Paros  589 Parthenope  937, 1043 Parthenopeus  651

1151

Parthia  850 Parthians  211 n.57, 858 n.113 Pasiphaë  260 n.168, 571, 575–581, 582, 669 Passion, The  205, 236, 251, 262, 281, 282, 323, 350, 370, 379, 395, 404, 421 n.25, 423, 425, 529 n.21, 534, 538, 545, 547, 563, 574, 587, 604, 615, 640, 717, 718, 858, 864, 865, 881, 903, 908, 911, 913, 925, 930, 967, 969, 1002, 1003, 1016, 1017, 1021 n.5, 1049, 1058, 1099, 1107, 1110 Patara 171 Patience  227, 231, 244, 258, 278, 304, 322, 374, 375, 419, 423, 424, 427, 484, 574, 623, 665, 718, 724, 732, 734, 792, 839, 849, 919 Patrae  492 Patroclus  595, 846–850, 875 Paul, Saint  10, 50, 230, 282, 426, 459, 727, 736, 752, 817, 976, 1050, 1051 Paul the Deacon  24 Peace  756, 904 Peacock  19, 183, 188, 221, 917, 1031, 1099 Pedasus  412 Pegasus  384–392, 406, 429, 439 Pelagon  596 Pelates Fought with centaurs  831 Fought with Perseus  412 Peleus  595, 754–756, 773–780, 790 n.77, 828, 833–834, 1048 Pelias, King  519–521, 528–530, 535–540 Pelion 196 Pelops  7, 365 n.149, 491–493 Pelorus  1043 Penance  244, 249 n.144, 251, 451 n.90, 683, 718, 1011, 1013 1058 Penelope  810–811, 891, 996 Peneus  168, 173–174, 179, 197, 455 n.103 Pentapolis  942, 946

1152 Index

Pentheus  280 n.54, 292, 293–305, 307–308 Perdrix  588–593 Pergus  433, 446 Pergusa  542, 544 Perimele  604–606 Periphas  835 Persephone  713, 737 See also Proserpine Persaeus 17 Perseus  18, 381–384, 384–388, 392, 393–398, 398–406, 407–420, 420–428, 429, 637 n.29, 778 n.66 Persia  325, 532, 851, 941, 946, 1101 n.187 Perthemia  198 Peryclimenus  841 Peter Abelard  50, 51, 53 Peter Cantor  52, 56 Summa Abel  56, 57 Peter Lombard  50, 52, 330, 716 n.98, 737 n.161 Peter, Saint  202, 305, 516, 714 n.91, 741, 742 n.5, 817, 976, 1002 n.146, 1017, 1049, 1072, 1106 n.206, 1116 Petraeus  832 Petronius  43 Peucetia  981 Phaeacia 907 Phaecians  985 n.110 Phaedimus  479, 480 Phaedra  582–587 Phaeocomes  835 Phaestos  666. 668 Phaethon  62–63, 188–210 Pharisee(s)  236, 303, 528, 944 Pharos  191 n.4, 1029 Pharsalia  1047 Phasis  198 Phegeus  652 Phenix  1030 Phiale  269 Philammon  775 Philemon  7, 37, 606–610, 775 n.63 Philip IV, King  65 Philippe de Vitry  12, 58

Philippi  1047 Philo Judaeus  20 Philoctetes  638, 817, 868, 876–877, 881, 884–887 Philomena  7, 8, 12, 125 n.1, 492 n.63, 493–514, 515 Philosophy, Lady  618 n.97 Philyra  233 Phineus  407–420, 428 Phineus, King  516 Phirenide 197 Phlegethon  681 n.10 Phlegon  195 Phlegraeos  833 Phlegyas  411 Phocis  156 n.131 Phocus  555–559, 755, 774, 778 Phoebe  482, 486 See also Diana Phoebus  62, 63, 166–168, 168–178, 188–210, 221–228, 233, 240–244, 330, 431, 432, 467, 479, 480, 486, 489–490, 596, 686–687, 688–690, 727, 741, 748–749, 752–753, 756, 759, 774–776, 815, 843–844, 863, 883, 902, 905, 1040 n.50 See also Apollo Phoenicia  260 Phoenix as Jesus  840, 1099 King of Phoenicia  260 Son of Amyntor  595 Pholonidem  835 Pholus  832 Phorbas Killed by Perseus  410 Leader of the Phlegyae of Thessaly  780 Centaur in the battle of the Lapiths  832 Phorcys, King  384, 387, 401 n.221, 406 Phoroneus  184 Phrixus  346–350, 383, 519 Phrygia  196, 197, 477, 478, 490, 606, 744, 752, 763, 851, 941

Index

Phrygians  726 Phyleus  595 Physic(s)  38, 44, 52, 127 n.14, 171, 338, 1079, 1080 Phythia  829, 830 Phytidem  875 Piconia  466, 472 Picus  163 n.150, 307 n.1, 310 n.8, 477 n.33, 593 n.46, 600 n.62, 645 n.47, 692 n.42, 702 n.65, 785 n.73, 862 n.116, 950 n.58, 963–970, 1040 n.49 Pierides  430, 459–461, 525 n.11 Pierre Bersuire  6, 10, 14, 37, 58, 59 n.196 De formis figurisque deorum 10, 58 Ovidius Moralizatus  6, 14, 58 Pigmea  471–472 Pindus, Mount  179, 196, 784 Piramus  7, 47, 72, 126 n.7, 175 n.190, 310–323 The Lapith  836 n.69 Pirithoüs  32, 40, 41, 541–545, 595, 597, 605–606, 806, 829, 832 Pisa  435 Pisenor  832 Pithecusa  935, 937 Pittheia  1029, 1036 Pity  142, 660, 902 Planter of the Vine  308 Plato  4, 5, 10, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 36, 37, 49, 127, 337 n.83, 441 n.67, 443 n.71, 495, 638 n.31, 680 n.6 Allegory of the Cave  10, 29, 38 Myth of Atlantis  28, 163 n.149 Myth of Er  29, 638 n.31 Phaedo  30 Phaedrus  33, 680 n.6 Republic  10, 28, 29, 443 n.71, 638 n.31 Symposium  337 n.81 Theaetetus  31 Timaeus  2, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33 n.119, 43, 47, 126 n.10, 163 n.149, 267 n.17

1153

Pleiades  876 n.10 Plevura  1043 Plexippus  598, 600, 648 n.58 Ploial  195 n.14 Pluto  29, 63, 135, 432–437, 444– 447, 452, 459, 507, 514, 542–545, 677–685, 1037 Po, River  206 n.52, 207 Poitou  1045 Polites  764 Pollux  466, 595, 596, 806 n.11, 807 Polydamas  763 Polydectes  428–429 Polydegmon  411 Polydorus  764, 885–886, 891, 901 Polyhymnia  440 Polymestor, King  885–888, 892–896 Polynices  648–651 Polyphemus  42, 914–922, 951–955 Polyxena  764, 858–865, 888–891, 894 Pomona  993–1004 Pompey  1047, 1111, 1112 Pontius Pilate  426 Pontoise 197 Pontus  165, 1047 Pont Bisten  198 Pope  38, 54, 55, 63, 202, 203, 204, 244 n.138, 548 n.53, 573 n.13, 714 n.91, 792, 840 n.81, 972, 1049 n.70, 1101, 1116 Gregory IX  38 n.140 as Holy Father  244, 714, 840, 1102 Honorius III  54 Innocent III  55 See also Holy Father Port of the Sea/World  857, 1018 Portumnus  372 Posthumus see Silvius Powers see Angel(s) Priam, King  522, 763–764, 767, 794, 797, 806, 852, 855–860, 863, 869, 884–885, 888–889, 891, 938, 978, 1033 Priapus  644, 757, 759, 994

1154 Index

Pride  11, 45, 46, 48, 63, 66, 75, 76, 132, 133, 141 n.77, 142 n.77, 145, 149, 167, 185, 188, 189, 190, 195, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207, 208, 219, 227, 231, 237, 248, 249, 273, 283, 285, 291, 301, 305, 332, 338, 342, 343, 345, 359, 360, 362, 363, 370, 383, 387, 417, 423, 435 n.55, 438, 444, 448, 449, 463 n.1, 466, 469, 473, 474, 482–484, 488, 492, 574, 586, 591, 592, 594, 620, 630, 631, 650, 654, 721, 735, 775, 777, 790, 792, 820, 825, 839, 879, 894, 909, 921, 930, 947, 948, 958, 970, 976, 981, 982, 988, 992, 1050, 1069, 1095, 1096, 1102, 1110 Principalities see Angel(s) Priscian  31 Institutions 31 Prochyte  935 Procne  494–514, 515 Procris  515, 555–566 Procrustes  541 Proetus  388–392, 428–429, 1030 Son of Belus  255 Prometheus  9, 10, 45, 131, 678, 682 n.12 Promised Land  378, 379, 717 Propoetides  690, 728 Proreus  297 Proserpine  63, 431–452, 466 n.11, 542, 544, 713 n.86, 938, 940 Prosper Tarbé  12 Protesilaüs  819 Proteus  191, 610, 755–757, 851, 923 Prothoenor  411 Prytanis  875 Psalm(s)  11, 50, 218, 332, 350 n.117 See also Psalms under Bible Psalmist  291, 446, 545, 714 n.88, 1114 See also David Psamathe  778 Psecas  269 Pseudo-Dionysius  151 n.111 Psophis  455, 652 n.69 Puglia  851

Pygmalion  1, 37, 164 n.152, 691–693, 729–730 Of Tyre  933 Pygmies  466 Pylos  241, 492, 595, 809, 833, 841 Pyracmos  836 Pyreneus  430, 441, 460 Pyritamon see Prytanis Pyroïs  195 Pyrrha  37, 154–162, 166, 690 n.37 Pyrrhus  812, 884, 889, 907 Pythagoras  759 n.43, 1022–1034, 1035, 1051–1054 ,1095–1101 Pythian Games  167 Python 166–169 Quirinus  1015–1017, 1048 Quirinis, Hill/Mount  197 Ram 1069 See also Aries, Jupiter as Ram-God Amun under Jupiter Rancor  231, 232 Rational Thought  42, 234, 443 Raven  7 n.11, 8, 221–228, 238 Reason  12, 17, 21 n.64, 64, 443, 499 n.71, 500, 525 See also Rational Thought Red Sea  588, 1113 Redeemer, The  161, 379, 383, 404, 732, 825, 926, 940, 1096 Reductorium Morale  6, 12 Remigius of Auxerre  18, 19 Remus  1004–1006 René d’Anjou, King  59 Renown  78, 387, 594, 756 Repentance  149, 161, 186, 190, 225, 237, 243, 244, 249, 250, 282, 305, 371, 373, 374, 380, 417, 439, 449, 450, 451, 456, 473, 504, 547, 550, 563, 565, 573, 581, 588, 618, 665, 673, 675, 705, 714 n.88, 718, 723, 724, 732, 733, 742 n.5, 748, 779, 820, 825, 954, 1056, 1058, 1066, 1070, 1095, 1102 Resurrection, The  42, 51, 64, 350, 364, 379, 425, 474, 546, 718, 814,

Index

840, 858, 881, 903, 911, 913, 936, 1016, 1017, 1049, 1099 Retheum 196 Revelation  23, 38, 961 Rhadamanthus  656 Rhanis  269 Rhea  134, 135, 333 n.66 Rhea Silvia see Ilia Rhegium  16, 927, 929 Rhesus, King  870, 874, 875 n.8 Rhetoric  22, 35, 39, 49, 52, 59, 267 n.15, 851 Rhexenor 979 Rhine  198 Rhodope  466, 471 Rhodope Mountains  196, 466, 471, 679 Rhoeteum, Sea of  753 Rhoetus Slain by Dryas  831 Slain by Perseus  408 Rhône  197, 198 Ripheus  833 Ripheus, Mount  196 Robert de Blois  48 Floris and Liriope  48 Romagna  198, 851, 946, 957, 1035, 1039, 1111, 1112 Roman de Fauvel  59, 65 n.212 Roman de Troie/Romance of Troy  47, 637 n.28, 807 n.12, 821 n.34, 884 n.25 See also Benoît of Sainte-Maure Romance of Partonopeus  885 See also Partonopeus Roman(s)  2, 165, 166, 573 n.13, 736, 821, 894, 944–949, 976, 992 n.125, 1004, 1011–1012, 1014, 1015 n.172, 1034–1035, 1038– 1048, 1106, 1110–1113 Roman Emperor  1104 n.202 Roman Empire  945, 949, 1039, 1045, 1112 Rome  1, 4, 202, 684 n.16, 746, 894, 939, 942–947, 973, 977, 1005– 1008, 1011, 1014–1017, 1019,

1155

1033, 1035, 1038–1049, 1101, 1104–1106, 1110–1114 See also Holy See Romulus  939, 992, 1004–1008, 1014–1016, 1019, 1038, 1110, 1111 n.220 Royal Road  194 Rumor  78, 520 n.2, 635, 818–820 Sabaea  705 Sabarin  875 Sabia  851 Sabina  1014, 1016 Sabine(s)  1004 n.152, 1007, 1008, 1014, 1015 n.172 Sabine Forces  1007 Sabine King(s)  1006 Sacrament of the Altar  419, 717 Sacred Page  51, 53, 149, 158 See also Scripture Sagittarius  193, 233, 235, 236, 366, 1067 n.112 See also Archer under Centaur Saints  152, 153, 186, 209, 221, 243, 304, 345, 396, 428, 493, 517, 546, 594, 622, 624, 630, 631, 714, 720, 722, 727, 728, 736, 737, 746, 817, 818, 819, 886, 896, 910, 934, 949, 955, 962, 967, 976, 984, 986, 988, 989, 1011, 1015, 1057 n.84, 1075, 1098, 1101, 1102, 1116, 1117 Salamis  755, 999, 1004 Salem  165, 1003 Salerno  198 Salmacis  334–340, 1029 Samos  589, 906, 941, 1022, 1052 Samson  389 Sangaire  198 Sangaris  198 Saône 197 Sapience  69, 78, 151 n.113, 171 n.175, 177 n.197, 201 n.45, 252 n.152, 672, 840 n.81 Saracens  303, 909, 946, 948 Sarpedon  846 n.96, 847, 875

1156 Index

Satan  253, 363, 403, 586, 654, 857–858, 921–922, 955, 970, 986, 988, 1102 Saturn  134–139, 144, 164 n.153, 233–236, 467, 658, 757, 1048 Saul  720 Savior, The  161, 177, 218, 219, 232, 239, 240, 277, 278, 281, 304, 348, 370, 383, 421, 428, 443, 448, 475, 563, 565, 594, 623, 640, 716, 732, 840, 843, 846, 857, 879, 880, 881, 903, 904, 911, 912, 925, 926, 930, 937, 940, 980, 991, 1011, 1017, 1018, 1096, 1108, 1109, 1110, 1112, 1114 Scales (Libra)  1076 Science/Scientia  38, 40, 78, 79, 151, 162 n.149, 163, 171 n.175, 237, 266 n.13, 396, 424, 437, 1078 n.143 Scorpio(n)  193, 196, 1076, 1077 Scotland  612, 851, 1029 Scripture  3, 6, 8, 19, 20, 21, 22 n.65, 23, 52, 55, 57, 58 n.191, 61, 66, 70, 71, 125, 128, 138, 141, 149, 151, 161, 175, 178, 240, 242, 277, 281 n.60, 305, 331, 343 n.102, 350, 366, 375, 378, 383, 396, 404, 425 n.43, 442, 443, 447, 448, 469, 471, 475, 490, 540 n.39, 562, 566, 573, 575, 615, 623, 624 n.115, 664, 724, 773, 820, 840, 865, 878, 879, 880, 887, 894, 895, 904, 910, 912, 913, 922, 948, 954, 974, 977, 981, 999, 1000, 1009, 1017, 1052, 1053, 1058, 1075, 1096, 1097, 1098, 1099 Scylaceum  1043 Scylla Daughter of Nisus  567–575 Daughter of Phorcys  906–908, 913–914, 915 n.71, 922–926, 927–931 Scythia  196, 457, 612, 1029 n.20, 1031 Sea of Sicily  916 Sea of Theseus  585

Second Coming  42, 52, 62, 63, 565 n.81, 913, 949 Segre see Sicoris Seine 197 Semele  273–278, 208 n.3 Semiramis  162 n.144, 162 n.147, 164, 165 Sens 197 Sentences  50, 51, 52, 73, 74, 75, 76, 79, 142 n.77, 151 n.111, 177 n.201, 178 n.202, 178 n.204, 244 n.137, 278 n.47, 330 n.51, 395 n.209, 409 n.4, 421 n.27, 422 n.29, 424 n.35–36, 426 n.44, 437 n.57, 470 n.20, 483 n.41, 665 n.95, 1001 n.143, 1062 n.92, 1083 n.154 See also Peter Lombard Seraphim see Angel(s) Seriphos  428 Serpent, The  139, 167, 202, 232, 240, 391, 396, 398, 528 n.20, 529, 533, 683, 743, 776, 796, 818, 881, 999 n.142 Constellation  195 Servius  2, 14, 43, 390 n.196–197, 862 n.118 Commentary on the Aeneid  5, 19, 32 n.117 Servius Tullius  1110 Sestos  351, 356, 357 Seven Arts  851 See also Grammar, Dialectic, Rhetoric, Music, Geometry, Arithmetic, Astronomy, Liberal Arts Seven Deadly Sins  65 n.212, 66, 244 n.138, 364, 374, 452 n.95, 483 See also Pride, Avarice, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath Seven Sacraments  51, 52, 244, 422, 423, 426, 529 n.21, 747, 792, 909, 1102 Seven Strings  242, 244, 715 Seville  851 Shem  162, 163, 165 Sibyl(s)  236, 937–950 Sicania see Sicily

Index

Sicheum 196 Sicily  198, 389, 390, 431, 434, 435, 448, 590, 593, 907, 927, 935, 1028 Sicily, Sea of  916 Sicoris 197 Sidon  255, 260, 262, 263 Sigeum, Sea of  753 Signs of the Zodiac see Zodiac Silenus  308, 744, 747, 757, 994, 1001 Silvanus  757, 994, 1001 Silver  742 n.6 Silvius  939, 991, 992 n.129 Silver Age  139–141, 1028, 1095 Silvester, Saint  1101 Simeon  1108 Simois 197 Singa 197 Sinis  541 Sinuessa  1043 Sipylus  479, 480 Siren(s)  452–453, 935 Sisyphus  360, 367, 388 n.192, 678, 681, 867, 868 n.1 Sithon  333 Skyros  872 Sloth  66, 138, 253, 364, 368, 370, 418, 424, 449, 469, 483 n.41, 484, 492, 569 n.6, 599, 682, 719, 731, 737, 766, 811, 839, 909, 958, 1064, 1065, 1082, 1096 Smilax  333 Socrates  31 Sodom  153, 165, 166 n.157, 725, 737 n.159, 825, 942 n.37 Sodomites  165, 166 Son of God, The  27, 65, 69, 176, 205, 218, 219, 232, 236, 239, 240, 254, 273, 281, 301, 323, 350, 371, 384, 387, 396, 397, 402, 403, 409, 416–421, 423, 425, 446, 475, 533, 545, 550, 604, 641, 645, 654, 683, 716, 717, 719, 720, 723, 725, 742, 743, 746, 747, 754, 758, 779, 792, 814, 824, 827, 839, 843, 848, 857, 858, 864, 879, 893, 894, 895, 904, 908, 909, 910, 912, 922, 925, 936,

1157

940, 943, 953, 954, 955, 976, 977, 988, 990, 991, 992, 1010, 1015, 1018, 1049, 1050, 1051, 1054, 1077, 1092, 1096, 1099, 1102, 1103, 1110, 1113, 1114, 1115, 1117 Son of Mary, The  878, 880 Son of Two Mothers  308 Soissons 197 Solar  131, 555, 567 See also Wind(s) Solloire see Solar Solomon  239, 388, 389 Solon  29 Solym see Salem Sorcery  163, 259, 530, 793 Spain  33, 197, 234, 851, 1019 Sparta  275 n.40, 492, 688, 690, 807, 810, 816, 1032 Spercheus  179, 197 Spring  134, 140, 192, 433–434, 512, 677, 688, 727, 850, 1000, 1026, 1058, 1063, 1064, 1068, 1069 n.120, 1076 Spring of Learning see Spring of Wisdom Spring of Wisdom  429–430, 909 See also clergie Spouse  65, 204, 228, 310, 417, 419, 421, 581, 587, 594, 633, 655, 683, 729, 730, 743, 814, 887, 904, 972, 973, 976, 980, 989, 1014, 1017, 1018, 1061, 1101 Stabia  1043 Stag  268–273, 686, 723–724 Star of the Sea  254, 825, 857, 1114 Statius (the Great)  5, 18, 19, 23, 43, 648 n.56, 651 n.66, 651 n.68, 653, 812, 862 n.118 Stegedes 196 Stellio  434 Stheleneia  207 Stheneboea  390–392 Sthenno  384–385 Strophade 906 Strymon  198 Stymphalian Forest  454 Styphelos  836

1158 Index

Styx  359, 681, 862 n.118 Summa Theologiae  41 n.150, 41 n.152, 61 n.209, 71, 73, 74, 76, 78, 141 n.77, 143 n.83, 151 n.111, 153 n.119, 159 n.140, 171 n.175, 176 n.191, 177 n.196, 177 n.201, 178 n.202, 178 n.204, 238 n.123, 244 n.137, 337 n.81, 342 n.100, 362 n.144, 365 n.149, 373 n.161, 395 n.209, 404 n.228, 409 n.4, 419 n.21, 421 n.25, 421 n.27, 422 n.29423 n.32, 424 n.34–36, 425 n.38, 425 n.43, 426 n.44, 437 n.57, 450 n.88–89, 451 n.90, 452 n.93–94, 456 n.106, 470 n.20483 n.41, 513 n.87, 516 n.91, 517 n.93, 528 n.20, 529 n.21, 533 n.28, 540 n.39, 545 n.47, 546 n.50, 569 n.6, 619 n.100, 665 n.95, 680 n.6, 682 n.13, 685 n.16, 716 n.98–99, 729 n.139, 732 n.147, 733 n.150, 839 n.80, 845 n.92, 848 n.103, 944 n.43, 1001 n.143, 1054 n.80, 1062 n.93, 1083 n.154, 1083 n.156 Summer  134, 140, 192, 277, 279, 280, 281, 454, 712, 724, 765, 850, 1000, 1026, 1058, 1059, 1063, 1065, 1067 n.111, 1070, 1071, 1072, 1073 Sun of Justice as God  331, 332, 586, 899, 1067, 1081 as Jesus  202, 395, 485, 565, 573, 898, 972, 1057, 1058, 1100 Surrentum  1043 Sychaeus  933 Symeon 196 Symplegades  1030 Synagoga  65, 232, 239, 240, 254, 448, 587, 600, 893, 914, 926, 930, 931 Syria  137 n.56, 851, 945, 946 Syrinx  182, 187 Tabellicus 197 Tages  1038–1039, 1103

Tagus 197 Talburnus 196 Tamasus 711 Tanagrus 197 Tantalus, King  275, 360, 365–366, 477, 479, 480, 492, 678, 681 Tarquinius Priscus  1110 Tarquinius the Proud  1111 Tarpeia 1007 Tarpeian Tower  1048 Tarsus  196 n.19, 240, 1113 Tatius, King  1007–1008, 1011, 1014 Taurus  193 n.8, 196, 1069 n.120 See also Constellation under Bull Taygete  275, 950–951, 1043 Tegernsee  26 Telamon  521, 554, 595, 596, 753, 755, 867 Teleboas  835 Telemachus  811 Telemus 916 Telephus  813, 823, 872 Telestes  668 Telethusa  666, 667, 670, 672 Temesa  1043 Tempe 179 Temperance  33, 244 n.138, 258, 349, 449, 468, 618, 665, 723, 730, 1059, 1064, 1086, 1088 Ten Commandments  426, 427, 735 Tenedos  171, 823, 872 Tereus  125, 494–514, 515 Terpsichore  440 Tertullian  2, 20, 22, 421 n.27 Tervagant  494 Tethys  195, 658, 795 n.85, 924 Teucer  872 Teumessian Fox  558 n.67, 559 n.68 Thalia  440 Thaona see Thoön Thaumas  832 Theagenes of Rhegium  16 Theban Women  307, 373–375 Theban(s)  197, 293, 295 n.99, 303, 812, 813

Index

Thebes  156, 196, 266, 267, 268, 293, 294, 295, 301, 308, 346, 380, 429, 437, 477–479, 558, 648–653, 708, 735, 812, 823, 828, 872, 905, 906, 1032 Themis  156–158, 161–162, 393, 558, 647, 656, 757 Theodulf of Orléans, Bishop  24 Theologians  52, 71 , 73 , 74, 76 , 149 n.100, 446, 574, 685 n.16, 747, 846 n.92, 848, 910, 913 See also Masters of the Sacred Page Thereus  833 Theridamas  271 Thersites  874 Therses  905 Theseus, King  32, 40, 540, 541–547, 581, 582–588, 593, 597, 604–605, 610, 627, 629, 637 n.23, 652–653, 799, 801, 802, 805, 830, 832–833, 1035, 1048 Theseus, Sea of  585 Thessaly  158, 179, 196, 197, 221, 240 n.132, 532, 544, 613, 755, 774 n.60, 787, 829, 830, 851 Thesculus  414 Thestius  595, 598, 600 n.63, 648 Thetis  193, 754–759, 778, 828, 850, 851, 852 Thisbe  7, 175 n.190, 310–323, 329 n.42 Thoactes  413 Thomas Aquinas, Saint  9 n.18, 12, 14, 36 n.130, 38, 41, 50, 51, 52, 53, 55, 57, 61 n.209, 64, 66, 71, 73, 74, 76 , 77 , 78 , 79 , 127 n.14, 141 n.77, 142 n.77, 143 n.83, 151 n.111, 152 n.114, 153 n.119, 159 n.140, 163 n.149, 171 n.175, 176 n.191, 177 n.196, 177 n.201, 178 n.202, 178 n.204, 201 n.45, 238 n.123, 244 n.137, 276 n.44, 277 n.47, 330 n.51, 337 n.81, 342 n.100, 343 n.102, 362 n.144, 365 n.149, 374 n.161, 395 n.209, 404 n.228, 409

1159

n.4, 419 n.21, 421 n.25, 421 n.27, 422 n.29, 423 n.32, 424 n.34–36, 425 n.38, 425 n.43, 426 n.44, 437 n.57, 441 n.67, 450 n.88–89, 451 n.90, 452 n.93–94, 456 n.106, 470 n.20, 483 n.41, 513 n.87, 516 n.91, 517 n.93, 528 n.20, 529 n.21, 533 n.28, 540 n.39, 545 n.47, 546 n.50, 569 n.6, 604 n.70, 616 n.90, 619 n.100, 665 n.95, 680 n.6, 682 n.13, 685 n.16, 716 n.98–99, 722 n.117, 729 n.139, 732 n.147, 733 n.150, 839 n.80, 846 n.92, 944 n.43, 1001 n.143, 1009 n.161–162, 1062 n.93, 1083 n.154–156 Summa Contra Gentiles  9 n.18, 41 n.150 See also Summa Theologiae Thoön  875 Thrace  63, 64, 196, 198, 466, 493, 494, 497, 505, 515, 637, 651 n.66, 694 n.47, 466, 493–494, 774 n.60. 851, 885, 886. 891, 892, 901 Thracians 679 Three Sisters  385, 387, 429, 600 n.63, 1046 See also Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos Thrones see Angel(s) Thursday  138, 828 Thymetus 196 Thyoneus  308 Thyrsus  198 Tiber  970, 971, 975, 992, 993, 1005, 1043, 1044 Tiberinus  992 Tibris see Tiber Tiburtina  941 Tiburtius, Saint  736 Tigris 197 Tiresias  278–282, 283, 292, 303, 477 Tisiphone  359–362, 368, 494 Titan, King  144 Titan(s)  148, 474 Tithes 166 Tithonus  655

1160 Index

Titus  894, 1104 Tityus  360, 364–365, 678 n.3, 682 Tlepolemus  840–842 Tmolus, Mount  196, 743, 748–752 Toulouse, University of  38, 39 Tomb (of Christ)  209, 235, 428, 546, 587, 591, 683, 742, 819, 858, 886, 909, 944, 991, 1003, 1017, 1115 Touvre  198 Toxeus  598, 600 n.61, 648 n.58 Trachin  774 Trachas  1043 Traitor, The  150, 451, 510, 633, 654, 838, 887, 955, 1009, 1010, 1114 Trajan, Emperor  942 Tree of Jesse  624 n.115, 724 n.119 Trinacris see Sicily Triptolemus  457–459 Tristan  496 Triton  191, 228, 757, 851, 923 Tritone  228 Marsh of  228, 1031 See also Pallas Athena Troezen  1029, 1036 Troilus  764, 815 n.22, 860–861 See also Chryseis Trojan(s)  62 n.211, 687, 726, 800, 810, 815–822, 826, 835, 844–848, 852–855, 858–878, 882, 884–887, 892, 897, 900–902, 951, 953, 957 n. 70, 977, 985, 1033 Trojan War  897, 977, 1025 Tros  726, 763 Troy  333, 521, 522, 596, 636, 638, 726, 752–755, 763–764, 770–771, 774, 794, 797, 799–801, 805–822, 843–844, 852, 855–863, 867–878, 883, 884–890, 896, 900–902, 907, 933 n.11, 939, 941, 959, 963, 977, 1032–1033, 1045 True Salvation  160, 304, 350, 379, 404, 573, 849, 925, 993, 1076, 1080 See also Jesus Christ Truth  29, 36, 517 n.93, 599, 904 Tullus Hostilius  1110 Tunis  198

Turkish Bow  211, 212, 241, 269, 455, 595, 863 Turnus  938, 975–977, 981–985, 989 n.119, 1045 Tuscan Sea  927, 955 Tuscany  297, 957, 1038, 1043 Twins 1070 See also Gemini Tydeus  604, 648–651, 654 n.73 Typhoeus  43–431, 443, 445, 927 n.1 Tyre  260, 262, 266, 294, 933, 1029 Tyrrhenian Sea  927 n.3 Tyton  198 Ulysses  42, 73, 201 n.40, 714 n.88, 810–812, 816–817, 865–882, 882, 884, 887, 889, 890, 916, 929, 951–961, 973, 974, 978, 985 See also Odysseus Understanding  33, 125, 126, 129, 133, 137, 214, 235, 237, 238, 243, 349, 357, 367, 437, 438, 440, 441, 442, 517, 578, 590, 603, 680, 683, 693, 718, 750, 761, 772, 750, 773, 941, 1062, 1063, 1064, 1086, 1097, 1099, 1100, 1114 Unshorn, The  308 Urania  429, 440 n.66 Uranus  136 n.56 Valerius Flaccus  43 Vallée d’ Aspe see Athas Valley of the Siddim  165 Varus 197 Vatican Mythographers  14, 18, 19, 30, 126 n.7, 346 n.106, 756 n.37 First Vatican Mythographer  14, 18, 19, 388 n.191, 390 n.196, 390 n.197, 390 n.198 Second Vatican Mythographer  14, 18, 138 n.68, 390 n.198 Third Vatican Mythographer  14, 18, 29, 138 n.68, 185 n.185, 385 n.185, 386 n.188, 389 n.194, 390 n.197, 440 n.66 Veil of Veronica  894, 1105, 1106 n.206

Index

Venice  198 Venilia  964 Venulus  977, 981, 982 Venus, Lady  32, 60, 72 , 136, 137, 138, 268, 316, 323–324, 327–330, 334, 371–372, 378, 431, 432, 447, 690, 692–693, 706–713, 730–731, 757, 759, 760–763, 765–773, 797, 799, 803–804, 808, 916, 929 n.5, 932, 935 n.19, 978–979, 985–986, 989–990, 1007, 1012–1013, 1045–1048 Verdine see Stellio Vernicle 1106 See also Veil of Veronica Vertumnus  757, 993–1004 Vespasian  894, 1104 Vesta  757, 758, 1004, 1043, 1045, 1048 Vestal, Mount  197 Vices  55, 73, 158, 162, 227, 243, 254, 258, 278 n.48, 300, 362, 370, 374, 388, 392, 416, 446, 453, 456, 468, 483, 485, 539, 620, 623, 754, 849, 894, 896, 912, 913, 968, 970, 993, 1066, 1074 See also Seven Deadly Sins Virbius  1035–1040, 1101–1103 Virgil  2, 4, 5, 14, 18, 19, 23, 31, 32, 35, 43, 47, 48, 73 , 156 n.132, 187 n.218, 322 n.26, 443 n.72 Virgin  39, 174, 175, 176, 239, 254, 350, 376, 383, 384, 403, 420 n.23, 426, 474 n.26, 475, 516, 517, 529, 549 n.54, 573, 591, 600, 630, 640, 645, 723, 726, 732, 757 n.39, 779, 824, 825, 827, 845 n.91, 864 n.124, 879, 880, 904, 908, 911, 914, 936, 943, 989 n.118, 1010, 1017, 1018, 1099, 1104, 1105, 1112 Glorious Virgin  903, 1114 Noble Virgin  239 Pure Virgin  218 Virgin Maiden  218, 383, 387, 396, 397, 445, 533, 534, 563, 565, 655, 715, 724, 731, 814,

1161

825, 857, 864, 880, 882, 903, 921, 940, 989, 1103, 1108 Virgin Mother  176, 281, 640, 645, 903, 908, 1002, 1003, 1015, 1100, 1103, 1114, 1117 Virgin, Constellation (Virgo)  1073 Virtues Four Cardinal  349, 397, 622 Seven  244 Theological  335, 736 See also Angel(s) Volturnus  1043 Vulcan  136 n.56, 137–138, 191, 222, 228, 230, 231, 324–330, 650 n.63, 655, 757, 758, 759, 850, 852, 928 n.5 Vulgate Commentary  14, 28, 37, 42, 43, 159 n.140 Vulturnus  198 Wales  25 n.83, 612 Walter of Châtillon  43, 45 Welsh Hunger  612–613 West  28, 56, 131, 196, 200, 206, 267, 393, 532, 1111, 1112 Wheel of Fortune  76 , 268, 273, 479, 856 See also Fortune White Stag  816 William Caxton  59 William of Conches  31, 44, 138 n.68 Dialogue on Natural Philosophy  31 William of Ockham  50 William of St. Thierry  25, 73, 737 n.161, 1061 n.88 On the Nature and Dignity of Love  25 William Shakespeare  4, 5, 7, 59 Wind(s)  131, 134, 155, 156, 195, 367, 399 n.215, 515, 516, 531, 555, 560, 567, 573, 781, 790, 794, 850, 958, 970, 1062 Winter  134, 138, 140, 192, 277, 280, 281, 512, 515, 554, 563, 765, 789, 850, 917, 918, 1000, 1026, 1058,

1162 Index

1060, 1063, 1064, 1065, 1066, 1067, 1068, 1070, 1076 n.137 Wrath  66, 143, 166, 232, 258, 305, 370, 373, 418, 419, 457, 461, 550, 575, 599, 615, 681, 728, 746, 754, 773, 778, 779, 780, 793, 814, 820, 842, 887, 896, 900, 903, 921, 980, 981, 1003, 1010, 1077 Xaintes 197 Xanthus, River  852, 874, 875 n.8 Xente 197 Yonne  197 Ypocrimen  197 Yse  197 Ysem  833

Ysmaron  196 Ysmenon  197 Zancle  927, 929, 1029 Zeboim  165, 942 Zechariah  878, 880 Zephyr  131, 134 See also Wind(s) Zetes  516, 521 Zion, Mount  77 Daughters of  742 Zoar  165 Zodiac  62, 131 n.38, 138, 192, 194, 196, 200, 235, 726, 898, 1073 Zoroaster  163, 164

Gallica

Already Published 1. Postcolonial Fictions in the Roman de Perceforest: Cultural Identities and Hybridities, Sylvia Huot 2. A Discourse for the Holy Grail in Old French Romance, Ben Ramm 3. Fashion in Medieval France, Sarah-Grace Heller 4. Christine de Pizan’s Changing Opinion: A Quest for Certainty in the Midst of Chaos, Douglas Kelly 5. Cultural Performances in Medieval France: Essays in Honor of Nancy Freeman Regalado, eds Eglal Doss-Quinby, Roberta L. Krueger, E. Jane Burns 6. The Medieval Warrior Aristocracy: Gifts, Violence, Performance, and the Sacred, Andrew Cowell 7. Logic and Humour in the Fabliaux: An Essay in Applied Narratology, Roy J. Pearcy 8. Miraculous Rhymes: The Writing of Gautier de Coinci, Tony Hunt 9. Philippe de Vigneulles and the Art of Prose Translation, Catherine M. Jones 10. Desire by Gender and Genre in Trouvère Song, Helen Dell 11. Chartier in Europe, eds Emma Cayley, Ashby Kinch 12. Medieval Saints’ Lives: The Gift, Kinship and Community in Old French Hagiography, Emma Campbell 13. Poetry, Knowledge and Community in Late Medieval France, eds Rebecca Dixon, Finn E. Sinclair with Adrian Armstrong, Sylvia Huot, Sarah Kay 14. The Troubadour Tensos and Partimens: A Critical Edition, Ruth Harvey, Linda Paterson 15. Old French Narrative Cycles: Heroism between Ethics and Morality, Luke Sunderland 16. The Cultural and Political Legacy of Anne de Bretagne: Negotiating Convention in Books and Documents, ed. Cynthia J. Brown 17. Lettering the Self in Medieval and Early Modern France, Katherine Kong 18. The Old French Lays of Ignaure, Oiselet and Amours, eds Glyn S. Burgess, Leslie C. Brook 19. Thinking Through Chrétien de Troyes, Zrinka Stahuljak, Virginie Greene, Sarah Kay, Sharon Kinoshita, Peggy McCracken 20. Blindness and Therapy in Late Medieval French and Italian Poetry, Julie Singer 21. Partonopeus de Blois: Romance in the Making, Penny Eley 22. Illuminating the Roman d’Alexandre: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 264: The Manuscript as Monument, Mark Cruse 23. The Conte du Graal Cycle: Chrétien de Troyes’ Perceval, the Continuations, and French Arthurian Romance, Thomas Hinton 24. Marie de France: A Critical Companion, Sharon Kinoshita, Peggy McCracken 25. Constantinople and the West in Medieval French Literature: Renewal and Utopia, Rima Devereaux 26. Authorship and First-Person Allegory in Late Medieval France and England, Stephanie A. Viereck Gibbs Kamath

27. Virgilian Identities in the French Renaissance, eds Phillip John Usher, Isabelle Fernbach 28. Shaping Courtliness in Medieval France: Essays in Honor of Matilda Tomaryn Bruckner, eds Daniel E. O’Sullivan, Laurie Shepard 29. Violence and the Writing of History in the Medieval Francophone World, eds Noah D. Guynn, Zrinka Stahuljak 30. The Refrain and the Rise of the Vernacular in Medieval French Music and Poetry, Jennifer Saltzstein 31. Marco Polo’s Le Devisement du Monde: Narrative Voice, Language and Diversity, Simon Gaunt 32. The Pèlerinage Allegories of Guillaume de Deguileville: Tradition, Authority and Influence, eds Marco Nievergelt, Stephanie A. Viereck Gibbs Kamath 33. Rewriting Arthurian Romance in Renaissance France: From Manuscript to Printed Book, Jane H. M. Taylor 34. Unsettling Montaigne: Poetics, Ethics and Affect in the Essais and Other Writings, Elizabeth Guild 35. Machaut and the Medieval Apprenticeship Tradition: Truth, Fiction and Poetic Craft, Douglas Kelly 36. Telling the Story in the Middle Ages: Essays in Honor of Evelyn Birge Vitz, eds Kathryn A. Duys, Elizabeth Emery, Laurie Postlewate 37. The Anglo-Norman Lay of Haveloc: Text and Translation, eds Glyn S. Burgess, Leslie C. Brook 38. Sacred Fictions of Medieval France: Narrative Theology in the Lives of Christ and the Virgin, 1150–1500, Maureen Barry McCann Boulton 39. Founding Feminisms in Medieval Studies: Essays in Honor of E. Jane Burns, eds Laine E. Doggett, Daniel E. O’Sullivan 40. Representing the Dead: Epitaph Fictions in Late-Medieval France, Helen J. Swift 41. The Roman de Troie by Benoît de Sainte-Maure: A Translation, translated by Glyn S. Burgess, Douglas Kelly 42. The Medieval Merlin Tradition in France and Italy: Prophecy, Paradox, and Translatio, Laura Chuhan Campbell 43. Representing Mental Illness in Late Medieval France: Machines, Madness, Metaphor, Julie Singer 44. The Logic of Idolatry in Seventeenth-Century French Literature, Ellen McClure 45. The Face and Faciality in Medieval French Literature, 1170–1390, Alice Hazard 46. The Futures of Medieval French: Essays in Honour of Sarah Kay, eds Jane Gilbert, Miranda Griffin 47. Translation and Temporality in Benoît de Sainte-Maure’s Roman de Troie, Maud Burnett McInerney 48. Marguerite de Navarre: A Critical Companion, Emily Butterworth 49. Anne de Graville and Women’s Literary Networks in Early Modern France, Elizabeth L’Estrange 50. Three Preludes to the Song of Roland: Gui Of Burgundy, Roland At Saragossa, and Otinel, trans. William W. Kibler and Catherine M. Jones