Viator: Volume 5 1974 [Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520323858

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VIATOR Medieval

and Renaissance VOLUME

5

Sludies

VIATOR MEDIEVAL AND RENAISSANCE

STUDIES

Volume ^ (1974)

PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES THE CENTER

OF

FOR M E D I E V A L AND R E N A I S S A N C E

UNIVERSITY

UNIVERSITY

OF C A L I F O R N I A , LOS

OF

STUDIES

ANGELES

CALIFORNIA

B E R K E L E Y , LOS A N G E L E S , L O N D O N

PRESS 1974

VIATOR Medieval and Renaissance Studies EDITOR

Lynn White, jr. ASSISTANT

H e n r y Ansgar Kelly BOARD

Milton V. Anastos William Bowsky R o b e r t Brentano Carlo Cipolla C. Warren Hollister Charles Jones Stephan G. K u t t n e r EDITORIAL

Marshall Clagett (Institute for Advanced Study) Felix Gilbert (Institute for Advanced Study) Sholomo D. Goitein (Institute for Advanced Study) Paul Oskar Kristeller (Columbia) Frederic C. Lane (Johns Hopkins) R o b e r t S. Lopez (Yale) Edward Lowinsky (Chicago)

EDITORS

Richard H. Rouse OF

EDITORS!

Gerhart B. Ladner Philip Levine Lauro Martines William Matthews Ernest A. Moody Gilbert Reaney Jeffrey B. Russell CONSULTANTS:

R o b e r t M. Lumiansky (Pennsylvania) Millard Meiss (Institute for Advanced Johannes Quasten (Catholic University of Meyer Schapiro (Columbia) K e n n e t h Setton (Institute for Advanced Joseph R . Strayer (Princeton) Brian Tierney (Cornell)

Study) America)

Study)

Manuscripts should be addressed to t h e Editor, Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, University of California, Los Angeles, California 90024, U.S.A. Viator is open t o contributions from all sources. Texts, illustrations, maps, diagrams, musical examples, and t h e like, will be published when they are necessary to t h e documentation. Articles t h a t have been, or soon will be, printed elsewhere in any language in substantially t h e same form are not acceptable. Inquiries concerning subscriptions should be addressed to t h e University of California Press, 2223 Fulton Street, Berkeley, California 94720, U.S.A. University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England Copyright © 1974 by The Regents of the University of California ISBN: 0-520-02602-0 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 71-111417

CONTENTS

The Female Transvestite in Early Monasticism: The Origin and Development of a Motif JOHN

ANSON

Medieval Historiography through the Twelfth Century: Problems and Progress of Research

33

ROGER D . RAY

L'Ars de nomine et verbo de Phocas: manuscrits et commentaires médiévaux COLETTE

61

JEUDY

Theory and Practice in Medieval Medicine

157

JOHN M. RIDDLE

Stylistic Analogies between Old English Art and Poetry PETER R.

185

SCHROEDER

Monastic Reform at Beaulieu, 1031-1095 J A N E KATHERINE

BEITSCHER

Hugh of Saint Victor and the Art of Memory GROVER A. ZINN,

199

211

Jr.

The Castellan: The Early Career of Hubert de Burgh

235

MICHAEL WEISS

The Female Felon in Fourteenth-Century England

253

BARBARA HANAWALT WESTMAN

The Comparative Communal Responses to the Black Death in Muslim and Christian Societies MICHAEL W. DOLS

269

VI

CONTENTS

Ars imitatur naluram: A Consilium of Baldus on Naturalization in Florence JULIUS

KIRSHNER

Citizenship at Law in Late Medieval Italy PETER

289

333

RIESENBERG

The Generation in Medieval History

347

DAVID HERLIHY

The Political Bias of Malory's Morte D'arthur RICHARD R.

GRIFFITH

Biblical Women in the Merchant's Tale: Feminism, Antifeminism, and Beyond EMERSON BROWN,

387

JR.

The Wife of Bath and All her Sect WILLIAM

365

413

MATTHEWS

A Fourteenth-Century Proposal for Equal Temperament OLIVER B .

445

ELLSWORTH

Measures against Water Pollution in Fifteenth-Century Florence

455

RICHARD C. TREXLER

Gerson and the Donation of Constantine: Growth and Development within the Church 469 LOUIS B. PASCOE, S. J .

Viator style sheet

486

THE FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM: THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF A MOTIF

by John Anson

The apocryphal Acts of Saint Paul records the legend of Thecla, a well-born and beautiful virgin, who, upon hearing Paul preach the blessedness of chastity, renounced her fiancé and her family to follow the apostle and to become a Christian martyr. In the course of her troubled wanderings from her home in Iconium to the seat of her cult in Seleucia, Thecla, for no immediately apparent reason, cut her hair and assumed temporarily the garments of a man. As it is presented in the Acts, the incident seems unimportant if not pointless, but it demands our attention not only because its very irrelevance poses an enigma, but, much more, because it represents, almost surely, the original instance of what subsequently became the dominant motif in the lives of a whole group of saints, at least one of whom is explicitly said to have imitated Thecla. Accordingly, to examine the incident more closely, I shall begin with a resumé of Thecla's history as it is told in the original Greek text. 1 The Acts relates how, in the course of those persecutions to which he alludes in 2 Timothy 3.11, Saint Paul, along with two treacherous companions, Demas and Hermogenes, was welcomed into the house of Onesephorus at Iconium; 2 there he proceeded to preach a sermon in praise of virginity, promising immortality as the reward for chastity. Across the way, Thecla, the daughter of a leading citizen, listened to Paul from a window and became so enamored of his doctrine that even after three days and nights without food or rest she could not be persuaded, by either her fiancé or her mother, to move. Accordingly, the fiancé, Thamyris, incited by Demas and Hermogenes, early the following

1

The Acta Pauli et Theclae, ed. R. A. Lipsius and M. Bonnet in Acta apostolorum apocrypha (Leipzig 1891) 1.253-272, constitutes one of the three pieces that together comprise the Acta Pauli. The various parts and editions are summarized by Berthold Altaner, Patrology, trans. Hilde C. Graef (Freiburg 1960) 73-74. I have used the translation of Montague Rhodes James, The Apocryphal New Testament, being the Apocryphal Gospels, Acts, Epistles and Apocalypses, (Oxford 1953) 272-281. 2 Hermogenes and Demas are mentioned in 2 Tim. 1.15 and 4.20, respectively; Onesephorus twice, in 1.16 and 4.19.

2

JOHN ANSON

morning gathered a troop of citizens who hailed Paul before the local magistrate and accused him of alienating their wives with his unnatural teachings. 3 The judge remanded Paul to prison to await trial, and in the evening Thecla, after having bribed the jailer, visited him in his cell and received further instruction. Meanwhile, her family, having learned of her absence, had frantically set out in search of her, only to find her with Paul. In the furor t h a t followed, both were dragged before the judge, who merely ordered Paul whipped and expelled from the city, but, at the instigation of the now hysterical mother, unwillingly condemned the girl to be burnt in the theater. Comforted with a vision of Christ in the likeness of Paul, the naked Thecla no sooner mounted the blazing pyre than a hailstorm miraculously extinguished the flames and, at the same time, destroyed great numbers of the spectators. Six days later, when she had finally rediscovered Paul, there occured a conversation between them which I shall simply quote because of its importance to my discussion: And Thecla said unto Paul: I will cut my hair round about and follow thee whithersoever thou goest. But he said: The time is ill-favored and thou art comely: beware lest another temptation take thee, worse than the first, and thou endure it not but play the coward. And Thecla said: Only give me the seal in Christ, and temptation shall not touch me. And Paul said: Have patience, Thecla, and thou shalt receive the water. 4 Thereafter, Paul and Thecla traveled together to Antioch, where an important official named Alexander, probably the provincial high priest, struck with Thecla's beauty and in all likelihood supposing her a courtesan, 5 after vainly attempting to engage Paul as a go-between, embraced Thecla in the market place. Unwilling to brook such treatment, she instantly rent his garments and tore from his head the golden crown bearing the image of Caesar. As a result of this insult, which was tantamount to an attack upon the emperor, Alexander appealed at once to the magistrate. The latter, despite public protest, ordered Thecla thrown to the beasts; but, instead of confining her in jail, he allowed her to reside with the rich and powerful dowager queen, Tryphaena, that she might preserve her chastity. Suffice it to say that, despite repeated exposures to a whole series of animals, in the course of which she baptized herself in the amphitheater trench, Thecla continued unharmed; finally, as she was about to be drawn between two bulls, Tryphaena, who had developed a deep affection for the girl, suddenly swooned and the festival was

3 It seems highly probable that, along with the charges, Paul must have been accused of practicing magic. For a full discussion of the trial, see W. M. Ramsay, The Church in the Roman Empire before A.D. 170, ed. 8 (London 1904) 391-395. 4 5

J a m e s 277. See R a m s a y 395-401 on Alexander's position and behavior.

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

3

abruptly halted for fear that Caesar, her relative, might avenge the injury. Thus, to the joy of the whole community, but especially the women, Thecla was released and went to rest for eight days with Tryphaena, most of whose household she converted. It is at this point that, longing for Paul, she dressed herself as a man and, together with a large company, proceeded to the city of Merou. There, upon finding him, she announced, "I have received baptism, for he who commanded thee to preach, the same commanded me to baptize." Paul at once acknowledged her mission and sent her home to Iconium to preach, but Thamyris had died, and her mother remained impervious to her message. So she went to Seleucia, where, after having illuminated many, she died in a state of blessedness. According to other Greek texts, she lived for years near Seleucia as a hermit performing wondrous cures, until the district physician out of spite hired a band of rakes to ravish her and she fled from them into a rock t h a t miraculously opened and then closed about her. To consider, then, the role of the disguise in the legend itself: the question at once arises how to explain the occurrence in a pious biography of an act explicitly forbidden by Scripture (Deut. 22.5). As early as the fifth century, Basil of Seleucia, in his much-expanded life of the local patron, palliates the fault by representing the disguise as a useful protective measure. 6 Thus, Thecla's initial proposal to cut her hair, the motives for which in the earlier versions remain unexplained, she justifies in Basil's account by claiming t h a t the removal of her "beguiling" hair will enable her to avoid the looks of the overcurious; moreover, when she finally does adopt male habit, the motive is mentioned again, for, as Basil observes, nothing that she had suffered had been able to cause the slightest diminution of her beauty. Over a millennium later, Basil's editor was still content to accept this reasoning and offer a learned defense of Thecla's deviation. 7 Clearly, however, the motives elaborated by Basil offer little more than an instructive example of the process of a kind of literary rationalization encountered again and again to veil forbidden material; for, although he has capitalized on the hint of Thecla's beauty, what still remains to give Basil away is the contradiction that by the time she finally does assume male clothing, Thecla not only has been released from legal persecution but is surrounded by a large band of loyal followers who render disguise unnecessary. Thus, the functional motivation offered by Basil proves a pious fiction to mask a disturbing fact whose real significance lies elsewhere. Modern investigators, trained in philology and the science of folklore, have, with the exception of Marie Delcourt, sought an explanation for the transvestite motif in various pagan rites, recollections of which, they claim, passed into Christian hagiography possibly through the medium of the Greek romances. 6

On the early prohibitions against transvestitism and female tonsure, see below at n. 31. Basilius Seleuciensis episcopus, Opera quae exslant omnia, PG 85 (Paris 1860) 477-618. For the note of Peter Partinus, see col. 549. 7

4

JOHN ANSON

Hermann Usener, the first scholar to advance such a theory, discovering that a number of transvestite saints share names that were epithets of Aphrodite, concluded that the disguise must represent a survival of the cult of the bisexual Aphrodite of Cyprus, whose festival was celebrated by transvestite worshipers on a date close to the feast days of the several martyrs. 8 Unfortunately, there remains still a larger number of transvestite saints who enjoy no relation whatever to the Cypriotic Venus; so that even a scholar like Günter, who accepts some philological connection between the figures, must concede that it fails to explain either the meaning of the disguise or the source, not to mention its earliest occurrence in the legend of Thecla.9 Similar objections might be raised to the counterthesis of Father Delehaye insofar as he claims that all the lives discussed by Usener constitute merely romanticized variations of the story of Pelagia, as she appears not in her legend but in Chrysostom and Ambrose, a fifteen-year-old girl who threw herself from her housetop to preserve her virginity and then became confused with an anonymous actress of Antioch who abandoned a life of dissolution to become a penitent ascetic.10 Clearly, not only is the theme too diffused to be traced to one figure, but the legends Thecla and Eugenia antedate Pelagia's as well. In 1916, L. Radermacher 11 finally perceived that the story of Thecla belonged with the group identified by Usener. His claim, however, that Thecla's disguise is directly modeled upon an incident in the fifth book of Xenophon's Ephesiaca turning on the Spartan practice of shaving the heads of brides seems, if anything, even more arbitrary and myopic than the earlier explanations. That the Greek romances may have influenced the legends of transvestite saints seems a highly plausible position, which has been argued properly by Rosa Söder,12 but to single out one romance from the few that have been preserved as the sole and immediate origin of a recurrent motif hopelessly distorts the thesis. The far more basic objection to all of these theories, however, is that they have, in effect, begun with the wrong question; in their efforts to discover a particular source for the transvestite theme, they have wholly neglected to inquire into its use or significance. Had they begun by more carefully examining the legends themselves, they would have proceeded in an entirely different 8 Hermann Usener, "Legenden der Pelagia" (1879), in Vorträge und Aufsätze 1907) 190-215. 9 Heinrich Günter, Psychologie der Legende: Studien zu einer wissenschaftlichen Geschichte (Freiberg 1949) 281-286.

(Leipzig Heiligen

10

Hippolyte Delehaye, The Legends of the Saints, ed. 4 (London 1962) 150-156. L. Radermacher, Hippolytus und Thekla: Studien zur Geschichte von Legende und Kultus, Kais. Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, Philosophische-historische Klasse 182.3 (1916). 11

12

R o s a Söder, Die Apokryphen Apostelgeschichten und die romanhafte Literatur der Antike (Stuttgart 1932) 127-128, cites examples of transvestite disguise in Achilles Tatios 6.1, Iamblichus (Hercher 229.16ff.), Apuleius (Met. 7.6), passim in the Acts of Thomas (Bonnet 148), Acts of Philip (chaps. 44 and 95).

FEMALE

TRANSVESTITE

IN E A R L Y

MONASTICISM

5

direction. The credit for perceiving this error belongs to Marie Delcourt, whose two studies have virtually reconstituted the problem.13 Gathering for the first time a really representative sample of legends and adding to them the historical disguises of Joan of Arc and the seventeenth-century mystic Antoinette Bourignon, Miss Delcourt proceeded to examine the stories, not for possible vestiges of archaic rituals, but for recurrent patterns of psychological significance. She found that again and again the assumption of male disguise signalized for the heroines of the various legends a violent rupture with a former mode of existence made in the service of an ideal of androgynous perfection. She concluded that the theme had therefore probably arisen in the ambiance of the earliest Christian asceticism, colored as it was by competing gnostic beliefs. My objection to Miss Delcourt's interpretation of the legends is that she seeks to explain them in terms of the heroine's psychology. Clearly, however, they neither record real female behavior nor do they reveal any real interest in characterization. Rather, they are with the exception of Thecla products of a monastic culture written by monks for monks, and it is in this situation that the psychological explanation should be sought. Accordingly, I have attempted to localize their origins and to understand the monastic milieu that produced them. Moreover, I have approached their themes through their gradual literary elaboration in an effort to show how the inner logic of the story expressed itself. If the stories are studied beginning with the simplest and proceeding to the most complicated—an arrangement that, I hasten to add, bears no necessary relation whatever to the order of influence or composition—it becomes possible, I believe, to pinpoint rather exactly what in the motif exercised the imagination of early monastic authors and led them to reproduce version after version. In a male society dedicated to celibacy as the highest virtue and so not surprisingly given to excesses of antifeminism,14 the fantasy of a holy woman disguised among their number represented, I shall suggest, a psychological opportunity to neutralize the threat of female temptation. In its fullest elaborations, I contend that this latent interest becomes patent. There are, however, also extremely simple legends where the motif remains, as it were, inert. But even in these one can often discover what might have been developed. Whether it came from Greek romance, the apocrypha, or arose, as it might have, independently, the motif caught hold at a certain historical moment

13 Marie Delcourt, "Female Saints in Masculine Clothing," Hermaphrodite: Myths and Rites of the Bisexual Figure in Classical Antiquity, trans. Jennifer Nicholson (London 1961) 84-102. An expanded form of this chapter appeared as "Le complexe de Diane dans l'hagiographie chrétienne," Revue de l'histoire des religions 153 (1958) 1-33. 14 For an amply documented discussion of celibacy and antifeminism in early monasticism, see Herbert B. Workman, The Evolution of the Monastic Ideal (London 1913) 54-66.

6

JOHN ANSON

and invited invention and elaboration. It is to this interest, local and particular as it proved, t h a t I address myself. In the acts of Thecla, if anywhere, it would seem legitimate to speak of an original form of the female saint in disguise. Not only does the legend alone among the apocrypha appear to have at least a core of historical truth, but, as I have already remarked, it shows no signs of the effort to rationalize or embellish the stark symbolic nature of the extraordinary act. Evidently, Thecla's disguise must be intimately linked with her baptism; for in the speech where she first proposes to cut her hair, she also asks for baptism, and when she finally baptizes herself only then does she go to Paul in the garments of a man. A closer examination of the two cryptic passages reveals further connections between them which corroborate this view. In the first, which I have already quoted, it will be recalled that Paul refuses Thecla permission to cut her hair and follow him on the grounds that she may encounter temptation beyond her endurance. When she replies that baptism would ward off the danger, he answers that she will receive it at the appropriate time. In the later and final encounter, when she appears in disguise, Paul's first thought is t h a t she has now met some temptation; at once, however, she reassures him t h a t she has been baptized, whereupon he receives her and shortly thereafter sends her on her mission. What firmly establishes the link between the two passages, then, is the mention in both of Paul's fear that Thecla will weaken; for apparently the disguise, forbidden in the first place lest she be tempted, triggers the fear that she has been tempted on the later occasion. The presence of this anxiety can, I believe, be explained by the attitude of the earliest Christians towards baptism. If, as Paul insisted in Romans 3.25, baptism only served to remit the sins t h a t were past, then the baptized sinner stood in urgent need of a second chance for repentance. As hope for the Coming waned, the Church was increasingly forced to recognize this need and to answer it with a second sacrament of penitence. But for Paul and the fathers of the following century no such dispensation existed: Semel in baptismo remissio peccatorum datur. So great was the sense of finality attached to the ritual lustration that, for a time in the third century, it was popular to postpone it until the hour of death. And in no case was baptism granted except to those who had already showed signs of inner regeneration, whether boldly revealed in charismatic performances or gradually achieved through penance and moral exercises. Thus, there existed groups of catechumens not yet fully initiated into the Church who received instruction and, in more enthusiastic communities, waited for the evident signs of possessing the Spirit before undertaking the fearful commitment of baptism. To such a group, I submit, Thecla must be assigned at the time of her release from the trial at Iconium. Hence, when Paul refuses to let her cut her hair because she may become ensnared by further temptation, it seems ap-

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE

IN E A R L Y

MONASTICISM

7

parent that the tonsure is linked with the baptism,15 whose onerousnes she feels she is unready to bear; for as what follows implies, although she has passed one test, she has not manifested the signs of spiritual calling, the charismata listed by Paul in 1 Corinthians 12 and associated there with the baptism of the Spirit. Significantly enough, then, at their subsequent meeting, when she reawakens Paul's fears that she has been tempted, Thecla reassures him not merely that she has been baptized, but that "he who commanded thee to preach, the same commanded me also to baptize." During the trial at Antioch she has received her calling, and she proceeds to relate to Paul its miraculous workings. Clearly, her garments have stood as a sign of her newborn spirit, but it remains to be discovered exactly why. The rationale can, I believe, be found in a notable Pauline figure that the legend itself systematically develops. When Thecla first enters the arena at Antioch, whence she emerges baptized, she is stripped naked and left only a loincloth to wear. As such exposure appears to have been the Roman custom, the incident might not seem remarkable save that the legend calls attention to it. At the moment of baptism "there was about her a cloud of fire, so that neither did the beasts touch her nor was she seen to be naked." Upon being released from the theater and given back her clothes, Thecla glosses the miracle in her response to the judge: "He that clad me when I was naked among the beasts, the same in the day of judgment will clothe me with salvation." What the gloss makes explicit is that the miracle performed in the arena must be seen as a literal fulfillment of the mystical "putting on" of Christ that Paul conceives the baptismal initiation to effect. The disguise, I suggest, simply carries one step further the enactment of the mystery through which the initiate "puts on" the body of the Savior. Galatians 3.27-28 provides the biblical authority upon which such a ritual performance might have been justified: "For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." The faith that incorporation into the body of Christ brings the initiate into a state of primal perfection transcending all distinctions, including those of sex, would logically account for Thecla's transvestite ritual; in the course of "putting on Christ," it would be natural enough to attempt to appropriate his male or androgynous form. From the second century onward, there have come historical records that suggest the existence of such rites.

15

On t h e c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n f e m a l e t o n s u r e a n d b a p t i s m , it is i n t e r e s t i n g t o n o t e t h a t

t h e l i t u r g y of H i p p o l y t u s ' s Traditio

apostolica

( R o m e ca. 2 1 0 ) calls f o r all w o m e n t o l o o s e

their h a i r b e f o r e i m m e r s i o n : " P o s t e a b a p t i z a t e viros, t a n d e m a u t e m m u l i e r e s q u a e s o l v e r u n t crines s u o s o m n e s . " See t h e e d i t i o n of D o m B e r n a r d B o t t e , L i t u r g i e w i s s e n s c h a f t l i c h e Q u e l l e n u n d F o r s c h u n g e n 3 9 ( M ü n s t e r 1963) 44.

8

JOHN ANSON

Among the gnostics, wild speculation on divine androgyny inevitably led to some bizarre practices. Simon Magus (Acts 8), reputed the father of gnosticism, traveled about with a Tyrean prostitute named Helen, who, he claimed, was the fallen incarnation of the divine Idea {enivoia). Generated by the superior male Mind (vovq) within the primordial Silence, this lower female Idea absorbed the higher male principle into herself to become a creative androgyne, the mother of All, from whom successively degenerate epigones sprang until, passing through the body of Helen of Troy, she reached her final hypostasis in Simon's companion. To rescue her, "the lost sheep" of Luke 15.6, God had descended in various forms, as the Father in Samaria, as the Son in Judaea, and finally, now, as Simon Magus himself.16 The soteriological drama enacted by Simon and Helen became in other sects the foundation of baptismal rites through which the believer recovered the original perfection of the Male. According to Hippolytus in thePhilosophumena, the Naassenes celebrated two initiations, the first into the "lesser mysteries of carnal generation" and the second into the greater or celestial mysteries (5.8).17 Since they abominated heterosexual intercourse, preferring to live in the manner of the Phrygian eunuchs, the first "carnal" rite would appear to be that baptism of "imperishable pleasure" which Hippolytus strongly suggests had a homosexual significance based on a mystical interpretation of Romans 1.20-27 and the castration of Attis, which they believed represented the journey of the soul to the bliss of bisexual completeness (5.7). The second rite, through which one entered the gates of Heaven,18 was reserved for the Perfect, who there put on the garments prepared for them and became bridegrooms "rendered more masculine by the virginal spirit" (5.8). The Gospel of Thomas, a work which the Naassenes are said to have venerated, seems to allude to the same celestial initiation, when Jesus says: "See, I will draw her [Mary Magdalene] male so that she also may become a living spirit like you males. For every woman who has become male will enter the Kingdom of heaven" (118).19 A similar meaning attached to the baptism of the Valentinians is described by Clement of Alexandria in his Excerpts from Theodotus. Positing as the type of Christ a bisexual Adam with whom the male seed remained to produce the angels while the female was withdrawn to form Eve and the race of the elect, 1 6 On Simon Magus, see Hans J o n a s , The Gnostic Religion: The Message of the Alien God and the Beginnings of Christianity, ed. 2 (Boston 1963) chap. 4, and Robert M. Grant, Gnosticism and Early Christianity, rev. ed. (New York 1966). 17

J . B . Lightfoot, The Apostolic

Fathers

(London 1890) 1.2.317-477.

Elsewhere, Hippolytus explains t h a t following J o h n 10.7-9 the gate was identified with Jesus (5.8). 18

1 9 J e a n Doresse, The Secret Books of the Egyptian Gnostics: An Introduction Coptic Manuscripts discovered at Chenoboskion, with an English Translation Evolution of "The Gospel according to Thomas" (New York 1960) 370.

to the and

Gnostic Critical

9

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

this school of Valentinians conceived that it was the mission of the Savior to reintegrate the female chosen who made up the Church with the male angels from whom they had originally emanated. "Therefore," explains Clement, "the woman is said to be changed into a man, and the church here on earth into angels" (excerpt 21.3).20 This change or "angelic redemption" was brought about by immersion, possibly in conjunction with some nuptial ritual. For Clement explains that the soul that has finally entered the pleroma after its union with the male seed is "no longer a bride but has become a Logos and rests with the bridegroom" (27.5),21 and Saint Irenaeus attests that "some of them [the Valentinians] prepare a nuptial couch and perform a sort of mystic rite (pronouncing certain expressions) with those who are being initiated, and affirm that it is a spiritual marriage which is celebrated by them, after the likeness of the conjunctions above" (1.21.3).22 Whatever the ceremony, it is clear that baptismal rites among the Valentinians as well as among the Naassenes employed an elaborate symbolism of bisexual fusion and the transformation of female into male from which what might be styled sacramental disguise may well have been developed.23 Another possible inspiration for Thecla's disguise, at least as it appears in the late redaction we possess, may have come from the Montanist movement, the chiliastic revival that flourished in Asia Minor during the late second century. Certainly the notice in Tertullian's De baptismo (17.4) denying the authenticity of the Pauline Acts to those who cited Thecla as a historical precedent for the right of women to baptize seems directed to the Montanists, for among the primary charges laid against the sect appears the extensive role assigned to the women prophets Prisca and Maximilla. Viewed by the Church as the victims of demonic possession, these enthusiasts delivered themselves of ecstatic utterances that they claimed were directly inspired by the Holy Ghost. Maximilla asserted that she was "the Word, the Spirit and the Power,"24 and Prisca dreamed that "in the form of a woman in a shining robe" Christ

20

The Excerpta

ex Theodoto of Clement of Alexandria,

ed. and trans. Robert Pierce Casey,

Studies and Documents 1 (London 1934) 56. The best and fullest explanation of this complicated system of male and female emanations is to be found in Francois M. M. Sagnard, gnose valentinienne

et le témoignage

La

de saint Irénée, Études de philosophie médiévale 36 (Paris

1947) 547-557, esp. 552ff. 21

Similar marriage imagery is developed in Excerpts 64, 68, and 79.

22

Irenaeus

against

Heresies,

in The Ante-Nicene

Fathers

1 (Buffalo 1885) 346.

See also

1.13.3. 23

For a discussion of possible gnostic influences in the Acts in general, see Richard Adel-

bert Lipsius,

Die

apokryphen

Apostelgeschichten

und

Apostellegenden

2.1 (Braunschweig

1887) 448-461. 24

Eusebius of Caesarea, Historia

montanisme,

ecclesiastica

( H E ) 5.26.17, in Les sources de l'histoire

ed. Pierre de Labriolle (Frebourg 1913) 74.

du

10

JOHN ANSON

came to her, filled her with wisdom and revealed that Pepuza, the village where she lived, was to receive the descent of the celestial Jerusalem.25 Their habit of viewing themselves as virtually female Christs, which, Epiphanius suggests, the prophetesses defended by citing the verse from Galatians which I earlier noted,26 may well have shaped one of the visions of Saint Perpetua, whose clearly authentic passion shows strong Montanist influence.27 On the day before her ordeal, Perpetua imagined that she had arrived at the amphitheater to discover she was to fight not with the expected beasts but a foul Egyptian whom she later recognized as the Devil. In preparation for this trial, she was undressed in the arena and changed into a man. Considering that the flight of the Israelites from Egypt had been established by Paul as the type of Christian baptism (1 Cor. 10), Perpetua's vision of stripping and of sexual transformation as a preliminary for combat with an Egyptian would seem to be a symbol of sacred initiation much like Thecla's disguise. The close analogy between the two metamorphoses, coupled with the visionary propensities of the heroines, their locus in Montanist regions and Tertullian's date, lends support to the theory of a common origin. Moreover, the Pauline doctrine of absolute chastity, which prompted Thecla to abandon her fiancé, likewise caused the prophetesses to desert their husbands28 and Perpetua to renounce her aging father. Thus, the case for a Montanist background for Thecla's disguise carries some conviction.29 My concern, however, lies not so much in establishing a particular source as in suggesting the kind of ritualistic thinking that first gave birth to the figure of the transvestite heroine. As must already be clear, in the earliest of Christian thought it is frequently impossible to distinguish between what might be described as the realms of metaphor and mystery. When not only Saint Paul proclaimed that in the Kingdom of Heaven neither male nor female existed, but similar sayings were attributed to Jesus himself,30 there arose, in addition to the gnostic bisexual cosmogonies and the androgynous visions of the Mon25

Saint Epiphanius, Panarion 49.1, in Labriolle 139. Labriolle's La crise montaniste (Paris 1913) 87-88. 26 Labriolle, Sources 141.

For discussion of this vision, see

27

The Passions of Saints Perpetua and Félicitas can be found in English with some discussion of its Montanist background in Some Authentic Acts of the Early Martyrs, trans. E. C. E. Owen (Oxford 1927) 74-92. The Montanism of the Acts is discussed at length in Labriolle, La crise 839-853. 28

Eusebius, H . E . 5.18.3, in Labriolle, Sources 79. The theory of a Montanist background for the legend of Thecla was advanced long ago b y J. Ernest Renan, Histoire des origines du christianisme, ed. 25 (Paris 1923) 7 ( M a r c Aurèle et la fin du monde antique) 244. See also Solomon Reinach, "Thékla," in Cultes, mythes, et religions 4 (Paris 1912) 229-251. 29

30

In addition to the saying that I have quoted from the Gospel of Thomas, Clement of Alexandria alludes in several places to another similar statement attributed t o Jesus in the so-called Gospel According to the Egyptians. All the variants are cited in James 10-11.

11

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

tanist priestesses, at least one sect, established by Eustatius of Sebaste, in which the women cut their hair and dressed as men. They must have presented a threat, because we know of their existence from the official anathema of the Council of Gangra (A.D. 345), and almost a century later the Theodosian Code (A.D. 435) reiterated the prohibition against female tonsure (12.2.17). Thus, it seems possible that the transvestite virgin saints had historical existence as the female counterparts to those self-emasculated "eunuchs for God" (Matt. 19.12) of whom Origen constitutes only the most famous example. 31 Whether they existed or not, however, it remains clear that the concept of putting on Christ by an act of mimetic magic which must have motivated at least the Eustatian women 32 likewise inspired sexual disguise as a theme in hagiography. Its meaning, however, was to change. For Thecla male attire represented communion with Christ. It signalized and effected a transformation of self, the birth of a new identity, not only in the name of Christ but in the body as well.33

II If Thecla's disguise possesses at least the verisimilitude of what might be described as a historical fiction (novella), the lives of the later transvestite virgins move in a world of pure erotic romance. Typical is the Egyptian legend (of uncertain date) of Saint Margaret 34 who, filled with shame at the thought of losing her virginity, kept apart from her husband on the night of her wedding, disguised herself as a man, assumed the name of Pelagius, and fled to a monastery. There her exemplary holiness caused her to be elected the "prior" of the neighboring nunnery. But when the portress became pregnant, she was accused of being the father, and was peremptorily condemned and sentenced to live in a pit on a diet of bread and water. This trial she endured without a murmur until at the hour of her death she wrote to the monastery and revealed her true identity and innocence. A transparently literary product, such a story represents one set of variations upon a few simple themes, so that it can be grouped with similar stories by motif and sometimes by place and date of composition as well. 31

T h e recurrent i n s t a n c e s of these s e l f - m u t i l a t i o n s are briefly r e v i e w e d b y H e n r y Charles

Lea, History 32

oj Sacerdotal

Celibacy

H a n s L i e t z m a n n , in A History

in the Christian of the Early

Church, ed. 3 ( N e w York 1907) 1.29-30.

Church (Cleveland 1953) 4.173, presents this

m o t i v e as a fact, b u t I a m n o t aware of his source, since t h e edicts t h e m s e l v e s s a y n o t h i n g a b o u t t h e E u s t a t i a n s ' reasons b e y o n d a desire for c h a s t i t y . 33

F o r t h e magical use of t h e n a m e of Christ in early b a p t i s m , see Silva N e w , "The N a m e ,

B a p t i s m , and t h e L a y i n g on of H a n d s , " in The Beginnings

of Christianity

1.5, ed. F. V. F o a k e s

J a c k s o n , K i r s o p p Lake, and H e n r y J. Cadbury ( L o n d o n , 1933) 121-140. 34

A S J u l y 4.287.

Saints

as Englished

A n E n g l i s h version is t o be f o u n d in The Golden Legend by William

Caxton,

or Lives

ed. F. S. Ellis ( L o n d o n 1900) 5.238-240.

of the

12

JOHN

ANSON

Thus, in the desert of Scetis and the Wadi 'n Natrun near Alexandria, there supposedly lived no less than six transvestite virgins, all from the middle of the fifth to the start of the sixth century: Anastasia, 35 Apollonaria, 36 Athanasia,37 Euphrosyne, 38 Hilaria, 39 Theodora. 40 To these may be added Matruna, 41 slightly later (ca. 650), and Eugenia, 42 whose legend has an early setting; and Pelagia and Marina, as they are described in the Coptic calendar. 43 Such a grouping suggests t h a t the legends may have been mass-produced by a school of Egyptian scribes at a time when the desert of Scetis had become the acknowledged center of the monastic movement. To Scetis had gone among others Saint Jerome (385), Cassian (ca. 385), Palladius (388), and Hufinus (ca. 378), and thence had they brought to the West not only the institutions of monastic life but the narratives of the desert as well, many of which they collected in the Historia lausiaca and the Historia monachorum in Aegypto. Both Rosweyd and Conybeare assign the Latin life of Eugenia to Rufinus, 44 and from John Chrysostom, the friend of Palladius and the teacher of Cassian, comes the story of Pelagia in its simplest form. 45 How many such stories arose in the West independently remains impossible to say, though by the seventh century the lives of the desert fathers had traveled as far as Ireland. 46 W h a t seems clear is that in Scetis legends of women monks were sufficiently widely

35

A S March 2 . 4 0 - 4 1 .

Saints

of Egypt

36

A S Jan. 1.257-261.

37

A S Oct. 4 . 9 9 7 - 1 0 0 0 .

38

A S Feb 2.533-544.

Narrations

A n E n g l i s h s u m m a r y of her life is g i v e n in D e L a c y O ' L e a r y , The

( L o n d o n 1937) 7 2 - 7 4 .

of Holy

E n g l i s h s u m m a r y in O ' L e a r y 8 1 - 8 2 . A n E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n of t h e S y r i a c v e r s i o n a p p e a r s in

Women,

t r a n s . A g n e s S m i t h L e w i s , Studia

Sinactica

Select

10 ( L o n d o n 1 9 0 0 )

46-59. 39

Patrologia

orientalis,

O'Leary 152-154. Sleepers,

ed. R . G r a f f e n a n d F. N a u , 11 ( P a r i s 1 9 1 6 ) 6 2 4 - 6 3 8 .

E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n : Three Coptic

Legends:

Hilaria,

S u m m a r y in

Archellites,

The

Seven

trans. J a m e s D r e s c h e r , S u p p l é m e n t a u x a n n a l e s du s e r v i c e des a n t i q u i t é s de l ' É y g p t e

4 (Cairo 1947). 40

A S Sept. 3.788-791.

S u m m a r y in O ' L e a r y 191.

E n g l i s h in Golden

Legend

(n. 34 a b o v e )

4.48-53. 41

Patrologia

42

P L 73.605-624.

orientalis

3 ( P a r i s 1900) 2 8 9 - 2 9 1 .

T h e r e are E n g l i s h v e r s i o n s in Golden

and Acts of Apollonius

and other Monuments

of Early

Legend,

Christianity,

2 . 1 5 1 - 1 5 2 ; The

Apology

ed. F . C. C o n y b e a r e ( L o n -

d o n 1 8 9 4 ) 1 4 7 - 1 8 9 ; a n d L e w i s (n. 5 a b o v e ) 1-35. 43

S e e O ' L e a r y 1 8 7 - 1 8 8 (Marina) a n d 224 ( P e l a g i a ) .

44

C o n y b e a r e 1 6 2 n.

45

T h e s t o r y of t h e r e p e n t a n c e of a n u n n a m e d b u t w e l l - k n o w n c o u r t e s a n of A n t i o c h is

t o l d b y C h r y s o s t o m in h i s s i x t y - s e v e n t h H o m i l y o n S t . M a t t h e w . 46

F o r t h e r e l a t i o n s b e t w e e n E g y p t a n d Ireland, see O t t o F. M e i n a r d u s , Monks

asteries

of the Egyptian

J . C h i t t y , The Desert asticism

under

Deserts

a City:

the Christian

An

(Cairo 1 9 6 1 ) 2 5 - 2 7 . Introduction

Empire

and

On early w r i t e r s i n g e n e r a l ,

to the Study

( O x f o r d 1 9 6 6 ) c h a p . 3.

of Egyptian

and Palestinian

Mon-

Derwas Mon-

F E M A L E T R A N S V E S T I T E IN EARLY

13

MONASTICISM

disseminated that by the sixth century there had gradually accumulated an entire literary cycle.47 In its simplest form the legend of the female monk has a three-part structure consisting of (1) flight from the world, (2) disguise and seclusion, and (3) discovery and recognition. Out of some twenty legends I have collected, however, only the story of Matruna exhibits this form uncomplicated by further motifs. According to the Jacobite Synaxarion, Matruna was a princess who, in the course of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, became possessed with a longing for the monastic life. Unable to enter a convent because of her retinue, however, she fled instead to the desert, where she persuaded an old man to invest her with the monastic habit. Twenty years later she was discovered by John the Hegumen, who suspected that she was a woman from her delicate footprints and her blushing. Recognizing his suspicion, she revealed her true identity and made him promise to return. When he did so some days later, he heard the voices of the angels who were carrying her soul to heaven, and one of them commanded him to go home and write her history. Even in this low-keyed narrative it is not difficult to discern precisely what moments are available for dramatic development. The first of these comes with Matruna's flight from her princely retinue; the constraints of world and family, which her ménage represents, are heightened in other legends into an obstacle sufficient to justify both flight and disguise as protective measures. In fact, temporary transvestitism as a means of escape occurs as an episode in a whole series of legends whose primary interest lies elsewhere (for example, Angela of Bohemia, Antonina and Alexander, Callisthene, Eusebia-Hospita, Glaphyra, Jane of the Cross, Theodora and Didymus,48 The Virgin and Magistrianus, and Domna).49 To consider only those lives where disguise is central, however, there are several that resemble Matruna's in all respects save that flight from the world explicitly represents flight from shame as well. Thus, Hugolina50 flees the threatened defilement of incest, and Agnes of Moçada51 that of enforced marriage. In the legend of Pelagia, the notorious courtesan of Antioch signalizes her repentance by exchanging her sumptuous gowns and the pearls for which she was called Margarite for a hair shirt and monastic habit apparently to represent the ultimate reversal of her shame as a woman. 47

R e n é Aigrain, L'hagiographie;

ses

sources,

ses

méthodes,

son histoire

(Poitiers

1953)

229-230, describes the legends of f e m a l e m o n k s as a cycle; and E . A m é l i n e a u in "Histoire des d e u x filles de l'empéreur Zenon," Proceedings

of the Society

of Biblical

Archaeology

4 . 1 0 (Feb. 1888) 181-206, t h e article t h a t first b r o u g h t a t t e n t i o n to the Life of Hilaria, also recognizes the E g y p t i a n legends as a group produced in a b u n d a n c e b y the m o n k s in their leisure. 48

All of these lives are summarized in A g n e s B. Dunbar, A Dictionary

of Saintly

Women,

2 vols. ( L o n d o n 1904). 49

Palladius, Histories

50

A S A u g 2.395-396.

51

See D u n b a r ( A S J a n . 2.338, according t o Giinter).

of the Holy Men, ed. Ernest A . Wallis B u d g e (Oxford 1934) chap. 40.

14

JOHN ANSON

Considerably more lively are a number of tales in which the threat of violation and hence the need for disguise become intensified by unremitting pursuit. The most sinister of these, the legend of Anastasia Patricia, 52 relates how the beautiful matron became the unwilling object of the lust of the emperor Justinian and the jealousy of his wife, Theodora. Accordingly, she fled to Quinto, near Alexandria, where she built a convent in which she lived until the death of Theodora, when she learned that the emperor was searching for her again. This time she escaped to the desert of Scetis, and the abbot Daniel, hearing her story, secreted her in a cave and called her Anastasius the eunuch. For twenty-eight years thereafter she continued to live as a hermit and so died without ever revealing her true identity. A similar story of transcontinental flight and pursuit is told by the Metaphrast of Matrona,53 a native of Perge, who, having moved with her husband and daughter to Constantinople, came into the hands of a holy preceptress named Eugenia (possibly after the saint whom I discuss below). When her husband objected to her all-consuming devotion and began taking measures to check it, guided by a vision and the biblical command "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his daily cross" (Luke 9.23), Matruna disguised herself as a man and ran away to a monastery. Here she remained for a considerable time until the abbot Bassianus was warned of her disguise in a dream and his suspicions confirmed by the opening of his Bible to the verses that liken the kingdom of heaven to a leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of meal until the whole was leavened (Luke 13.21). Accordingly, he interrogated her and, upon learning her story, told her that she would have to go elsewhere because her disguise violated the law of nature. As her husband had traced her to the convent, she was sent at once to Emesa, where she entered a nunnery and soon became the abbess. Again, however, her husband discovered her and pursued her from place to place until he finally died and she returned to Constantinople, where she finished her life in esteem, performing miraculous cures. While transvestite masquerade constitutes a major feature in both these legends, strictly speaking, it still remains merely an episode in what appears a potentially endless series of devices for flight. For a real transvestite legend like that of Marina to develop, two steps more must be taken. First, this series must be closed, and the recognition must focus on the removal of the disguise. And second, the disguise itself must gain some positive value; it must become a source of interaction and challenge. In other words, not only the initial flight but the middle and final parts of the tripartite structure must also be articulated.

52 53

AS March 2.40-41. PG 116.919-954.

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE

IN EARLY

MONASTICISM

15

The first of these steps is taken in the legend of Anastasia,54 who, in contrast to these figures of marital persecution, lived happily as the disguised companion of her husband for twelve years. Grieved at the death of their children, both of whom died the same day, the couple had traveled as pilgrims to Egypt, where Abba Daniel accepted the husband Andronicus into his community at Scetis but required him to place Anastasia in the Tabennesiate convent for women. After twelve years, Andronicus was permitted to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, during which he fell in with another pilgrim, who was in fact his wife. Although she recognized him, she did not reveal her identity but instead became his companion, dwelling with him at Oktokaidekon until she died twelve years later. What is striking about this tale is that it represents the first stage in the gradual transformation of a religious legend exemplifying worldly renunciation for the love of God into a domestic fable of the devotion of chaste wives to their husbands. Ultimately, as a pattern of uxorial service, Anastasia foreshadows the disguised heroines of medieval romance. More immediately, however, she simply remains one of a number of female monks whose legends conclude with some form of familial reconciliation. Among these, only the legend of Euphrosyne55 preserves the story in what I should call its primitive form; the rest belong to a second group in which the legend is complicated by the addition of a new motif. With Euphrosyne, however, the original narrative of flight and disguise reaches its natural limits. As the father from whom she escaped rejoins her beside her deathbed, the story achieves a roundness that the simpler versions lack. Paphnutius of Alexandria, her father, had been childless until he sought the aid of a famous abbot of the neighborhood, and Euphrosyne was born in answer to the holy man's prayers. When she became eighteen, Paphnutius arranged for her to marry the richest and most noble of her many suitors. In hopes of securing the highest blessing upon the match, he brought rich gifts to the monastery, where he and Euphrosyne then remained for three days. During this time, while her father lived in the hospice for strangers, Euphrosyne was instructed by the holy abbot and grew so enamored of the monastic life that she longed to embrace it but hesitated out of obedience to her father. A t home, she continued perplexed until one day one of the monks happened to come for her father when he was out of the house. Euphrosyne seized the chance to unburden her heart to the recluse, who urged her to save herself for Christ and flee to a convent; moreover, as he had come to take her father away, she could safely make her escape the next day in monastic habit. Accordingly in the morning she ordered a trusty servant to go to the nearby church and bring back the first hermit he met. He returned with an aged monk who, upon learning of her dilemma, reminded

54

A S Oct. 4.997-1001.

55

A S Feb. 2.535-544.

38 above).

There is an English translation of the Syriac version in Lewis (n.

16

JOHN ANSON

her t h a t the Lord had said, "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14.26). So Euphrosyne proceeded with her plan; she had the monk cut her hair and invest her, and then decided, lest her father pursue her, to pretend she was a man. In the morning she proceeded to the very convent her father frequented, and presenting herself as the eunuch Esmeraldus, offered the abbot a large sum of money in return for asylum. He accepted her and placed her under an older monk because she seemed to him too young to live alone. When she entered the refectory, however, her beauty so tempted her brothers that he was compelled to remove her to a distant and isolated cell. Here she undertook a life of such strict austerity that she became the wonder of the entire community. Meanwhile, her father had sent men throughout the kingdom to find her, but as they failed to do so, he went at last to the abbot and begged him to try what effects his prayers might have. The brother accordingly prayed and fasted throughout the Sabbath, but still nothing was revealed, because the devotion of Euphrosyne had wrought with God to conceal her secret until her death. Finally, as his grief increased, the abbot sent Paphnutius to the holy Esmeraldus, who assured him that his daughter must have devoted herself to goodness and reminded him of the command to place God above mother or father. So greatly was he comforted by the supposed monk that he continued to visit him until, thirty-eight years later, Euphrosyne revealed her true identity to him on her deathbed. She urged him alone to attend to her burial, apparently in hopes of still preserving her secret. But one of the brothers overheard Paphnutius lamenting and disclosed the story to the abbot. He in turn assembled the congregation, and after the wonder was related, a monk with one eye closed embraced the sanctified body and found his vision restored. Thereafter, Paphnutius gave away all his possessions and shut himself up in his daughter's cell, where he remained for ten years until his death, when he was buried by Euphrosyne's side. Compared at least to the other legends so far discussed, the Life of Euphrosyne seems a finished artistic composition. Not only is the anagnorisis finally developed, but the deathbed recognition takes its place in a pattern of "reunion in separation" that runs throughout the legend and brings into relief its exemplary significance. On the one hand, by presenting Euphrosyne's birth as the fruit of prayer, the story emphasizes that her flight from home amounts to a return to her real heavenly father, a point underscored by the scriptural passages cited in the legend. On the other, Paphnutius' loss of the daughter he treated as property leads him to rediscover her as his spiritual father, so t h a t through his loss the parent becomes as a child, just as Christ commanded of those who would enter his kingdom. Both of these patterns culminate in the deathbed meeting, where the two are at once reunited with and parted from each other, each entering into a new relation with God.

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

17

It is another incident quite apart from these, however, that most anticipates the further development of the legend; that is, the solitary confinement of Euphrosyne because of her beauty. Its primary importance lies in the fact that for the first time transvestite disguise becomes a source of imaginative interaction rather than simply a more or less elaborate mode of escape. When her femininity tempts the flock of exiled souls and they demand her expulsion from the convent as a devil, Euphrosyne for a moment becomes the incarnation of the most hidden desires and guilt of her community. And when she undergoes her confinement with positive joy, there is at least the suggestion that she has taken upon herself the sins of her brothers. Thus, her masquerade begins to assume the aspects of a ritual sacrifice, the acknowledgment of which purifies the believer, opens the eyes of the blind, and even promises the reader a similar restoration in return for his faith. In the legends remaining, it is this notion of sacrifice that receives development through the addition to the stories of what the folklorists call the Potiphar's wife motif. Like Joseph, the saints disguised as men are solicited by women who, when they are repulsed, accuse them of making advances. Most reveal their identity at once, but there are a few who bear the charges in silence and even "father" the illegitimate children of their accusers. While it is in the lives of the latter that sacrifice finds its fullest expression, in all these legends where an innocent woman is believed possessed by lusts of which she as a woman would normally be the cause, her disguise rescues the community by warding off demonic femininity, by rendering finally harmless the threatening vision of woman. Through a series of reversals in which the seductress is cast as the seduced and then at the last revealed as the innocent victim of slander, the fleshly enemy against whom the monastic community is fortified suddenly is discovered within the very walls as a blessed companion. Just exactly how much this wish-fulfillment dream of the domestication of the demonic seductress must, in fact, underlie the entire legendary cycle begins to be clearer when it is recalled that the monks of Egypt who invented these stories went like Christ to the wilderness not as to a retreat from the devil but as to a battleground for higher spiritual warfare.56 Commencing with the reading of Ephesians 6 to mark their formal investiture in the armor of God, the lives of these brothers were spent in the ranks of Christian warriors girded in all their members against the assaults of the flesh (Col. 3.6-10).57 The 56

On the higher purposes of the desert, see H u g h C. E v e l y n White, The Monasteries of the Wadi 'n Natrum 2: The History of the Monasteries of Nitria and of Scetis ( N e w York 1932) 14, and the classic discussion t o which he refers in J o h n Cassian, Conlatio 18.6, who says t h a t the monks in the desert imitate John the Baptist, Conlationes X X I I I , ed. Michael Petschenig (Vienna 1886) 512. 57 The formal ceremony of investiture that he believes antedates the Council of Chalcedon (451) is discussed by B. E v e t t s , in "Le rite copte de la prise d'habit et de la profession monacale," Revue de l'orient ehrétien 2.1 (11) 60-66, and the t e x t and translation below, 130-

18

JOHN

ANSON

temptations of Saint Anthony are too familiar to require repetition, but the trials of Saint Macarius the Great, who founded the community of Scetis, whence the lives of the transvestite virgins appear to originate, offer a striking parallel to the conventions being considered. In the Apophthegmata Patrum, which, in this particular instance, supplied material to the Coptic Life of Serapion, Macarius tells the following story explaining how he first came to Scetis: There came to me a pious layman who used to receive my handiwork and minister to me. But it befell that through temptation a certain maiden in the village went astray. And being with child, she was asked who it was who had done this, and answered, "The anchoret." Then they went forth and took me with them into the village and hanged about my neck sooty pots and handles of pans, and led me round about through the village, beating me and saying: "This monk seduced our daughter. At him I At him I" And they beat me until I was nearly killed. But there came one of the elders and said: "How long will you beat the strange monk ?" Now he who used to serve me followed behind me, ashamed. For they greatly mocked him, saying: "See the anchoret of whom you bear witness and what he had done !" And the parents of the girl said: "We will not let him go until he has given a surety for her nurture." And they spake to my attendant, and he made himself surety for me. So I departed to my cell and gave him all the baskets I had in my cell, saying: "Sell them, and give my wife to eat." And I said in my heart: "Macarius, lo thou hast found for thyself a wife: thou must work a little more to nourish her." So I kept on working night and day and sending (the produce) to her. And when the time came for the unhappy one to give birth, she remained for many days tormented and did not bring forth. They said, therefore, to her: "What is this?" And she said: " I know: it is because I falsely accused the anchoret and made a lying charge against him. For he is not to blame, but such and such a youth." Then he who ministered to me came rejoicing and said: "That maid was not able to bring forth until she confessed saying, 'The anchoret is not to blame, but I lied concerning him.' And lo, the whole village seeks to come hither with praises to make repentance to thee." But when I heard this, lest the men should vex me, I rose up and fled hither to Scetis. This is the origin and the cause of my coming hither. 58 148. Cassian, in De institutis

coenobiorum

et de octo principalium

vitiorum

remediis,

1 ed. Mi-

chael Petschenig ( P r a g u e 1888), gives a full description and explanation of t h e habit, and in section 11, which concludes t h e discussion, cites t h e verses in Colossians which I h a v e p a r a phrased. 58

E v e l y n W h i t e 6 3 . The translation, along with a full discussion of the life and its sources,

appears in E v e l y n W h i t e 60-72. t h e Apophthegmata

and the Life

c a n be found in the Annales

A collection of Coptic t e x t s relating t o Macarius, including of Serapion,

du Musée

ed. a n d trans, into F r e n c h by E . Amélineau,

Guimet 2 5 ( 1 8 9 4 ) .

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

19

I have quoted this passage in full because it apparently constitutes the seminal instance of the Potiphar's wife motif in Coptic hagiography; it is very tempting to see the convention in the later transvestite legends as emerging directly from this initial example. What I want to emphasize, however, is how the transvestite legends reverse the image of the slanderous woman presented in the story of Macarius. Although it is true that, unlike Joseph or a number of the virgins, Macarius is not first solicited by an adultress who thus becomes his accuser, an incontinent woman still remains the antagonist, laying her consummated lusts at the door of the innocent. Her evil nature is finally revealed in the throes of the childbed, where she is unable to deliver her baby until she delivers her confession. In the transvestite legends, by contrast, where another disguised woman bears the charge of the seducer, it is as if she undoes the guilt of her whole sex by becoming the victim of its designs against men. While some of the saints, as I have remarked, carry this burden to their deaths, among the others vindicated while living, there appear several who exorcise the possessed women who are thought their correspondents, thus actively purging the disease from which Macarius was gratuitously released. Among the latter may be numbered Eugenia, Apollonaria, Hilaria, and Susanna; while the former class embraces Marina, Margarita, Theodora, and Anna. To illustrate, let me begin with the life of Apollonaria Syncletica, which is almost exactly the same as the story of Hilaria.59 Like Matruna, with whom I began, Apollonaria was supposedly the daughter of an emperor, who in the course of a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and Alexandria escaped from her princely retinue near the desert of Scetis. Here, dressed in a habit that she had secretly purchased, she settled in a swamp, where she remained for many years wasted by abstinence and disfigured by mosquitoes. Finally, guided by God, she proceeded on foot to Scetis, where as Dorotheus the eunuch she entered the orders, a postulant to none other than Saint Macarius himself. She soon became famous for miraculous healing powers, and when the emperor's daughter, her sister, was sent to the brothers to be released from a demon, it was with Dorotheus that she was lodged for her cure. Although she succeeded in driving the demon out temporarily and the girl was sent back with great rejoicing to the emperor, after a time the spirit returned again to vex her by making it appear that she was pregnant. Although she denied it, when the emperor heard she had lived with a monk, the blame fell at once upon Dorotheus, who was summoned to the court. Then Apollonaria disclosed to her parents her

59 The life of Hilaria is simply an elegant variation of this story with the swamp and the illusory pregnancy omitted and the Emperor Zeno substituted for the Emperor Anthemius. The story thus serves to explain the famous donation of Zeno to the m o n k s at Scetis, a special favor done for his daughter. For t e x t and translation, see Patrologia orientalis and Drescher, respectively (n. 39 above).

20

JOHN ANSON

true identity, but persuaded them to allow her to return to Scetis as before. A few days after her arrival, however, she died; and in the course of preparation for burial, her secret was finally discovered.

Full of admiration, the brothers

placed her relics in the cave of Macarius, and through them even after her death her miraculous cures were continued. Attached to the life of Macarius, though the reign of the Emperor Anthemius took place over half a century after Macarius's death,60 the legend of Apollonaria shows how the saint in disguise emerges in opposition to the type of Potiphar's wife, who had plagued the founding father.

Springing, in fact,

from the same womb, this regenerate daughter systematically reclaims the sins of her errant sister and all her spiritual tribe. Thus, where Macarius was compelled by a slanderess to marry, Apollonaria staunchly refuses her princely suitors, and when she flees to the desert, makes her abode in a swamp where mosquitoes destroy her features, a motif of "self-castration" of which Marie Delcourt has collected several examples. 61 As if this were not sufficient vengeance upon her womanhood, she then disguises her sex and enters a monastery, where she is thoroughly assimilated in her role as a eunuch. Here she actually exorcises her possessed sister, only to have it appear that she has made her pregnant, exactly the predicament in which Macarius found himself. But, oh, reversal of reversals, the final defeat of the demon, instead of being effected through a confession of the possessed, is now brought about by the disclosure of Apollonaria herself; the secret of her sex becomes her ultimate miracle as the legend celebrates the triumph of womanhood over itself. The same subordinate motifs that attached to the romance of disguise in the Apollonaria-Hilaria legend, principally the false accusation and the exorcism of demons, reappear in the lives of Eugenia and Susanna; in fact, the similarities are sufficiently striking that in his commentary on the acts of Hilaria, James Drescher cited the life of Eugenia as a possible source.62 Nevertheless, the new legends exhibit several developments that set them apart distinctly from the pair just discussed and reveal still further the inner necessities of the genre.

First, both the legends appear to break in the middle, so

that when the disguise plot has reached its resolution, the stories recommence with a seemingly unrelated sequence concerning the persecution and eventual martyrdom of the saints. Conybeare in his introduction to the Acts of Eugenia hypothesized that the second episode was a spurious addition to what was otherwise an authentic historical document. But Father Delehaye has shown

60

O'Leary (n. 35 above) 81, points out that Anthemius ruled from 467 to 472, while Maca-

rius died ca. 390. 61

See Delcourt, Hermaphrodite

(n. 13 above) 91-92, where Delcourt discusses the renunci-

ation of sex implicit in the motif of the bearded saints (Galla, Paula of A v i l a , and Wilgefortis, Livrade, Débarras, and Uncumber) and then in disfigured and self-mutilated virgins such as Enimia, Lucy, and Eusebia. 62

See Drescher, trans, (n. 39 above) 123-124.

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE

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21

that the whole is nothing but fiction,63 and I suggest that the latter part, whenever conceived, is not without its relevance to the story that precedes. The second and far more important development in terms of this study is the introduction of the Potiphar's-wife figure proper. The resultant story as it first appeared in the Life of Eugenia was widely disseminated throughout the Middle Ages by, among others, Fortunatus, Avitus, and Aldhelm, and may even represent a step in the evolution of the disguise romances that flowered in the Renaissance. In the Life of Eugenia, so far as I have been able to discover, one approaches for the first time the peculiar strains of feeling that go into making up the affairs of Shakespeare's Olivia and Viola, for as to its classical counterpart in the fable of Iphis and Itis, the reciprocity of their love, which exists from the beginning, totally lacks the piquancy of the later story. In the siglo d'oro in Spain, where she is honored as patron, Eugenia herself became the heroine of a drama by Calderon, whose title, The Joseph of Women, points unambiguously to the archetypal situation at the center of the legend. Like so many romantic heroines, Eugenia is introduced as the daughter of a great potentate, Philip, the prefect of Alexandria under the Emperor Commodus (180-192).64 Apparently a man of some culture, the prefect provided his beautiful and highly intelligent daughter with the finest liberal education in both Latin and Greek and allowed her to study philosophy. She had already refused several eligible suitors when there came into her hands the preachings of Saint Paul, some versions say the apocryphal Book of Paul and Thecla; and then, "although she had been raised by thoroughly pagan parents, she nevertheless began to become a Christian in spirit" ("et licet sub paganissimis parentibus ageret, esse tamen coepit animo Christiana"). Accordingly, she invented an excuse to visit the Christians, who had been removed to the suburbs of Alexandria by edict of her father. When she approached and heard a multitude chanting, "All the gods of the nations are idols, but our Lord made the heavens," she determined to abandon the vain speculations of heathen philosophers, and to commit herself, along with her eunuchs, Protus and Hyacinthus, to the care of the Christian bishop Helenus, who, as the legend points out at length, had proven his calling by challenging a competitor to a trial by fire; he emerged unscathed while the wretched pretender, Zarcus, barely escaped with his life through the grace of the invincible bishop (who rescued him from the flames over the protests of his followers). Since, however, the bishop admitted no women to his community, Eugenia hit on the plan of disguising herself as a man and slipping away from her litter with the eunuchs the following night. The next evening as she and her companions approached the monastery, they were greeted again by a singing

63

H i p p o l y t e Delehaye, Étude sur le légendier romain;

(Brussels 1936) 171-186. 64

P L 73.605-624.

les saints de novembre et de décembre

22

JOHN ANSON

throng, this time chanting the verse "The way of the just is made straight and the path of the saints prepared." Recognizing in the two sets of verses references to their calling, Eugenia bade her comrades join with her in the singing as they now proceeded along with the Christians in what looks strangely like the conclusion to the opening act of a nineteenth-century opera. It was the next morning before Eugenia was brought to the bishop, and in the interim he dreamed that he was conducted to the statue of a woman in order to make a sacrifice; he asked those who were leading him whether he might address the statue, and when they granted him permission, he said, "Know thou art a creature of God, descend, and cease to allow men to adore you." At these words, the statue descended and answered, "I shall not leave you until you restore me unto my creator and maker." Thus, when "Eugenius and his brothers" were introduced, the bishop at once understood the significance of his dream and said, "Justly you call yourself Eugenius, for you are behaving like a man and may your heart be strengthened for your faith in Christ" ("Recte te Eugenium vocas; viriliter enim agis, et confortetur cor tuum pro fide Christi"). He then went on to explain that he had been forewarned of her coming and therefore was not unaware of her true identity and sex. But, as she had prepared within a fit dwelling for the Lord by guarding her chastity and resisting the allurements of the world, he welcomed her and her two companions to the community and ordered her to remain as she was in male attire. Within three years she was elevated to the position of provost and had grown so strong in good works that she began to be famous for performing miraculous cures. Among others, she healed a rich and important lady named Melanthia, who, however, as soon as she was released from the quartan, fell distractedly in love with Eugenia, believing her to be what in fact she appeared, a beautiful youth. At first she attempted to insinuate her purpose covertly with gifts, but as these were always returned, she called Eugenia to her bedside and openly admitted her passion, proffering both her wealth and her person to Eugenia's pleasure. When these were sternly rejected, however, her sense of humiliation, combined with the fear of discovery, drove Melanthia to play the part of Potiphar's wife and to charge Eugenia with her own crime before her father the prefect. At once the governor ordered the Christians put in chains and set a date to condemn them, "some to the fire, some to the beasts and others to other tortures." When the day arrived, all Egypt gathered to witness the spectacle; Eugenia was brought forth in irons, and the instruments of torment prepared to wring a confession from her. Before commencing with the tortures, however, the prefect called for testimony; Eugenia swore her innocence, but Melanthia had suborned her servants, and it appeared that the trial was concluded when Eugenia began: There is a time to speak, for the time for silence has passed. I had hoped to be cleared of this accusation in a future judgment and to

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

23

reveal my chastity to him alone for whose love it should be saved. But lest false shamelessness triumph over the servants of Christ, I shall make known the truth even in a few words, spoken not in the pride of human rhetoric but for the glory of Christ. For so great is the power of his name, t h a t even women who stand in fear of it achieve the dignity of men; nor can either sex claim a superiority in faith, since the blessed apostle Paul, the instructor of all Christians, says that in the Lord there exists no distinction between male and female, for we are all one in Christ. His rule I have wholeheartedly embraced, and out of the faith I have in Christ, not wishing to be a woman but to preserve an immaculate virginity, I have steadfastly acted as a man. For I have not simply put on a meaningless appearance of honor, such that while seeming a man I might play the part of a woman, but rather, although a woman, I have acted the part of a man by behaving with manliness, by boldly embracing the chastity which is alone in Christ.65 So saying, Eugenia removed her disguise and revealed her identity, explaining to the prefect that she was his long-lost daughter. A tearful reunion followed. Eugenia's mother, Claudia, was summoned, and finally, though against her will, Eugenia was clothed in gold and carried about in triumph while the united populace sang the praise of Christ. At the same time, to confirm the proceedings, a fire from heaven destroyed Melanthia's house, so that not a vestige remained. Thereafter, the entire family of Eugenia was baptized, the church was reopened, the Emperor Severus persuaded to remit his harshness towards Christians, and to conclude, the whole city of Alexandria seemed to become one great church (" et fit tota Alexandrina civitas quam una ecclesia"). Everything appeared to be happily settled, but because, as the author observes, sanctity stirs up envy, some of the foremost citizens, chafing at the privileges t h a t the Christians enjoyed, complained to the emperors (Severus and Antonius) of the prefect's new dispensation under which the Roman gods were despised as idols. Accordingly, Philip was ordered either to restore the 65 The Latin reads as follows: "Tempus loquendi est, quia tempus tacendi transiit[cf. Ecclesiastes 3], Optaveram quidem crimen objectum in futuro judicio denudari, et castitatem meam illi soli ostendere, cujus amore servanda est. Tarnen ne glorietur in servos Christi fallax audacia, et paucis pandam verbis veritatem, non ad jactantiam humanae declamationis, sed ad gloriam nominis Christi. Tanta enim est virtus nominis ejus, ut etiam feminae in timore ejus positae virilem obtineant dignitatem; et neque si sexus diversitas fide potest inveniri superior, cum beatus Paulus apostolus, magister omnium Christianorum, dicat quod apud D o m i n u m non sit discretio masculi et feminae, omnes enim in Christo unum sumus [Gal. 3], Hujus ergo normam animo fervente suscepi, et ex confidentia quam in Christo habui, nolui esse femina, sed virginitatem immaculatam tota animi intentione conservans, virum gessi constanter in Christo. N o n enim infrunitam honestatis simulationem assumpsi, ut vir feminam simularem; sed femina viriliter agendo, virum gessi, virginitatem quae in Christo est fortiter amplectendo" (PL 73.614).

24

JOHN ANSON

old worship or to yield up his authority, but the prefect feigned an illness, during which he distributed all his goods to charity and was elected bishop. When the new prefect arrived, he dared not oppose Philip openly, so he hired assassins who, pretending that they were Christians, stabbed him while he was praying. Before he died three days later, he asked to be buried at the entrance to the nunnery Eugenia had founded, and on the same spot Claudia erected a hospital for pilgrims. Then she went with her family, Eugenia and her two sons, back to their seat in Rome. Here again both women were active in proselytizing—Claudia forming a society of widows; Eugenia, of virgins. To the latter there, came a virgin of royal blood named Basilla, who because of her high position was unable to participate openly. So Eugenia sent Hyacinthus and Protus to pose as her slaves, though they actually acted as her teachers until she was finally baptized in secret by Pope Cornelius. At this time, under the emperors Gallienus and Valerian, a new wave of anti-Christian feeling swept through the empire; Cyprianus was killed in Carthage, and at Rome Cornelius went into hiding. In their dreams Basilla and Eugenia were warned of each other's coming martyrdom, and Eugenia bade farewell to her followers, exhorting them to chastity. On the very same day Basilla was betrayed by one of her servants who informed her fiancé, Pompeius, about her conversion. When he could get no help from the uncle who had been her guardian and then was refused an interview by the lady herself, he hastened in rage to the senate to lodge his complaint against the Christians, who, he claimed, threatened to unman the state with their doctrine of chastity. Without further ado, the emperor Gallienus ordered Basilla either to marry Pompeius or to die by the sword; when she answered that she was already betrothed to the king of kings, she was promptly put to death. Next Protus and Hyacinthus were taken and dragged to a triple sacrifice to the gods, but instead their prayer caused the idol of Apollo to crumble to pieces. This was interpreted as magic, and they were promptly beheaded. Finally, the prefect Nicetus summoned Eugenia, who had been named by Pompeius as the source of the trouble. But when he charged her with practicing magic, she boldly replied: I promise you that our art is more forceful than any magic, for our master has a father without any mother and a mother without any father. So did the father beget him that he never knew any female; so did the mother beget him that she never knew any male. He himself has a virgin wife who bears children to him daily, daily she bears him innumerable sons joined her flesh to his flesh. His kisses play about her without intermission, and in their mutual love they have built so lasting a union, that all virginity, all charity, and all integrity would dissolve apart from their marriage.

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MONASTICISM

The prefect was astounded at this speech, but lest the emperor hear that he had listened to her willingly, he ordered her led to the temple of Diana and commanded her to worship the goddess. As she opened her hands in prayer to Christ, an earthquake swallowed up the temple so that nothing remained save the porch upon which Eugenia was standing. Then the emperor ordered her to be bound with a stone and thrown in the river Tiber; at once the stone shattered while she sat upon the waves unharmed. So she was taken from the water and thrust into the furnaces of the baths of Severus, which immediately grew cold and could not be rekindled. Finally, she was pent up in darkness and given no food, but her presence illumined the prison, and the Savior himself appeared, bearing snow-white bread in his hand. At last, on Christmas day, she was killed by a gladiator, and shortly thereafter appeared to Claudia at her grave and announced her coming ascension. Although to my knowledge no one has discussed their relationship, the life of Susanna of Eleutheropolis in Palestine (ca. 362)M resembles this of Eugenia so closely that one is almost forced to the conclusion that the later Susanna represents merely a shadow of the more famous martyr; in any case, I believe enough insight is gained by the comparison that I shall consider them together. Like Eugenia, Susanna was born of heathen parents, her father being a pagan priest and her mother a Jewess. As they died when she was still young, however, she fell to the care of two tutors, who may be what remains of Protus and Hyacinthus.67 There also lived nearby a Christian priest named Silvanus, by whom she was first instructed and subsequently baptized. Then at the age of fifteen she distributed her wealth to the poor and, without any motivation assigned by the author of the legend, disguised herself as a man and made her way to Jerusalem. Here she entered the house of Saint Philip under the name of John and continued to live as an exemplary brother for about twenty years. There was, at this time, a woman who on various occasions would come to the monastery for religious observances. Inevitably in the course of these visits encountering Susanna and blessed by her as by a man, she began to fall in love with the lady, but when she could discover no path to the gratification of her passion, she feigned the now-familiar reversal and complained to the bishop Cleophas that brother John had raped her. Though Philip refused to believe it, the bishop insisted on a trial, the upshot of which was that, after some not very interesting dramatics, Susanna revealed her identity, and the brethren, much edified, would have stoned the accusing woman to death had not Susanna prevented it. Thereafter Cleophas removed Susanna and made

66

A S , Sept. 4.151-160.

67

Curiously enough, there appear t o be a n u m b e r of legends in which t w o e u n u c h s appear

as c o m p a n i o n s or spiritual guides to a central f e m a l e heroine; see B. de Gaiffer, "Palatins et E u n u q u e s dans quelques d o c u m e n t s hagiographiques," Analecta

bollandiana

67 (1957) 38ff.

26

JOHN

ANSON

her the abbess of a nunnery, whence spread the fame of her holiness and her miraculous healings. Many years later there arrived in the region a new prefect named Alexander, who ordered all the citizens to attend a great sacrifice at the temple of Jove. When Susanna arrived and saw them worshiping graven idols, she prayed to God to destroy them; there followed a great clap of thunder, and all the idols were shattered. Summoned before the prefect, she derisively suggested that if his gods were such as he claimed, they should have taken care of themselves. Enraged at the woman's impudence, he ordered her breasts cut off and thrown to the birds, but an angel intercepted them and restored them to her body. The executioners, not a little astounded, were converted upon the spot, for which they were rewarded with beheading. Meanwhile, the prefect had molten lead poured down Susanna's throat, but she drank it as if it were water, and then, upon being interrogated, delivered a lengthy and spirited defense of the Christian religion, after which she was brutally beaten and finally thrown into prison. Here she begged that her soul might be delivered and her prayer was answered; she died as she finished the petition, and was soon thereafter buried by the monks of Saint Philip's with pious solemnity. Though simplified to a point that seems at moments parodic,68 the life of Susanna is clearly built from the same materials that formed the legend of Eugenia; the major events and figures are indeed so obviously parallel that discussion seems superfluous. What is interesting and suggestive is the relation of details; not even so much, however, the striking similarities such as the crumbling idols or the conclusions in prison, though these do much to confirm the connection between the two legends, but more, the consistent signs of the condensation and displacement through which significant minor features in the story of Eugenia either have lost their meaning or become grossly exaggerated in the subsequent legend. For example, both saints are credited with miraculous cures, but where this fact has some narrative point in the life of Eugenia as the basis on which she first comes to the attention of Melanthia, in the life of Susanna it plays no role in the plot whatsoever, being simply one of several items in a catalogue of virtues that bridges the awkward gap between the two halves of the legend. On the one hand, the sequence of trials undergone by Eugenia, first by water, then by fire and then by starvation, suggests a sacramental symbology reminiscent of the trials found in the Acts of Thecla; nothing remains of these symbols in the Life of Susanna, however, except perhaps the hot lead that turns to cold water as she drinks it. On the other 68 Ernst Curtius in an excursus called "Jest in Hagiography," in European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask, Harper Torchbooks (New York 1953) 425428, suggests that there is a tradition of grotesque humor in the saints' lives and would probably regard Susanna as a good example, but it seems to me that "irony" covers a multitude of literary sins and that it is extremely difficult to be sure just where a highly popular work is self-conscious and where it is not.

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27

hand, the cutting off of her breasts and the whipping, that is, the tortures t h a t represent wholly new material in the legend, though they have no logical place in iconography, bring to the surface a latent sexual sadism of great psychological interest. 69 Hence, studied together, the legends complement one another by making explicit both the exemplary and, one might say, the unconscious significance of their mutual conventions. As her passionate sermons reveal, the Life of Eugenia was intended to inculcate an ideal of immaculate chastity. Dressed as a man and accompanied by her pair of eunuchs, Eugenia is identified with an androgynous Christ, who sprang mysteriously from an asexual union. Her subsequent martyrdom completes this identification, first as a kind of baptism by water and fire, followed by the communion of bread delivered in hunger and, finally, the sanguine wine of sacrifice itself. For, as Eugenia explains to her virgins on the eve of her departure, "Now is the time of harvest, when the grapes are cut down and trampled under foot; but after this, they are offered up at royal banquets. Without their blood no imperial majesty seems complete: and you my branches and the grapes of my flesh, may also be eaten when you are confirmed in the Lord." What is shared by this attitude towards martyrdom and the attitude towards sex expressed by Eugenia's disguise is clearly a deepseated hatred of the flesh and a longing for purity not to be found in this world. Considered more narrowly, however, this acknowledged hatred of the flesh begins to resemble increasingly the hatred and fear of women encountered in previous legends. At the most obvious level, one notes the insistence of Eugenia herself t h a t her male attire reflects a genuine inner manhood; again and again in the speech in which she reveals her identity, she claims to have transcended her sex to become, in essence, male. Considerably more suggestive than such rhetorical set-pieces are the details of the narrative, the juxtaposition of characters and images, t h a t lead to the same conclusion. Thus, for example, an illuminating set of parallels between Eugenia and the shadowy bishop emerges. It will be recalled, to begin with, t h a t at least the ostensible reason for Eugenia's disguise is the fact that the bishop permitted no women to join his community. Subsequently, we are told, in what seems a lengthy digression, that once, when he had lost a debate, he reestablished his calling by means of a trial by fire; and finally, we meet the man directly as he interviews Eugenia and immediately guesses her identity from the forewarning of a dream in which at his bidding a female idol descended from a pedestal and became a Christian.

69

It has been suggested to me that the cutting off of breasts represents a "euphemism" for the pre-execution defloration of virgins practiced to meet the Roman law that forbade their execution. Even if this explanation is correct, it does not preclude a psychological interest in such sadism as well.

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JOHN ANSON

All these scattered details begin to acquire some coherence as soon as it is remarked that Eugenia herself endured a trial by fire while Melanthia's house, in contrast, is razed by a fire from heaven which descends in vindication of Eugenia's innocence. Clearly, the tolerance of fire signalizes sexual chastity, nor is this uncommon in legends.70 What does appear extraordinary is that it should fall to the exclusive possession of a set of misogynists, Helenus and the transvestite Eugenia, whose masculine aspirations receive his explicit acknowledgment ("Recte te Eugenium vocas; viriliter enim agis"). The fact that the bishop's recognition of Eugenia springs from his dream suggests that the aversion to women is connected with the object of one's worship, for as Eugenia turns away from the virgin goddess (presumably Diana, whose idol she subsequently causes to shatter) towards the virginal god she exchanges her role as woman for that of a male eunuch. This interpretation, based on the fusion of subject and object expressed by Eugenia's appearance in the dream as a pagan idol, receives confirmation in the fate of Melanthia, whose vitiated nature, symbolized, be it noted, by the fires of fever within her and by her name of blackness ("Recte nomen tuum nigridinis testatur perfidiam"), compels her to yield to a passion not for a man but a woman 1 There thus emerges a principle of identification by which the subject and object of desire become assimilated. If Eugenia's love for Christ indues her with a cloak of manhood, so, conversely, Melanthia's helpless passion for Eugenia stands as a kind of proof of her weak and effeminate nature. The same logic, one senses, demands that once their sex has been revealed, then women must die as martyrs under the cruelest tortures; for surely it can be no coincidence that among all the saints in this study these two alone reveal their identities before their deaths. Once stripped of their disguises, they have no recourse save the destruction of their bodies for reattaining their unity with a male godhead. The only alternative would have been acquiescence in the slander as the ultimate sacrifice to the integrity of the disguise. Because of her fellow-Christians, Eugenia is forced to reject this alternative, but some of her more fortunate sisters are depicted as electing such a course and following to its conclusion the logic of identification. It is with the discussion of their lives, then, as the culmination of the genre, that I close this survey. In describing the following lives as the culmination of the genre, I have in mind, first of all, the fact that, among these legends, transvestitism is treated as an independent source of value. Instead of a means to an end, a mode of escape or concealment, disguise appears as an end in itself, a sufficient reason for suffering and humiliation. Or perhaps it is better to say that it appears as a dedication enriched by persecution, because the suffering itself seems sought as 70 For the endurance of fire as a proof of holiness, see C. Grant Loomis, White Magic: An Introduction to the Folklore of Christian Legend, Medieval A c a d e m y of America Publication

52 (Cambridge, Mass. 1948) 33-34.

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a kind of proof of the intensity of the commitment; otherwise, it is difficult to explain the refusal of these women to clear themselves of the accusations brought against them. In every case, save that of Saint Anna (whose vita has been left so vague that I intend to omit it from discussion),71 they are charge not simply with attempted seduction but, like Saint Macarius, with the actual paternity of another man's child. Two of them go on to rear the children thus laid to their charge, while the third completes her life in a pit. Behind such behavior one naturally seeks an unswerving purpose, an all-embracing vision of the importance of disguise. It is only very slowly, however, that such motivations are elaborated, that a psychology is invented to explain the actions of the heroine as, for example, the guilt of Theodora because of her adultery. Rather, as I have insisted before, it is in the minds of the writer and audience that the explanations must be sought; for the legends arise, in the first place, as products of their imaginations, not historical records of the deeds of actual women nor considered attempts at the delineation of female characters. Thus, for example, the Legend of Margaret passed through the ages as little more than the briefest scenario of a life that the Bollandists suppose was originally Saint Marina's:72 To avoid being married, Margaret disguises herself as a man and flees to a neighboring monastery, where she lives so discreetly that she is chosen prior. After some time, however, when the gatekeeper's daughter becomes pregnant, "Pelagius" is held responsible, sentenced without a hearing, and left to live out her life in a pit on bread and water—the truth being revealed only after her death, in a letter. Doubtless hoping to lend this narrative some small credulity, Jacobus de Voragine in the Golden Legend simply adds the detail that Maragret does not know the crime for which she is sentenced. When, however, in adherence to the original version, he faithfully goes on to write the letter repeating

71

A S , Oct. 12.913-917. T h e story in brief relates that after the death of her t w o children

A n n a entered a monastery dressed as a man, then m o v e d on to another, where a certain malevolent monk kept inventing charges against her.

B u t these were always denied b y a

pious woman of the neighborhood who suggested that brother Euphemius might not be a eunuch but a woman.

W h e n the monk tried to push her down a cliff to explore the matter

further, the lower half of her b o d y appeared withered b y an act of providence. T h e monk was held as a homicide, and A n n a again m o v e d on, this time in the company of t w o eunuchs, with w h o m she finished out her days after further migration. A s the legend stands it remains unclear with what exactly she was charged, whether her sex was revealed, whether she continued disguised and what her motives were in the first place.

I t is interesting, however, t o find along with the disguise motif that the saint was

accompanied like Eugenia with a pair of eunuchs (see n. 67 above). 72

T h e date and provenance of Marina remain utterly confused and uncertain. There is an

extensive collection of materials, Vie el office de sainte Marine,

ed. L é o n Clugnet, Bibliothèque

hagiographique orientale, 8 (Paris 1905), and the scholarship is well summarized in the Iheca sanctorum,

8, 1166-1170.

Biblio-

30

JOHN ANSON

the charges, his little attempt at rationalizing the story is confuted, and one is left once more to make sense from the bare events. As I have already suggested, the story is best understood as the ultimate literary elaboration of the monastic fantasy which we have glimpsed before in connection with previous legends. Where in those stories, however, the emphasis tended to fall on hostility towards women as demonic seductresses, what finally comes into view with these lives is the guilty desire t h a t underlies the whole dreamwork; for instead of an overture rejected, a sexual act is committed and laid to the blame of the saint, who undergoes the punishment as a kind of surrogate. Thus, quite simply, the secret longing for a woman in a monastery is brilliantly concealed by disguising the woman as a man and making her appear guilty of the very temptation to which the monks are most subject; finally, after she has been punished for their desires, their guilt is compensated by turning her into a saint with universal remorse and sanctimonious worship. The life of Marina exhibits precisely the same psychology, differing from the story of Saint Margaret in only three or four particulars: (1) Marina is first brought along to the convent in disguise by her widowed father, who lives with her there for seventeen years; (2) she actually rears the child laid to her charge, till (3) they are both readmitted to the convent before her death. Some versions add (4) that on the day of her demise, the mendacious mother is possessed by a devil, confesses the crime seven days later, and finds release in the chapel of the convent. All these additions, I believe, confirm my interpretation, because not only does the wish itself move still nearer the surface (that is, it is now a monk who brings the woman to the convent), but the punishment has been made to fit more exactly the crime; since the forbidden woman enters the monastery as a child, so in the form of a child the price for the sin is exacted. Thus, the Life of Marina reveals with singular clarity how the transvestite saint by answering the guilt of her brothers is able because of her innocence to become the source of their freedom. Such vicariousness, of course, lies at the heart of the religion where Christ sacrifices himself to redeem mankind from sin, b u t the principle seems to operate unperceived in the legends whose authors never acknowledge that the cults they are fostering thrive through communal identification with saints who live their lives for and finally within the souls of their followers. Only the Renaissance, and above all the Renaissance drama, with its highly developed sense of actor and audience, consciously seizes upon the psychological richness of transvestite disguise as a kind of communal mystique. Until then, one watches the metamorphosis of the heroine from a state of half-life between fact and fiction in the chrysalis of monastic longing where she lingers wholly wrapped within the dream of her creator, into an individualized artistic entity delivered through several stages of romance and parody. For before attaining her ultimate form as an active intelligence seeming to create a community

FEMALE TRANSVESTITE IN EARLY MONASTICISM

31

around her from within, she passes through a stage of highest differentiation where disguise appears as a manifestation of passion, of inward suffering borne in a state of alienation. One can detect the beginnings of this change already in the legends themselves, in the generally undeveloped but recurrent suggestion that transvestite disguise is assumed as a kind of impenetrable panoply for preserving inviolate an immaculate virginity for Christ. Indeed, this might be described as the exemplary reading of the legend, the conscious moralization t h a t attaches itself to the story and which is actually expounded, for example, in the Life of Eugenia. 73 Yet clearly, as a psychological explanation, it hardly begins to account for even that saint's eccentricities, not to mention those of a Margaret or a Marina. The life of Theodora, however, represents a genuine departure in the direction of motivating the story from within. Alone among all the legends in its interest in characterization, it comes as a fitting conclusion to this study by bridging the gap between the fully developed transvestite legend of Marina and the wholly new fictional realms of romance and novella where the transvestite becomes a creature of earthly passions. For the story of Theodora is, in essence, a story of love, the story of a woman who in her guilt at committing adultery struggles for regenerate life in the face of repeated temptation. Briefly, the story relates that although she was happily married, a rich and beautiful matron of Zeno's Alexandria, Theodora was sorely tempted by the importunings of a lover and finally yielded to them when he hired a witch who convinced her t h a t whatever was done in dark was unknown to God. Afterwards, however, when she found herself consumed with guilt and established by biblical sortilege that the witch had lied, she cut off her hair, dressed herself in the clothes of her husband, and entered a monastery under the name of Theodorus. Here, after years of holy living and, some say, arduous labor, she met exactly the trial suffered by Saint Marina, being ejected from the monastery as the father of a child. This injustice she underwent with such perfect patience, nourishing the child on the milk of beasts, that the devil in envy subjected her to a series of illusory temptations, appearing now as her husband begging her to return forgiven, now in the form of gold or food or a pagan tyrant who threatened her with death if she would not worship idols. After several years of these torments, she was readmitted to the convent and died 73

Enrico de' Negri, "The Legendary Style of the Decameron," The Romanic Review, 43 (1952) 166-189, analyzes the exemplary significance of the transvestite legends thus: "It should be kept in mind that the Christian example always mirros grace, that irrational and 'absurd' value. The maidens who disguise themselves as men and enter a hermitage as monks are the imaginative counterpart of a firmness which has meaning only as a blessing, as the consequence of a gratuitous 'gift"' (172-173). (Surely he means the disguise itself and not the maidens.) Workman (see above, n. 14) regards Marina as an exemplum of humility and obedience.

32

JOHN ANSON

there two years later in the company of her foundling, who grew up to be the abbot. At the hour of her death, her husband was summoned by divine intervention and entered her cell, where he remained until he himself completed his life. Although as a fusion of the two Pelagia legends, the story of Pelagia the whore and that of Marina the transvestite, the life of Theodora inevitably shows many signs of the older monastic psychology I have attempted to outline, I want at this point to emphasize what is new in the legend, the many ways in which it represents a departure towards a more self-conscious treatment of transvestite conventions. Primarily, of course, this is due to the addition of the new motivation, the guilt of Theodora over commiting adultery; but what seems to striking is that this is not simply mentioned and dropped, but explored as a recurrent motif throughout the legend. Thus, for example, before the central trial of the slander, the story relates that Theodora and her husband had an encounter, carefully prearranged, of course, by the angelic forewarning of her husband that he would meet his wife that day at a certain corner. Naturally, as she appeared in disguise, he failed to know her, but she, though she recognized him and blessed him, passed on her way and thus resisted the temptation, which later becomes explicit, to abandon her holy repentance and return to her marriage. Given this kind of development, the guilt of Theodora constitutes an adequate explanation for the subsequent behavior that in the earlier legend of Marina appears so bizarre. For now by bearing the shame of another woman's fornication, the saint makes a perfect quid pro quo atonement for her own adultery—satisfying exactly the stringent mathematics of sacrifice. Thus, throughout the legend the transvestite disguise takes on a new meaning as an expression of the heroine's proper psychology, and this sense is reinforced through innumerable details, whether one looks at the fact that her clothes are originally her husband's or at the hallucinatory notion of her final temptations. Everywhere, the story shows signs of that growth from within which to the modern mind marks a work of realized fiction. Department of English University of California Berkeley, California 94720, U.S.A.

MEDIEVAL HISTORIOGRAPHY THROUGH THE TWELFTH CENTURY: PROBLEMS AND PROGRESS OF RESEARCH

by Roger D. Ray

In recent research the historical writer of the Middle Ages has begun to emerge from long subordination to the traditional interests of Quellenkunde. For some time, in fact, the rediscovery of the chronicler has been proceeding in Germany, where in the 1930s Johannes Spörl catalyzed what has since then become a major attempt to understand the inner character of the medieval historian's achievement. 1 In the last decade four learned conferences have In a briefer version this essay was read before the 112th Annual Meeting of the American Society of Church History, at Duke University, 21-22 April 1972. 1 For Spörl's germinal views see esp. "Das mittelalterliche Geschichtsdenken als Forschungsaufgabe," Historisches Jahrbuch der Görres-Gesellschaft 53 (1933) 281-303; reprinted in Geschichtsdenken und Geschichtsbild im Mittelalter: Ausgewählte Aufsätze und Arbeiten aus den Jahren 1933 bis 1959, ed. Walther Lammers (Darmstadt 1965) 1-29. He urged t h a t scholarship move beyond the positivism of nineteenth-century editors and seek to understand the medieval chronicler as a person of intellectual and literary accomplishment in and for his own time. Spörl first tried out his method in "Das Alte und das Neue im Mittelalter, Studien zum Problem des mittelalterlichen Fortschrittsbewusstseins," Historisches Jahrbuch der Görres-Gesellschaft 50 (1930) 297-524; and later illustrated further possibilities of it in Grundformen hochmittelalterlicher Geschichtsanschauung: Studien zum Weltbild der Geschichtsschreiber des 12. Jahrhunderts (Munich 1935). Of course the research Spörl encouraged has proceeded in the general context of German Ideengeschichte and Geistesgeschichte. It is impressively displayed in Lammers, who includes previously published articles by such scholars as Karl Hauck, Heinz Löwe, Hermann Heimpel, Helmut Beumann, Herbert Grundmann, Otto Brunner, and many others; a specially prepared bibliography of other recent works runs for fifteen appended pages (460ff.). On Spörl's remarkable role in stirring the German re-examination of medieval historiography see also Laetitia Boehm, "Apologia actoris, Statt eines Vorwort," as well as "Der wissenschaftstheoretische Ort der historia im früheren Mittelalter, Die Geschichte auf dem Wege zur 'Geschichtswissenschaft,"' both in the imposing festschrift for Spörl edited by Clemens Bauer et. al., Speculum historiale: Geschichte im Spiegel von Geschichtsschreibung und Geschichtsdeutung (Munich 1965) vii-ix, 663-698 esp. 663. As Spörl points out in "Forschungsaufgabe," some scholars even in the nineteenth century developed concern to see the chronicler outside of quellenkundliche assumptions. The old work of Marie Schulz, Die Lehre von der historischen Methode, 6.-13. Jahrhundert (Leipzig 1909), is still quite useful on several topics, particularly on the biblical and rhetorical aspects of its subject. Early in our century Siegmund Hellmann likewise took

34

ROGER D.

RAY

helped to make the reconsideration of medieval historiography an international campaign. 2 By now research has in many places gained such momentum

m a n y initiatives, b o t h philological a n d historical. Several of his best essays on medieval historiography are collected in Ausgewählte Abhandlungen zur Historiographie und Geistesgeschichte des Mittelalters, ed. H e l m u t B e u m a n n ( D a r m s t a d t 1961); " E i n h a r d s literarische Stellung," first published in Historische Vierteljahrschrift 29 (1932) 40-110, is one of the best things ever written a b o u t Charlemagne's biographer (159-230). After t h e war H e l m u t B e u m a n n a n d H e r b e r t G r u n d m a n n gave f u r t h e r motive force to the Germanic scholarship. B e u m a n n ' s Widukind von Korvei: Untersuchungen zur Geschichtsschreibung und Ideengeschichte des 10. Jahrhunderts (Weimar 1950) remains t h e methodological model for monographic studies of single authors. The book takes W i d u k i n d from t h e beginning, t r e a t i n g his scholarly intention, n a r r a t i v e devices, m e t h o d s of characterization, and other essentials all within t h e f r a m e w o r k of O t t o n i a n ideology. Matters of source and t e x t criticism naturally d e m a n d a t t e n t i o n , b u t t h e y t a k e their place in t h e larger effort to discover how W i d u k i n d was able to bring his Saxon t h o u g h t s to a traditional yet currently p e r t i n e n t Latin expression. Beum a n n ' s topological studies h a v e been provocative. See esp. "Topos und Gedankengefüge bei E i n h a r d , " Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 33 (1951) 337-350, now reprinted with three other short essays in his Ideengeschichtliche Studien zu Einhard und anderen Geschichtsschreibern des früheren Mittelalters ( D a r m s t a d t 1962) 1-14; also, "Die Schriftsteller u n d seine Kritiker im f r ü h e n Mittelalter," Studium generale 12 (1959) 497-511. For recent methodological c o m m e n t s see his introduction to Hellmann, Ausgewählte Abhandlungen x-xvii. G r u n d m a n n , Geschichtsschreibung im Mittelalter: Gattungen—Epochen—Eigenart, ed. 2 (Göttingen 1968), is b y far t h e most useful introduction in a n y language. It was originally printed in a literary history—Deutsche Philologie im Aufriss, ed. Wolfgang Stammler, ed. 2 (Berlin 1962) 3.12731336—and this well indicates a s t r e n g t h of t h e German research t h a t Spörl pioneered, namely, t h e awareness t h a t an improved knowledge of medieval historiography will require a coalition of historians a n d philologists. 2 In 1966 L'Institut d'études médiévales of t h e University of Montreal devoted its Conférence Albert-le-Grand to medieval historical writing, with Benoît Lacroix t h e lecturer. P'or his presentation see L'historien au moyen âge, Conférence Albert-le-Grand 1966 (Montreal 1971). Nineteen sixty-nine was a b a n n e r year for new interest in t h e chronicler. T h e Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo (Spoleto) gave its a n n u a l week of invited papers to La storiogra/ia altomedievale, t h o u g h t h e lectures in a few instances reached well back into late A n t i q u i t y . T h e program involved stellar p a r t i c i p a n t s : F. L. Ganshof, H. I. Marrou, Arnaldo Momigliano, Christopher Brooke, B e u m a n n , a n d others. On all sides t h e need for f u r t h e r research was remarked. For instance, Brooke observed t h a t we will never fully know w h a t to m a k e of t h e N o r m a n Conquest of E n g l a n d until we u n d e r s t a n d how t h e m a i n n a r r a t o r s t h o u g h t a b o u t it—which m u s t h a v e been b a d news to all those historians who h a d j u s t published works in honor of t h e n i n e - h u n d r e d t h anniversary of t h e B a t t l e of Hastings. B u t t h e same could be said of other f a m o u s topics, like t h e Crusades or t h e life of T h o m a s Becket. For t h e proceedings see La storiografia altomedievale, S e t t i m a n e di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull' alto medioevo 17, 10-16 April 1969 (Spoleto 1970); Brooke's c o m m e n t comes in his "Historical W r i t i n g in E n g l a n d Between 850 a n d 1150," 1.223-247 esp. 238f. L a t e r in 1969, R . W. Southern a n n o u n c e d t h a t his Presidential Lectures to t h e R o y a l Historical Society would be concerned w i t h medieval historiography. H e explained t h a t , quite a p a r t f r o m our continual search for facts, we should t a k e time to get acquainted w i t h t h e chroniclers in all t h e intentions, techniques, a n d predispositions t h a t m a d e t h e m p a r t of their own age. See R . W . Southern, "Aspects of t h e E u r o p e a n Tradition of Historical W r i t i n g : The Rhetorical Tradition f r o m E i n h a r d to Geoffrey of M o n m o u t h , " Trans. Royal Historical Society 5.20 (1970)

MEDIEVAL

35

HISTORIOGRAPHY

that the time seems right to put highlights on it. Intending more to accent than to survey recent publications, I stress three ranges of problems: genre, the impact of the Bible, and the influence of classical literature. Only works dealing with the Latin historiography of Western Europe will come under discussion; the best of these, as well as the bulk, have to do with Germany and the empire, France, and England. My chronological limits run from 300 to 1200, dates that seem to embrace the formation and prime of medieval historiography. By the early thirteenth century a complex of forces—for example, the relish for systematics that pushed much historical interest beyond narrative to theology of history, generally changing tastes in and needs for literature, and (perhaps most important) the decline of the institutional and intellectual mainstay of early medieval historiography, Benedictine monasticism—converged to enervate the tradition of historical thought and writing founded long before by authors like Eusebius of Caesarea, Augustine, Orosius, Sulpicius Severus, Isidore of Seville, and Bede. 3 Toward the end of the essay I suggest important early implications of the new study, and in various connections propose remaining tasks of research. The study of historical genres is bound to be hard in reference to an age t h a t drew faint lines between history, liturgy, hagiography, exegesis, preaching, and poetry. Authors like Gervase of Canterbury mislead by their very attempt at precision; he identified three kinds of historical works—annals, chronicles, and histories, the first two being distinct from the third mainly by reason of a leaner literary style—but we know that far more than these were in fact taken for history. 4 Uses of the term historia give a truer testimony. It was 1 7 3 - 1 9 6 esp. 1 7 3 - 1 7 4 ; a n d idem,

" A s p e c t s of t h e E u r o p e a n T r a d i t i o n of H i s t o r i c a l W r i t i n g :

H u g h of S a i n t V i c t o r a n d t h e I d e a of H i s t o r i c a l D e v e l o p m e n t , " Trans. Society

5.21 ( 1 9 7 1 ) 159-171.

Royal

Historical

D u r i n g 12-14 N o v e m b e r 1 9 7 2 t h i r t y - s i x scholars f r o m s e v e r a l

c o u n t r i e s g a t h e r e d a t H a r v a r d U n i v e r s i t y for i n t e r d i s c i p l i n a r y d i s c u s s i o n of m e d i e v a l historiography.

T h e c o n f e r e n c e e m p h a s i z e d genre, p e r i o d i z a t i o n , a n d a t t i t u d e s t o w a r d h i s t o r y ;

t h e p r o c e e d i n g s will a p p e a r in a f o r t c o m i n g n u m b e r of Medievalia 3

et

humanistica.

See G r u n d m a n n (n. 1 a b o v e ) 6 4 ; J o h a n n e s Spörl, " W a n d e i d e s W e l t - u n d G e s c h i c h t s b i l d e s

i m 12. J a h r h u n d e r t ? , " in L a m m e r s (n. 1 a b o v e ) 2 7 8 - 2 9 7 esp. 2 9 6 f ; H a n s W o l t e r , " G e s c h i c h t liche B i l d u n g i m R a h m e n der a r t e s liberales," Arles Wissenschaft Historical

des Mittelalters, Research

in

liberales,

von der antiken

Bildung

zur

ed. Josef K o c h ( L e i d e n 1 9 5 9 ) 5 0 - 8 3 esp. 52; V. H . G a l b r a i t h ,

Medieval

England

(London

1951) 2 9 ; S o u t h e r n ,

" H u g h of

Saint

V i c t o r " (n. 2 a b o v e ) 163. 4

Gesta regum,

ed. W i l l i a m S t u b b s , R o l l s Series 73 ( L o n d o n 1 8 7 9 - 1 8 8 0 ) 2.3.

B y contrast,

Isidore of S e v i l l e s a y s t h e f o r m s of h i s t o r y are diaries, c a l e n d a r s , a n d a n n a l s , w i t h a f o u r t h genus e n t a i l e d in his d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n annates

a n d historiae,

the one being concerned with

t h e m o r e d i s t a n t p a s t a n d t h e o t h e r w i t h t h i n g s learned f r o m e y e w i t n e s s e s a b o u t r e c e n t times.

See B o e h m , "Ort der h i s t o r i a " (n. 1 a b o v e ) ; a n d A r n o B o r s t , " D a s B i l d der G e s c h i c h t e

in der E n z y k l o p ä d i e Isidors v o n S e v i l l a , " Deutsches 2 2 ( 1 9 6 6 ) 1-62.

Archiv

für Erforschung

des

A l l t h e s a m e , G a l b r a i t h 2-3, c i t i n g a g r e e m e n t w i t h S t u b b s , a n d

3 4 - 4 5 , h a v e t h o u g h t it safe t o t a k e G e r v a s e ' s t y p o l o g y as a g u i d e t o m e d i e v a l genres. B u t t h e m a t t e r of f o r m s is m o r e c o m p l i c a t e d t h a n t h i s .

Mittelalters Lacroix historical

36

ROGER D. RAY

indiscriminately applied to saints' lives, parts of the Bible, sometimes all of it, the literal sense of scriptural texts, a section of Divine Office, versified offices, epic poems, even schoolbooks like Peter Comestor's Historia scolastica, in addition to biographies, one epistolary autobiography, as well as to other narratives t h a t we today would designate as history. 5 Some chroniclers did not hesitate to employ the word in more than one of these senses in the same narrative context. 6 Book titles can be confusing. For instance, a few works carry the name Historia ecclesiastica, so in a recent typology of medieval narratives we find one group of texts headed "church histories." 7 Several scholars have, however, lately argued t h a t through 1200 there was no authentic imitator of Eusebius of Caesarea, t h a t is, no one with reasons to resist the centrifugal force of heilsgeschichtliches thought in order to focus on the church as something intellectually separable from the larger history of its relevant world. 8 Even histories of episcopal churches and great abbeys tend to ripple out into diffuse regional chronicles, sometimes all the way into universal history. Medieval "church historians" usually thought everything was in some sense res ecclesiastica. Much depends on the approach to the problem, for it is one thing to categorize narrative texts for the convenience of modern scholars hunting facts, b u t quite another to follow the historical growth of genres. My point is well illustrated by the difference between the typology of medieval narrative sources not long ago published by R. C. van Caenegem and F. L. Ganshof and the discussion of historiographical forms which fills half of Grundmann's Geschichtsschreibung im Mittelalter. Caenegem and Ganshof array narrative works under four rubrics: (1) forms t h a t either have their roots in Antiquity or stem from the Christian theory and practice of life, (2) forms t h a t imitate examples of ancient historiography, (3) original medieval forms, (4) hagiographical sources.

5

In this connection see P a u l L e h m a n n , "Mittelalterliche B ü c h e r t i t e l , " in his

des Mittelalters

( S t u t t g a r t 1959-1962) 5.64-69; Henri de Lubac, Exégèse

1959) 2.1.425-439; R i t v a J o n n s o n , Historia:

Études

Erforschung

médiévale

sur la genèse des offices

versifiés

(Paris (Stock-

h o l m 1968) 9-17. 6

For e x a m p l e , Orderic Vitalis in a short space first refers to a r h y m e d office w i t h the t e r m

historia,

t h e n w i t h o u t e x p l a n a t i o n applies it to his o w n narrative.

See Historia

ecclesiastica

ed. A u g u s t e Le P r é v o s t w i t h Léopold Delisle, Société de l'histoire de France, 5 vols. (Paris 1838-1855) 4.282-283. 7

R . C. v a n Caenegem w i t h F. L. Ganshof, Kurze

Mittelalters:

Eine typologische,

historische

Quellenkunde

und bibliographische

Einführung,

des

westeuropäischen trans, from D u t c h

b y M. Gysseling (Göttingen 1964) 21-22. 8

See H u b e r t Jedin, "Zur W i d m u n g s e p i s t e l der Historia ecclesiastica H u g o s v o n Fleury,"

in B a u e r et al. (n. 1 above) 559-566.

Harald Dickerhof, "Kirchenbegriff, W i s s e n s c h a f t s e n t -

wicklung, Bildungssoziologie, u n d die Jahrbuch

der Görres-Gesellschaft

Formen

kirchlicher

Historiographie,"

Historisches

89 (1969) 176-202, ably discusses recent v i e w s of such schol-

ars as Harald Z i m m e r m a n n and P e t e r Meinhold, all of w h o m agree t h a t a true church historiography d e v e l o p e d no sooner t h a n t h e R e f o r m a t i o n .

MEDIEVAL

37

HISTORIOGRAPHY

Under these broad headings the authors propose for each entry a brief characterization of genre so the researcher may proceed with more intelligent dispatch. 9 But difficulties emerge. For example, under (1) comes church history, which, to begin with, seems ruled out by the recent research that I commented upon just a few lines back. But the description of "church history" raises more problems: the form is supposed to have been used by engaged writers more bent on showing the truth of Christian belief by reference to the providential management of history than on garnering literary credits. Aside from the fact that a form so liberally defined would seem to embrace great hosts of works, one would at least expect to find cited such authors as Gregory of Tours and Bede. They are however not there; what one gets instead is the mention of texts that have in common titles like Historia ecclesiastica or Historia sacra. Orosius is listed under church history rather than under world chronicles, which would puzzle none more than all those medieval writers who based their universal histories on the capacious Historiarum adversus paganos libri VII.10 Imitatio of classical historiography is presumed to be the hallmark of what Caenegem and Ganshof call histories, biographies, and autobiographies; it, however, seems to me just as frequent in gesta, which they assign to (1). And their assumption t h a t medieval imitatio was on the whole formal and mechanical, and only helped to improve the use of Latin, runs counter to important recent research that I shall in due course discuss. There seems no good reason to make a special form of Crusade and pilgrimage histories, nor any cause to think of Galbert of Bruges's account of the murder of Charles the Good as a case of diary writing, since the former more naturally fit into gesta and the latter is a version of vita. It is questionable to separate biography and hagiography, for even Einhard wrote the preface to his Vita Karoli Magni in the shadow of Sulpicius Severus. 11 Within traditional Quellenkunde, scholars have been liable to treat forms as mere heuristic principles of modern research. As a result, it has been easy to define genres without due regard for the fact that the medieval notion of history was quite suitable to a wide range of forms, including both the chronicle and poetry. Since history seemed at bottom a providential process, it was appropriate even to song, for factum was inseparable from intelligentia spiritualis. At any rate, Grundmann managed to miss the old pitfalls of Quellenkunde, surely because he was an undoubted master of it and at the same time willing to engage in genuine literary criticism. Of the eight forms t h a t he lists, six are characteristic of Latin historiography from the fourth through the 9 10

C a e n e g e m a n d G a n s h o f (n. 7 a b o v e ) 13-47. T h e i n f l u e n c e of Orosius o n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t of m e d i e v a l w o r l d c h r o n i c l e s is s t r o n g l y

e m p h a s i z e d in A n n a - D o r o t h e e v o n d e n B r i n c k e n , Studien bis in das

Zeitalter

Otlos

von Freising

zur

lateinischen

Weltchronistik

(Diisseldorf 1957) 80-86; according to Brincken the

S p a n i s h p r i e s t w a s "der e r s t e U n i v e r s a l h i s t o r i k e r des C h r i s t e n t u m s " (86). 11

A s H e l m u t B e u m a n n s h o w s in " T o p o s u n d G e d a n k e n g e f i i g e b e i E i n h a r d " (n. 1 a b o v e ) .

38

ROGER D.

RAY

twelfth centuries: tribal history (Volksgeschichle, origo genlis), world chronicles, annals, vitae (hagiography, biography, and autobiography), gesta, and Latin historical poems. 12 Though compact, Grundmann's discussion of each genre is t r u e to medieval parlance, sensitive to the place history held in various departments of life, ready to appreciate peculiarities of medieval forms as compared to classical historiography, and fully abreast of both philological and historical literature up to the early 1960s. No other general treatment combines all these qualities at once. According to Grundmann, tribal history is more an eclectic medieval product than a conscious continuation of ancient origo gentis. World chronicles have contours governed by the heilsgeschichtliche conceptions of space and time generated especially by Eusebius-Jerome, Orosius, and Bede. Annals owe more to incidents of liturgical timekeeping than to antique annates. Vitae root in the Gospels and in model hagiographers like Athanasius and Sulpicius Severus, as well as in forces at work in local cultic practices; and as medieval lives now and then begin to approximate what we regard as biography and autobiography, the influences of rhetoric and of authors such as Sallust often appear mixed with hagiographical norms. Gesta apparently proceed from the widely diffused Liber pontificalis, on to variations of diocesan, monastic, dynastic, aristocratic, and other expressions of local and territorial history, not to mention accounts of great matters such as the Crusades. Latin historical poems take inspiration from people as different as Virgil and Arator, and even if some examples too much affirmed the world and so got into trouble, they all represented a current genre of what medieval audiences heard as history. No one knew better than Grundmann t h a t his essay was only a working outline, but he had already begun to fill it out by directing his student AnnaDorothee von den Brincken through a dissertation t h a t was printed in 1957 under the title Studien zur tateinischen Weltchronistik bis in das Zeitalter Ottos von Freising,13 Though Brincken presents her work as b u t Studien, and thus stresses t h a t much more might have been done, it nonetheless stands to this day as the widest-ranging investigation of a medieval form of history. Her sampling of texts from the Greek chronographers to Bishop Otto is sufficiently broad to support a useful summary of the world chronicle's generic traits. 1 4 Chief among them is a profound theological and religious interest in chronology as both a structural and a hermeneutical aid. As an ordering principle, chronology of course calibrated the temporum series. It 12

G r u n d m a n n (n. 1 a b o v e ) 7-51.

H e also t r e a t s epic p o e t r y in t h e v e r n a c u l a r a n d l a t e r

m e d i e v a l c i t y a n d territorial chronicles. 13

B r i n c k e n (n. 10 a b o v e ) .

F o r a m o r e r e c e n t b u t e s s e n t i a l l y u n c h a n g e d s t a t e m e n t of her

u n d e r s t a n d i n g of t h e t h e o l o g i c a l origins of u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y , see B r i n c k e n , "Die l a t e i n i s c h e W e l t c h r o n i s t i k , " Mensch

und

Weltgeschichle:

ed. A l e x a n d e r R a n d a ( S a l z b u r g 1969) 4 3 - 6 6 . 14

B r i n c k e n , Studien

232-240.

Geschichte

der

Universalgeschichtsschreibung,

MEDIEVAL

39

HISTORIOGRAPHY

began by settling the question of eras, then went on to organize history's movement through some use of the metaphor of great ages. In instances of correlation between the ages of the world and the ages of man from infantia to senectus—a framework of thought urged upon the Middle Ages by Augustine, Isidore, and Bede—a theological idea of development and change operated. Only seldom did authors express the interconnections of sacred and profane history through the oriental-biblical notion of the four successive monarchies. Chronology was in all case the surrogate of theology and liturgy, so counting off the iemporum series was a function of heilsgeschichtliches thought. The reckoning of time drove on toward interpretation: "Sie diente . . . zur Verdeutlichung des Sinnes der Welt und allen Lebens überhaupt, der Kernfrage aller Wissenschaften schlechthin." 15 By the use of a graph Brincken shows t h a t the world chronicle's ruling models were Jerome's version of the Eusebian chronography, Bede's works de temporibus, and Orosius' Historiae; and in t h a t order of relative importance. 16 She notes t h a t the genre varied with historical circumstances and with changing fashions in chronological computation. Professor Brincken appeals for allowances t h a t any example of the universal history may have generic peculiarities. Since her Studien there has appeared only one work t h a t goes comparably far in examining a medieval form of history, Theodor Wolpers's Die englische Heiligenlegende des Mittelalters.17 I t s subtitle bespeaks what seems to me the book's significance: "Eine Formgeschichte des Legendenerzählens von der spätantiken Tradition bis zur Mitte des 16. Jahrhunderts." Wolpers uses, in other words, a research method analogous to the form-criticism exemplified in biblical studies by Martin Dibelius and Rudolf Bultmann. 1 8 Though he does not join the theologians in their a t t e m p t to isolate units of oral tradition, he does share their assumption t h a t the Christian community tended to produce literatures in forms largely fixed by the needs of devotional and liturgical 15

Ibid.

16

See ibid.,

240. t h e a p p e n d e d T a b l e II, w h i c h is r e p r i n t e d in B r i n c k e n , "Die l a t e i n i s c h e W e l t -

c h r o n i s t i k " 79.

In f i v e o t h e r t a b l e s , w h i c h a p p e a r in b o t h p u b l i c a t i o n s , B r i n c k e n r e p r e s e n t s

t h e g e o g r a p h i c a l a n d c h r o n o l o g i c a l s p r e a d of w o r l d chronicles d o w n t h r o u g h t h e m i d - t w e l f t h c e n t u r y ; t h e t i m e s p a n s of m o r e t h a n s i x t y w o r k s in r e l a t i o n t o their d a t e s of a u t h o r s h i p ; t h e u s e s of w o r l d eras a n d a t t e m p t e d c o r r e c t i o n s t h e r e o f ; t h e r e l a t i v e p o p u l a r i t y of t h e Einteilungsschemata,

like t h e s i x a g e s of t h e w o r l d ; a n d t h e w e i g h t t h e chroniclers g i v e t o

pre-Christian, Christian, a n d c o n t e m p o r a r y h i s t o r y . Kultargeschichte

39 (1957) 133-149.

S e e also her " W e l t ä r e n , " Archiv

"The A g e s of Man a n d t h e A g e s of the W o r l d , A S t u d y of T w o T r a d i t i o n s , " Revue augustiniennes

des

etudes

12 (1966) 1 9 3 - 2 2 8 , w h e r e o t h e r r e l e v a n t b i b l i o g r a p h y is c i t e d ; a n d R o d e r i c h

S c h m i d t , " A e t a t e s m u n d i : D i e W e l t a l t e r als G l i e d e r u n g s p r i n z i p der G e s c h i c h t e , " für

für

On t h e d o c t r i n e of "ages" see, t o o , P a u l A r c h a m b a u l t ,

Kirchengeschichte

67 ( 1 9 5 5 - 1 9 5 6 )

17

T h e o d o r W o l p e r s , Die engtische

18

F o r i n s t a n c e , D i b e l i u s , From

Heiligenlegende Tradition

( N e w Y o r k 1 9 3 5 ) ; a n d B u l t m a n n , The History ( N e w Y o r k 1963).

Zeitschrift

288-317. des Mittelalters

to Gospel,

( T ü b i n g e n 1964).

t r a n s , a n d rev. B e r t r a m L e e W o l f

of the Synoptic

Tradition,

trans. J o h n Marsh

40

ROGER D. RAY

practice. Wolpers stresses that the continual celebration of Gospel heroes shaped the hagiographic way of seeing human personality and conduct. Literary means of representing saintly reality likewise came from the New Testament, as well as from classical sources made licit by the influence of such authors as Sulpicius Severus. In the actual composition of texts what mattered was communicating the evidences of powerful holiness, so things like topographical details often gave place to all the topoi that fused the individual saint into the communal vita sanctorum. The density of these commonplaces of course varies from text to text; some works verge on biography and history, while others say little in particular about their human subject. But Wolpers's point is that literature of this sort was true and orderly to the people who used it in the cult of saints. Viewed in terms of its function in life, hagiography was a coherent genre that raised history to nearly psalmic heights. "So ergibt sich weniger aus der vorgegebenen Stofflichkeit als aus dem religiösen Bedürfnis des Heiligenkultes in der typischen Legende eine Gesamtstruktur von grösster Einhelligkeit und Überschaubarkeit." 19 Wolpers moves along several centuries of English hagiography alert to the senses in which liturgical necessities might in single texts modulate the relationship of the typical and the peculiar. In their separate ways Jean Leclercq 20 and Erich Auerbach 21 have also published recent appeals that we try to understand the making of medieval forms of literature within perspectives consistent with the nature of the medieval writer's audience. Some time in fact before Wolpers's book appeared, Leclercq called for a Formgeschichte of monastic saints' lives. And since in his view all additional forms of literature written by monks owed much to the ambit of Opus Dei, he suggested a similar approach to other historical genres. 22 After all, we know that historical works of many kinds were commonly

19 Wolpers 33. See 1-39 where Wolpers articulates his stance as regards the kind of research of which the Bollandists have long been champions, and also gives his general view of the literary form of legends (esp. 22-36). 20 Jean Leclercq, The Love of Learning and the Desire /or God, trans. Catherine Misrahi ( N e w York 1962), esp. chap. 8, "Literary Genres" 153-188. 21

Erich Auerbach, Literary Language and Its Public in Late Latin Antiquity and in the Middle Ages, trans. Ralph Manheim (New York 1965), particularly the section "Latin Prose in the Early Middle Ages" 83-180, which first appeared in about the same form as "Lateinische Prosa des 9. und 10. Jahrhunderts," Romanische Forschungen 66 (1955) 1-64. 22 See Leclercq 168, where he urges a form-critical approach to hagiography. On 160 he says of monastic historians: "In any case, when dealing with concrete events, their intention is t o serve the Church, to penetrate more deeply the Christian vocation and to perceive how h u m a n i t y ' s salvation is realized in the fabric of time. Correspondences w i t h sacred history, especially w i t h the narratives of the Old Testament, are therefore both frequent and legitimate. To begin with, we find the word historia used for the passage from the Bible read in the office, in the atmosphere of prayer. All narration is conceived, more or less, in accordance with this model." Similar things come out in Leclercq's "Monastic Historiography from Leo I X to Callistus II," Studia monastica 12 (1970) 57-86.

MEDIEVAL

HISTORIOGRAPHY

41

read in the daily Benedictine horarium—in the refectory, at lectio divina, likely in connection with the psalmi familiares, and even in locally determinable parts of Divine Office. 23 It therefore stands to reason that the quasiliturgical use of historical texts influenced their forms. For instance, many monastic examples of gesta and of the world chronicle become structural hodgepodges of fairly short episodes t h a t may follow no clear chronological thread. What, though, would have been wrong with all this in the refectory where monks liked their condiments of spiritual reading quick to the moral taste? Anticipating the use of his work at table, the chronicler would have been smart to fashion his text on the pattern of Gospel stories, which themselves set little store by chronological correctness and were of course models of fast and tangy lectiones. Monks tried to remember and often memorize "worthy things," the digna memoria that in the form of res gestae were supposed to be the object of historical knowledge. This too would seem to put the premium on didactically compact, self-contained units instead of on interrelated scenes in a large narrative whole, which in the economy of the daily readings would have been inefficient. Many monastic chroniclers mixed their genres in ways at first glance hard to understand—as when, for example, a single work is rather like a bale of annalistic sections, various kinds of gesta, passages of universal history, saints' lives, sermons, poetry, and perhaps still other things. Yet to monks fighting off boredom through long summer days of required readings, such an apparently mindless jumble may have sensibly put into one handy manuscript many possibilities for emotional changes of pace. On the one hand, medieval intellectuals liked to talk about genre as little as they relished any other discussion of literary theory. On the other hand, historical works in practice took such intelligible forms as Grundmann has described, and they did so because these various literary means to the past were needed by the people who read and heard them. It therefore seems imperative t h a t the study of historiographical genres proceed on the basis of as much knowledge as can be developed of the social settings and functions of medieval historical writing. As Reto R. Bezzola has shown, one must take gesta regum in the courtly context for which the form was largely created. 24 An equivalent approach should enrich the study of gesta episcoporum, however much this may be a special case by reason of the almost inescapable influence of the Liber pontificalis,25 From recent works by Helmut Beumann and Robert

23 24

See Roger D. R a y , "Orderic Vitalis and His Readers," Studia monastica 14 (1972) 17-33. R e t o R. Bezzola, Les origines et la formation de la littérature courtoise en occident, 500-

1200 (Paris 1958-1963). England and France. 25

See esp. pt. 3 on historiography at the twelfth-century courts of

On the huge impact of this book see Robert Henri Bautier, "L'historiographie en France aux X e et X I e siècles," in La storiografia altomedievale (n. 2 above) 2.793-850, esp. 809-815.

42

ROGER D. RAY

Hanning it is manifest that tribal instances of gesta reflect the shaping impact of their anticipated audiences. 26 For the moment, we have good basic understandings of the universal chronicle, hagiographical vitae, and annals. 27 In the study of all genres, however, much remains undone; one form, Latin historical poetry, has so far received practically no comparative consideration as a genre of history. 28 A priority of research should be likely groupings of gesta—examples, that is, unified by some common topic—for it is both the most elastic of the forms and the one most often involved in our efforts to establish facts. It is in any event clear that the study of forms will be at the heart of any better knowledge of medieval historiography, and equally plain that the needed increase in understanding will perforce mingle the procedures of philology and history. For a long time, indeed, many have been well aware that the touchstone of medieval historiography is the Bible, together with its inseparable associates hagiography, exegesis, and the liturgy. In our century this fact has been underscored from various standpoints ever more strongly. 29 Nevertheless, while the biblical scholars have been stressing that the nature of scriptural 26 B e u m a n n , Widukind (n. 1 a b o v e ) 30-50; m o r e r e c e n t r e f i n e m e n t s a p p e a r in his "Hist o r i o g r a p h i s c h e K o n z e p t i o n u n d politische Ziele W i d u k i n d s v o n C o r v e y , " La storiografia altomedievale 2.857-894. See R o b e r t H a n n i n g , The Vision of History in Early Britain (New Y o r k 1966) esp. 44-62 on Gildas. 27 F o r t h e g r o w t h of t h e a n n a l i s t i c f o r m see a b o v e all Charles W . J o n e s , Saints' Lives and Chronicles in Early England ( I t h a c a 1947) 5-15. Cf. H a r t m u t H o f f m a n n , Untersuchungen zur karolingischen Annalistik ( B o n n 1958) 69-75; F . L. G a n s h o f , " L ' h i s t o r i o g r a p h i e d a n s la m o n a r c h i e f r a n q u e sous les m é r o v i n g i e n s et carolingiens," La storiografia altomedievale 2.667-684; a n d R . L. Poole, Chronicles and Annals ( O x f o r d 1926) 23-36. J o n e s shows t h a t E a s t e r a n n a l s were f i r s t k e p t in I t a l y as e a r l y as t h e l a t e r f i f t h c e n t u r y , which corrects t h e c o m m o n assertion t h a t t h e y were i n v e n t e d in N o r t h u m b r i a . 28

B u t a m o n g l i t e r a r y s t u d i e s of L a t i n historical verse Josef S z ô v é r f f y , Weltliche Dichtungen des lateinischen Mittelalters, Ein Handbuch: vol. 1, Von den Anfängen bis zum Ende der Karolingerzeit (Berlin 1970), gives h e l p f u l a n d c u r r e n t o r i e n t a t i o n in i m p o r t a n t q u e s t i o n s of g e n r e (see 27-30, t h e n 74-91 f o r c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n s of such f o r m s as t h e p a n e g y r i c a n d t h e C r u s a d e epic). H e r m a n n H e i m p e l , " ü b e r den ' P a v o ' des A l e x a n d e r v o n R o e s , " Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 13 (1957) 171-227, r e p r i n t e d in L a m m e r s (n. 1 a b o v e ) 350-417, is an e x e m p l a r y s t u d y of one p o e m ; see also t h e section on t h e Gesta Roberti Wiscardi of W i l l i a m of A p u l i a in Michele F u i a n o , Studi di storiografia medioevale ( N a p l e s 1960) 11-102 esp. 76ff.; a n d R o b e r t H o l t z m a n n , " D a s C a r m e n de F r e d e r i c o I. i m p e r a t o r e aus Berg a m o u n d die A n f ä n g e einer s t a u f i s c h e n Hof h i s t o r i o g r a p h i e , " Neues Archiv 44 (1922) 252313. 29 F o r e x a m p l e , Schulz (n. 1 a b o v e ) 120; P a u l A l p h a n d e r y , "Les c i t a t i o n s bibliques chez les h i s t o r i e n s de la p r e m i è r e c r o i s a d e , " Revue de l'histoire des religions 99 (1929) 139-157; O t t o B r u n n e r , " A b e n d l a n d i s c h e s G e s c h i c h t s d e n k e n , " in his Neue Wege der Sozialgeschichte ( G ö t t i n g e n 1956) 168-193; r e p r i n t e d in L a m m e r s 434-459; E r i c h A u e r b a c h , " F i g u r a , " n o w in his Scenes from the Drama of European Literature (New Y o r k 1959) 11-78; P a u l L e h m a n n , " D e r E i n f l u s s der Bibel auf f r ü h m i t t e l a l t e r l i c h e n G e s c h i c h t s s c h r e i b e r , " in La Bibbia ne II' allo medioevo, S e t t i m a n e di s t u d i o del C e n t r o i t a l i a n o di s t u d i sull'alto m e d i o e v o 10, 26 April2 M a y 1962 (Spoleto 1963) 129-140.

MEDIEVAL

43

HISTORIOGRAPHY

narrative is theological and not what we usually think of as historiographical and biographical, medievalists well disposed to, or forced back upon, chronicles have gone on assuming that their main narrative sources were somehow saved from didactic refractions either by plain sense or maybe by secularizing influences from classical models. It is of course frequently mentioned that medieval historians knew well how to promise nothing but the truth in their impartial accounts of good deeds and bad. 30 In recurrent words like Veritas historiae even positivists have sometimes taken heart. Translators have moreover often rendered this sort of language at face value; it usually results in some version of "only the facts." Right up to the latest publications, "historical evidence" and "objective curiosity" have been attributed to the methods of narrators as diverse as Gildas and William of Malmesbury, as if the modern meanings of these words were in some way important (not to mention available) to medieval minds. 31 Perhaps they were, but, as research stands today, the burden of proof is on those who think so. Recent studies in the Bible's general influence on medieval historiography converge on the chronicler's notion of historical truth, and what comes out controverts old anachronisms. I illustrate all this by reference to research in two authors whose empirical sensibilities have long been applauded: Bede and Guibert of Nogent. In his impressive book on Bede, Peter Hunter Blair reaffirms that the great Northumbrian worked with "a consistently critical attitude towards his sources." 32 Hunter Blair says this in the good company of historians like Wilhelm Levison. 33 But views expressed by Charles W. Jones and, more recently, by Gerhard Schoebe and Robert Hanning call into serious question any attempt to interpret Bede's idea of historical reality by the use of words signifying sheer fact. All three insist that Bede was an articulate representative of precisely his own age—which did not readily recognize historia in an account of human affairs as they naturally happened. Jones asserts that as a historian Bede was ipso facto a hagiographer; the former took virtue often in the breach, the latter mainly in the observance, but they both alike witnessed to aspects of the same providential history. As for the famous vera lex historiae, which has long seemed a sure sign of Bede's commitment to laborious accuracy, Jones says it "is not a plea for literal truth, but for a truth which denies the literal statement or uses the literal statement to achieve an image in which the literal statement is itself incon30

F o r t y p i c a l t e x t s see S c h u l z 5 - 1 4 ; also L a c r o i x (n. 2 a b o v e ) 133-140.

31

I refer t o A n t o n i a

Speculum 32

Gransden, "Realistic Observation

in T w e l f t h - C e n t u r y

England,"

47 ( 1 9 7 2 ) 2 9 - 5 1 , w h i c h is surely n o t u n i q u e .

P e t e r H u n t e r Blair, The

World

W r i t i n g s cf B e d e , " La storiografia

of Bede ( L o n d o n 1 9 7 0 ) 3 0 3 . altomedievale

Cf. idem,

"The H i s t o r i c a l

(n. 2 a b o v e ) 1 . 1 9 7 - 2 2 1 esp. 1 9 9 - 2 0 2 for a n

a t t e m p t e d d e f e n s e of B e d e ' s critical skills. 33

See W i l h e l m L e v i s o n , " B e d e as H i s t o r i a n , " in Bede,

ed. A . H . T h o m p s o n ( O x f o r d 1932) 1 1 1 - 1 5 1 .

His

Life,

Times,

and

Writings

44

R O G E R D. RAY

gruous."34 In his role as verax historicus Bede had no interest in correcting his sources by a standard of factual truth, but only felt obliged to write down those things that most people thought edifying; this helps to explain why he included miracle stories and saw few reasons to change the chronological reckoning of whatever source he used. In brief, Jones contends that Bede's scholarly self-understanding carried with it a "critical" method not very empirical at all. Schoebe asks "nach den inneren Eigenheiten der von Baeda gesehenen 'geschichtlichen Wirklichkeit,'" and he answers with five interrelated assertions.35 First, to Bede history was not determined by some immanent, natural causality, but by the supernatural power of God. Second, Bede saw his own age as of a piece with that of the Bible, and tended to read the workings of the world out of the so-called historical books of the Old Testament. In the third place, Schoebe denies that Bede's view of history is something to which we may usefully apply our historicist categories of continuity and change, uniqueness and individuality, since his understanding of historical process (and this is Schoebe's fourth point) favors miraculous causality and becomes a kind of supranatural materialism. Finally, historiography stands on a moral and didactic premise that determines all phases of Bede's work. On the whole, Schoebe appeals for a perspectivistic approach to early medieval historians, for: Die geschichtliche Wirklichkeit des frühen Mittelalters ist von anderer Art als die geschichtliche Wirklichkeit des 18., 19., und 20. Jahrhunderts. Wir nehmen eine perspektivische Verzerrung vor, wenn wir uns nicht bewusst halten, dass die Grundgegebenheiten der geschichtlichen Wirklichkeit, die Realkategorien geschichtlichen Seins, nicht in allen Jahrhunderten die gleichen sind. In praktischer Anwendung gesagt: Wer aus Baedas Kirchengeschichte die Wunderberichte eleminieren wollte, behielte einen denaturierten Rest in der Hand, in dem gerade das fehlt, was dem Verehrungswürdigen zum Wichtigsten zählte. Dass ihm die Wunder- und Visionsberichte so entscheidend wichtig waren, bestätigt der Blick auf die Stoffauswahl, die er vorgenommen hat. Im V. Buch sind 10 von 22 Kapiteln reine Wunderund Visionsberichte, und die übrigen 12 beschränken sich keineswegs auf das 'Tatsächliche'! Das III. und das IV. Buch bieten kein wesentlich verschiedenes Bild, und diese letzen drei sind gerade diejenigen Bücher, in denen Baeda seine Prinzipien der Stoffauswahl wirklich anwenden konnte, weil ihm hier genügend Material vorlag.36 34

J o n e s (n. 27 a b o v e ) 83; see in general 80-93, along w i t h his "Bede as Early Medieval

Historian," Medievalia 36

Gerhard Scoebe,

el humanistica

4 (1946) 26-36.

"Was gilt i m frühen Mittelalter als

geschichtliche

E i n Versuch zur ' K i r c h e n g e s c h i c h t e ' des B a e d a Venerabiiis," Festschrift ed. Otto Brunner et al. ( W i e s b a d e n 1965) 625-651. 36

Ibid.

629i.

Wirklichkeit?

Hermann

Aubin,

45

MEDIEVAL HISTORIOGRAPHY

According to Hanning, in the Historia ecclesiastica "[Bede] shapes and controls his narrative so that, at both national and personal levels, it extols the good and rejects the evil in keeping with a thoroughly Christian view of divine providence operating in history. Furthermore, God's judging of man ceases in the Historia [as compared to De temporum ratione, an earlier pedagogical work much concerned with eschatology] to be a goal toward which all history is moving, and becomes a process carried out in history as a préfiguration of the final reward or punishment awaiting each individual when he passes from this life to the next." 37 Hanning keeps in focus that Bede's primary interests were theological, and t h a t the Historia was written as something of a capstone to a long career as an exegete. In fact, Hanning in one place shows t h a t Bede not only used Scripture to interpret history but also employed history to interpret Scripture. 38 I might add that Bede's work as a historian will never be fully understood until it is taken within the context of his entire literary corpus, the great bulk of which is exegetical. When this kind of study comes, I am sure it will disclose that between his exegetical and historical works there are many cross-fertilizations. In his fine book on Eusebius of Caesarea, D. S. Wallace-Hadrill puts the bishop's Historia into the full perspective of all he wrote, and the conclusion is: Everything Eusebius wrote was historical and everything was biblical, and to treat the History as an unattached unit is to do injustice to its author, for . . . his work does hang together and should be seen as a whole. The spilling over of the historical from the History into the Demonstratio and the Theophany, and of the biblical from the Commentaries and the Demonstratio back into the History, is inevitable in view of Eusebius' insistence upon the unity of God's purpose for mankind and the consequent unity of the whole story of mankind from beginning to end. 39 By contrast, early in his recent work Hunter Blair indicates that he did not feel competent to treat Bede's theological and spiritual writings. 40 I therefore wonder whether he could expect to be in a very good position to speak of Bede's accomplishment as a historian, since there can now be no doubt t h a t the monk of Jarrow, no less than Eusebius, thought his historical labors integral to his 37

Hanning (n. 26 above) 75f.

38

Ibid. 82-83. See also W. F. Bolton, A History of Anglo-Latin Literature, 570-1066 (Princeton 1967) 1.169-178, in which Bede's great historical work is described as "an adjunct t o scriptural study" (172). Cf. James Campbell, "Bede," in Latin Historians, ed. T. A. Dorey ( N e w York 1966) 159-160; in this essay, which is the best general discussion of the Historia ecclesiastica, the author suggests (165) that Bede learned m u c h about the writing of history in the course of preparing his m a n y biblical commentaries. 39

D. S. Wallace-Hadrill, Eusebius

40

Hunter Blair (n. 32 above) vii.

of Caesarea (London 1960) 168.

46

ROGER D. RAY

larger work as a master of biblical and spiritual things. It seems in all that Hunter Blair (and of course many others who share his opinions) fails to take seriously Bede's own view of historical writing, and as a result assesses such works as the Historia ecclesiastica by standards its author and his audience would not have understood. If Bede thought the truth of history was theological and not mainly a matter of straight facts, how can we accept without qualification any claim that he sustained "a consistently critical attitude towards his sources?" Such an assertion will merit approval only when it is made intelligible within Bede's own intellectual perspective. As for Guibert of Nogent, at the turn of the century Abel Lefranc and Bernard Monod made of him a protomodern historical critic because of probative attitudes that seem to appear in De pignoribus sanctorum and in Gesta Dei per Francos.*1 Over the last decade, however, Guibert's reputation has been spoiled. Laetitia Boehm, Jacques Chaurand, Klaus Schreiner, and John Benton all had a hand in the deed. It turns out that Guibert, like Bede, was really a part of his own age, not somehow in advance of it. His criticism of malpractices in the saints' cult and of his Crusade sources was neither truly skeptical in the modern sense nor highly unusual in the Middle Ages. In the earliest of these revisionist statements, Boehm and Chaurand both argued in 1965 that Guibert's alleged "critical" powers in fact rested on theology, not on observation, and that his historiographical method was far nearer to medieval exegesis than to modern historicism. Boehm's important article "Der wissenschafts theoretische Ort der historia im früheren Mittelalter" shows that the specifically medieval kind of historical knowing combined fact and spiritual understanding in ways similar to the biblical fusion of event and interpretation. As her one example of how this operated in the actual writing of history, Boehm offers Guibert's exegetical approach to the events of the First Crusade. 42 Schreiner has placed Guibert's critical abilities within the large context of medieval views of the true and the false in the sensitive matter of the veneration of saints and their relics. In this setting the abbot of Nogent seems as little prone to discriminating factual judgments as anyone else.43 Benton says that Guibert was certainly not afraid to disagree with other people, but his argu-

41

See Abel Lefranc, "La traité des reliques de Guibert de N o g e n t et les c o m m e n c e m e n t s

de la critique historique au m o y e n âge," in Études Monod

N o g e n t , " Revue Guiberi 42

d'histoire

historique

à

84 (1904) 51-70, which w a s then incorporated into his Le

B o e h m "Ort der historia" (n. 1 above) esp. 687-691.

Gabriel moine

For Chaurand see "La conception médiévale

8 (1965) 381-395.

K l a u s Schreiner, "Discrimen veri ac falsi, A n s ä t z e und Formen der Kritik in der Heiligen-

u n d Reliquienverehrung des Mittelalters," Archiv idem,

âge dédiées

el son temps (Paris 1905) 254-303.

de l'histoire de Guibert de N o g e n t , " Cahiers de civilisation 43

du moyen

(Paris 1896) 285-306; Bernard Monod, "De la m é t h o d e historique chez Guibert de

"Zum W a h r h e i t s v e r s t ä n d n i s

Saeculum

16 (1966) 131-169.

im

Heiligen-

für Kulturgeschichte und

Reliquienwesen

48 (1966) 1-53; and des

Mittelalters,"

MEDIEVAL

47

HISTORIOGRAPHY

ments themselves did not often amount to what we would call critical thought. He denies that the abbot was in any way a "scientific" historian; as a chronicler Guibert was mainly a moral commentator. "The same author who composed tropological biblical commentaries called his Memoirs 'homilies' and said at one point t h a t he was 'picking out examples useful for sermons.'" 44 Later Benton adds: "The tendency to stretch the evidence to fit the framework of one's preconceptions is common to all historians. Rather than trying to guard against them, however, Guibert was like his contemporaries in thinking t h a t such adjustments were part of his job" 45 —like Bede, too; and all the rest. In a wide-ranging discussion of medieval views of historical facts, Amos Funkenstein has of late contended that in the Middle Ages the basic materials of history were not our facts but digna memoria, things made worthy of memory by their pertinence to a Christian conduct of life.46 A medieval "fact" was therefore proper to moral experience and so had about it certain ideal associations. On the whole, recent research now more than ever makes it seem that the medieval Veritas historiae mainly bound the chronicler to use a biblically warranted standard in making good deeds look good and bad deeds bad, with, of course, little standing in the way of causing the good to seem better and the bad worse. On these terms the opposite of Veritas historiae would not have been objective error, but something far more dreadful: sin. Hence some monks quailed before the epic praise of secular rulers, and others scorned hagiographical texts that stayed too earthbound. In any case, it is entirely characteristic t h a t Orderic Vitalis should have poured his most painstaking work into the section of his huge Historia devoted to the patron saint of his abbey. For Orderic and his monastic brothers, the vita was straight from the core of "historical truth," a brilliant instance of biblical virtue at the genesis of their own house. In retelling the beloved life, Orderic's prestige as a "critical" scholar was therefore at stake in ways it never was when he wrote, for example, about William Rufus. 47 Of course, some of these things we have long known, but now we must at last reckon with them. We can in practice no longer ignore the several unhistorical forces moving in the texts of medieval historical narrators. In contrast, it would be wrong to overlook the remarkable facility with which authors like Gregory of Tours could on one page give mirabitia multa, then on the next describe some downrightly human happening in details that threaten the reader with nausea. Despite the obstacles, medieval historiography very 44

Abbot 45

Kritik 46

J o h n B e n t o n , " I n t r o d u c t i o n , " Self Guibert Ibid.

of Nogent

Society

32. T h e r e c e n t b o o k of K l a u s G u t h , Guibert

an der Reliquienverehrung

in

Medieval

France:

The Memoirs

of

A m o s F u n k e n s t e i n , Heilsplan

von Nogent

und die

hochmilielalterliche

(Ottobeuren 1970) does n o t directly deal with these issues. und natürliche

"Ort der h i s t o r i a " (n. 1 a b o v e ) agrees. 47

and

( N e w Y o r k 1 9 7 0 ) 7 - 3 3 , esp. 3 1 f .

F o r t h i s see R a y (n. 2 3 a b o v e ) .

Entwicklung

( M u n i c h 1965) 70-77.

Boehm's

48

ROGER D. RAY

often smacks of history. Much of it in fact has a realistic impact that would seem to belie many of the points recent scholarship has been making. One author not long ago even felt confident to say that clerical chroniclers were almost never engaged in presenting a religious picture of the world.48 I think that he succumbed to a false dichotomy. For one can—and must—give account of the apparent realism of medieval historical works and stay within the theological perspectives of their authors. As a matter of fact, the general influence of the Bible may in some ways have given what in others it took away. To illustrate the possibilities, I will follow a lead from the scholarship of Erich Auerbach. In various places he has argued that, whereas the ancient honored three levels of style corresponding to subject matter of ascending dignity, the Christian West until about the time of Dante usually used only the lowest level, the sermo humilis,49 It was meant to convey common realities; Auerbach notes that in the etymology of humilis is humus, the word for dirt. Classical rhetoricians thus assigned lofty subjects to the middle and high levels, and left such things as factual information to the lowly style. For the earliest Christians, however, Christ hallowed humilitas. Gospel writers told his story in a simple style, as befitted the very manner of his words, deeds, and death. Other early Christian authors, persuaded by the example of the Evangelists, developed unprecedented interest in the sermo humilis. It was Augustine who became its crucial proponent. In his own experience he had gone from abhorrence for the style of the Bible to a postconversion belief that it perfectly expressed all that counted for life. Though he thought the highest accomplishments of the ancient masters were outdone in certain flights of biblical prose, it impressed him far more that the Scriptures had reached unique sublimity by way of straightforwardness. Augustine therefore taught the Middle Ages that revelation itself urged upon literate believers the sermo humilis, and the diffusion of the Latin Vulgate everywhere reinforced his doctrine. Through the medieval centuries, Auerbach believes, the notion of three style levels survived only in shadows, and regained wide importance no earlier than the Renaissance. Meanwhile, the literary mainstream proceeded on the sermo humilis, the accepted way of speaking about all things Christian. Auerbach notes how Gregory of Tours, who used a Latin that was not yet severed from daily speech, found it hard to organize constellations of facts, but quite possible to take things "hot from the oven" and put them in graphic close-ups. "His models—if the term is permissible—were probably ecclesiastical and above all Biblical. They showed him how to bring realistic everyday material into

48 William Brandt, The Shape of Medieval H a v e n 1966) xviii. 49

History:

Studies

in Modes of Perception

(New

Most of w h a t follows here comes from Auerbach, Literary Language (n. 21 above) 25-66, 83ff. See also "Sacrae scripturae sermo humilis," m o s t recently published in Auerbach's Gesammelte Aufsätze zur romanischen Philologie (Munich 1967) 21-26.

MEDIEVAL

49

HISTORIOGRAPHY

his historical work-"50 And this, says Auerbach, was an improvement on late Antiquity: It is a reawakening of the directly sensible. Both style and treatment of content had become rigid in late antiquity. An excess of rhetorical devices, and the somber atmosphere which enveloped the events of the time, give the authors of late antiquity, from Tacitus and Seneca to Ammianus, a something that is labored, artificial, overstrained. . . . But things come to Gregory directly; he no longer needs to force them into the straitjacket of the elevated style; they grow or even run wild . . . . Sensory reality, which in Ammianus, where it was burdened by the fetters of tyrannical rules and the periodic style, could show itself spectrally and metaphorically, can unfold freely in Gregory.51 Though Auerbach thinks the Carolingian upgrading of Latin only served to make it the preserve of a small learned elite, and thus farther from life and less flexible for the kinds of descriptions Gregory brought forth, he finds that from Ottonian times onward some writers were able to use a manneristic and ornamental sermo humilis to good representational effect. No matter how much rhetorical posturing it may sometimes have contained, the Christian lowly style was always simplex and aperlus, always close to life, as was the New Testament. Appeals to the simple style run through the prefaces and dedicatory epistles of early medieval historiography.62 How much authors felt bound to it is shown by Otto of Freising's assurances to the monk Isingrim that the Chronica had been cast in "simplicitas apostolica" since subtlety was an invitation to error and "sancta rusticitas" was "amica veritatis."53 In the prologue to the Gesla Frederici Otto asks the reader's indulgence, for as his materials vary he intends to move reverently "a plana historica dictione . . . ad altiora velut

50

Auerbach, Literary

51

This is said near the end of Auerbach's explication of a passage from Gregory's

in Mimesis:

Language

The Representation

ed. 2 (Princeton 1968) 94.

111.

of Reality

in Western

Literature,

trans. Willard

Historia

R.

Trask,

Though concerned not with levels of style but with "hagiogra-

phische Stilisierung," Emil H . Walter, "Hagiographisches in Gregors Frankengeschichte," Archiv

für Kulturgeschichte

derglaube

48 (1966) 291-310, comes to the conclusion that Gregory's

Wun-

actually led to his renowned naive realism: "Denn der spezifisch wundergläubigen

Frömmigkeit Gregors eignet in Wirklichkeit eine Weltfreudigkeit und Realitätsnähe, die sie selbst zur lebenstreuen Selbstdarstellung der Gesellschaft befähigt, deren Ausdruck sie ist" (306). 52

See Gertrud Simon, "Untersuchungen zur Topik der Widmungsbriefe mittelalterlicher

Geschichtsschreiber bis zum Ende des 12. Jahrhunderts," Archiv

für

Diplomatik

4 (1958)

52-119; 5-6 (1959-1960) 73-153 esp. the first part, 96ff., for a sampling of instances. 53

Otto of Freising, Chronica,

ed. Walther Lammers, Ausgewählte Quellen zur deutschen

Geschichte des Mittelalters 16 (Berlin 1960) 16.

50

ROGER D.

RAY

philosophica acumine." 54 B u t this is unusual; it reflects the pull of forces t h a t in the mid-twelfth century were leading beyond narrative to philosophy of history. Other early medieval historians felt quite free to use Stilmischung in the name of the sermo humilis. I think, for instance, of William of Poitiers who in the 1070s wrote a nearly epic account of his hero William the Conqueror. The Gesta Guillelmi is on many pages florid, b u t on more by far his prose rings of real events, so much so t h a t scholars have always p u t him near the front of Conquest sources. At the end of one especially inflated laudatio of King William, the archdeacon of Lisieux demurely says t h a t he wants to write of his lord only in the sermo humilis?5 I used to discount this remark as one piece of evidence justifying the bad reputation medieval archdeacons often had. In light of Auerbach's penetrating research, it now seems more accurate to believe t h a t the humble style saved William of Poitiers from lapsing fully into epic imagination, while it preserved for us much information about the Norman Conquest of England. If the sermo humilis in this way disciplined the Gesta Guillelmi, then it must have kept less manneristic chronicles even closer to the facts. There is, however, one problem: the humble style existed not in the service of something like our notion of historical fact, b u t as t h a t holy rusticity friendly to moral truth. It grew not so much from a critical theory of style as from imitatio veritatis, t h a t is, from attempts to represent reality after the fashion of the Gospels. 56 As a rule it sought didactic ends and was liable to all the causal disjunctions involved in a miraculous conception of the world. Hence, the nearness of the humble style to what we regard as historical t r u t h still has to be determined by the use of collateral evidence. Nevertheless, for people who typically thought t h a t fact and value always came together, Veritas historiae in tandem with the sermo humilis joined a high interest in history with a possibly vivid means of writing it. However much objective facts may have been but a secondary concern of the medieval chronicler, he all the same had some capacity for a kind of empirical history—history t h a t had at least a chance to narrate in rather pictorial single scenes.

54

O t t o of Freising, Gesta

Frederici,

ed. F r a n z - J o s e f

S c h m a l e , A u s g e w ä h l t e Q u e l l e n zur

d e u t s c h e n G e s c h i c h t e des M i t t e l a l t e r s 17 ( B e r l i n 1965) 55

W i l l i a m of P o i t i e r s , Gesta Guillelmi,

120.

ed. R a y m o n d e F o r e v i l l e , L e s c l a s s i q u e s d e l'histoire

de F r a n c e a u m o y e n â g e 2 3 ( P a r i s 1952) 2 3 0 . 56

T h e e a r l y m e d i e v a l d i s c u s s i o n of s t y l e l e v e l s w a s t h i n a n d sporadic.

b a u e r , Die

antike

Theorie

der genera

dicendi

im

lateinischen

Mittelalter,

See Franz Quadlösterreichische

A k a d e m i e der W i s s e n s c h a f t e n , p h i l . - h i s t . K l a s s e , S i t z u n g s b e r i c h t e 2 4 1 . 2 ( V i e n n a 1962) 8-88. C o n t r a r y t o A u e r b a c h , Q u a d l b a u e r c r e d i t s m o r e i n f l u e n c e t o S e r v i u s t h a n t o A u g u s t i n e in t h e t r a n s m i s s i o n of t h e d o c t r i n e of t h r e e s t y l e s .

H e also a r g u e s t h a t t h e S e r v i u s t r a d i t i o n

s t r e s s e d l e v e l s of s u b j e c t m a t t e r , a n d so t i e d t h e sermo humilis rather than to subjective elocutional considerations.

t o o b j e c t i v e res a n d

personae

Hence, once again, the lowly style p u t

t h e emphasis on realism, on f i t t i n g words t o external things.

MEDIEVAL

51

HISTORIOGRAPHY

In realizing the descriptive potentials of the Christian sermo humilis, medieval historians of course got various help from pagan Antiquity, and on this subject recent scholars have written many useful things. The chroniclers took their classics within guidelines in large measure laid down by Augustine, Cassiodorus, and Isidore.57 It now in fact appears that Augustine's legacy to the actual writing of historical prose lay more on the side of form, where the appropriation of ancient resources tended to matter, than on that of theology of history, where in certain respects he gave historiography little to use and was outshone anyway by Eusebius, Orosius, and Bede. 58 For the final word about this we will have to await further study of the historiographical influence of Augustine's widely popular exegetical works. In the meantime, his cosponsorship with Servius of the sermo humilis might by itself keep for him the place he has always seemed to deserve among the founders of medieval historiography. However that may be, no one can any longer say that historical education was simply absent from the curriculum of early medieval schools. It is still true that, as V. H. Galbraith once remarked, the study of history as such was, in the Middle Ages, "nobody's business," 59 but it has of late become indisputable that the subordinate rank of history in the schema of the liberal arts is no index to its actual importance. In the study of grammar and rhetoric came many encounters both with historical texts and with several other things of use for the training of young historians. The contents of history, for instance, could stick in the mind as a result of the common practice of memorizing paradigms, many of which came from authors like Sallust and Lucan. 60 Even typical schoolbooks—Isidore's Etymologiae, among others—contained more that was historical and historiographical than we usually think. 61 Most significant, though, certain aspects of grammar and rhetoric were easily translated into methodological principles. In the 1950s Hans Wolter twice drew attention to some of these. 62 The art of memoria, for example, taught means of mental notation,

57

Boehtn, "Ort der historia" (n. 1 above).

58

Theodor Mommsen, "Orosius and A u g u s t i n e , " in his Medieval

and Renaissance

ed. E u g e n e F. Rice ( I t h a c a 1959) 325-348, w a s the first to m a k e this point. now supported him.

Studies,

Many h a v e b y

See, e.g., H. I. Marrou, "Saint A u g u s t i n , Orose, et l'augustinisme his-

torique," La storiografia

altomedievale

(n. 2 above) 2.59-87 and the other kindred studies

therein cited; and H a n n i n g (n. 26 above) 32-43. 59

Galbraith (n. 3 a b o v e ) 11.

60

See E v a Sanford, "The S t u d y of A n c i e n t H i s t o r y in t h e Middle Ages," Journal

History

above); and Beryl Smalley, "Sallust in t h e Middle Ages," Classical Literature, 61

of the

of Ideas 5 (1944) 21-43; Wolter (n. 3 a b o v e ) ; Southern, "The Rhetorical Tradition" (n. 2 500-1500

A.D.,

Influences

on

European

ed. R . R . Bolgar (Cambridge 1971) 165-176.

In fact, m u c h indeed; see Borst, "Das Bild der Geschichte in der E n z y k l o p ä d i e Isidors

v o n Sevilla" (n. 4 above). 62

H a n s Wolter, Ordericus

Vitalis:

Ein

Beitrag

zur kluniazcnsischen

Geschichtsschreibung

(Wiesbaden 1955) 57-64; t h e n more e x t e n s i v e l y in his "Geschichtliche Bildung im R a h m e n der Artes liberales" (n. 3 above).

52

R O G E R D. RAY

retention, and reconstruction, all of which would have been aids to research. The imitatio of literary models, whether ancient historians, epic poets, or Gospel writers, gave a kind of practice in the patterning of narrative. The three traditional virtues of narratio entailed much pertinent to a self-conscious historiography. Narratio brevis required a deft selection of only such material and language as would do to tell the story and engage an audience; narratio aperta or dilucida necessitated deliberate order, either chronological or according to didactic themes, as well as a lucid style; narratio verisimilis or probabilis kept the author to plausible circumstances and suggested he ask who, what, when, where, how, why, and so on. In giving the routine classroom introductions to texts—accessus ad auctores—representative monastic teachers like Conrad of Hirsau encouraged awareness of such things as an author's identity and life situation, his sources and subject matter, his literary intention, and the moral difference it makes to read his book. These elements of medieval literary criticism might become for the historian a somewhat analytical approach to written sources, as they clearly did for Sigebert of Gembloux and Orderic Vitalis. 63 Even though having all these devices available was not the same as making good use of them, it is no less true t h a t the study of the seven liberal arts included at least these resources for a "historical education," one normally justified by the scholarly challenges of biblical historia, narratio, and sermo humilis. Over the last two decades reseachers have been seeing more and more vitality in both the prose and the narrative structures of medieval historical works. As one result, we can no longer be satisfied merely to detect and identify antique borrowings and reminiscences; we must now make sure to ask whether transplanted classical material took medieval root. Understanding individual uses of literary tradition requires the straitening method of explication de texte, since one must probe for what may be deep-running patterns of thought. By this procedure, which is of course usually a philological method, the historian Helmut Beumann has discovered new life in historiographical prefaces and dedicatory epistles, which have long seemed empty of important ideas. In exordial sections of ninth- and tenth-century texts he has exposed continuous, timely, even subtly ironic lines of authentic thought, all reflecting identifiable contemporary realities and all carried through networks of topoi, that is, classical and Christian commonplaces. Near the end of an incisive explication of the preface to Einhard's Vita Karoli Magni Beumann says, 63

Sigebert m a k e s explicit use of the accessus

588C.

in Liber de scriptoribus

ecclesiaslicis,

t h e schoolroom exercise; see, e.g., The Ecclesiastical

History

of Orderic

Vitalis,

Chibnall (Oxford 1969) 2.184-187, and in t h e Le P r é v o s t edition 3.622-624. accessus culum ditio

PL 160.

Orderic o f t e n talks a b o u t his written sources according to concepts surely reflecting ed. Marjorie

On t h e m e d i e v a l

see m o s t recently Leslie G. W h i t b r e a d , "Conrad of Hirsau as Literary Critic," Spe47 (1972) 234-245; and also E . J. Quain, "The Medieval Accessus ad auctores," Tra-

3 (1945) 215-264.

MEDIEVAL

53

HISTORIOGRAPHY

reacting to Curtius, "dass die Topoi nicht nur als Konstanten der Tradition ihre Bedeutung haben, sondern als variable Grössen durch funktionale Zusammenfügung zur individuellen Aussage brauchbar gemacht werden konnten." 64 Then, farther on, he makes this wise appeal: Weder das moderne Fortschrittsbewusstsein . . . noch die Verabsolutierung des neuzeitlichen Originalitätsideals sind geeignete Voraussetzungen zum Verständnis des Mittelalters und seiner geistigen Hinterlassenschaft. Eliminiert man diese Vorstellungen, so öffnet sich der Weg zur Einsicht in Möglichkeiten, die das Mittelalter uns voraus hatte. Sie beruhen auf den besonderen Bedingungen seines geistigen Lebens. Der intime Charakter dieser Literatur, die von einer begrenzten exklusiven Schicht getragen und zugleich gelesen wurde, erlaubte es, jene sublimen Methoden der Aussage, des Austausches und der Polemik herauszubilden, die im Falle Einhards deutlich geworden sind. Anders als auf uns wirkte das Zitat aus dem Klassiker, dem Kirchenvater oder der Bibel auf diese Leser, die an solchen Texten nicht nur das Latein gelernt, sondern literarische Bildung überhaupt erfahren hatten. Für sie erübrigten sich Anführungszeichen und Fussnoten. Typologische Bezüge traten ins Bewusstsein, wenn mit einer 'Entlehnung' antike und zeitgenössische Gestalten und Gedanken zur Deckung gebracht wurden. Und nur schwer können wir nachempfinden, welches Gewicht der eigene Gedanke gewinnen musste, wenn er mit den Worten einer Autorität oder in der Form einer tradierten Wahrheit, eben eines Topos, vorgetragen wurde: literarisches Korrelat zur Legitimierung des politischen Handelns durch die kirchliche Autorität bei der Salbung und Krönung oder die Tradition des Romanum Imperium.65 Since Beumann wrote these words, topological research has gone sufficiently far to inhibit those who in the past have almost automatically discounted prefaces and dedicatory epistles as full of clichés and platitudes. Many of course are, but this can no longer be determined at first sight. Curtius and Beumann, together with Gertrud Simon, have, however, done much more than give historiographical front matter new sophistication. Their work obligates all to admit that exordial rhetoric may express basic insights into the texts it introduces.66 64

B e u m a n n , "Topos u n d Gedankengefüge bei Einhard" (n. 1 a b o v e ) 13.

66

Ibid.

14.

See t o o "Der Schriftsteller und seine Kritiker im frühen Mittelalter" (n. 1

a b o v e ) ; and Widukind 66

(n. 1 a b o v e ) 7-40.

Ernst R . Curtius, European

Literature

and the Latin

Middle

Ages,

trans. Willard R .

Trask ( N e w York 1963) 79-105 is, of course, basic for a n y research in m e d i e v a l topoi. B e u m a n n see ibid.;

Simon, "Untersuchungen zur T o p i k " (n. 52 above).

topological s t u d y see W a l t e r V e i t , "Toposforschung: E i n Forschungsbericht," Vierteljahrschrift

für Literaturwissenschaft

und Geistesgeschichte

For

On problems of

37 (1963) 120-163.

Deutsche

54

ROGER D.

RAY

Recent research in working narrative strategies likewise proves t h a t even in a period of time when, as B e u m a n n says, "Originalität nichts, Autorität alles bedeutet hat," 6 7 historians were sometimes masters of secondhand principles. Johannes Schneider, for instance, has cautioned scholars not to underestimate t h e narrative potential of medieval imitatio, which in general m e a n t not Aristotelian mimesis b u t the formation and inflection of a story with language and scenes drawn from pagan or Christian antiquity. 6 8 It may on the one hand be w h a t we would label "plagiarism," borrowings awkwardly hung onto inappropriate medieval m a t t e r , or the mere fleshing out of a narrative skeleton. On t h e other hand, a t times it becomes something shrewder, like the imitatio of a process of thought running nearly in disguise below the verbal surface. By the twelfth century, Schneider argues, some authors were able to get so deep into their models t h a t they created, t h r o u g h a sort of dialectical interchange, a narrative product about as original as was then possible. T h u s wherever imitatio is a t work, its specific functions must be traced without prejudice. Schneider presents the anonymous Vita Heinrici IV imperatoris as an outstanding example of medieval imitation. Among all the early medieval a t t e m p t s to i m i t a t e Sallust it distinguishes itself as eine autonome Schöpfung, bei der das Übernommene, m o c h t e es sallustischer oder anderer H e r k u n f t sein, dank seiner völligen Assimilierung innerhalb des neuen Zusammenhangs gedanklich und formal seine organische Funktion neben dem Eigenständigen gefunden hat, so dass trotz der im Vorausgegangenen notwendigerweise durchgeführten zergliedernden Analyse das kleine Werk nach wie vor als ein Gebilde aus einem Guss erscheint. 69 Marie S c h ü t t on Wiliam of Malmesbury and Asser, 70 K. F. Werner on Aimoin of Fleury and Regino of Prüm, 7 1 Robert Latouche on Richer of Saint Remi, 7 2 67

B e u m a n n , "Die H i s t o r i o g r a p h i e des M i t t e l a l t e r s als Quelle für die I d e e n g e s c h i c h t e des

K ö n i g t u m s , " in Ideengeschichtliche 68

Studien

J o h a n n e s S c h n e i d e r , Die Vita Heinrici

tatio

in der mittellateinischen

Prosa,

(n. 1 a b o v e ) 40-79, esp. 63. VI. imperatoris

und Sallust,

Studien

zu Stil und

Imi-

D e u t s c h e s A k a d e m i e der W i s s e n s c h a t t e n zu B e r l i n , S c h r i f -

t e n der S e k t i o n für A l t e r u m s w i s s e n s c h a f t 49 ( B e r l i n 1 9 6 5 ) esp. t h e m e t h o d o l o g i c a l s e c t i o n 1-34. 69

Ibid.

70

Marie S c h ü t t , "The L i t e r a r y F o r m of W i l l i a m of M a l m e s b u r y ' s Gesta

Historical

Review

English 71

133.

Historical

regum,"

4 6 ( 1 9 3 1 ) 2 5 5 - 2 6 0 ; S c h ü t t , "The L i t e r a r y F o r m of A s s e r ' s Vita Review

English Alfredi,"

72 ( 1 9 5 7 ) 2 0 9 - 2 2 0 .

K . F. W e r n e r , "Die l i t e r a r i s c h e n V o r b i l d e r des A i m o i n v o n F l e u r y u n d die E n t s t e h u n g

s i e n e r Gesta Francorum,

"Medium

aeoum vii'um:

Festschrift

Waither

Bulst,

cd. H a n s J a u s s a n d

D i e t e r S c h a l l e r ( H e i d e l b e r g 1 9 6 0 ) 6 9 - 1 0 3 ; W e r n e r , "Zur A r b e i t s w e i s e des R e g i n o v o n P r ü m , " Die 72

Welt

als Geschichte

Robert Latouche,

Études

médiévales

19 ( 1 9 5 9 ) 9 6 - 1 1 6 . " U n i m i t a t e u r de S a l l u s t e au X e siècle, l'historien R i c h e r , " in his

( P a r i s 1966) 6 9 - 8 1 .

See also S m a l l e y (n. 4 0 a b o v e ) on t h e g e n e r a l n a r r a t i v e

i n f l u e n c e of S a l l u s t ; a n d S c h n e i d e r (n. 6 8 a b o v e ) 3 4 - 4 2 , for an o v e r v i e w of S a l l u s t down to the twelfth century.

imitatio

MEDIEVAL

55

HISTORIOGRAPHY

Heinrich Pahler on Geoffrey of Monmouth, 7 3 Hellmann and Ganshof on Einhard, 7 4 B e u m a n n on Widukind, 7 5 and very recently Gert Melville on uses of t h e flores metaphor 7 6 —all these in their own ways reinforce Schneider's insistence t h a t we must henceforth pay attention to the intellectual and literary function of such typical narrative devices as imitatio. Traditional conventions could easily blur the present by molding it on some distant and greatly different shape of the past; especially when it was a question of imitatio veritalis, the construction of current affairs on biblical models. 77 Yet they could also help to focus on contemporary things, as plainly happened in E i n h a r d ' s Suetonian structuring of his Vita Karoli Magni.™ Editorial introductions have always included comments on the chronicler's use of written sources, b u t this practice now needs reconsideration with interest n o t in evidences of factual criticism b u t in narrative strategies. As Donald Wilcox has lately shown in a methodologically keen study of three humanist historians of fifteenth-century Florence, one begins to discover the substance of narrative by looking both for explicit statements of w h a t interests the historian and for less direct indicators t h a t often lie in his handling of sources. If an author is not simply copying from his source, then what he selects, passes over, or interpolates m a y tell much about the t r u e bearing of his narrative. 7 9 In my own research I have found t h a t a line-by-line explication of interrelated narratives is the only way to be sure about w h a t is going on in them. By assessing interpolations and deletions of things both formal and material, it becomes possible to tell where in particular medieval authors hoped to lead their audiences, and thus where we can reasonably expect them to t a k e us. I t sometimes produces insight to ask why a certain source was chosen when evidence indicates t h a t t h e chronicler had real options. For instance, in the preparation of his history of the First Crusade, which fills the ninth book of his Historia, Orderic Vitalis from all appearances chose between Fulcher of Chartres 73

Heinrich

des Geoffrey 74

Pahler,

Anglistik:

of Monmouth

Strukturuntersuchungen

zur

Historia

regum

Britanniae

( B o n n 1959).

H e l l m a n n , "Einhards literarische S t e l l u n g " (n. 1 a b o v e ) ; G a n s h o f , " E i n h a r d , B i o g r a p h e r

of C h a r l e m a g n e , " in his The Carolingians heimer (Ithaca

1971)

and

the Frankish

Monarchy,

trans. J a n e t Sond-

1-16.

75

B e u m a n n , Widukind

76

Gert Melville, "Zur ' F l o r e s - M e t a p h o r i k ' in der m i t t e l a l t e r l i c h e n

(n. 1 a b o v e ) 6 6 - 1 7 7 .

A u s d r u c k e i n e s F o r m u n g s p r i n z i p , " Historisches

Jahrbuch

der

Geschichtsschreibung:

Gorres-Gesellschaft

90 (1970)

65-80. 77

F o r e x a m p l e s of biblical a n d e x e g e t i c a l n a r r a t i v e t e c h n i q u e s , see D a v i d F o w l e r , " S o m e

B i b l i c a l I n f l u e n c e s o n t h e H i s t o r i o g r a p h y of G e o f f r e y of M o n m o u t h , " Traditio 3 7 8 - 3 8 4 ; H a n n i n g (n. 2 6 a b o v e ) esp. 4 4 - 9 0 o n Gildas a n d B e d e ; C h a u r a n d Boehm,

(n.

14 ( 1 9 5 8 ) 42 above);

"Ort der h i s t o r i a " (n. 1 a b o v e ) ; F u n k e n s t e i n (n. 4 6 a b o v e ) esp. 77-84 o n R a o u l

Glaber. 78

See H e l l m a n n a n d G a n s h o f (n. 74 a b o v e ) .

79

D o n a l d W i l c o x , The Development

Century

of Florentine

( C a m b r i d g e , Mass. 1969) 30-31.

Humanist

Historiography

in the

Fifteenth

56

ROGER D. RAY

and Baldric of Dol. He took Baldric—for reasons not immediately clear, since we know t h a t Orderic was well aware that only Fulcher was an eyewitness. Many things no doubt explain Orderic's choice, but the best clue to its motivation lies in his crucially placed remark t h a t Baldric's works were renowned for their power to incite readers "ad Dei cultum." 80 Since Orderic wrote the Historia for use in the daily monastic readings, he naturally preferred the more religiously listenable of the two texts. So he selected Baldric, for Fulcher was undeniably farther from the ambiance of the Benedectine horarium that Baldric, the former Abbot of Bourgueil, understood so well. The choice of Crusade sources bespeaks the substance of monastic spirituality that Orderic wanted his narrative to have. 81 Recent research has pointed up the dexterity of the commonplace tools medieval historians used to portray personality. Siegmund Hellmann, Robert Bossard, Helmut Beumann, Paul Kirn and others have shown that chroniclers could use brief sketches, direct discourse and revealing deeds, comparison, and other accepted devices to produce an effect in many ways similar to what ancient writers achieved. 82 In fact, Kirn contends that authors like Gerald of Wales were themselves distinguished in a tradition of rhetorical characterization t h a t runs largely unbroken from Polybius to Ranke. 83 Though Kirn sweeps wide, his generalization is nonetheless sounder than the recent claim of William Brandt t h a t clerical descriptions of personality were in the Middle Ages usually flat. 84 I say sounder because Kirn is sensitive to the degree of command reflected in the chronicler's use of conventions such as notatio and elogium, speeches, synkrisis, among others; sensitive, in other words, to the medieval historian's basically rhetorical purposes and equipment. Brandt, by contrast, proceeds as if the chronicler's rhetorical task can be safely ignored. He will 80

Orderic Vitalis, Historia ecclesiastica, ed. Le Prévost 3.623. H e also reveals this in his use of William of Poitiers's Gesta Guillelmi; see Roger D. R a y , "Orderic Vitalis and William of Poitiers: A Monastic Reinterpretation of William t h e Conqueror," forthcoming in Revue belge de philologie et d'histoire. In future study, procedures and concepts developed for the understanding of nonhistoriographical kinds of medieval narrative will likely prove of use. For example, the "functional analysis" of narrative units recently proposed by Eugene Dorfman, The Narreme in the Medieval Romance Epic, An Introduction to Narrative Structures (Toronto 1969), seems promising. In any case, since it has become clear t h a t t h e difference between historiography and literature was in the Middle Ages not the difference between fact and fiction, it is probable t h a t methods heretofore reserved only for the explication of literary narrative will carry over productively into the study of medieval historiography. 81

82 Hellmann, "Einhards literarische Stellung"; Robert Bossard, Uber die Entwicklung der Personendarstellung in der mittelalterlichen Geschichtsschreibung (Meilen 1944); Beumann, Widukind 107-154; Paul Kirn, Das Bild des Menschen in der Geschichtsschreibung von Polybios bis Ranke (Göttingen 1955). 83 84

Kirn 162-163, also 11-12.

Brandt (n. 48 above) 150-157. Cf. J. M. Wallace-Hadrill, "Gregory of Tours and Bede: Their Views on the Personal Qualities of Kings," Frühmittelalterliche Studien 2 (1968) 31-44.

MEDIEVAL

HISTORIOGRAPHY

57

view the work of the medieval historian from the front, so to speak—by taking it rather at face value and then deciding what makes it different from the labor of modern intellectuals who try to represent human action and personality. This kind of procedure lacks important essentials of a truly historical perspective. Establishing an adequate viewpoint, however, for the study of rhetorical historiography is difficult because in current usage the word "rhetoric" often has a pejorative sense. It does not help, either, that those still committed to a scientific history feel strongly about the fact that the Verwissenschaftlichung of their craft came as a result of its emancipation from didactic goals and rhetoric. Hence, for reasons not hard to grasp, scholars from Stubbs to Brandt have with the best intentions fallen into the narcissism of seeing in medieval historiography little of worth if it does not somehow reflect their own narrative sense. Donald Wilcox has in the last few years decried the damage that a jaundiced view of rhetoric has done to the study of Renaissance historiography. 85 J u s t as recently, R. W. Southern has made a similar complaint with regard to our knowledge of the medieval chronicler. Speaking of rhetorical historiography in the tenth and eleventh centuries, he says: When the historians of this period apologized to their readers for not doing better, they never thought their deficiencies arose from gaps in their information, which are manifest to us, nor from the problems they have left unsolved, nor from the failure to explain why things happened as they did. They deplored only their poverty of diction, their deficiency in rhetorical colours or senientiae, their failure to find words splendid enough for their theme. It would be stupid to blame them for thinking of their tasks as historians in these terms, for history itself appeared as a king of rhetoric in action. Then Southern details the issue: This view of history does not now seem as silly as it once appeared. Recent studies of the place of ceremonies and symbolism in the organization of society have brought us nearer to the point of view of writers of the tenth and eleventh centuries than [were] the great editors of their works in the last century. We see now t h a t the display of outward splendour and the assertion of authority which it implied were central facts of life. In depicting the glory of rulers, historians were not sycophants but interpreters of their times, and a grandiose style was the fittest garment to enclose what was thought to be the chief substance of history. 86 I would myself suggest t h a t medieval historians—who were rarely concerned to distinguish rhetoric from reality—perceived their world in forms often 86 86

Wilcox (n. 79 above) 203-204. For the quotations see Southern (n. 2 above) 182.

58

ROGER D.

RAY

determined by their ability to write didactic, rhetorical history. To say it differently, in their minds rhetorical concepts raised raw percepts to the level of historical intelligence. In any event, as regards the whole matter of the classical imprint on medieval historiography, the best and latest research urges that we set aside our reluctance about things like "mere rhetoric" and make allowances for nuances, maybe surprises, in the selective practice of all those ancient means with which historians persuaded their audiences of digna memoria. What we are learning about medieval historiography has already begun to have important implications for various scholarly interests. For example, scores of works on the Middle Ages involve some version of the following procedure: the researcher takes his topic to the index of a printed chronicle, and if it registers a relevant place, he turns there and notes whatever seems worthwhile. This method, of course, varies according to the sort of history the scholar wishes to write. Recent research calls this extractive, one-dimensional reading of medieval historiography into serious question, for it has become clear that one must know a great deal about the nature of the whole text before very much can be decided with reasonable certainty about some part of it. In particular, we must now come to terms with the didactic and theological packages in which we get our medieval history. We cannot always see straight through them, nor will narrow incisions often suffice, since the chroniclers thought that what we call wrapping was most important and never anticipated readers with our reasons for wanting to take the wrapping off. As we deal with this problem, it would help to have the assistance of editorial introductions based on an updated format and method. Besides treating the usual topics of manuscripts, authorship, dating, and the like, editors should now tell all that comes only by way of a thorough historical and philological explication of the text. They should speak, in other words, of such matters as genre, exordial thought and literary intention, anticipated audiences and their likely expectations, narrative forms and techniques (here the question of sources and their use should come up), and of all these against the backdrop of the medieval author's own notion of historical truth. Comments on factual reliability should come in the course of this kind of discussion, together with remarks to scholars less interested in what happened in history than in how people thought and wrote about it, which is an important part of what happened. Such essays would destroy lingering illusions of positivism, open historical texts to all medievalists, and be fundamentally more empirical than what has long passed for editorial science.87 It is still too soon to expect anyone to write a real history of medieval history. In fact, the field now looks so large, complicated, and poorly explored 87

I k n o w of o n l y t w o i n t r o d u c t i o n s t h a t go in t h e d i r e c t i o n of w h a t I here h a v e in m i n d ,

t h o s e of Charles W . J o n e s in Bedae

opera de temporibus

L a m m e r s in h i s e d i t i o n of O t t o ' s Chronica

( C a m b r i d g e , Mass. 1 9 4 3 ) a n d W a l t h e r

(n. 5 3 a b o v e ) .

MEDIEVAL

59

HISTORIOGRAPHY

that the preparation of a full-fledged history would doubtless necessitate a collaborative effort. Meanwhile, we could surely do with a good introduction to the distinctives of medieval historiography—something on the order of Grundmann's overview, only more inclusive of things bearing on the actual making of narrative. 88 The monographic study of single authors has just begun. No less historians than Gregory of Tours, Bede, Suger of Saint Denis, William of Malmesbury, Henry of Huntingdon, even Otto of Freising await the methodologically sound and comprehensive treatment that Beumann gave to Widukind. To mention but a handful of special topics in need of attention: biblical commentaries as possible sources of historical thought and method; 89 the relationship of historiography, liturgical texts, and cultic practice particularly in monastic cases; 90 the position of historiography in great historical and institutional developments, like the Investitures Contest or the coming of the Cistercians; 91 the meaning of common historiographical terminology—the word historia alone deserves a book; and the contribution of medieval historical writing to the growth of western historiography. 92 Throughout this essay I have suggested other possible projects, such as research in genre and in the rhetorical structures of narrative. In all, the study of medieval historiography now seems full of promise. Department of History University of Toledo Toledo, Ohio 43606, U.S.A. 8 8 Lacroix (n. 2 above) does not really answer this need; the book raises too few questions and is insufficiently grounded in recent scholarship. 8 9 Lubac (n. 5 above) 2.1.425-487 cites texts that suggest tantalizing possibilities. Boehm, "Ort der historia" (n. 1 above) 688, has also called for a historiographical study of medieval commentaries. 9 0 For a useful exploratory effort see Leonid Arbusow, Liturgie und Geschichtsschreibung im Mittelalter (Bonn 1951). Hans M. Klinkenberg, "Der Sinn der Chronik Ottos von Freising," in Aus Mittelalter und Neuzeit: Festschrift Gerhard Kalten, ed. Josef Engel and H. M. Klinkenberg (Bonn 1957) 63-76, has interpreted important features of the Chronica by reference to the Cistercian reading for which it was written. Of course Leclercq's Love of Learning is a seedbed for this kind of research. 9 1 For example, Paolo Lamma, Momenti di storiografia Cluniacensi (Rome 1961), is a solid study of a tradition of monastic historiography. How historical writing might relate to changing political climates is illustrated in Beumann," Die Historiographie des Mittelalters als Quelle fur die Ideengeschichte des Königtums" (n. 67 above). A study of Milanese historiography in the early Gregorian period is Ovidio Capitani," Storiografia e riforma della Chiesa in Italia," La storiografia altomedieoale (n.2 above) 2.557-629. For an examination of four writers whose common subject is the Kingdom of Sicily, see Fuiano (n. 28 above).

For example, Arnaldo Momigliano has proposed that Eusebius of Caesarea and the Christian historians of the Middle Ages founded "erudite" historiography, historiography based on the search for and use of written documents. See "Pagan and Christian Historiography in the Fourth Century A.D.," The Conflict of Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century A.D., ed. Arnaldo Momigliano (Oxford 1963) 79-99. 92

L A J f S £ > 1 7 JVOMIJVI717T

IŒ7BBO

DE

PHOGAS:

MANUSCRITS ET COMMENTAIRES MÉDIÉVAUX

par Colette J e u d y

Te longinqua petens comitem sibi ferre viator Ne dubitet parvo pondéré multa vehens.

P e t i t m a n u e l de grammaire, t r a i t a n t u n i q u e m e n t du n o m et du verbe, l'Ars de nomine

et verbo1 de P h o c a s a connu p e n d a n t t o u t le M o y e n A g e une grande

faveur d a n s les écoles.

Ceci est a t t e s t é à la fois par les m a n u s c r i t s et par les

c o m m e n t a i r e s ou gloses marginales qui n o u s sont parvenus, 2 par les m e n t i o n s d a n s les catalogues de bibliothèques médiévales 3 e t par les citations de P h o c a s ou de ses c o m m e n t a t e u r s d a n s les œ u v r e s de c e u x qui lui o n t succédé.

Son

originalité e s t d'être précédée d'une double préface, l'une en vers, l'autre en prose, où l'auteur e x p l i q u e le b u t de son œ u v r e . 4 D'après le titre de la Vita

Vergilii

de Phocas, conservée a u x folios 3 7 - 3 8 v

du m a n u s c r i t 8 0 9 3 de la B i b l i o t h è q u e N a t i o n a l e de Paris, 5 n o u s s a v o n s q u e

1 Ed. H. Keil, Grammatici latini 5 (Leipzig 1868) 410-439 ligne 7 (abrégé GLK V). Monsieur F. Casaceli prépare une nouvelle édition, avec traduction italienne, pour la Libreria Scientifica Editrice de Naples. 2 Voir catalogue des manuscrits en appendice. 3 Voir M. Manitius, Handschriften antiker Autoren in mittelalterlichen Bibliothekskatalogen (Leipzig 1935) 266-267 no. 191 (PHOCAS). 4 Si le thème de la brièveté peut être considérée comme un topos, l'originalité de Phocas n'en réside pas moins dans le but qu'il poursuit: traiter uniquement des deux parties essentielles du discours, parce qu'elles sont aussi les plus difficiles, et essayer de concilier précision et brièveté, pour composer une sorte de vademecum à l'usage de ses étudiants: "Te longinqua petens comitem sibi ferre viator Ne dubitet parvo pondéré multa vehens" (préface en vers, vv. 7-8: GLK V 410, lignes 8-9) et dans la préface en prose: "Nominum igitur régulas et verborum in unum congessi. Quoniam haec fere principatum in partibus orationis obtinent multumque difficultatis habent, et super ceteris abunde dictum a summis auctoribus aestimo. Quo in opere nihil mihi sumam, nec a me novi quicquam repertum adfirmabo. Multa namque ex multorum libris decerpta concinna brevitate conclusi" (ibid. 411, lignes 16-21). 5 Sur ces feuillets écrits par des copistes espagnols ou narbonnais, probablement à Lyon, dans le premier quart du ix c siècle, voir B. Bischoff, Mittelalterliche Studien, 1 (Stuttgart 1966) 292. La Vie est précédée, elle aussi, d'un prologue en six strophes saphiques, et du

62

COLETTE J E U D Y

P h o c a s f u t g r a m m a i r i e n à R o m e , après D o n a t , qui e s t u n e d e s e s s o u r c e s d a n s la Vita

VergiliiSi

l'on en croit la p r é f a c e en prose d e l ' A r s de

nomine

et verbo, il a v a i t b i e n d u m a l à c a p t i v e r l'intérêt de ses élèves, à u n e é p o q u e o ù v i s i b l e m e n t , les é t u d e s d e v a i e n t être en d é c a d e n c e . 7

Il s'agit p e u t - ê t r e d ' u n

B y z a n t i n , 8 car le n o m n ' e s t guère latin, v e n u e n s e i g n e r à R o m e d a n s les dernières a n n é e s d u i v e siècle o u p l u t ô t a u d é b u t d u v e . a u livre X de ses Institutiones

grammaticae:

Car Priscien c i t e P h o c a s

"Cudo s e c u n d u m D i o m e d e m e t

Charisium e t P h o c a m cusi, s e c u n d u m alios cudi" ( G L K II 5 1 5 , ligne

16), 9

e t l'a utilisé t e x t u e l l e m e n t à m a i n t e s reprises, ce qui s ' e x p l i q u e f a c i l e m e n t si P h o c a s é t a i t grammaticus

urbis

est sans doute du début du v

e

Romae.

A n t é r i e u r d o n c à Priscien,

Phocas

siècle, c o m m e le p r o u v e n t aussi le c h o i x des ci-

t a t i o n s 1 0 e t la b o n n e l a t i n i t é d e son Ars. N o u s n ' a v o n s a u c u n t é m o i n de l'Ars d e P h o c a s antérieur à la f i n d u v m e siècle, m a i s la t r a d i t i o n i n d i r e c t e n o u s p e r m e t u n p e u de c o m b l e r ce v i d e . P h o c a s e s t m e n t i o n n é par t r o i s fois d a n s l ' œ u v r e de Cassiodore. d ' a b o r d d a n s le corpus

de grammatica

Il f i g u r e

q u e Cassiodore c o n s t i t u a à V i v a r i u m :

titre: "Vita Vergilii incipit a Foca grammatico urbis Romae versibus edita." La première édition est celle de Joseph Justus Scaliger, P. Virgilii Maronis appendix . . . (Lyon 1595) 135. Une copie de Scaliger, comprenant seulement la préface et les vers 1-93, est conservée à la bibliothèque universitaire de Leyde, aux folios 46-47" du manuscrit Scaliger 61 (cf. P. C. Molhuysen, Catalogus codicum Scaligeri [Leyde 1910] 22). Voir K. Bayer, Virgilviten (Würzburg 1970) 292-299 et 718-732 (avec traduction allemande et commentaire). 8 Pour l'utilisation de Donat par Phocas dans sa Vita Vergilii, voir Bayer (ci-dessus n. 5) 718-725. Voir aussi M. Haupt, Opuscula 3 (Leipzig, 1876) 335-336, et C. Hardie, Vilae Vergilianae antiquae (Oxford 1960) p. VIII. 7 "Adulescentes vero nostri saeculi non desiderio litterarum nec amore virtutis ad studia se applicare, sed aut necessitate compulsos aut odore voluptatum per aetatem adflatos execrari magistros . . . (GLK V 411, lignes 2-5). 8 Dans Les lettres grecques en Occident. De Macrobe à Cassiodore, (Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d'Athènes et de Rome, 1943, fase. 159), 306, Monsieur P. Courcelle a fait remarquer combien Phocas était peu favorable aux Grecs dans certaines de ses affirmations, mais il peut s'agir d'un thème traditionnel, sans rapport avec des circonstances historiques précises. Dans son Ars, Phocas sépare la déclinaison des mots grecs de celle des mots latins et parmi les mots grecs il s'intéresse surtout aux noms propres, utiles pour comprendre les poètes. Mais jusqu'à présent, les sources grecques de l'Ars n'ont pas été étudiées. 9 L. Jeep, Zur Geschichte der Lehre von den Redelheilen bei den lateinischen Grammatikern (Leipzig, Teubner, 1893) 99-100, proposait de remplacer Phocas par Probus, car l'Ars de Phocas n'a pas "cudo cusi", mais "cudo cudi". Mais en fait aucune citation ne correspond dans Probus et d'après les citations de Phocas par Cassiodore, il n'est pas possible de faire vivre Phocas au début du vi e siècle, après Priscien, comme le suggérait Jeep, qui est d'ailleurs revenu sur cette hypothèse, pour l'abandonner (Philologus 21, N.F., 19-47). 10 Trois citations de Juvénal (GLK V 414, 20; 426, 22 et 426, 25) et neuf de Lucain (414, 25; 421, 16; 423, 3; 426, 30; 428, 24; 429, 22; 433, 19 et 438, 6). Sur la présence dans les traités de grammaire d'exemples empruntés à ces poètes à partir de la fin du iv e siècle, voir P. Wessner, "Lucan Statius und Juvenal bei den römischen Grammatikern", Philologische Wochenschrift 49 (1929) cols. 296-303 et 328-335.

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PHOCAS

"Orthographos antiquos legant, id est Velium Longum . . . et Eutychen de aspiratione, sed et Focam de differentia generis, quos ego, quantos potui, studiosa curiositate collegi" (Instituliones 1.30: éd. R . A. B. Mynors, Cassiodori

Senatoris

Institutiones

[Oxford, 1937;

2 e éd., 1961] 94, 8. Voir aussi GLK VII 212 lignes 24-29).

Il est aussi cité, avec d'autres grammairiens antiques, dans le De arte grammatica attribué à Cassiodore: "Sed quamvis auctores temporum superiorum de arte grammatica ordine diverso tractaverint suisque saeculis honoris decus habuerint, ut Palaemon, Phocas, Probus, Censorinus" (GLK VII 214 lignes 23-25). Enfin, dans la préface de son De orthographia, Cassiodore a repris la préface en vers de l'Ars de Phocas, pour expliquer ainsi sa propre méthode de travail: "Sed antequam opus orthographiae inchoare videamur, praefationem Phocae artigraphi exempli causa iudicavimus apponendam, quoniam cuncto operi nostro, quasi a nobis prolata sit, ita omnibus modis videtur accommoda: Ars mea multorum es, quos saecula prisca tulerunt" (GLK VII 146 lignes 20-23). C'est en Angleterre, un siècle plus tard, que nous retrouvons ce premier vers dans le De metris et enigmatibus

ac pedum regulis d'Aldhelm de Malmesbury

(t 709): "Phocas quoque grammaticus, primo versu, sinalipham exprodit, dicens: "Ars mea, multorum es, quos saecula prisca tulerunt". 11 Phocas est aussi cité, avec d'autres grammairiens, dans la lettre de dédicace, qui précède l'Ars de Boniface de Mayence (f 754).12 Il faisait partie de la

11

Ed. R. Ehwald, Aldhelmus "De metris et aenigmalibus ac pedum regulis", MGH Auctores antiq. 15 (Berlin 1913) 79; F. Glorie, Collectiones aenigmatum merovingicae aelalis. V. Aenigmata Aldhelmi, Corpus Christianorum, ser. lat. 133 (Turnhout 1969) 374, ligne 120. 14

Ed. H. Omont, "Note sur un recueil de grammairiens latins, copié par une femme au x siècle", Comptes rendus des séances de l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1905) 17; P. Lehmann, "Ein neuentdecktes Werk eines angelsächsischen Grammatikers vorkarolingischer Zeit", Erforschung des Mittelalters 4 (Stuttgart 1961) 160. Il attribua d'abord la lettre à Aldhelm ou à son cercle d'élèves, puis se rallia à l'avis de N. Fickermann, "Der Widmungsbrief des Heiligen Bonifatius", Neues Archiv 50 (1933-1935) 210-221. e

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bibliothèque d'York 13 au temps d'Alcuin, qui, d'après une de ses lettres,14 envoya à son ami Beornrad, abbé d'Echternach, un Priscien et un Phocas, dont l'Ars est d'ailleurs une des sources principales de sa propre grammaire. Le premier témoin direct donnant le texte en entier est le célèbre manuscrit en écriture bénéventaine, exécuté au Mont-Cassin entre 779 et 797, quand Paul Diacre était encore vivant: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7530, folios 66-78 (voir catalogue ci-après et planche 1). Excellent témoignage des ressources grammaticales dont disposait l'Italie au temps de Paul Diacre, ce recueil d'opuscules de provenance diverse, parfois très rares, est passé très tôt du Mont-Cassin à Bénévent15 et semble n'avoir guère eu d'influence dans la diffusion des textes, pour Phocas en tout cas. Choisi par H. Keil comme manuscrit de base, parce qu'il était le plus ancien, il ne correspond en fait presque jamais à la version habituelle des manuscrits des siècles suivants, qui sont tous beaucoup plus proches du manuscrit de Freising: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 6281, folios 91v-108v (voir catalogue ciaprès).16 Ange Politien (1454-1494) nous a transmis indirectement des extraits de Phocas d'après un manuscrit italien encore plus ancien. Car d'après Monsieur Bischoff, les extraits de Marius Victorinus, de Papirianus, de Phocas et de Julien de Tolède, copiés par lui à Venise le 7 juillet 1491 "ex antiquissimo codice. . . litteris vix legibilibus et maxime implicatis" ont sans doute été empruntés à un manuscrit du Nord de l'Italie, en semicursive ou en cursive du vin e siècle: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 807, folios 6771v (voir planches 2 et 3 et catalogue ci-après). Parmi les soixante-seize témoins, qui nous sont parvenus, quinze sont des vm e -ix e siècles, et presque tous d'origine française, exception faite des trois manuscrits précédents, des fragments de Karlsruhe, Reichenau, Fragm. 121 et de Saint-Gall 1396 II et du manuscrit d'Erfurt, Amplon. Fol. 10 (voir catalogue ci-après). D'après le recensement des différents témoins, on constate la présence de l'Ars de Phocas en particulier à Corbie: Amiens, Bibliothèque municipale 426, folios 26-29v et ll-16v, du vm e 13 Ed. E. Dümmler, Alcuini Carmina no. I: Versus de sanclis Euboricensis ecclesiae, MGH Poetae latini aevi carolini 1, v. 1555, p. 204; G. Becker, Catalogi bibliothecarum antiqui ( B o n n 1885) 3, no. 3. 14

Alcuinus, Carmina ad amicos poetae, no. IV, v. 34 (ci-dessus n. 13) 221. II porte au fol. I l'ex-libris du i x e siècle du chapitre de Bénévent: "Liber ecclesie Beneventane". Pour la description du manuscrit, voir catalogue ci-après, p. 127. 16

16 Après E. P u t s c h et F. Lindemann, qui avait établi son t e x t e sur trois manuscrits des x i v e et x v e siècles, incomplets de surcroît (Wolfenbüttel, Aug. 38.27; Gud. lat. 260 et Gotha, Chart. A. 717), H. Keil a choisi le manuscrit Paris, B . N . lat. 7530 ( P ) , comme manuscrit de base et l'a corrigé au besoin avec celui de Munich Clm. 6281 (F) et avec l'édition de Nicolas Jenson à Venise vers 1476 (ç), qu'il croyait être l'édition princeps. Il ajoute seulement d e u x autres manuscrits, dont il ne s'est d'ailleurs pas servi: Paris, B . N . , lat. 7520 et 7559, qu'il date du x c siècle et non du i x e .

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ix e siècle, en écriture du type Maurdramne (voir plancheé), àLuxueil: Naples, Biblioteca nazionale, lat. IV.A. 34, folios 153-162v, à Tours ou dans un scriptorium apparenté: Angers, Bibliothèque municipale 493, folios 19-39v et 41-42v; dans la région de Paris: P a r i s , Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7559, folios 42-62 et dans les scriptoria proches de Fleury ou d'Auxerre: P a r i s , Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7520, folios 31v-42 et 10400, folios 104104v et 103-103v (voir catalogue ci-après). C'est seulement à partir du x e siècle que nous rencontrons différents commentaires, tous anonymes et le plus souvent sous forme de gloses marginales et interlinéaires, copiées en même temps que le texte ou même après coup: Vatican, Reg. lat. 1560 (x e s.), folios 24-34v (V), sous forme de commentaire continu ou plutôt de gloses mises bout à bout, probablement à Auxerre ou à Fleury. Vatican, Reg. lat. 1560 (x e s.), folios 35v 0 -57v° (v), sous forme de gloses marginales, abondantes surtout pour le De nomine. De même origine que le précédent, il est d'une autre main et d'un tout autre contenu. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7518 (2 e moitié du x e siècle), folios 1-24 ( F ) : abondant commentaire marginal de la main du copiste et d'une autre main contemporaine. Étroitement apparenté à V, il a probablement été copié à Fleury. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 7559 folios 42-62: gloses ajoutées au x e siècle, toujours dans la région de Paris, dans les marges de ce manuscrit du ix e siècle. Elles sont aussi très proches de V et de F. Rouen, Bibliothèque municipale 1470 (x e -xi e s.), folios 54v-56 et 57v-72v: le début de l'Ars (r), aux folios 54v-56, est laissé inachevé, avec des gloses différentes de celles qui accompagnent l'-Ars dans son entier aux folios 57v-72v (R). Tous ces commentaires sont anonymes et leur tradition manuscrite, mouvante et difficile à suivre, pose un délicat problème d'attribution, que nous aurions bien du mal à résoudre, si les témoins des siècles suivants ne venaient à notre secours. Les catalogues des bibliothèques médiévales mentionnent nommément deux commentaires: celui de Rémi d'Auxerre17 (ca. 841-908) et celui d'un certain Cornutus. Le commentaire de Rémi d'Auxerre sur VA rs de Phocas figure à la fin du xi e siècle, dans l'inventaire de la bibliothèque scolaire dite d'Anchin et attribuée par M. Boutemy à Saint-Amand en Pévèle; 18 au x n e siècle, à l'ab1 7 Sur Rémi d'Auxerre et ses commentaires grammaticaux, voir surtout M. de Marco, "Remigiana inédita", Aevum 26 (1952) 495-496 n. 1; C. E . Lutz, Remigii Autissiodorensis commentum in Martianum Capellam 1 (Leyde 1962) 12-16. 18 Euticius cum expositione Remigii in Foca et cum dialéctica Martiani et Persio (éd. J . Gessler, "Une bibliothèque scolaire du x i e siècle d'après le catalogue provenant de l'abbaye d'Anchin", Antiquité Classique 4 [1935] 50, no. 32).

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baye Saint-Gérard de Brogne; 19 au xiv e siècle, à Peterborough 20 et à Ramsey, 21 en Angleterre. C'est aussi un manuscrit d'origine anglaise, du troisième quart du x n e siècle,22 qui nous a transmis la seule copie du commentaire attribué nommément à Rémi: Londres, British Museum, Royal 12. F. IV, folios l-20 v (L).23 Le manuscrit, qui provient du prieuré bénédictin de Horsham Saint Faith (Norfolk),24 porte au folio 1 ce titre rubriqué: "INCIPIT EXPOSITIO REMIGII SUPER FOCAM". Il s'agit d'un commentaire continu, incluant en lemmes le texte de Phocas, lui aussi rubriqué. Texte et commentaire s'arrêtent avant la fin de I'Ars: il manque les trois derniers chapitres (GLK V 436 ligne 26 - 439 ligne 7), mais la copie n'a pas été laissée inachevée. On lit en effet au folio 20v: "(rubr.) incoativae forme verba in preterito perfecto deficere (GLK. V 436 ligne 25). (noir) Quare? quia incoactiva forma non potest habere preteritum. (rubr.). Finit Ars". Certes, l'origine de ce manuscrit ne correspond guère à l'aire géographique de l'enseignement de Rémi d'Auxerre. Mais l'on sait que l'Ars de Phocas, depuis Aldhelm et Boniface, est un des manuels grammaticaux utilisés en Angleterre. 25 Vers 1130, Phocas est même cité par Robert de Cricklade,26 dans son Liber de connubio patriarchae Jacobi comme le type même du grammairien:

19

Remigius super Focam (éd. F. Faider, Catalogue des manuscrits conservés à Namur [Gembloux 1934] 438 n. 1, no. 29). 20 Expositio Remigii super Ffocam de nomine et verbo. Vita s. Agnetis. Expositiones quorumdam verborum (no. 77) et Remigius super Donatum maiorem et minorem . . . Libellus Bede de metrica arte. Remigius super Ffocam grammaticum. Institutio Prisciani grammatici (éd. M. R. James, List of manuscripts formerly in Peterborough Abbey Library . . ., Supplement t o the Bibliographical Society's Transactions 5 [Oxford 1926] 41 no. 77 et 47 no. 126). La deuxième mention du catalogue de Peterborough n'a pas été relevée par Manitius (ci-dessus n. 3) 267 no. 191. 21

Remigius super Focam (éd. W. D. Macray, Chronicon abbatiae [Londres 1886] 363).

Ramesiensis,

Rolls Series

22 D'après une communication personnelle de Monsieur J. T. Brown, que nous avons plaisir à remercier ici. 23 Signalée dès 1913, par M. Esposito, "Miscellaneous Notes on Mediaeval Latin Literature" Hermathena 17 (1913) 107-109; idem, "A Ninth-century Commentary on Phocas", The Clas sicat Quarterly 12 (1919) 166-169 (avec édition d'extraits). 24 Prieuré de Saint-Pierre de Conches (diocèse d'Évreux) fondé en 1105. Pour la descrip tion du manuscrit, voir catalogue ci-après p. 100. 25 Voir sur les catalogues de bibliothèques médiévales anglaises, Manitius (ci-dessus n. 3 266-267 et N . R. Ker, Medieval Libraries of Great Britain, 2e éd. (Londres 1964) passim. 26 Sur Robert de Cricklade, chanoine de Cirencester et prieur de Saint-Frideswide d'Ox ford (f vers 1188), voir A. B. E m d e n , A Biographical Register of the University of Oxford : (Oxford 1957) 513-514, et pour ses commentaires bibliques, F. Stegmüller, Repertoriun biblicum medii aevi 5 (Madrid 1955) 153-156.

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"Quis ferat insipientem doctissimis se coequantem? Nam qui vel inflexionis prime dictiunculam, si proponas nec inflectere per omnes casus novit, putas quod Foce grammatico cedere dignetur?" 27 Deux siècles plus tard, Richard de Bury (1287-1345), dans son invoque encore l'exemple de Phocas:

Philobiblon,

"Unde Phocas in prologo Grammatice sue scribit: Omnia cum veterum sint explorata libellis multa loqui breviter sit novitatis opus." 28 E t Jean de Cornouailles,29 dans son Speculum grammaticale, en 1346, cite abondamment les œuvres de Rémi d'Auxerre et en particulier son commentaire sur Phocas: " V E R B A C O M M V N I A S V N T ILLA, que desinunt in or et non formantur a verbis terminantibus in o, et significant actionem et passionem, ut osculor, criminor, moror, interpreter et ortor etc. Sed secundum Remigium super Focam in hoc distant quia, quando actum significant, tunc trahunt accusativum casum, ut osculor te, et quando passionem, tunc trahunt ablativum, ut osculor a te. Invenitur tamen (secundum Priscianum in maiori) unicum verbum communis generis, quod in utroque sensu trahit ablativum, ut stipulor a te, id est interrogo te et interrogor a te" (Speculum grammaticale, cap. De verbo: MS. Oxford, Bibl. Bodl., Auct. F. 3. 9., p. 108 a ). 30

Dans la diffusion de l'enseignement grammatical de Rémi d'Auxerre en Angleterre, Abbon de Fleury (f 1004) semble avoir joué un rôle décisif, comme le laisse supposer le deuxième témoin du commentaire de Rémi d'Auxerre sur Phocas: Erfurt, Wissenschaftliche Bibliothek, A m p l o n i u s 4° 53, folios 59v-72 (E). Cette version un peu abrégée, copiée en Allemagne au xiv e siècle, est attribuée dans le manuscrit à Pierre Hélie: "Explicit opus super grammaticam Foce per Pe. Helie" (f. 52). Mais la collation avec le manuscrit de Londres ne laisse subsister aucun doute sur la paternité littéraire de ce commentaire,

27 Liber de connubio patriarchae Iacobi 11.27: De superbia claustrali, d'après le manuscrit d'Oxford, Bibl. Bodl., Laud. Misc. 725, f. 138va. J e dois ce précieux témoignage à Monsieur R . W. Hunt, qui n'a cessé de m'encourager sur le chemin ardu des études grammaticales. Qu'il trouve ici l'expression de toute ma reconnaissance. 2 8 Au chapitre 9 de son Philobiblon, qu'il termina le 24 janvier Riccardo da Bury, Philobiblon (Naples 1954) 105, lignes 14-17. 2 9 Sur John of Cornwall (Johannes Brian de Cornubia) et son voir R. W. Hunt, "Oxford Grammar Masters in the Middles Ages", to Daniel Callus, Oxford Historical Society, N. S. 14 (Oxford 1964)

1344; éd. A. Altamura, Speculum grammaticale, Oxford Studies presented 168-181.

Le texte correspond exactement au commentaire de Rémi sur le début du De verbo-, "Sed agentis et patientis formam . . . " (GLK V 431, ligne 1). 30

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bien antérieur à Pierre Hélie.31 Certes ce dernier enseignait à Paris, dès la première moitié du xn e siècle et le manuscrit de Londres date du troisième quart du x n e siècle. Mais nous avons conservé un troisième témoin anonyme du commentaire de Rémi, presque identique au commentaire de Londres, et copié à Tegernsee (Bavière), pendant les deuxième et troisième quarts du xi e siècle: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 19454, pages 145-216; 249-264 et 217-236 (T).32 Dans cette glose anonyme à laquelle ont participé plusieurs scribes de l'abbaye bénédictine de Tegernsee, lemmes et commentaire sont étroitement mêlés, et les derniers quaternions, ceux de Phocas justement, ont été mal reliés. Mais la collation avec le manuscrit de Londres montre bien qu'il s'agit, là encore, du commentaire de Rémi.33 Et si l'on rétablit l'ordre des cahiers intervertis,34 on constate qu'il s'achève de la même manière: "inchoativae formae verba, id est in preterito deficere, quia inchoativa non potest habere preteritum" (Munich, Clm. 19454, p. 236). Au xi e siècle, sous l'abbatiat d'Ellinger (1017-1026 et 1031-1041) et de ses successeurs, l'Ars de Phocas semble avoir connu à Tegernsee une certaine notoriété, mais le commentaire de Rémi a sans doute été emprunté ailleurs, comme le texte de l'Ars du manuscrit Clm. 1818135 et celui des gloses sur Phocas en latin et en vieil-hautallemand du manuscrit Clm. 19440.36 31 C'est ce que nous avons déjà démontré pour le commentaire de l'Institutio de nomine, pronomine et verbo de Priscien, qui précède celui de Phocas. Voir C. Jeudy, "L'Institutio de nomine, pronomine et verbo de Priscien. Manuscrits et commentaires médiévaux", Revue d'histoire des textes 2 (1972) 78-79. Abbon de Fleury cite lui-même Phocas dans ses Questions grammaticales PL 139, col. 526 A. 32 Voir C. E. Eder, Die Schule des Klosters Tegernsee im frühen Mittelalter . . ., pp. 108109, no. 80 et catalogue, ci-après p. 111. 33 C'est ce qu'avait déjà remarqué M. Esposito, "A Ninth-century commentary" (ci-dessus n. 23) 168 n. 21. 34 La suite de la p. 264 est à la p. 217, mais le copiste était allé trop vite et avait sauté plusieurs lignes. Aux derniers mots de la p. 264: "Mittit secunda coniugatio praeteritum perfectum in has syllabas" font suite les quatre premiers mots de la p. 217 "id est in vi." (cf. GLK V 431, ligne 28). Le copiste a repris ensuite le passage qu'il avait sauté: "Quam, id est in secundam, facile declarat . . . et venit a verbo beor bearis" (cf. GLK V 431, lignes 23-27). Nous retrouvons dans le manuscrit d'Erfurt, au fol. 69v, le même bourdon, rattrapé ensuite par le copiste. E a donc certainement pour origine un manuscrit très proche de T, mais il n'en dérive pas directement, car T a des omissions, qui ne figurent pas dans E, et des additions qui lui sont propres. 35 Ce manuscrit de grammaire a pour modèle un manuscrit du ix e siècle, emprunté à Freising: Munich, Clm 6281. Voir Eder (ci-dessus n. 32) 134-135. 36 Copiées tout au début du xi e siècle dans l'ouest ou le sud de l'Allemagne, ces gloses sur Phocas, en latin et en vieil-haut-allemand, sont étroitement apparentées aux célèbres gloses de Mondsee (Autriche), conservées aux folios 123v-124 du manuscrit latin 2723 de la bibliothèque nationale de Vienne. Voir l'édition de ces gloses, d'après ces deux manuscrits et d'après deux autres, Munich Clm. 14689 (xi c -xn e s.) f. 46, et Vienne Bibl. nat., lat. 2732 (x c s.), ff. 141-142, par E. Steinmeyer et E. Sievers, Die althochdeutschen Glossen 2 (Berlin 1882) 363-365, no. DCCLV.

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Si l'on peut expliquer ainsi l'origine des trois témoins qui nous ont transmis le commentaire de Rémi sur Phocas, ils sont, malgré tout, assez éloignés de l'époque et de l'aire géographique de l'enseignement de Rémi d'Auxerre. Mais continuons à remonter le cours du temps et revenons aux commentaires français du x e siècle, que nous avons mentionnés plus haut. Si l'on compare le commentaire de Rémi, dont nous avons préparé l'édition, avec les gloses de P, de V et de F, on constate une étroite parenté. Certes il ne s'agit plus d'un commentaire continu, dont on a respecté scrupuleusement le texte, mais plutôt d'une mosaïque de gloses, ajoutées parfois de plusieurs mains, comme dans F, mais dont Rémi reste la source essentielle. 37 Seuls les commentaires de R et de v se distinguent nettement de celui de Rémi, tel qu'il apparaît du moins dans TLE et dans les gloses de P, de V et de F. S'agit-il d'une autre version du commentaire de Rémi 38 ou bien du mystérieux Cornutus, mentionné dans les catalogues de bibliothèques anglaises? Un Cornutus super Focam figure en effet deux fois dans le catalogue de l'abbaye de Glastonbury 39 (diocèse de Bath, Somerset, Angleterre) en 1247, et deux fois aussi dans le catalogue de l'abbaye de Saint-Augustin de Cantorbery de la fin du x v e siècle, sous le titre Commenlum Cornuti super Focam.*0 Ce Cornutus est-il aussi difficile à identifier que celui de Perse ou de Juvénal, qui ont déjà fait couler beaucoup d'encre? A propos de Perse, J. P. Elder 41 avait supposé que le commentaire de Cornutus, communément appellé commentaire vulgate et très répandu au Moyen Age à partir du x e siècle, pouvait être l'œuvre d'Héric d'Auxerre, le maître de Rémi, qui a lui-même beaucoup utilisé Cornutus dans son propre commentaire. Pour distinguer le commentaire d'Héric de celui de Rémi, on aurait appellé le premier "Cornutus" par une allusion directe à la satire de Perse dédiée à Cornutus, qui corrigea et édita l'œuvre de son jeune ami Perse. En fait, comme le montre F. Mariani,42 l'identification de Cornutus avec Héric est difficilement acceptable, car dans le manuscrit de Berne 665, on trouve cette phrase: "Hoc graecum corruptum est uno pede, quem magister Hircus, ut Cornutus dicit, diu exquisivit, invenire 37 Pour la comparaison de ces gloses avec le commentaire de Rémi, voir notre thèse de 3 e cycle: L'"Ars de nomine et verbo" de Phocas: manuscrits et commentaires médiévaux, thèse dactylographiée (Université de Paris-Sorbonne 1973) t. II, pp. 116-139. 38 Comme l'affirme M. Manitius, qui attribua sans l'ésiter le commentaire de R à Rémi d'Auxerre, parce que les textes rassemblés dans ce recueil scolaire correspondaient à son enseignement. Ils correspondent en fait à l'enseignement traditionnel de l'époque et rien ne prouve que les différents commentaires, rassemblés là anonymement, soient du même auteur. La copie glosée de l'Ars, laissée inachevée au f. 56, laisse même supposer le contraire. 39 Ed. T. Hearne, Johannes Glastoniensis Chronica . . . . (Oxford 1726) 442. 40 Ed. M. R. James, The Ancient Libraries of Canterbury and Dover. The Catalogues of Christ Church Priory and St Augustine's Abbey at Canterbury . . . . (Cambridge 1903) 239. 41 J. P. Elder, "A Mediaeval Cornutus on Persius", Spéculum 22 (1947) 240-248. 42 F. Mariani, "Persio nella scuola di Auxerre e ì'Adnotatio secundum Remigium", Giornale italiano di filologia 18 (1965) 145-161 et surtout 147 et 151-154.

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non potuit... " et dans celui de Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, lat. 8272: "Unus pes deest versui Graeco, quem magister Hericus scire non potuit." Cornutus semble bien distinct du maître Héric et il s'agirait plutôt, d'après F. Mariani, d'un disciple d'Héric, dont le commentaire, resté anonyme, aurait précédé celui de Rémi. Mais il est étrange que le commentaire de ce Cornutus sur Perse soit resté anonyme, alors qu'il a connu très tôt une si grande diffusion, et que le commentaire de Rémi ne nous soit conservé que dans un seul manuscrit. 43 Revenons à notre Cornutus super Focam. Grâce au florilège de Laurent du Mont-Cassin, archevêque d'Amalfi, mort en 1048,44 nous pouvons au moins nous faire une idée du contenu de ce commentaire, sinon de son auteur. Aux folios 42vb-43rb de son anthologie, Laurent a copié des extraits d'un certain Cornutus:

"Hic pecten (GLK V 415, 3) huius pectinis. Hic unguis (GLK V 418, 28) est hominum, ungula vero pecorum. Hic lepos leporis (419, 8) est facundus, lepor vero leporis ipsa facundia est . . . etc." Il s'agit bien d'un commentaire de Phocas, correspondant seulement à une partie de l'Ars (GLK V 415, 3-436, 18). Toutes ces gloses, sauf une, se retrouvent textuellement dans le commentaire de Rémi.45 E t contrairement aux commentaires de v et de R, les gloses relevées par Laurent s'arrêtent avant la fin du De verbo (GLK V 436, 18) presque exactement comme le commentaire de Rémi d'Auxerre. Des extraits de l'Ars de Phocas, mêlés parfois avec de courtes gloses figurent un peu plus loin, aux folios 46vb^7vb du florilège, et sont suivis d'un commentaire sur le début de l'Ars seulement:

43

Vatican, Reg. lat. 1560, f. 141-147v, qui porte dans le titre le nom de Rémi: " I N C I P I T V I T A A V L I I FLACCI P E R S I I S A T Y R I C I S E C V N D V M REMIGIVM". Voir catalogue ci-après p. 139. 44

L'édition de ses œuvres par Monsieur F. N e w t o n est sous presse ( M G H Geistesgeschichte 7). Mais le florilège conservé dans le manuscrit Z. L. 497 de la Bibliothèque Saint-Marc à Venise n'est pas encore édité. Monsieur N e w t o n a bien voulu me communiquer sa transcription. Qu'il trouve ici l'expression de toute ma reconnaissance. 45 La seule différence concerne l'explication du supin, un peu abrégée par Laurent et légèrement différente dans la formulation:

Rémi Supina

dicuntur

Laurent

d'Auxerre ista,

eo

quod

con-

du

Mont-Cassin

Sopina dicta, eo quod resopinatis vulti-

trariam habent declinationem sensibus suis,

bus

suis.

sensum habeant passivum, a c t i v u m t a m e n

Nam

in

activa

declinatione

non passio esse debuerat. supina,

actus

Dicuntur ergo

eo quod resupinatis vultibus

piciunt sensum suum.

as-

aspiciunt

significant.

sensum suum.

Nam

cum

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concinna brevitate (GLK V 411, 21) id est composita. Concinnum est genus potionis, ex multis compositum holeribus . . . . . . laser (415, 16) est genus leguminis vel odoriferae speciei. Hinc laseratus cibus est eo conditus." Toutes ces gloses correspondent aussi textuellement au commentaire de Rémi, que Laurent semble avoir copié à deux endroits différents de son anthologie, mais en puisant dans le même commentaire, celui de Rémi. Car les deux séries de gloses se font suite, à l'envers, et s'achèvent exactement comme le commentaire de Rémi. ** *

Au xv e siècle, l'Ars de nomine et verbo de Phocas retrouva la faveur des humanistes italiens. Quarante et un manuscrits—plus de la moitié des manuscrits actuellement conservés—datent de cette époque et sont presque tous d'origine italienne. Sept d'entre eux sont encore sur parchemin et ont été exécutés pour des personnages importants: Escoriai, Biblioteca del Monasterio, S. III. 8, pour Carlo Strozzi. Londres, British Muséum, Egerton 271, pour la famille Bembo. New York, Pierpont Morgan Library 413, pour la famille Ambrosi de Rossi de Rovigo. Vatican, Urb. lat. 1157, pour le duc d'Urbin, Federico de Montefeltro.46 Mais il s'agit le plus souvent de manuscrits de travail, sur papier, où professeurs et étudiants, philologues et humanistes ont rassemblé, autour de l'Ars de Phocas, d'autres traités grammaticaux, antiques ou humanistiques, ou bien d'autres œuvres, qui les intéressaient particulièrement. Dès 1417, Poggio découvrit à Fulda l'Ars de Phocas, suivie du De aspiratione qui lui est attribué. 47 Un peu plus tard, Pietro di Montagnana (f 1478), maître de grammaire et auteur de plusieurs traductions gréco-latines, compléta en humanistique ronde, les folios manquants de l'Ars de Phocas, à la fin d'un manuscrit du x e siècle et ajouta aussi le De aspiratione48 (ms. Venise, Bibl. Marc. lat. X I I I . 66). 4 6 Les armes du manuscrit 818 de la bibliothèque universitaire de Bologne ont été complètement grattées et on ne sait pas d'où provient le manuscrit du collège des Jésuites d'Agen, Londres, British Muséum, Harley 5372. 4 7 Voir R . Sabbadini, Le scoperte dei codici latini e greci ne' secoli XIV e XV, Nuove ricerche (Florence 1914; 2 e éd. 1967) 223, d'après le Commentarium . . . de Niccolò Niccoli. 4 8 Ed. G L K V 439-441, d'après le manuscrit de Wolfenbuttel, Gud. lat. 260 4°, déjà utilisé par F. Lindemann, et d'après l'édition Ascensiana de 1516. Les deux manuscrits de Venise, Bibl. Marc., lat. X I I I . 30 et 66, déjà signalés par H. Keil, p. 409, ont été collationnés par J . M. Stowasser, "Zu Phocas de aspiratione", Wiener Studien 7 (1885) 164-166. La première édition du De aspiratione est celle de Zaroto, à Milan, en 1473, découverte par R. Sabbadini, "Spogli Ambrosiani latini", Studi italiani di filologia classica 11 (1903) 310. Quatre autres

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Un copiste, probablement milanais, imita même, peu avant 1473, dans son recueil d'opuscules grammaticaux, l'écriture et les initiales romanes des manuscrits du x n e siècle49 (ms. Milan, Bibl. Ambros., M. 69 sup.). Peu de temps après, en 1491, à Venise, Ange Politien transcrivit des extraits de l'Ars de Phocas, avec les équivalents grecs de mots latins, d'après un manuscrit ancien de Giovanni Gabriel (ms. Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, lat. 807).50 D'autres manuscrits, annotés en latin et même parfois aussi en italien, nous font participer directement à l'enseignement grammatical de l'époque. On trouve par exemple, au folio 4v du manuscrit Reg. lat. 1821 de la Bibliothèque Vaticane, une glose mentionnant nommément l'enseignement de Pietro Odi de Montopoli,51 mort à Rome vers 1463 (planche 5): folio 4v: Mulier mulieris (GLK V 415, 15) que deberetur dicere, ut est acer acris, quae tamen omnes dicunt esse longum, ut mulieris, sed ratione deberetur dici breve, sed, ut credit, magister Petrus Montopolitanus dicit quod Latini, ubi mulieris, que non erat accentus, inde fecerunt longum.52 Une centaine de gloses marginales et interlinéaires, accompagnent l'Ars de Phocas jusqu'au folio 21, avec l'équivalent de certains mots en italien:

manuscrits nous sont parvenus, tous du xv e siècle, ce qui peut confirmer l'hypothèse de R. Sabbadini sur la date de l'œuvre: Naples, Bibl. naz., lat. IV. A. 13 (voir catalogue ci-après); Strasbourg, Bibl. univ. 75, ff. 54-55v (Cat. gén. 47.53); Leyde, Voss. Mise. 21, ff. 164-165v, sous le titre "De orthographia" (K. A. de Meyicr, Codices Vossiani graeci et miscellanei [Leyde 1955] 264); Bâle, Bibl. univ., F. VII. 8, fi. 48-50v, avec commentaire (manuscrit signalé par Monsieur Burckhardt). 49

A part deux œuvres de Guarin de Vérone, le manuscrit contient les grammairiens habituels (Donat, Bède, Servius Honoratus, Maximus Victorinus) et le De re rustica de Varron, laissé inachevé. R. Sabbadini a montré son étroite parenté avec le première édition ancienne de Phocas, celle de Zaroto en 1473. Voir n. 48. 60

Ed. G. Pesenti, "Anecdota latina", Rivista di filologia e di istruzione classica 45 (1917) 87-93. Sur l'origine de ce manuscrit ancien, voir ci-dessus p. 64. 51 Comme l'a signalé J . Ruysschaert, "A propos des trois premières grammaires latines de Pomponio Leto", Scriptorium 15 (1961) 69, les témoignages de l'activité grammaticale de Pietro Odi sont rares. Sur Pietro Odi de Montopoli, voir aussi A. Della Torre, Paolo Marsi da Pescina (Rocca S. Sasciano 1903) 67-71; V. Zabughin, Giulio Pomponio Leto 1 (Rome 1909) 11-24 et 275-279; J. Delz, "Ein unbekannter Brief von Pomponius Laetus", Italia medioevale e umanistica 9 (1966) 436-438. 52 Même discussion dans les Questions grammaticales d'Abbon de Fleury, PL 139. 525 B: "De nomine quod est mulier requisistis quo accentu eius genitivus debeat pronuntiari. De quo sciendum est quia, quamvis eius penultima brevis sit, euphoniae causa solet acui, sicut et verba calefacio calefacis."

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73

Arx (GLK V 412, 1) rocca.63 Glis, ris (412, 2) significat et habet très genitivos. Quando facit gliris, significat quod vulgariter dicitur la gribe; quando facit glitis, prò creta; quando glissis, prò lappa. Carbo (413, 5) est nomen viri, novus in milicia, et carbo pro le carbone, et carbo est tam cum igne quam sine igne, prime autem est semper cum igne, folio 3: Mucro (413, 15) punta. Bufo (413, 15) la notta. folio 4v: Iter (415, 16) Antiqui dicebant iter iteris, sed posteriores itineris fecerunt et dicitur proprie lo cammino. folio 5: Triumvir (416, 3). Erant illi qui agebant iustitiam quod nunc dicuntur li marescalchi. folio 2:

Une autre copie de l'Ars de Phocas, conservée aux folios 4-23 du manuscrit Vat. lat. 11532 de l a Bibliothèque Vaticane, est suivie de deux œuvres de Pomponio Leto (1428-1498), 84 successeur de Pietro Odi de Montopoli à la chaire professorale de Rome. Les gloses du copiste, dans les marges des folios 6-10v et 13v, ne manquent pas d'intérêt. Tantôt il cite à l'appui du texte de Phocas des vers de Virgile, de Juvénal ou de Térence: folio 7: Caper (GLK V 415, 31). Iuvenalis: "Stantem extra pocula caprum" (Sai. I, v. 76) folio 8: Fomes (417, 19-20). Virgilius: "Rapuitque in fomite viam" (Aen. I, v. 176) etc. Tantôt il montre que Phocas est en désaccord avec Servius, à propos du mot Ceres: folio 8: Ceres (417,10). Nota quod Focas ponit Ceres in nomina terminata es producta, Servius tamen quod terminet es correpta.55 ou, à juste titre, en désaccord avec le Doctrinal d'Alexandre de Villedieu: 56 63

Même équivalent italien dans les Derivationes d'Uguccio de Pise. Voir C. Riessner, Die "Magnae Derivationes" des Uguccione da Pisa und ihre Bedeutung fiir die romanische Philologie, Temi e testi a cura di Eugenio Massa 11 ( R o m e 1965) 175. 64

Un manuel de syntaxe et de stylistique latine, le Fabius et un commentaire du De cultu hortorum de Columelle, rédigés au plus tard en 1467. Voir J. Ruysschaert, "Les manuels de grammaire latine composés par Pomponio Leto", Scriptorium 8 (1954) 98-107. Mais l'Ars de Phocas n'est pas de la même main. 68 Servius, Commentarius in Virgilii Georgica, I, v. 147: "Ceres . . . sane solum hoc nomen est in polysyllabis, quod ultimam producat in nominativo et eam in obliquis corripiat, ut Ceres Cereris. " 68 Faut-il l'interpréter comme un témoignage de la lutte engagée alors par Laurent Valla, Mancinelli, Érasme et ses amis, contre le Doctrinal et autres poèmes didactiques? Sur les objections contre le Doctrinal à cette époque, voir L. Kukenheim, Contributions à l'histoire de la grammaire grecque, latine et hébraïque à l'époque de la Renaissance (Leyde 1951) 52-53.

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folio 6: Pondo (413, 26-27). Unde male dicit Doctrinale: "Dabit hoc tibi pondo" (Doctr. 556: éd. Reichling, p. 38). Il explique aussi en italien certains mots latins ou se contente d'en donner l'équivalent en langue vulgaire, comme dans le manuscrit précédent: folio 8: Poples (417, 19) la patella dello ienucchio. folio 8v: Superstes (417, 24-25) superstans imllo (?) che vive poi a morte dellu pâtre et della matre. folio 9: Follis (418, 29) la cazola da monete. Vectis (418, 29) la chiavarina. Torquis (418, 29) la catena. folio 10: Pervicax (420, 26) de duro capo. Un autre étudiant, qui devait devenir célèbre, Sébastien Brant (1457-1521), 87 rassembla à Bâle en 1476, plusieurs poésies et traités de grammaire, dans un manuscrit conservé actuellement à la bibliothèque de Gotha, sous la cote Chart. A. 717. La première partie du recueil, jusqu'au folio 36, comprend des poèmes classiques, le De novem musis (Anthologia latina 664), l'Ari poétique d'Horace et la quinzième Héroïde d'Ovide, abondamment glosées, mais aussi des poésies humanistiques contemporaines de Johannes Antonius Romanus, 58 de Maffeo Vegio (1407-1458) et de Hieronymus Paduanus, dont le De seria Iudaeorum rabie ac amara Christi passione est de la main même de Sébastien Brant. 69 Dans la deuxième partie du recueil, l'Ars de Phocas, malheureusement mutilée du début et sans annotation, est suivie des traités de Maximus Victorinus (De arte grammatica, De metris et de hexametro et De finalibus metrorum). A la fin, aux folios 73-84, le commentaire de la quinzième Héroïde d'Ovide par Georgio Merula (f 1494)60 est resté inachevé.

67

Voir Ch. Schmidt, "Notice sur Sébastien Brant", Revue d'Alsace, n. s. 3 (1874) 1-56; 161-216; 346-388; Dictionnaire de biographie française 7 (Paris 1956) col. 153 (T. de Morembert); E. H. Zeydel, Sebastian Brant, Twayne's World Authors Sériés, 13 ( N e w York 1967). 58

Le poème "O spes firma mihi fulgens Danielis ymago" est précédé de cette explication: "Carmen seu epistola nefandissimi (quem Deus perdat) Iohannis Anthonii Romani, que q u a m q u a m legi digna nulli sit, tarnen, ut etiam huius ingenium in letiferis ac sordidis libidine ac turpitudine maneat, cum nequissima sua acta et opera videri desiderat, ea in suam perpetuam diffamiam et suorum complicum hoc loco scribere statui." Il nous est transmis aussi au fol. 151 du manuscrit Vatican, Reg. lat. 1832 et aux folios 47v-48 du manuscrit Milan, Bibl. Ambrosienne, Trotti 373 "Carmina lasciva cuiusdam Antonii Romani." 59

Même écriture humanistique cursive que dans les lettres de 1 5 0 2 , 1 5 0 3 et 1508, reproduites par J. Ficker et O. Winckelmann, Handschriftenproben des sechzehnten Jahrhunderts (Strasbourg 1902) pl. 14 A; C. R o t h et Ph. Schmidt, Handschriftenproben zur Basler Geistesgeschichte des 15 und 16. Jahrhunderts (Bàie 1926) pl. 7. 60 Biographie et bibliographie par E. M. Sandford, Juoenalis . . . . Humanistic Commentaries, p. 223, dans le Catalogus translationum et commentariorum 1 (Washington 1960) éd. P. O. Kristeller.

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DE PHOCAS

On sait qu'à Bâle, Sébastien Brant rencontra Jean Heynlin von Stein, dit de Lapide (f 1496), 61 imprimeur à Paris, d'où il était parti en 1474 pour prêcher à Bâle. S'il joua un rôle important dans le mouvement intellectuel de cette ville, avant de se retirer en 1487 à la Chartreuse de Bâle, il eut aussi personellement sur Sébastien Brant une grande influence. Pendant qu'il enseignait la grammaire à la Sorbonne, vers 1470, il rassembla, lui aussi, un recueil, conservé actuellement à la bibliothèque universitaire de Bâle, sous la cote F. VIII. 5. 62 Le début du recueil comprend, avec de Phocas, les traités grammaticaux que l'on trouve généralement dans les manuscrits de ce genre au xv e siècle (l'Ars maior de Donat, le De arte metrica et le De schematibus et tropis de Bède, le De ratione metrorum de Maximus Victorinus, le De finalibus et le De littera de Servius Honoratus), et deux œuvres de Guarin de Vérone. Après avoir annoté plusieurs de ces textes, Jean Heynlin von Stein a composé pour lui-même, aux folios 88-96, un abrégé du livre I des Institutiones grammaticae de Priscien, et ajouté une copie de la grammaire récente de Guillaume Tardif, 83 suivie d'un abondant commentaire (ff. 101-110 et 111-120). Un autre exemplaire de l'Ars de Phocas, anonyme et anépigraphe, est curieusement mêlé aux œuvres que nous a laissées un Bénédictin, ami de Guarin de Vérone, Matteo Ronto (f 1442), dans le manuscrit Wilhering, Stiftsbibliothek 77. Les folios l-89v, de la main de Matteo Ronto, 64 contiennent en effet sa lettre à Guarin de Vérone, ses poèmes, ses hymnes, des extraits de sa traduction latine de la Diuina Commedia de Dante, des épigrammes, un traité d'orthographe et un autre sur les noms hébreux. A part l'Ars de Phocas, Matteo Ronto a généralement signalé par un titre les œuvres qui ne sont pas de lui, comme la Vita Malchi monachi de saint Jérôme. Ces quelques exemples illustrent bien la façon dont les humanistes du xv e siècle, en Italie, à Bâle ou à Paris, ont redécouvert l'Ars de Phocas. Non seulement ils lui ont rendu sa place parmi les textes grammaticaux, hérités de l'Antiquité et du haut Moyen Age, mais ils l'ont aussi associée aux traités 61

Voir M. Hossfeld, "Johannes Heynlin aus Stein . . . "

Basler

356, et 7 (1908) 79-219 et 2 3 5 - 2 4 1 ; F . Geldner, Die deutschen 1970) 189.

Zeitschrift

6 (1907) 309-

Inkunabeldrucker,

2 (Stuttgart

Il imprima à Paris plusieurs traités de grammaire, dont le De orthographia

De diphtongis

de Guarin de Vérone, les Elegantiae

et le

d'Augustinus Datus et celles de Laurent

Valla. 62

Nous avons plaisir à remercier ici Monsieur Burckhardt, qui nous a donné toutes les

précisions nécessaires sur ce manuscrit, avec autant de compétence que de gentillesse. 83

E d . Guillaume Tardif, Rhetorice artis ac oratorie facultatis

compendium

(Paris 1475). E n

1473, Reuchlin étudia la grammaire à Paris, auprès de lui "in vico S. Genovefae" et auprès de Johannes de Lapide à la Sorbonne. l'Art de Faulconnerie 64

Guillaume Tardif est surtout célèbre par son Livre

O. Grillnberger, "Matteo R o n t o " , Studien

Cistercensier

de

et des chiens de chasse, 2 vols., éd. E . Jullien (Paris 1882). und Mitteilungen

aus den Benediktiner

und

Orden 12 (1891) 17-28 et 314-326, a édité presque toutes ces œuvres. Voir aussi

C. M. Piastra, "Matteo R o n t o ed una sua egloga latina inedita", Aevum 35 (1961) 274-279 (avec bibliographie et liste de ses œuvres).

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de grammaire de leur époque et même à leurs propres traités. L'étude d'ensemble des différents témoins du xv e siècle montre que l'Ars de Phocas est parfois copiée isolément: manuscrits Escoriai S. III. 8; Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Gaddi 169 ; Londres, British Museum, Egerton 271 ; Zadar, Naucna Biblioteca 2420, ms. 16). Elle est suivie, dans quatre manuscrits, par le De aspiratione, que les humanistes attribuaient à Phocas : as manuscrits Naples, Biblioteca nazionale, lat. IV. A. 13 ; Venise, Biblioteca Marciana lat. XIII. 30 ; XIII. 66 ; Wolfenbüttel, Herz. Bibliothek, Gud. lat. 260 4°. Elle figure le plus souvent avec l'Ars maior de Donat, les traités de Servius et de Sergius, de Maximus Victorinus et de Priscien, plus rarement avec ceux de Flavius Caper et d'Agroecius, de Charisius, de Diomède, de Mallius Theodoras, du Pseudo Palémon (deuxième version), avec le De lingua latina de Varron, le De arte metrica et le De schematibus et tropis de Bède. Mais elle est accompagnée aussi, à plusieurs reprises, des œuvres des grammairiens du xv e siècle: les Elegantiae d'Augustinus Datus, le De diphtongis et les Regulae de Guarin de Vérone, les Carmina de arte grammatica de Laurent Valla,86 les deux traités de métrique de Niccolo Perotti 6 ' et le De ratione metrorum d'Ognibene Bonisoli da Lonigo. 68 Comme nous l'avons vu plus haut, 69 la première édition de l'Ars de Phocas, suivie du De aspiratione, est celle de Zaroto, à Milan, en 1473. Mais c'est l'édition de Nicolas Jenson à Venise, vers 1476, qui connut la plus grande diffusion. Bien que plus récente, une autre édition mérite d'être mentionnée: celle de Johannes Caesarius70 à Cologne en 1525. Pour ses élèves, les comtes Henri, 71 Philippe et Eberhard de Stolberg-Werniguerode, il rassembla, dans un manipulus72 trois grammaires—l'Asper minor, l'Ars minor de Donat et l'Ars de Phocas—qu'il corrigea et compléta à sa manière. 73 Comme les glossateurs des 65

Sur ce traité, voir ci-dessus n. 48. Laurent Valla cite lui-même l'Ars de Phocas au livre III, chap. 13 de ses Elegantiae. 67 Voir pour ses différentes œuvres, G. Mercati, Per la chronologia della vita e degli scritti di Niccolò Perotti, Studi e testi 44 ( R o m e 1925). 66

68 69

Biographie et bibliographie par Sandford (ci-dessus n. 60) 209. Voir ci-dessus n. 48 et 49.

70 Sur cet humaniste allemand, né vers 1468 à Jülich et mort en décembre 1550 à Cologne, voir surtout Allgemeine deutsche Biographie 3 (Leipzig 1876) 689-691 (Eckstein) et Neue deutsche Biographie 3 (Berlin 1957) 90-91 col. 1 (H. Grimm). 71 II lui dédia aussi en juillet 1526 son édition de Diomède. Sur le comte Heinrich zu Stolberg (1509-1572), voir Allgemeine deutsche Biographie 36 (Leipzig 1893) 335-339 (Jacobs). 72 Compendiaria artis grammaticae institutio (Cologne 1525); imprimée aussi à Fribourgen-Brisgau en 1533 et 1542, sous le titre: Très artis grammaticae authores oppidoque vetusti, ut quos Priscianus in opere de arte grammatica non semel citât, Asper Iunior, Aelius Donatus in arte secunda et Phocas, nuper per Ioannem Caesarium exactissime castigati . . . auctis praeterea scholiis ab eodem ipso passim adiectis illustrati, locis uidelicet obscurioribus. 73 "Collegi nuper très artis Grammaticae authores . . . atque eosdem in unum veluti manipulum congessi, corpore quidem ipso (ut ita dicam) parvos, at uirtute etiam cum summis eius artis authoribus comparandos . . . . Opus erat prius locis non paucis restituere et

L ' A B S DE NOMINE

ET VERBO

77

DE PHOCAS

siècles précédents, il a ajouté après les différents paragraphes de l'Ars de Phocas, plus de quatre-vingt-dix explications, où il invoque surtout Priscien et quelques autres grammairiens. Ainsi, selon la volonté même de son auteur, le Vademecum de Phocas est resté pendant tout le Moyen Age et jusqu'au début du xvi e siècle un manuel pratique particulièrement apprécié pour sa précision et sa brièveté. C'est bien ce que montre le catalogue des manuscrits de l'Ars de nomine et verbo de Phocas, joint en appendice à cet article.

CATALOGUE DES MANUSCRITS ABRÉVIATIONS

UTILISÉES

Les abréviations suivantes sont employées dans la bibliographie des notices pour désigner les ouvrages les plus fréquemment cités: = Ch. H. B E E S O N , Isidorstudien, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lateinischen Philologie des Mittelalters (Munich 1913). B I S C H O F F , Studien = B . B I S C H O F F , Mittelalterliche Studien. I - I I . Ausgewählte Aufsätze zur Schriftkunde und Literaturgeschichte (Stuttgart 1966-67). = Catalogue général des manuscrits des bibliothèques Cat. gén. publiques de France. = Catalogus codicum manuscriptorum Bibliothecae regiae, Cat. codd. t. II 1/4 (Paris 1744). = Grammatici latini, e recensione H . K E I L I I , I - V I I I GLK (Leipzig 1855-1880). = C . H A L M et alii, Catalogus codicum Latinorum BiHALM bliothecae Regiae Monacensis, I-IV (Munich 18731878). KRISTELLER = P. 0 . K R I S T E L L E R , Iter Italicum, I-II (LondresLeyde 1963-1967). LAISTNER = M . L . W . L A I S T N E R et H . H . K I N G , A Handlist of Bede Manuscripts (Ithaca 1943). = M . M A N I T I U S , Geschichte der lateinischen Literatur MANITIUS des Mittelalters I-III (Munich 1911-1931). = E . S T E I N M E Y E R et E . S I E V E R S , Die althochdeutschen STEINMEYER Glossen I I I - I V (Berlin 1895-1898). BEESON

ab iniuria corruptionis asserere vindicareque . . . . Ñeque vero huic instituto satis per me (quod ingenue fateor) fieri unquam potuisset, nisi locis aliquot quaedam in his, idque in Phoca cum primis adempta, quaedam i t e m adiecta fuissent . . . " (lettre de dédicace).

78

COLETTE J E U D Y

THUROT

= Ch.

Extraits de divers manuscrits latins à l'histoire des doctrines grammaticales

THUROT,

servir

pour au

Moyen-Age, Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque impériale 22.2 (Paris 1868). Tous les manuscrits glosés sont signalés par un astérisque. Monsieur Bischoff a bien voulu me préciser la date et l'origine de tous les manuscrits des ix e et x e siècles. Qu'il trouve ici encore l'expression de toute ma gratitude. A M I E N S , BIBLIOTHÈQUE MUNICIPALE

426

Parch., 71 ff., 265 X 170 mm. Recueil de trois parties distinctes: 1) ff. l-29v: vm e -ix e s. 2) ff. 30-47v: ix* s. (l r e moitié). 3) ff. 48-71 v: ixTPA&YA eiusdem". Inc.: "0 Ramesiga cohors amplis quae claudere stagnis . . . " Expl.: ". . . Quos Christus Semper salvet honoret amet. Explicit OOIJQ TP A 0YA Abbonis optimi grammatici". D'origine allemande, le manuscrit a sans doute été copié par Johann Wissjen de Berka pour Amplonius Ratinck de Berka (f 1435).20 Il figure dans le catalogue de sa bibliothèque, daté de 1412, sous la cote "Gramm. 29 ",21 Amplonius légua sa bibliothèque en 1412 au collège qu'il avait fondé à Erfurt, "in via portae caeli". BIBLIOGRAPHIE: W . SCHUM, Beschreibendes Verzeichnis der Amplonianischen Handschriften-Sammlung zu Erfurt (Berlin 1887) 329-330 et 788 no. 29; A. VAN DE VYVER, "Les œuvres inédites d'Abbon de Fleury", Revue bénédictine 47 (1935) 128 n. 6; C. J E U D Y , "L'Institutio de nomine, pronomine et verbo de Priscien. Manuscrits et commentaires médiévaux", Revue d'histoire des textes 2 (1972) 78-79 et 98-99.

20

Sur l'importance de sa collection, voir la préface du catalogue de W. Schum, cité infra

et P. Lehmann, Mittelalterliche

Bibliothekskataloge

1928) 1-7; voir aussi BISCHOFF, Studien 21

Deutschlands

und der Schweiz 2 (Munich

I, 135-136.

Voir W. Schum, op. cit., infra, 788 no. 29 et P. Lehmann, op. cit., infra 10, no. 29.

A

l'origine, le manuscrit comprenait aussi à la fin: "Excerptum librorum Cassiodori de artibus liberalibus nobile opus, tractatus de litteris et orthographia, liber de preposicionibus Grecis, de dictionibus Grecis et de barbarismo".

92

COLETTE

ESCORIAL, BIBLIOTECA D E L MONASTERIO,

S.

III.

JEUDY

8

e

Recueil de deux parties distinctes, xv s., 117 ff., 209 x 143 mm. 1) ff. 1-87: Papier. Initiales laissées en blanc. 2) ff. 88-117: Parch. Au f. 1, initiale or à "bianchi girari". 1) ff. 1-28: PHOCAS, Ars de nomine et verbo. Titre: "ARS FOCE GRAMATICI (sic) D E NOMINE ET VERBO". ff. 28-87v: V A R R Ò , De lingua latina ( V - X ) 2 2 2) ff. 88-117: PHOCAS, Ars de nomine et verbo. Titre: "ARS FOCE GRAMMATICI D E NOMINE ET VERBO INCIPIT

FELICITER".

Les deux parties sont d'origine italienne, la première en humanistique cursive, la deuxième en humanistique ronde très régulière, de la main d'un copiste aux initiales A. A., qui a laissé son monogramme précédé de sa devise "Vale longum" au f. 117v. Cette deuxième partie porte dans la marge supérieure du f. 88, l'ex-libris de Carlo Strozzi (1587-1670): "Caroli Strotii".23 BIBLIOGRAPHIE: P . G . A N T O L Î N , Catàlogo de los códices latinos biblioteca del Escorial 4 (Madrid 1916) 59.

de la real

F I R E N Z E , BIBLIOTECA M E D I C E A LAURENZIANA, ACQUISTI E DONI

277

Papier (filigranes: 1) ff. 1-16: var. Briquet 8967: Genève, 1396; 2) ff. 17-41: var. Briquet 7693: Naples, 1459), xv

\ff wi«mu[,n,^„, c f j u o f fVvui. ^ pAiiw mUfuruj il ¿.«in*»"-»« t f i a t » , « • « . • < : » ? > c»-tu/*AlU,ir essendo richiesti nella città d'Vignone i signori priori del'arte et gonfaloniere di giustizia et tucti i collegi et capitudini et con gli otto dela guerra et tucto il popolo di Firenze che dovessero comparere dinanzi al detto sancto padre in "Vignone audire la sentenza dela schomunicha et interdetto, et essendo ambassadori et sindichi per lo comune di Firenze Messer Alexandre del'Antella et Messer Donato Barbadoro et Ser Domen < i > cho Salvestri, et dissertando che si facesse una prestazione dinanzi al detto sancto padre per parte del comune di Firenze, et non trovandosi alchuno notaio il quale ardesse ne volesse fare la detta protestazione e' fu richiesto il detto Ser Orlando da detti ambassadori per parte del comune di Firenze, che gli piacesse fare la detta protestazione et chome sarebbe anchora benemeritato dal comune di Firenze di che il detto Ser Orlando subito desideroso di poter fare cosa che piacesse al detto comune di Firenze, non volendo avere riguardo ne rispetto al pericolo che gli incontra fece la detta carta di protestazione; et partiti i detti ambassadori, subito il detto sancto padre mando per fare pigliare il detto Ser Orlando et selavesse potuto avere l'averebbe fatto morire et subito fu 6

292

JULIUS KIRSHNER

that the said Ser Orlando and his sons and his descendants through the male line are understood to be and are true citizens, and as true, original and ancient citizens and popolani of the people of the city of Florence they may enjoy the benefits, privileges, honors and advantages held by other true and original citizens and popolani of the city of Florence.7 As citizenship always entailed duties as well as privileges, it is no surprise that Ser Orlando was expected to shoulder public burdens incumbent upon all citizens. He was also required to build a house as prescribed in the city's ordinances.8 In the important matter of office-holding (important, because office-holding was a source of income, prestige, and authority), the enactment permanently barred Ser Orlando from public office, save that after completing a ten-year period of probationary residence in the city, he would become eligible for a notarial post in the government.9 At first glance, there is nothing remarkable about this measure. Hundreds of similar enactments are preserved in each annual register of Florentine legislation (provvisioni) encompassing the years 1350-1400. Each concession of citizenship rested upon an explicit and mutual promise. The newcomer promised to comply faithfully with the laws regulating his entrance into Florentine civic life. The commune promised to reward his steadfastness with privileges and immunities, calibrated to fit the newcomer's economic, social, and professional standing. Both promises were to be executed "secundum ordinamenta communis." That vague but all-inclusive phrase covered a vast

¡sbandito et condempnato della città di "Vignone et di tucto il terreno della chiesa et egli et suo padre et suoi fratelli et tucti i loro beni entrarono, et in comune così per la detta cagione sono iti et vanno per lo mondo mendicando." Ser Orlando's transcription of Barbadori's oration is preserved in ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni (31 March 1376). This dramatic event in the papal-Florentine conflict is described by Leonardo Bruni, Historiarum fiorentini populi, Rerum italicarum scriptores 19, 3 (Città di Castello 1914-1926) 215ff.; for a recent account, see R. C. Trexler, Economie, Politicai, and Religious Effects of the Papal Interdict on Florence, 1376-1378 (Frankfurt am Main 1964) 33. ' ASF Provv. 68 fol. 174: "Per la quale cosa il detto Ser Ser (sic) Orlando, povero et impotente se deliberato vivere et morire in questa nostra cittàde di di (sic) Firenze, in quanto vi piaccia et prò domanda alla signoria che vi piaccia degnate et vogliate fare solempnemente riformare per li consigli opportuni del nostro comune di Firenze, che'l detto Ser Orlando et suoi fighliuoli et discendenti per linea maschulina s'intendano essere et siano veri et sicome veri et originali et antichi cittadini popolani et del popolo della città di Firenze che glino abbiano benefici, privilegi et honori et favori, i quali anno gli'altri veri et originali cittadini et popolani della detta città di Firenze. " 8 Ibid.: Ser Orlando was told "di fare ongi (sic) factione come fanno gli'altri cittadini et hedificare una casa secondo gli ordini del detto comune di Firenze." 9 Ibid.: "Salvo che'l detto Ser Orlando, cioè la persona sua propria, non possa mai avere alchuno ufficio dei priori, dodici et gonfalonieri, overo alcuno altro ufficio; salvo che gli uffici che s'apartengono a notaio et quello non possa avere di qui a dieci anni proximi."

"ars imitator naturam"

293

and varied corpus of statutes, a no-man's-land forthe lay politician, a challenge for the commune's legal experts. Before we can comprehend the circumstances that led to Ser Orlando's case, we must specify what obligations the government asked Ser Orlando to fulfill, what he himself believed to be his obligations towards the commune, and the psychological ambiance surrounding the notary's entrance into the citizenry. Like hundreds of newcomers who journeyed the road from alien status to Florentine citizenship, Ser Orlando was expected to proceed according to a time-honored scenario. There was the omnipresent and self-congratulatory petition, written in the third person, requesting citizenship and testifying to the irreproachable moral character of the candidate for naturalization. Moral worth, or better, responsible civic conduct, was equated with the candidate's ability and willingness to contribute to the welfare of the commune, already demonstrated by having conscientiously paid urban imposts, by having strictly adhered to local customs and laws, or as Ser Orlando had done, by having made a personal sacrifice on behalf of the city. An integral component of this process was the petitioner's expressed desire to reside within the walls of the city, customarily accompanied by a declaration of love for his new homeland. True, phrases like "devotus amator populi et servitor communis Florentie," "semper cupivit esse et numerari inter cives dicte civitatis Florentie," and "optat vivere ac mori in hac vestra preclarissima civitate," calculated to impress and gratify legislators, carried a stale resonance by the end of the trecento. 10 Nevertheless, one must avoid classifying these and other expressions of patriotic zeal as vaporous and dissembling rhetoric. These testimonials were symbolic renderings of the moral commitment of the newcomer to his future homeland, and reinforced, in the minds of the natives, the prospect that the newcomer would serve, love, and die for their patria. Participants in these symbolic evocations, magistrates and legislators were constantly reminded, in an almost subliminal manner, of their own commitment to Florentine civism. In this context, the process of naturalization was a vehicle of political education and a rite of civic solidarity, serving as a bridge upon which the newcomer and the native stood, however briefly, as equals. Contextual imperatives aside, a majority of the new citizens had voluntarily lived in Florence for at least five to ten years before they applied for citizenship in order to reap what they believed were the legal, social, and economic advantages accruing from naturalization. 11 Evidence regarding the cives ex 10

These particular expressions are found in: ASF P r o w . 41 fol. 98v (20 Oct. 1354); .61 fol. 98v (28 April 1373); 62 fols. 38v-39 (12 April 1374); 65 fol. 286v (23 Feb. 1379); 70 fols. 124v-125v (30 Oct. 1381). 11 I plan to develop fully and document this point in a future monograph on Florentine citizenship. Instructive here is the petition for citizenship of Bartolomeo Calzamoli, dated 30 October 1381. Bartolomeo's father, Luchino, had emigrated from Genoa to Florence in the 1320s, had married a Florentine woman, and had resided in the city for over fifty years.

294

JULIUS

KIRSHNER

privilegio and their descendants during the years 1350 to 1380 underlines the conclusion that they eagerly sought admission into and actively participated in Florentine civic life despite periodic and intense opposition to their presence.12 PROPERTY

REQUIREMENTS

If the cives ex privilegio were avid to harvest the fruits of Florentine citizenship, they were not always prepared to pay the mandatory price. In the early fourteenth century members of this group attempted to circumvent the city's laws on taxation and householdership. Sometimes these obligations were left unsatisfied because of negligence and feigned poverty; on other occasions because of an honest, but unfortunate impecunity.13 Incidents of tax evasion and fraud helped to mould the policy of the commune towards its new citizens. Fears were ignited, never to be allayed by formal promises and prior good behavior, that the new citizens would not support public burdens without the threat of stiff penalties. These fears were fueled by the institution of dual citizenship. According to fourteenth-century Roman law—the ius commune of Italy—the rights, privileges, and duties springing from an individual's

Although Bartolomeo had been born and raised in Florence, he was not officially considered a Florentine citizen, and petitioned to become one. The petition conveyed Bartolomeo's relationship to Florence in this manner: "Ipseque Bartholomeus, natus in dicta civitate ex antiquitate taliter radicata, putat se civem et ut civis patriam istam amat." Ibid. 70 fols. 124v-125v. 12 On the role of the new citizens in Florentine public life, see G. A. Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society 1343-1378 (Princeton 1962) 105ff.; M.B.Becker, Florence in Transition, 2 vols. (Baltimore 1967-1968) 2.93-149; A. Molho, "Politics and the Ruling Class in Early Renaissance Florence," Nuova rivista storica 70 (1968) 401ff. Molho (414) erroneously asserts that the constant emigration of "novi cives" from the "contado" into the city "was greatly reduced after the Black Death, coming to a virtual standstill in the last two decades of the [fourteenth] century." The source he alleges for this conclusion is M. B. Becker's article "The Republican City-State in Florence: An Inquiry into its Origins and Survival (12801434)," Speculum 36 (1960) 50. Nowhere in his essay, however, does Becker make that point. What he says is that "The early fifteenth century saw . . . the reduction of the influx of the novi does." On logical grounds, we should read "contadini" and "forenses" for Molho's and Becker's "novi cives", since newcomers normally became citizens only after they had migrated to Florence. Becker's assertion has been justly critized by H. Baron, "The Social Background of Political Liberty in the Early Italian Renaissance," Comparative Studies in Society and History (July 1960) 445. For a more precise and concrete assessment of the pattern of migration into Florence, see D. Herlihy, "The Tuscan Town in the Quattrocento: A Demographic Profile," Medievalia et humanistica n.s. 1 (1970) 81-109. 13 The same frauds were also perpetrated by native citizens. On this motif, see ASF, P r o w . 8foI. 37 (10 April 1297); B. Barbadoro, Le finanze della repubblica fiorentina (Florence 1929) 140-41, 436ff.; C. M. de la Ronciere, "Indirect taxes or 'Gabelles' at Florence in the Fourteenth Century," Florentine Studies, ed. N. Rubinstein (London 1968) 174-175; W. M. Bowsky, "Medieval Citizenship: The Individual and the State in the Commune of Siena," Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History 4 (1967) 203-204.

"ARS

IMITATOR

NATURAM"

295

native land (origo) were not erased when he acquired citizenship elsewhere. This proposition was epitomized in the juristic maxim "origo non potest mutari." The permanency of original citizenship not only represented a valid legal assumption universally defended by lawyers, but also an emotional belief deeply ingrained in the social fabric of trecento Italy. In the minds of the natives there always remained the distinct prospect that the newcomer might renege on his promise "to live and die in Florence" by returning to his native land for shelter, while leaving a string of public and private debts behind him.14 As early as 1316, the commune undertook measures to prevent new citizens from entering the "via fraudis," and thus insure itself against loss of revenue. On 4 December of that year, the government acted "against foreigners who possessed the privilege of citizenship, but who were not residing (in the city)."15 The councils voted to nullify the privileges conceded to new citizens, unless they could provide evidence of having established continuous residency in the city from the time they were made citizens to the day of the present enactment. These citizens also had to furnish proof that they had been allibrati, that is, had their properties listed in the tax registers of the city, and finally that they were currently meeting all their real and personal obligations to the commune.16 Although no specific procedure was set up for investigating the 14

The obverse oí this situation was also t r u e for families who had emigrated from the contado and distretto, and who had resided and paid imposts in the city, b u t who were nevertheless still listed in t h e t a x registers of their former localities. These resident families asked the commune to cancel their nonurban assessments, and evidence demonstrates t h a t t h e commune complied with their requests. ASF Estimo 73 fols. 71v-72 (31 Oct. 1356); fols. 182v-183v (March 1357). The rural assessments of Piero and Giovanni Raineri were cancelled "cum ipsi Pierus et Johannes ab otto annis citra et máxime de dicto mense Januarii anni mcccliii habitaverint in civitate Florentie, videlicet in dicto populo Sancti Pancrati et adhuc hodie h a b i t a n t prout alii cives civitatis Florentie"; fol. 84. In another case, Pucci di Ricci Pucci and his sons claimed t h a t they should not be registered in t h e rural estimo: "Quod ipse Riccius (Pucci's father) tempore sue vite fuit publice mercator in arte mercatorum et publice et palam ipsam artem exercuit in civitate Florentie in via Porte Sante Marie per quadraginta annos et ultra et in dicto populo S. Felicis . . . u t publice civis habitavit per quinquaginta annos et ultra, et ibi subiit et fecit honera et factiones communis Florentie u t alii cives civitatis Florentie, et postea . . . eius filii post eius mortem steterunt, habitaverunt et t r a c t a t i f u e r u n t et sunt veri et originarii vices dicte civitatis Florentie." The t a x officials approved t h e petition; ibid. fols. 89v-90 (3 April 1357). 15 A S F P r o w . 15 fol. 28 (left margin): "Contra forenses habentes civilitatis Privilegium et non habitantes"—a summary description of the law transcribed in the following note. 16 Ibid: "Domini priores artium et vexillifer iustitie suprascripti, audita et intellecta querela expositione plurimorum civium Florentie continente: Quod multi alienigene sub simulatis coloribus et non iustis causis allegatis reperiuntur t a m per provisionem dominorum prior u m artium et vexilliferi iustitie civitatis Florentie quam aliter facti cives Florentie máxime u t t a n q u a m cives minores gabellas ad portas civitatis solverent que per ipsos alienígenas u t plurimum maiores exsolui deberent, eo quod maiores a Florentinis in eorum civitatibus exsoluuntur, et etiam u t fugiant alia gravamina ad que compelli possent, que quidem verti

296

JULIUS KIRSHNER

veracity of such evidence, the cives ex privilegio were customarily required to present proof to the proper communal authorities within six months from the date of naturalization.17 This procedure remained in operation until 9 August 1352, when the government mandated tougher and more extensive controls regulating induction into the citizenry.18 As the new regulations had a direct bearing upon Ser Orlando's future, it is necessary to examine their contents in detail. The legislation of July was initially addressed to those who had become citizens since 12 August 1348, and to those who had received during the same period the privilege of holding offices reserved to native citizens. These privilegiati, the law declared, would now have to guarantee payment of all communal obligations to which they would be subject during the next five years. They were given one month to procure the services of other citizens who were willing to provide satisdation for them. The fideiussores were to appear before a special board of twenty officials "commissioned to increase the revenue of the commune," and stand surety for the public charges left outstanding by the new citizens. The extent of personal liability borne by individual sureties was limited to 200 lire. A similar requirement was binding upon future cives ex privilegio, but they were asked to follow a different procedure. First, the sureties acting on their behalf were required to appear before the notary in charge of legislation ("notaio delle riformagioni") within one month from the day they received their privileges. At the same time, the new citizens themselves or their procurators were directed to make a personal appearance before the same notary, and there promise to fulfill communal obligations during the next five years. Failure to comply with this procedure would result in the immediate loss of citizenship.19

videntur in damnum communis Florentie ac civitatis ipsius. Volentes predictos viam fraudis omnem precludere, ac salubre remedium adhibere, vigore ipsorum offitii et omni modo et iure . . . providerunt . . . quod omnia et singula huiusmodi privilegia per que aliqui alienigene vel forenses constituti fuerunt cives Florentie, vel quod pro civibus haberentur, tenerentur vel tractarentur et provisiones circa ea, vel pro eis factis, cassentur et totaliter irritentur et cassa et irrita intelligantur esse et sint a sex mensibus proxime futuris in antea. Salvo, quod si infra sex menses predictos habens huiusmodi Privilegium probaverit se habitare ac habitasse a tempore huiusmodi privilegii sibi facti citra et alibratum esse, vel fuisse in civitate Florentie ac libras solvere et factiones fecisse et subisse onera communis Florentie prout alii cives Florentie, gaudeat tali privilegio in omnibus et per omnia, sicut in eo plenius est expressum in his statutis, ordinamentis, provisionibus aut consiliorum reformationibus populi et communis Florentie." 17

ASF Libri Fabarum 29 fol. 37v (23 April 1350); Prow. 37 fol. 87 (25 January 1350). ASF Prow. 39 fols. 187-188. 19 Ibid. fol. 188. This regulation was contained in a rider to a statute that conferred citizenship upon Ser Jacobus de Ficechio, Martinus de Castrofrancho Vallis Arni Inferioris, and Puccinus and Chellus de Montecatino. The text of the rider is quoted in the casus prefixed to the consilium (lines 1-31 below). Unaware of the legislation of 1352, Becker's lively 18

"ARS IMITATOR

NATURAM"

297

Forfeiture of citizenship, it must be stressed, hinged upon neglect to provide the stipulated surety and guarantee rather than nonpayment of future taxes. With few exceptions, the new citizens found little difficulty in engaging sureties, some of whom were members of the leading families of the city—the Strozzi, Ridolfi, Balducci, Mancini, and Magalotti.20 In a deeper sense, these politically and socially influential sureties were acting as sponsors for the new citizens

account of the transition from foreign and rustic status ("comitatensis") to citizenship is too vague and in need of several minor revisions. Becker states in Florence in Transition (n. 12 above) 2. 97: "In many instances before the new men could be transformed into veri, antiqui et originari (sic) cives, they had to be sponsored by prominent Florentines who were willing to go surety for them and vouch for their continued good behavior. On other occasions, the new men were held responsible for posting a sizable bond." In the first place, it is more precise to say that all new citizens were required by the law of August 1352 to perform satisdation, unless they were specifically exempted by communal authorities. At least until 1379, acts of satisdation undertaken by new citizens and the guarantees given by their fideiussors, were recorded in the libri fabarum: See ASF Libri Fabarum 32 fol. 7v (30 Nov. 1352), fol. 10 (7 Dec. 1352), fol. 73 (2 Dec. 1353), fol. 78v (5 Dec. 1353), fol. 90(7 Feb. 1354); ibid. 33 fol. 45 (12 Nov. 1354), fol. 45v (20 Oct. 1354), fol. 47 (12 Nov. 1354); ibid. 34 fol. 18v (23 Sept. 1355), fol. 22v (21 Oct. 1355), fol. 33v (12 Dec. 1355), fol. 67v (21 June 1356), fol. 72v(9 July 1356), fol. 97 (8 Nov. 1356), fol. 117 (13 Feb. 1357); ibid. 37 fol. 56 (12 Sept. 1363), fol. 156v (20 June 1365), fol. 157 (23 June 1365); ibid. 39 fol. 7v(22 June 1367); ibid. 40 fol. lOv (24 Dec. 1371), fol. 11 (30 Dec. 1371), fol. 42 (7 Oct 1372), fol. 42v (15 Oct. 1372), fol. 106v (1 April 1375), fol. 191 (22 Aug. 1376), fol. 191 v (15 Sept. 1376), fol. 227v (13 Oct. 1376), fol. 232 (15 Oct. 1376), fol. 273v (23 Oct. 1377), fol. 284 (30 Jan. 1378), fol. 318v (10 Dec. 1378), fol. 371v (21 Aug. 1379). After 1379, attestation of the pledges made by fideiussors appears to have been recorded elsewhere, perhaps in a different fondo. It is also possible that this particular requirement became inoperative, but solid evidence will be needed to affirm or deny that conclusion. Secondly, the new citizens were neither asked nor required to post a sizable bond. They were only obligated to make a formal promise t o meet their communal obligations for a five-year period. This oral pledge was also recorded in the libri fabarum. I offer an example: "Constitutus magister Lodovicus olim Bartoli de Eugubio, medicus cerusicus, in palatio populi Florentie coram me Petro Ser Grifi scriba reformationum consiliorum populi et communis Florentie, volens benefitium cittadinantie sibi nuper de presenti mensis junii concessum per opportuna consilia populi et communis Florentie conservare, proximit mihi dicto Petro scriptori tanquam persone publice, vice et nomine dicti populi et communis soluere et subire omnia munera omnesque factiones que sibi per dictum commune imponentur hinc ad quinque annos proxime secuturos seu infra ipsum tempus et terminum et per omnia secundum quod tenetur et debet secundum formam ordinamentorum dicti communis;" 37.157. It must be noted t h a t the commune did not impose the requirement of satisdation upon prominent foreign lords, who were made citizens of Florence for political or fiscal reasons —that is, on condition that they invest in the public debt of the city. Exemptions were given to Luchino Strozzi of Milan (ASF P r o w . 59 fols. 6-7, 9 April 1371); Corrado de'Trinci of Foligno (fol. 42-42v, 21 June 1371); Sinibaldo degli Ordelaffi, his brothers and nephews, lords of Forll (66, fols. 149v-150, edited by A. Gherardi, Documenti di storia italiana [Florence 1876] 6. 498). 20

ASF Libri Fabarum 37 fols. 156v, 157; 40 fol. 191v.

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and vouching for their future conduct in the city.21 Although hard evidence is lacking, it is plausible that the commune pressed newcomers to arrange for suretyship as a precondition for acquiring citizenship. The new regulations did not apply to hundreds of immigrants who arrived in the city during the fifties, sixties, and seventies from Florence's newly acquired dependencies, Prato (1351), San Gimignano (1353), and San Miniato al Tedesco (1369), who were given the opportunity to become citizens of Florence under more generous terms—a policy designed to make subjugation more palatable. 22 And beginning in the early 1370s when the commune was experiencing intense fiscal stress and was searching for ways to raise more revenue, a select group of Italian lords were made citizens, but were exempted from all or most communal obligations on condition that they invest large sums of money in the city's public debt ("monte comune").23 During the third quarter of the trecento (1352-1379) Florence continued to demand that her new citizens be bona fide property holders. Although there were exemptions, the cives ex privilegio were normally required to purchase a house and/or real estate within the city or contado ("predia urbana et rustica"). Valuation ranged from a minimum of 200 florins for families of solid means to 2,000 florins for the more affluent, but was most often set at 500 or 1,000 florins. New citizens were allotted either six months or one year to complete the transaction. The purchase of property represented an investment in the city and a visible commitment to one's new patria. Again, failure to undertake this commitment resulted in the loss of citizenship.24 Communal policy was flexible enough, however, to allow an extension to those few who violated the law.25 With respect to the requirement on householdership, the government abruptly changed its policy in 1378 for reasons that remain obscure, though one suspects that it was an attempt to block citizens from defrauding the commune through fictitious contracts of sale. On 23 January of that year a law was passed which announced that in the future the cives ex privilegio were no longer required to purchase a standing dwelling, but would now have to construct a new house. Valuation was to be set by the collective wisdom of the priorate, the standard bearer of justice, and the advisory colleges. The assessed value could be more, 21

A s Becker suggests, Florence

22

Julius Kirshner, "Paolo di Castro on Cives ex privilegio:

in Transition

(n. 12 above) 2.97. A Controversy Over the Legal

Qualifications for Public Office in Early Fifteenth-Century Florence," Renaissance in Honor

of Hans

Baron,

Studies

ed. A n t h o n y Molho and J o h n A. Tedeschi (Florence 1971) 2 3 4 f f .

23

See n. 19 above.

24

For references to these requirements, see A S F P r o w . 3 9 f o l . 1 8 7 v ( 9 A u g u s t 1352); 40 fol.

3 0 v (3 Dec. 1352), fols. 208v-209 (17 Jan. 1354); 41 f o l . 9 8 v (30 Oct. 1354); 52 fol. 1 1 0 ( 1 0 Feb. 1364), edited b y A. Gherardi, Documenti

di storia

italiana

(Florence 1881) 7.305, doc. 31;

P r o w . 58 fol. 15rv (8 J u n e 1370), fols. 2 7 v - 2 8 (21 J u n e 1370), fols. 193v-194 (23 Dec. 1370), fols. 9 1 v - 9 2 (27 Dec. 1370); 59 fols. 42-42v (21 J u n e 1371), fol. 79v (21 A u g . 1371);

ibid.

61 fol. 9 8 v ( 2 8 April 1373), fols. 1 1 0 v - l l l (26 Aug. 1373); ibid. 6 2 fols. 38v-39 (12 April 1374). 25

P r o w . 4 0 fol. 138 (7 A u g . 1353); 58 fols. 9 1 v - 9 2 (27 Sept. 1370).

"ARS IMITATUR

299

NATURAM"

however, though not less, than 100 florins and construction had to be finished within a year. To frustrate the possibility of fraud, the commune ordered new citizens (with their sureties) to appear before the notary in charge of legislation within one month of the day they were made citizens and render assurances similar to those outlined in the law of August 1352. Once again, the commune admonished new citizens to abide by the terms of the statute, if they wished to retain their privileges.26 OFFICE-HOLDING

That Ser Orlando's eligibility for office was severely delimited may seem surprising in view of Florence's reputation for pulsating republicanism. Leaving aside the heated controversy over Florence's commitment to the principles of republicanism, this seeming anomaly can be explained by reference to recent scholarly investigations and by examining another cluster of communal statutes that fixed the terms for office-holding, and which played a role in Ser Orlando's case. Studies conducted by Brucker, Becker, and Molho have demonstrated that in the period from 1343 to the war with the papacy and the Ciompi uprising in 1376-1378, a stream of "new men" ("gente nuova")—roughly defined here as members of families who had not yet attained high public office—filled hundreds of vacancies in the Signoria, the executive colleges and legislative councils.27 Drawn largely from an analysis of the commune's elec26

Ibid. 65 fol. 265: "Quod de cetero nulla petitio seu provisio in qua seu per quam peteretur seu disponeretur quod aliquis efficiatur seu fiat vel esse intelligatur civis civitatis FIorentie, seu quod alicui concedatur vel concedi possit aliquod beneficium civilitatis seu cittadinantie civitatis predicte possit quoquo modo per dominos priores artium et vexilliferum iustitie presentes vel qui pro tempore fuerint vel aliquem ipsorum admicti seu deliberari vel ad partitum mieti inter se ipsos seu inter se et alia quecunque collegia seu in Consilio populi vel communis Florentie, sub pena mille librarum fior. parv. cuilibet ipsorum dominorum priorum et vexillifero . . . nisi in ipsa petitione seu provisione contineretur quod ipse, cui dictum beneficium cittadinantie conferendum, venire teneatur et debeat infra terminum per dominos priores artium et vexilliferum iustitie et gonfalonerios societatum populi ed duodecim bonos viros communis Florentie declaratum, qui terminus non possit esse maior uno anno, de novo facere construi et hedificare in civitate Florentie unam domum estimationis saltern florenorum auri centum, vel pluris, si de plure deliberetur per priores et collegia et secundum deliberationem eorum, de qua constructione et hedificatione fienda debent satisdare coram scriba reformationum consiliorum populi et communis Florentie saltern infra unum mensem a die reformationis . . . Quam satisdationem si non prestiterit, intelligatur esse privatus omni beneficio cittadinantie prelibate." Valuation was recorded in the libri fabarum; for example, Libri Fabarum 40 fol. 284 (13 Feb. 1378), fol. 318v (31 Dec. 1378): "Priores et collegia deliberaverunt dictum Matteum Nicholai de Bononia debere hedificare domum valoris centum florenorum ad minus terminum unius anni;" fol. 371v (31 Aug. 1379). 27

M. Becker and G. Brucker, "The Arti Minori of Florentine Politics, 1342-1378," Mediaeval Studies 18 (1956) 93ff.; Brucker (n. 12 above) 159ff.; Molho (n. 12 above) 401ff. The meaning of the appellation "gente nuova" is extremely difficult to pin down, and no historian of Florence has ever adequately defined it. Poets, chroniclers, and letter writers of the

300

JULIUS KIRSHNER

toral records (tratte), this portrait of political mobility remains incontestable. It would be a gross distortion, however, to portray the influx of new blood as a torrent, for its course was carefully controlled by the city's leading patrician families, the "Parte Guelfa," and their allies among the gente nuova. Beginning in the mid-thirteen-forties, this loose-knit coalition set out to halter the newcomer's race for public office and to purge the government of nonnative elements.28 The latter group, composed of naturalized citizens and even foreigners who had been residing in the city proper and the contado, were excoriated for not displaying a "natural love" toward the city, for allegedly not meeting their civic responsibilities, and for the aggressive manner by which they pushed their way into office "under the pretext and false color of Florentine citizenship and comitatinanza." To prevent these upstarts from usurping offices belonging to "the true sons of Florence,"29 legislation was passed in October 1346 barring from all citizen-offices any individual incapable of showing that (1) he, his father—and apparently grandfather—are natives of the city or contado, and

thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries and historians of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have variously defined the "gente nuova" as crude wretches migrating from the countryside to Florence; or conversely, the aristocracy and professional elites who were moving into the city; all foreigners who migrated to Florence; "nouveaux riches" who attempted—with a vengance—to climb the political and social ladder, but whose families lacked "antiquity," and who could not claim a long line of native ancestors; those who were morally corrupt as evidenced by their venality and penchant for usurious conduct, and dislike for the established church; those who shared a love for impartial, bureaucratic, and legal institutions as opposed to a government guided by old patrician families; those whose ancestors had never attained high public office; members of the last group who did eventually enter the priorate; and finally, those who were formally naturalized. Who were the gente nuova? is a question which remains to be answered, and a careful, probing analysis of their ranks during different stages in Florentine history would be most welcome. For now, see the works cited above in this note and the following: I. del Lungo, La gente nuova in Firenze ai tempi di Dante, in Dante ne' tempi di Dante (Bologna 1888) 1-132; G. Scaramella, Firenze alto scoppio del tumulto dei Ciompi (Pisa 1914) 34ff.; N. Rubinstein, "The Beginning of Political Thought in Florence," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 5 (1942) 220ff.; M. Meiss, Florentine Painting in Florence and Siena after the Black Death (Princeton 1951) 69ff.; P. J. Jones, "Florentine Families and Florentine Diaries in the Fourteenth Century," Papers of the British School at Rome, n. s. 9 (1956) 185ff.; L. Martines, The Social World of the Florentine Humanists 1390-1460 (Princeton 1963) 276; extremely important are Becker's two volumes on Florence which I have already cited (but he believes the gente nuova to be a highly cohesive and self-conscious group—a view that I cannot now accept); and see also the recent article by J. Stephens, "Heresy in Medieval and Renaissance Florence," Past and Present 54 (1972) 38-41. 28

Brucker (n. 12 above) 116ff.; Becker, Florence in Transition (n. 12 above) 2.128-129. These offices comprise the most prestigious and lucrative, which by law were only open to natives of the city proper and the contado. There were many other offices, especially in judicial agencies, which by law were to be staffed by foreigners. For the staffing of offices, see D. Marzi, La cancelleria della repubblica fiorentina (Rocco S. Casciano 1910) passim, and R. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, trans. E. Dupri-Theseider (Florence 1962) 5.99-374. 29

" a r s imitatur naturam"

301

(2) that he is now residing and will continue to reside, with his family, in the city or contado. Candidates for office and officeholders who could not certify their nativeness were branded foreigners.30 This regressive provision was later incorporated into the redaction of the Statuti del capitano del popolo of 1355. 31 Since the campaign waged against the new men proved devastatingly successful, by the opening years of the thirteen-fifties pressure had mounted for the repeal of this crippling requirement. A compromise was thrashed out among the contending factions within the ruling circles which was given legislative expression in 1352. The new law declared all new cives ex privilegio ineligible to sit on the leading magistracies—the Signoria, the Sedici Gonfalonieri and the Dodici Buonomini—for the minimum of ten years and longer, if the communal fathers so decided.32 An examination of the terms by which 3 0 A S F P r o w . 34 fols. 93v-94: "Quoniam multi forenses, maxime origine incogniti, nec sufficientia aut legalitate probati reperiuntur, et sunt in civitate et comitatu Florentie, qui sub pretextu et ficto colore civilitatis seu comitatinatus Florentie, multis cautelis, suggestionibus ac rogaminibus ambiunt et ambitiöse querunt et conantur promoveri, admicti et recipi ad officia et honores in dicta civitate Florentie tanquam veri cives et comitatini civitatis Florentie, ipsius civitatis onera facere et substinere in opportuno tempore recusantes, quod si contingat eos eadem officia seu honores assequi, de reipublice Florentie solicita gubernatione non curant, cum plerumque sint de longinquis partibus et locis benivolis communi Florentie et per consequens amorem naturaliter institum ad ipsam civitatem Florentie non gerunt, propter que dicti communis negotia negligunt et postergant et multa schandala incurrere possunt et indignationes insurgere et insurgunt in dicta civitate Florentie et inter eius cives et comitatinos." None of these "forenses" as well as anyone "qui publica vel communi oppinione vel vulgo reputatus, habitus sive tractatus forensis vel pro forensi in civitate seu comitatu Florentie . . . etiamsi Privilegium civilitatis seu popularitatis haberet seu ipsam civilitatem seu popularitatem prescripsisset (emphasis mine) seu domicilium civitatis Florentie habuisset seu habere diceretur possit de cetero esse, eligi vel adsummi ad aliquod officium cum salario vel sine . . . neque extrahi de aliquo sacco, pisside seu marsupio in quo descriptus qualitercunque reperirentur vel essent ad quod eligi, deputari, adsummi seu esse debent cives seu comitatini Florentie secundum formam statutorum et ordinamentorum populi et communis Florentie. . . . Salvo, quod nullus, qui sua et patris origine fuerit de civitate seu comitatu Florentie et in dicta civitate seu comitatu habitet et habitaverit cum familia sua quo ad predicta .ntelligatur esse forensis. . . . Hoc in predictis modificato, quod quicunque avi sui paterni origine seu aliorum superiorum ab avo supra per lineam masculinam fuerit verus civis seu comitatinus Florentie per predicta non intelligatur excludi." This "modificato" or "grandfather clause" does not expressly state that one would be excluded from office if he could not demonstrate that his paternal grandfather was a native, but that is precisely the interpretation of the law given by contemporary chroniclers; for example, Giovanni Villani, Cronica, ed. G. Dragomanni (Florence 1845) 12.72 (118-119): "Nel detto anno (1346), a di 18 d'Ottobre, si fece ordine e dicreto in Firenze che neuno forestiere fatto cittadino, il quale il padre e l'avolo ed egli non fossono nati in Firenze o nel contado, non potesse avere alcuno uficio, non ostante che fusse eletto o insaccato, sotto certa grande pena." For additional evidence, see Brucker (n. 12 above) 116-117. An earlier description of this law, provided by Becker and Brucker (n. 27 above) 100, is incorrect.

A S F Statuti del comune di Firenze, 10.5.201 fol. 29r-v. A S F P r o w . 39 fol. 188: " E t quod insuper nullus ipsorum civium factorum seu fiendorum ut dictum est, seu qui consecuti fuerunt dicta beneficia possit elligi vel assumi seu depu31

32

302

JULIUS KIRSHNER

the hundreds of new families were recruited into the body politic between 1352 and 1379 discloses that the government interpreted this law, especially its clause allowing for an open-ended period of probation, with immense latitude. The majority of these naturalized citizens were disqualified from holding not only the three supreme executive offices, but also every other communal office for a period ranging from the legal minimum of ten years to twenty, twenty-five, and thirty years. Some new citizens were even permanently barred from the office-holding class.33 These restrictions were rigorously enforced. My own preliminary analysis of the commune's electoral records strongly suggests that only a few members of families naturalized after 1352 reached the most prestigious and lucrative offices in the city, and thus one must proceed with utmost caution before identifying these cives ex privilegio with the gente nuova who in fact passed through the portals of high public office in the second half of the trecento.34 Furthermore, one must not view

tari vel esse ad aliquod seu in aliquo infrascriptiorum officiorum, videlicet: officii prioratus artium et vexilliferatus iustitie, officii gonfaloneriatus societatum populi et officii duodecim bonorum virorum communis Florentie inde ad decern annos a die quo facti fuerunt seu erunt cives seu beneficium assecuti, set ad quodlibet ipsorum officiorum intelligantur inhabilles; salvo omni maiore tempore apposito vel apponendo in aliquo seu aliquibus casibus singularibus, specialibus vel generalibus." This prohibition was attached to the above mentioned law of August 1352, which dealt with satisdation, and the requirement of satisdation itself, it should be noted, was a central element of the "politics of compromise." 33 My conclusion rests upon a thorough examination of the provvisioni for the years 13521379. According to my reading of this legislative record, very close to 225 men and their families were granted citizenship in this period. I allow for a small margin of error, since this massive thicket of provisions has a way of deceiving even the most eagle-eyed. To supply references here would overburden this paper, but I intend to present them at a later date. Doubtless, the aggregate number of formally naturalized citizens and their families in these years was higher than 225. As is well known, the agreements ("pacta") Florence made with her dependencies often included stipulations for naturalization; see Kirshner (n. 22 above) 229ff. How many individuals flocked to Florence and became citizens under these pacta? The answer awaits further research, but I would conjecture that the total number lies somewhere in the hundreds and not in the thousands. An incomplete, though useful list of naturalized citizens can be found in an eighteenth-century cittadinario housed in ASF Manoscritti 419.1-31. Employing this source for his article "Civism and Roman Law," Riesenberg has written t h a t for the period 1306-1400 the cittadinario lists 183 new citizens, among whom were one doctor of decretals and one civilian. His figures are incorrect; 274 new citizens are listed including (1) the civilian, Francesco di Bici d'Albergotti, (2) the canonist, Messer Matteo di Bartolomeo da Narni, and (3) Baldo degli Ubaldi, "doctor utriusque iuris." On Albergotti, see my "Messer Francesco di Bici degli Albergotti d'Arezzo, Citizen of Florence," Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law, n.s. 2 (1972) 84-90. 34 My interpretation—admittedly tentative—is aimed at underscoring the distinction between gente nuova and cives ex privilegio in the period after 1350, a distinction blurred in the works cited above (nn. 22, and 27). After examining a variety of lists of office-holders, I have discovered only three families naturalized ex statuto between 1350 and 1400 who earned the honor of having their members elected to the priorate or the two executive col-

"ARS IMITATUR NATURAM"

303

political inequality in Florence as a pathology or as a residue of social and political institutions which were dysfunctional. The politics of inequality—so antithetical to the preconceptions of modern liberal historians—were in keeping with the hierarchical structures of the tre- and quattrocento. A society conceived and structured hierarchically and a society obsessed with ancestry militated against a true florescence of civic equality in late medieval and Renaissance Florence. At the same time, a large number among the naturalized citizens eventually participated in civic life by holding lesser offices. The commune's policy on office-holding was purposefully elastic in relation to jurists and notaries, whose expertise provided the essential lubricant of the day-to-day business of government and society within the city and outside, in her expanding domains. Arriving from the territory of Florence and other parts of Italy, they were customarily invited to join the guild of lawyers and notaries ("Arte dei Giudici e Notai") without paying the matriculation fee, and often were welcomed into the service of the state. 35 SER ORLANDO'S PREDICAMENT

On balance, after reviewing a variety of statutory requirements and actual communal practices relating to the cives ex privilegio, the government had greeted Ser Orlando's petition in a routine manner, with neither joy nor harshness. Surely, that is how one might expect the legislators to have responded to a man of meager status, with nothing to commend himself but a single act of distinguished service, and with apparently no local patron, individual, or guild, to help him acquire exemptions from the normal regulations binding upon new citizens. Nonetheless, as one ponders this grant of citizenship, certain ineluctable questions arise. If it was true, as Ser Orlando asseverated, that he and his family had been reduced to penury, how would he find the necessary funds for the construction of a house mandated by the law of 1378? How would he find the requisite sum to pay the costly matriculation fee demanded by the guild of lawyers and notaries, membership in which would have given him the right to pursue his profession and the opportunity to find means of support ? Why did the commune notify him that he would have to bide his time in limbo for a period of ten years before assuming a notarial post, the income from which would also have provided a livelihood? And finally,

leges. They were (1) Albergotti (naturalized 1350), (2) del Nero (naturalized 1356), and (3) Tempi (naturalized 1369). References: ASF Tratte, 66, 78, 79, 188-193; Priorista del palazzo; Priorista mariani; Manoscritti, 265-266. Of course, the electoral records, as Martines (n. 27 above, 206) has rightly stressed, are a rather imperfect mirror of political power, personal and family authority, and social rank. 3 5 Kirshner (n. 22 above) 236ff.

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who would gamble on Ser Orlando's bleak future by standing surety for his debts ? In human terms, the government had been insensitive to Ser Orlando's predicament. Swept through the councils, his petition was given only perfunctory approval. But the reward of citizenship turned out to be empty, one with a built-in handicap. By not having waived the statutory obligations to which the cives ex privilegio were bound, the government had set in motion Ser Orlando's return trip to his precitizen status. THE CASE

What appears to us to be a probable consequence in the light of retrospection became known to communal officials within a few weeks after Ser Orlando became a citizen. He alerted communal authorities that he was too povertystricken to construct a new house. Recalling his former service to the city, he petitioned the government to set aside the housing regulation and payment of the matriculation fee for the "Arte dei Guidici e Notai." On 21 December 1379 the councils assented to his entreaty, and authorized his matriculation in the guild "come vero et originale cittadino senza alcuno pagamento."36 Whatever ebullience Ser Orlando may have felt about this sweet change in fortune was soon dampened. Sometime during the winter of 1379-1380, he was notified by the office of the notary in charge of legislation that he had not 38

ASF P r o w . 68 fol. 188v-89: "Dinanzi a voi magnifici signori . . . signori priori dell' arti et gonfaloniere della iustitia del popolo et del comune di Firenze, humilmente si pone et domandasi per parte di Ser Orlando di Giovanni nostro cittadino, che con ciò sia cosa che del mese di novembre proximo passato il decto ser Orlando fosse facto nostro cittadino, et per vigore d'alcuno ordine et statuto il decto Ser Orlando sia tenuto et debbia fare una casa nella città di Firenze infra un'anno et anchora fosse tenuto a sodare infra uno mese dal dì che fu obtenuto ne'consigli opportuni di fare la decta casa, et se infra uno mese il decto Ser Orlando non a fatto il decto sodamento per vigore dei decti ordini, la decta riformagione et provisione non vaglia et non vale. E t con ciò sia cosa che il decto Ser Orlando sia povero et inpotente, perocché fu et è disfacto et diserto per le carte le quali fece dinanzi a papa Gregorio al tempo dello interdecto, essendo richiesto tucto il popolo di Firenze audire la sentenza, perocché a pena l'avere a la persona a qualunque notaio facesse le decte carte per parte del comune di Firenze come alla nostra signoria è assai, noto e manifesto, et non abbia potuto ne potesse sodare infra al decto tempo di fare la decta casa a dimanda che vi piaccia misericordevolmente fare provedere il decto Ser Orlando non essere istato, ne essere tenuto a fare la decta casa, ne avere facto ne fare il decto sodamento e Ila decta riformagione et provisione essere valida come se Ile predecte cose tossano state et tossano facte per lo decto Ser Orlando, considerata maximamente la sua povertà. E t ancora con ciò sia ch'el decto Ser Orlando sia povero et inpotente et non potesse pagare alla matricola, quello che usanza di pagare per gli altri alla decta matricola, che il proconsolo del'arte de' giudici et dei notai della città di Firenze sia tenuto et debbia incontinente come sara richiesto per parte del decto Ser Orlando esso Ser Orlando admettere et descrivere fare alla decta arte et matricola come vero et originale cittadino, senza alcuno pagamento fare alla decta arte per la decta cagione o altra graveza, non obstante nelle sopradecte cose alcuno ordine, statuto et riformagione della decta arte che contro accio facesse .

305

"ARS IMITATUR NATURAM"

performed satisdation as required by the law of August 1352. Once informed of his lapse, he hurried to the palazzo pubblico to make the overdue guarantee.37 His action was to no avail. Strictly adhering to the letter of the requirement, the government decided in this instance to enforce the statute of 1352 against the notary and thereby deprive him of his citizenship. Protesting the government's abrupt decision, Ser Orlando contended that he had not intentionally transgressed the law. He supported his claim by pointing out that in fact the requirement of 1352 had not been mentioned in the statute granting him citizenship, and that he had been simply ignorant of the requirement until it was brought to his attention. The government believed otherwise, construing his ignorance as willful, with an underlying intention to defraud the commune. Furthermore, communal authorities contended that Ser Orlando was no longer eligible for a notarial office in light of the prohibition against foreigners and naturalized citizens contained in the Statuti del capitano del popolo (1355) and a new law of September 1379. The legislation of 1379, enacted at a moment when native resentment against naturalized citizens ran high, forbade, among other things the cives ex privilegio to stand as candidates for office, if they originally hailed from an area outside the present territory of Florence.38 Ser Orlando's case was not treated in a summary manner; he would have his day in "court." Although immediate action on the part of the government could have stripped Ser Orlando of his citizenship, city officials instead requested legal counsel. This step was not inspired by lenient feelings towards the notary. It seems that his case inadvertently raised for the first time serious and legitimate questions about the validity of the law of 1352, which were too dangerous to ignore. In such moments laymen occupying communal magistracies had often sought the help of lawyers to unravel complicated legal tangles arising from conflicts, ambiguities, inconsistencies, and lacunae in the body of statutes. Normally, three or more jurists were asked to deliver opinions on a single case, and there may well have been concurring opinions dealing with Ser Orlando's problem, but so far I have been unsuccessful in finding them. THE CONSILIUM

For the solitary opinion that we do possess, available evidence indicates that Baldus was most likely its author. Several scholars have unflinchingly assumed that Baldus authored the opinion for one simple reason: the edited version is signed, "Ego Baldus."39 The manuscript copy is, however, lacking a 37

Text, lines 51-52 below.

38

A S F P r o w . 68 fols. 120v. For details see Kirshner (n. 22 above) 239-242. 39 D. Bizzari, Ricerche sul diritto di cittadinanza nella constituzione comunale, published in her collected works Studi di storia del diritto italiano ed. F. P a t e t t a and M. Chiaudano (Turin 1937) 106; P. Riesenberg, "Civism and R o m a n Law in Fourteenth-Century Italian Society,"

306

JULIUS KIRSHNER

signature, thus raising legitimate doubts about its paternity, which must be discussed. In the absence of the original manuscript, the appearance of Baldus's name in the edition does not in itself warrant the airtight conclusion that he actually penned the consilium. Nor is the attribution confirmed by the testimony of late fourteenth- and fifteenth-century jurists. Although Baldus was cited as a leading authority on the law of citizenship, to my knowledge, there is no specific reference made to this opinion in the literature of his disciples. Florentine sources are also silent on Baldus's involvement in Ser Orlando's case. Nevertheless, there are other consilia bearing the jurist's siglum, which deal with Florentine cases contemporaneous with Ser Orlando's.40 Such additional evidence, though circumstantial, points to Baldus's participation in events taking place in Florence in the winter of 1379-1380. Before we can assign authorship to Baldus, two crucial questions must still be answered. Given the institutional arrangement for the commissioning of consilia sapientis in Florence, was Baldus technically capable of accepting such a commission ? If so, was he in the Arno city to render these opinions ? Baldus's association with Florence can be characterized as intimate. He accepted an invitation to teach at the Studio Fiorentino in 1358 for which he was paid a handsome salary.41 On 9 October of the following year he was granted Florentine citizenship,42 and was also permitted to matriculate in the guild of lawyers and notaries.43 According to Florentine law and the guild's statutes, as a citizen and a full-fledged member of the guild, Baldus was definite-

Explorations in Economic History 7 (Fall/Winter 1969) 243-244; for details on both the manuscript and editions, see below p. 324. 40 See cons. 59 in his Consilia 1. fois. 18va-19a, and a manuscript copy of this consilium in Lucca, Biblioteca capitolare feliniana, cod. 351 fols. 90v-92v; see also cons. 264, in his Consilia 3. fol. 67va-b. 41 Statuti della università e studio fiorentini, ed. A. Gherardi, Documenti di storia di italiana (Florence 1881) 7: 288. doc. 13; 292. doc. 16; 303. doc. 29. 42 T. Cuturi, "Baldo degli Ubaldi in Firenze," in L'opera di Baldo, per cura dell'Università di Perugia nel v centenario della morte del grande giureconsulto (Perugia 1901) 366-369. 43 ASF Arte dei Giudici e Notai 28 fol. 39 (26 May 1361): "Cum per formam statutorum diete artis quilibet iudex qui voluerit huic collegio aggregari debeat ante omnia probare se studuisse in studio generali per quinquennium et se fore civem civitatis Florentie et quedam alia et soluere diete arti florenos aureos sedecim, et pro examine testium libras quatuor sp.; et cum presens proconsul una cum tunc consulibus dicte artis et advertentes quod notorium est quod dominus Baldus de Perusio fuit et est legum doctor et studuit ut exigitur et est civis civitatis Florentie (emphasis mine), unde visum fuit eis probationem predictam non expedire; et cum ipse soluerit camerario diete artis seu eius vicecamerario pro dicta arte recipiente dictam quantitatem florenorum auri sedecim, providerunt, deliberaverunt et ordinaverunt quod dictus dominus Baldus absque dicta solempnitate et probatione et absque dicta solutione iiii or librarum recipi et admicti potuerit in dieta arte et matricula et collegio diete artis, et quod dictus camerarius et eius vicecamerarius sit liber et absolutus a dieta quantitate librarum quatuor." In another document, dated 4 January 1363, Baldus is mentioned as a member ("arrotus") of one of the guild's ad hoc commissions; ibid. fol. 95v.

307

"ARS IMITATUR NATURAM"

ly in the position to receive and fulfill requests for Consilia.44 In fact, we know that during his tenure at the university, which lasted until 1364, he was asked by the city's magistrates to submit formal opinions on a variety of legal matters.45 After leaving Florence, he returned to teach in his native city of Perugia, then transferred to the University of Padua in 1376, where he remained until November 1379. After departing from Padua, he appeared in Perugia on 17 January 1380 and resumed his chair at the University there later that year.46 But his professional and public activity during December and early January of 1379-1380 has never been precisely determined. Traveling south from Padua, it is conceivable and likely that Baldus visited Florence and delivered the opinion under discussion. Based on the evidence presented above, what we have is a solid and probable link between the jurist and Ser Orlando's case. And this link is further strengthened, as we turn to the consilium itself in order to examine its doctrinal content, and compare it with related opinions and statements contained in Baldus's works. ISSUES

Prefixed to the consilium, as we have noted, was a condensed version of the relevant statutes and events which formed the background to the case.47 Following the recapitulation of the facts were the legal questions that city officials wanted clarified and to which the jurists would address himself. There were three major questions: (1) Although Ser Orlando solemnly guaranteed to pay his taxes, was he actually obligated to perform this legal duty in the first place? (2) Had Ser Orlando delayed in satisfying this obligation ("in mora prestandi") to the extent that he may be deprived of his benefits and privileges of citizenship ? (3) Was Ser Orlando eligible to hold a notarial post in the government, not withstanding the restrictions of the Statuti del capitano 44

On membership in the guild of lawyers, see L. Martines, Lawyers and Statecraft in Renaissance Florence (Princeton 1968) U f f . ; Kirshner (n. 22 above) 236-238. 48 Consilia, 1 cons. 290 fols. 80b-81a; cons. 408 fols. 120vb-121va; 2. cons. 218 fol. 56vab; cons. 373 fol. 115a-vab; 3 cons. 384 fols. 99vb-100a; cons. 423 fols. 108vb-109a; 5. cons. 395 fols. 120va-121vb. 46 For details, see F. C. von Savigny, Geschichte des römischen Rechts im Mittelalter, ed. 2, 6 vols. (Heidelberg 1846-1850) 6.220-224; O. Sclavanti, "Notizie e documenti sulla vita di Baldo, Angelo e Pietro degli Ubaldi," L'opera di Baldo (n. 42 above) 210ff.; N. Tamassia, "Baldo studiato nelle sue opere," Scritti di storia giuridica, 2 vols. (Padua 1967) 2.484; G. Ermini, Storia della Università di Perugia (Bologna 1947) 124. 47 Interestingly, no mention was made of the statute of 21 December 1379 which absolved Ser Orlando from satisfying the requirement of constructing a house. This omission raises the tantalizing question of whether the consilium was penned prior to the twenty-first— always a possibility. But there are good reasons for thinking otherwise. First, the issues revolving around the requirement of satisdation could not technically arise until 24 December, one month after the notary was naturalized. Second, the exemption relating to householders was simply not an issue in this case, and, therefore, the need for citing the statute was absent.

308

JULIUS

KIRSHNER

(1355) and the law of September 1379? Submerged under these clear-cut technical questions was a more fundamental issue: the determination of the nature and legal worth of Ser Orlando's civic rank as of 24 November 1379, the day he became a citizen of Florence. On a formal level, the commune had neither questioned nor denied that Ser Orlando was a citizen. Still, it did not view him as a full-fledged citizen, but as a citizen manqué, who had not really attained the rank of "verus civis." The government's case against Ser Orlando was definitely initiated on the assumption that the statutory grant of 24 November, which spoke of the notary and his male progeny as "veri et originali et antichi cittadini," was conditional, and only by meeting communal regulations in the specified manner would the grant take force in perpetuity. Although Ser Orlando had wooed and expressed his love for Florence, the government was claiming that his affair with the city had never been consummated. Even if Ser Orlando had observed the letter of the law, communal policy would not equate his "privilegium civilitatis" with the civic privileges enjoyed by native citizens—those whose fathers and/or grandfathers were born in the city proper and in the contado. This nativist policy was vigorously applied to the requirements for office-holding, and we have seen how the government fettered Ser Orlando's capacity to hold office. As a practical matter, the scales of Florentine citizenship were tilted in favor of the cives originarii. del popolo

BALDUS'S

OPINION

After examining the relevant statutes and pertinent facts of Ser Orlando's case, Baldus's response to Florentine nativism was cool and unequivocal: the notary must not suffer expulsion from the Florentine citizenry. As he wrote in his opening statment: To the first question, it can be briefly stated that it is not necessary for Ser Orlando to make the stipulated guarantee, nor had he delayed in satisfying this obligation, and consequently, he is not deprived of his citizenship, but, on the contrary, he is and ought to be reckoned a true citizen of Florence by countless reasons.48 Having settled the question of Ser Orlando's innocence in his own mind, there was no urgent need for Baldus to construct a multitiered opinion that searchingly probes the claims of both litigants. In lieu of an opinion argued "eleganter pro et contra," to use a favorite conceit of the jurists, we are witness to a tersely written defense of Ser Orlando's claim to Florentine citizenship, based upon a philosophical validation of the process of naturalization, 49 coupled 48 48

Text, lines 66-70 below. See appendix below.

309

"ARS IMITATUR NATURAM"

with a barrage of conventional arguments pinpointing the technical inadequacies in the case presented by the government. NATURALIZATION

In theory, the construct "verus civis" was a purely legal ascription entitling its bearer to enjoy all the fruits, while requiring him to discharge all the obligations of citizenship as determined by Roman law and the statutes and customs of a city-state. The major hurdle confronting Baldus and his contemporaries was to explain precisely how a noncitizen (a foreigner or rustic) acquires this civic title. The theoretical gulf dividing native citizens from the cives ex statuto appeared unbridgeable, particularly in the light of the teachings of medieval jurists that "origo non potest mutari," which was generally interpreted to mean that original citizenship could not be conferred by positive law. As the North-Italian jurist Alberico da Rosciate (d. 1360) bluntly put it: "original citizenship cannot be acquired per accidens."50 The very statutes that extended the privileges of original citizenship to foreigners, moreover, magnified the chasm between natives and newcomers by employing verbal matrices denoting legal fiction and supposition. The phrases "as if" and "as though" (quasi, tamquam, velut and ac si),51 punctuating civiparous legislation, announced that the privilegium civilitatis was analogous to, but not the same as original citizenship. Similarly, jurists construed the common expressions "habeatur pro cive" and "intelligatur ut civis," which were pointedly written

6 0 To D.50.2 (supra rubrica), Super digesto novo commentarium (Venice 1586), 2.fol. 233va: "Cives quidam sunt origine propria, quidam paterna, propria est in loco in quo quis natus est, licet alibi conceptus fuerit . . . et ita istam non potest quis mutare per accidens, et ille qui non habet earn non potest per accidens acquirere, ut d. 1. assumptio [£>.50.1.6] in principio, ubi de hoc videas, et ratio quia inest a natura, ut ibidem probatur, et ideo per accidens mutari non potest." Alberico's opinions were based on the maxim "origo non potest mutari," rooted in the Roman law and the glosses of the medieval jurists: £>.50.1.6, Adsumptio, and C.10.39.4, Origine propria; Azo, to C.10.39.3, Nec ipsi, Ad singulas leges X11 librarum codicis Iustinianei (Lyons 1596) 1098; Glossa ordinaria, to £».50.1.6, 6 vols. (Venice 1591) 3. 1703; Odofredo, to C.10.39.4, Super tribus libris codicis (Lyons 1552) fol. 43a; Andrea de Barulo, to C.10.39.4, Commentaria super tribus posiremis libris codicis (Venice 1601) 95; Dino del Mugello, to .D.50.1.6: "propter meum affirmare vel negare originem rei Veritas non mutatur hie, dy; Bologna, Collegio di Spagna, cod. 283, fol. 233vb. An anonymous gloss of the late thirteenth century or very early fourteenth century, to £>.50.1.6: "patria per originem acquisita non potest mutari, et hie intendit"; Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, cod. ross. 586 fol. 188b. 6 1 S. Riccobono has discussed the importance of these terms in the construction of legal fictions: "Formulae ficticiae: Normal Means of Creating Law," in Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis 9 (1929) 13ff. My understanding of the legal fiction underlying naturalization has been greatly aided by L. L. Fuller, Legal Fiction (Stanford, California 1967). I have also profited from the perceptive remarks of H. Maine, The Early History of Institutions (London 1875) 229ff.

310

JULIUS KIRSHNER

in the subjunctive, as an indication of legal fiction, and thus hypothetical original citizenship.52 The solution to the problem of naturalization was elaborated at the crossroads of scholastic logic, grammar, and the psychology of intention. Bartolus sought to resolve the theoretical puzzle in his celebrated repetitio on the lex Si is qui pro emptore § expediii (Z).41.3.15). He taught, as I have already noted, that true citizens can be legitimately created by the statutes of a city-state. 63 This assertive proposition, which he repeated again and again, served as the major premise of the following syllogism: True citizens can be made by statute. X is made a citizen by statute. X is therefore a true citizen. He qualified this inference by admitting that if the new citizen acquires only limited privileges, he is not a true citizen, but a citizen "secundum fictionem." In contrast, when a statute declares that an individual may be considered a citizen with respect to all the privileges and duties attendant upon original citizenship ("habeatur pro cive quoad omnia") then he is a citizen "secundum veritatem." Acutely aware that he was overriding legal tradition, and that his thesis would face rigorous opposition from conservative members of his profession, Bartolus nonetheless persisted in his opinion that the words "habeatur pro cive quoad omnia" "are more an expression of proper meaning and truth rather than a signification of improper meaning or fiction." His contention was linked to his belief that when the legislators used the above expression they in fact intended to create true citizens.54 52

This was the common doctrine. Alberico da Rosciate, Dictionarium iuris tam civilis quean canonici (Venice 1581) s.v. intelligatur: "intelligatur ipsa re stipulatio subiecta, i(d est) fingitur, licet non sit." See n. 57 below. Statutes forged under political and social pressures, however, did not always reflect the ratiocinations of jurisprudents. In a Florentine ordinance of 1286 both the natives and statuory citizens were included under the construction "habeantur pro cive." "Et illi habeantur pro civibus, qui sunt originarii de civitate Florentie vel hii qui per decennium ipsi vel eorum patres vel avi solverunt libras et factiones in civitate Florentie, et etiam hii qui de comitatu vel de alio loco se transtulerunt ad civitatem;" G. Salvemini, Magnati e popolani in Firenze 1280-1295 (Florence 1899) 352-353. 53

For full references and details, see Kirshner (n. 1 above). To D.41.3.15: "Pone ergo statuit civitas, quod nullus possit effici civis nisi de voluntate maioris consilii ipse praesens in consilio recipiatur, ut alii cives. Modo factum est postea ibi statutum, quod Florentini habeantur pro civibus, nunquid ergo statuta loquentia de civibus habebunt locum in Florentinis ? Dicunt quidam, quod non, quia cum non sint effecti cives non comprehenduntur in verbis statuti. Praeterea, aliud est esse civem, aliud est haberi pro cive vel loco civis. Pro hoc inducebat lac. de Are. infra, de adulte., 1. si maritus [Z).48.5.16 (15)]. Pro hoc videtur gl. in verb, mangones infra, de ver. sig., 1. mercis appelatione [D.50.16.66]. . . . Tu vero ex praedictis latius dicas. Nam licet constitutio civium iuris sit, tamen aliquid facti habet tam de iure communi d. 1. cives, C. de incol. [C.10.40 (39).7] 54

"ARS IMITATUR

311

NATURAM"

Elsewhere, Bartolus resorted to the genus-species construct to demonstrate that acquired citizenship was true. 65 The cives originarii and the cives ex statuto, he proposed, are two distinct but equiponderate species, conjoined under a general category or genus of citizens, termed the "cives de civitate" and "cives civitatis." The indelible characteristics distinguishing native from nonnative citizens—a blood relationship and birth on the soil of the civitas —were neatly dissolved in the following triangular relationship: citizenry

native

citizens (species)

(genus)

statutory

citizens (species)

Citing Bartolus in the consilium at hand, Baldus gave his blessing to the authority of municipal councils to create citizens, and stated that "true citizenship can be conferred by citizens upon foreigners." 56 B u t he rejected Bartolus's philosophical schema for not being in groove with the mandates of grammar, logic, and experience. H e especially protested the surgical logic by which his mentor removed the fiction underlying civiparous legislation; and he protested his mentor's formula for eradicating those intrinsically distinctive qualities separating original from nonoriginal citizenship. Lecturing on the lex Quoniam intelligatur (D.3.2.5), for example, he informed his students "that the expression 'habeatur et intelligatur' indicates fiction, since by reason of its subject it cannot designate truth." 57 In his lecture on the lex Ait praetor§haec

quam etiam de forma dicti statuti. Aut ergo illud factum, quod requiritur non intercessit, puta, quia non fuerunt presentes recepti, quod tunc habes necesse dicere eos cives secundum tamen in reformatione continetur quod habeatur pro cive talis qui erat praesens in Consilio, et tunc aut dicit, quod habeatur pro cive quoad quaedam tantum, et est civis secundum fictionem, non secundum veritatem. Aut illud factum fictum, quod requiritur intercessit; fictionem . . . aut dixit, quod habeatur pro cive quoad omnia, et tunc erit civis secundum veritatem. . . . E t si opponis mihi, quod ista oratio, habeatur pro cive, etc. denotat fictionem . . . , respondeo quod denotantia fictionem et improprietatem, si apponantur in lege iuxta id quod potest esse verum secundum veritatem et proprietatem, magis dicuntur verba proprietatis et veritatis expressiva quam improprietatis vel fictionis significativa"; (Venice 1570) 5.fol. 104va. See also his commentary on D.48.5.16 (15) Si maritus, § legis Iuliae, 6.fol. 170b. Unfortunately, I have not been able to locate the opinion of Iacopo d'Arena nor have I been successful in determining the contemporary legists who may have been opposed to Bartolus's interpretation. For another reference to d'Arena's opinion, see Giovanni da Legnano, Tractatus de bello, de represaliis et de duello ed. T. E. Holland (Washington 1917) 160, cap. 129. 55

For references and details, see Kirshner (n. 1 above). Text, lines 72-73 below. 57 "Posses etiam allegare ex isto textu quod verbum 'habeatur et intelligatur' significat fictionem, quoniam ratione materiae non potest designari Veritas"; Opera, 10 vols, in 8, (Venice 1586) l.fol.l66a. 66

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JULIUS KIRSHNER

verba (£>.3.5.3), he denied Bartolus's explanation "that true citizenship can be established by statute just as true citizenship arose through ancestry, because citizenship contains under itself many species and each species is true. . . . Wherefore it is not true that statutory citizens are fictive citizens." For Baldus, these citizens are fictive citizens.58 The theoretical grounds for Baldus's position were presented in his commentary on the lex Omnem republicae nostrae (D. [prooemium] 1.2). It is one thing, he posited, to be a citizen of Padua "naturaliter et originaliter," another to share rights with native citizens, just as it is one thing to be naturally legitimate, something else to acquire legitimation under the canopy of the civil law.59 This distinction is based in turn on other distinctions, between similarity and sameness, between extrinsic qualities and essence, and between art and nature. The cives ex statuto cannot claim a true and proper native identity, because statutory citizenship resembles, but is not absolutely congruent with original citizenship. Directing this line of reasoning against Bartolus, he declared: Citizenship "in specie," that is, when it is made to correspond to original citizenship, is not true but fictitious: because an adventitious relationship cannot be true, nor can it represent sameness, but can stand for similarity. For no art and no ability of man will be able to make a person, who is not a native, a true native citizen, but will be well able to represent that person as an original citizen in facsimile and in fiction.60 58

"Ipse (Bartolus) dicit quod vera civilitas ita potest induci per statutum, sicut per originem cum civilitas habeat sub se plures species et omnis species vera sit. . . . Unde non est verum quod isti sunt cives ficti, imo sunt veri cives, quia quotiens lex potest aliquid introducere ut veritatem, intelligatur introducere vere, non ficte secundum Bartolum, qui ita no. infra, de usuc., 1. si is qui pro emptore [D.41.3.15]. Praetera posito, quod isti essent ficti cives, Privilegium vel reformationes eorum recipiunt interpretationem passivam, ut leges que de civibus loquuntur, porrigantur ad eos tarn ad favorem quam ad odium"; l.fol. 197vb. 59 "Aliud est naturaliter et originaliter civem esse Paduae, aliud habere iura cum civibus, ut no. in 1. mercis, de verb. sig. [D.50.16.66], sicut aliud est esse naturaliter legitimum, et aliud civiliter legitimatum, licet uterque legitimus habeat iura in succedendo"; l.fol. 4va-b. 80 Ibid.: "Et no. quod illud quod non simpliciter dicitur, est magis simile quam idem: quia qualitas est una, sed substantia sive natura est diversa, non ob. quod no. Bartolus, de usuca, 1. si is qui pro emptore, ubi dicit quod ilia verba 'habeantur pro cive' faciant vere cives; quia civilitas in genere est vera; quia una species eius est per accidens. Sed civilitas in specie, id est relatione facta ad originalem civilitatem, non est vera sed ficta: quia accidens non potest esse verum, sed potest esse simile, vel fingi idem. Nulla enim ars et nullum ingenium hominis poterit facere eum esse originalem verum in carentibus origine, sed bene poterit inducere similitudinem esse et fictionem, facit C. de iur., annu. au. 1. 2 [C.6.8.2], et quod ibi piene not. et facit infra, de adopt., 1. 1, [D.I.7.1] et 1. non adopt. [-D.I.7.38] et infra, de sta. ho., 1. in urbe [D.I.5.17] et infra, de verb. sig. 1. aedific. [£>.50.15.139] < e t > 1. 2, de usuc. [D.41.3.2] earum rerum. Bai." His rebuttal of Bartolus was cited in a late fourteenth-century manual, the Tractalus de slatutis (a convenient collection of the opinions of both Bartolus and Baldus on a wide

313

"ARS IMITATUR N A T U R A M "

T h r o u g h o u t B a l d u s ' s c r i t i q u e , i t m u s t b e e m p h a s i z e d , t h e t e r m s fictio, a n d per accidens Veritas,

natura,

connotations.

ars,

were conceived as strictly logical counterparts t o t h e trinity a n d essentia,

and were not intended to convey

derogatory

Quite the opposite—the philosopher-advocate viewed the three

former terms under t h e m o s t positive light, as t h e philosophico-legal categories from which nonoriginal citizenship emanates.61 T o Baldus, nonoriginal citizens h i p is i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m t h e p h i l o s o p h i c a n d l e g a l n o t i o n of t h e l e g i s l a t o r a n d j u r i s t a s a n a r t i s t , b o t h of w h o m s h a r e i n t h e c a p a c i t y t o i m i t a t e a n d a p p r o x i m a t e nature and truth.62

A s E r n s t K a n t o r o w i c z r e m i n d s us,

"fiction

was

r a t h e r s o m e t h i n g a r t f u l l y ' c r e a t e d ' b y t h e art of t h e j u r i s t s ; i t w a s a n a c h i e v e m e n t t o his credit b e c a u s e fiction m a d e m a n i f e s t certain legal

consequences

w h i c h h a d b e e n h i d d e n b e f o r e or w h i c h b y n a t u r e d i d n o t e x i s t . " 6 3

Fictions

w e r e u s e d t o c r e a t e a v e r i t a b l e r e a l m of l e g a l e n t i t i e s ; t h e y w e r e p a r t i c u l a r l y u s e f u l i n c a s e s w h e r e a b l o o d r e l a t i o n s h i p w a s d e f e c t i v e or a b s e n t , s u c h a s adoption,

legitimation,

as

well

as

naturalization.

The

affinities

between

fiction and truth and art and nature run threadlike through Baldus's lectures o n t h e c o n c e p t of " f i c t i o . "

"Fiction i m i t a t e s nature," B a l d u s opined, "and for

t h a t reason fiction can t a k e place o n l y where t r u t h m a y h a v e its place."64

variety of topics relating to statutes): " S t a t u t u m dictat quod Florentini sint originarii cives Perusini. Certe illud verbum, ' s i n t ' , exponitur: id est, finguntur, quia non potest auctoritas statuentium naturalis rei m u t a r e veritatem a fictio"; Tractatus de statutis, in Tractatus universi iuris (Venice 1584) 2. fol. 98, s.v. cives, civitas. On t h e composition of this work, see Savigny (n. 46 above) 6.247-248; G. degli Azzi, "Il t r a t t a t o De statutis e gli statuti di Perugia," in L'opera di Baldo (n. 42 above) 145ff. For a discussion of t h e antinomies, "species-genus," "similis-idem," "qualitas-substantia," and "accidentia-essentia," used in thirteenth-and fourteenth-century jurisprudence, see V. Piano Mortari, "Dialettica e giurisprudenza, Studio sui t r a t t a t i di dialettica del sec. 16," Annali di Storia del diritto 1 (1957) 314ff., 336ff.; N. Horn, Aequitas in den Lehren des Baldus (Cologne 1968) 120ff; M. Sbriccioli, L'interpretazione dello statuto (Milan 1969) 300ff., 375ff.; G. Otte, Dialektik und Jurisprudenz. Untersuchungen zur Methode der Glossatoren ( F r a n k f u r t am Main 1971) 47ff. 61 On Baldus's use of legal fictions, I am indebted to t h e forgotten b u t important work of L. Barassi, "Le ficliones juris in Baldo," in L'opera di Baldo (n. 42 above) 113-138. 62 Baldus's sources were t h e R o m a n legal tradition and Aristotelian-scholastic philosophy. On this theme, see W. Ullmann, "Baldus's Conception of t h e Law," Law Quarterly Review 58 (1942) 390-391; G. Post, Medieval Legal Studies (Princeton 1964) 517ff; E. Kantorowicz, "Sovereignty of t h e Artist: A Note on Legal Maxims and Renaissance Theories of A r t , " Selected Studies of Ernst Kantorowicz (Locust Valley, New York 1965) 352ff.; E . Cortese, La norma giuridica 2 vols. (Milan 1964) 2.26; L. Lachance, Le concept de droit selon Aristote et S. Thomas (Montreal 1933) 172ff.; T. Gilby, Principality and Polity: Aquinas and the Rise of State Theory in the West (London 1958) 162-175. There was also a biblical s t r a t u m to Baldus's conception of t h e judge imitating t r u t h . To D. 10.1.8, Si irruptione, he wrote: "Iudex ergo . . . ipsam veritatem imitatur . . . quia Christus dixit de se, Ego sum Veritas et via"; Opera 1. fol. 322vb. 63

Kantorowicz 355. To D. 17.2.3, Ea vero; Opera 2. fol. 120vb: "Fictio ergo imitatur n a t u r a m . Ergo fictio h a b e t locum, ubi potest habere locum Veritas." Here and in t h e next note I have simply 64

314

JULIUS KIRSHNER

Likewise, "art imitates nature as far as it can."65 Fiction must be used, moreover, when the requirements of justice and equity demand it.66 "Fiction is a falsehood," Baldus elucidated, "accepted as truth on behalf of a most special and just claim expressed in law."67 It is in this context that words, "habeatur" and "intelligatur," become expressions approximating and imitating truth.68 Ironically but not surprisingly, these maxims were immediately dependent upon Bartolus's doctrine on "fictiones iuris."69 Yet where Bartolus insisted

followed Kantorowicz's translations, 354. According to Alberico da Rosciate, "Fictio non potest operari plus quam Veritas, ft. de statuliberis, 1. cum haeres § 2 [D.40.7.4] et 1. si triennio [D.40.7.18], Tamen fictio t a n t u m operatur q u a n t u m Veritas" (Diclionarium, s.v. fictio). This use of "fictio" was not restricted to the jurists, b u t was employed by medieval poets and literateurs: G. Paparelli, "Fictio (La definizione dantesca della poesia)," Filologia romanza 7 fase. 3-4 (1960) 1-83, esp. 34ff. 65 To £>.1.7.16, Adoptio, 1, fol. 38va: "Ars n a t u r a m imitatur in q u a n t u m potest." Instructive here is t h e definition of human law offered by Baldus's contemporary, Coluccio Salutati: "Nam sicut ars sequitur imitaturque naturam, sic h u m a n a respiciunt ad divina; et quoniam hominis esse quedam natura, quedam inventione dicuntur, que tamen a Deo sunt, non est inconveniens legem esse divinam, et eius vestigium naturalem, et promulgationem eius quam legem appellamus h u m a n u m . " De nobilitate legum et medicinae ed. E. Garin (Florence 1947) 14. 66

On this point, see Horn (n. 60 above) 118-119. To C.9.2.7, Ea quidem, 9. fol. 208a: "Fictio vero sic diffinitur, fictio est falsitas pro verit a t e accepta ex specialissima et ¡ustissima causa in iure expressa, u t p a t e t ex notatis per 1. non est verisimile [Z).4.2.23] et in tota materia fictionum." The definition of fictio presented by Baldus's brother, Angelo, is analogous b u t more profound: "Unde potes dicere: fictio est in dubietate falsitatis pro veritate assumptio, in casu possibili, ex iusta causa ad inducendum aliquem effectum iuris aequitate naturali non repugnantem." To D.41.3.15, Si quis pro emptore; In I atque II digesti novi partem . . . Commentarla (Venice 1579) fol. 31a. 68 To D.3.2.5: "Sexto no. hie de verbo, intelligatur, quod significat paritatem; unde si s t a t u t u m dicit, quicunque civis non soluerit collectas, intelligatur esse de comitatu, t a n t u m est dicere q u a n t u m in isto casu civis et comitatensis aequiparentur, et sic ammodo omnes leges loquentes de comitatense intelligentur de isto non solvente collectas"; l.fol. 166a. To 73.2.4.8, Adoptivum § Patronum (additio): " E t sic lex quae loquitur de cive, intelligitur de omni eo, qui habet iura civium, licet vere civis non sit. Bai." And in a second additio to t h e same law, he wrote: "Nota quod lex quae l o q u i t u r de patrono habet locum in omni eo, qui habetur pro patrono, et facit quod omnis ille, qui habetur pro cive, comprehendatur appellatione civis"; l.fol. 84va; to C.4.19.16, Si ve possidetis: "Unde si s t a t u t u m dicit quod Fiorentini h a b e a n t u r pro Perusinis, quia hoc nomen significat originem, est fictio; si autem dicit quod h a b e a n t u r pro civibus, quia hoc potest proprie dici de quocunque recepto ad civilitatem, ista est Veritas et non fictio. E t hoc p a t e t ex diffinitione fictionis. Nam fictio est in re certa contraria veritati pro veritate assumptio"; 7. fol. 41a-b. 67

69

To D.41.3.15 § expediti: "Fictio est in re certa, eius quod est possible contra veritatem, pro veritate a iure facta assumptio. Examinemus verba. In re certa, hoc dico ad differentiam praesumptionis: quae praesumit super eo, de quo dubium est. . . . Sequitur eius quod est possible huiusmodi quia super eo quod est impossible non potest fingi. . . . P r o b a t u r eadem per rationem. Ars enim semper imitatur n a t u r a m , et id quod est impossible secundum nat u r a m , est impossible secundum artem. . . . Contra veritatem dico, quia si verum esset, t u n c non esset fictio, sed Veritas. . . . Dico pro veritate, et cetera habet etiam iuris effectum,

"ARS IMITATUR

315

NATURAM"

upon camouflaging their relationship to civiparous legislation, Baldus equally and explicitly insisted upon making them the first principles of naturalization. Applying the concept of "ars imitatur naturam" to Ser Orlando's case, Baldus readily conceded that the notary's citizenship does not stem from the normal (ordinaria) rhythm of nature, which infuses original citizenship with its essential constitution (essentia). In contradistinction to original citizenship ("civilitas ordinaria"), the citizenship bestowed upon Ser Orlando is considered the product of an extraordinary and adventitious process (accidentia, per accidens)—the handiwork of the artist-legislator (ars).70 Ser Orlando's citizenship, however, is not in the slightest way vitiated for being contrived by positive rather than natural law. The definition of true citizenship most certainly corresponds to the notary.71 As Baldus argued with contrapuntal force: He is a true citizen, not by nature but human law, because citizenship is something makable ( f a c t i b i l e ) , and it not only arises through birth but is also effected.72 He can now rightfully partake with native citizens in all the benefits and duties of citizenship. For in Baldus's words, "Ser Orlando was admitted into the number and true essence of the Florentine citizenry." 73 QUESTIONS OF FACT, LAW, A N D

PROCEDURE

Descending from the heights of philosophical jurisprudence, Baldus continued his validation of Ser Orlando's citizenship, now marshaling arguments of a more technical nature. Citizenship, Baldus pointed out, was not given gratuitously but as a reward for renowned merit.74 This type of grant, he contended, is legally valid and cannot be revoked—a prevailing rule among late medieval jurists. To buttress his contention, he enlisted the authority of the

perinde ac si esset in veritate.

Patet in qualibet fictione. Dico a iure facta assumptio, ideo

dico a iure, ut excludantur mendacia et falsitas quae non fiunt a iure, sed ab homine, nec habent iuris effectum et illae non sunt fictiones prout accipimus in materia nostra, ut supra dixi"; 5. fol. 103vb. 70

Text, lines 79-81 below.

71

Text, lines 75-79 below.

Parallel passages to these lines are found in Baldus's com-

mentary to D.4.3.1, Hoc edicto Transeamus

§ est autem,

praetor,

l.fol. 219a; C.6.28.4, Maximum

8. fol. 93b; 7.1.13,

5. fol. 10b. For an analysis of how the term "definitio" was employed

by the jurists, see Piano Mortari (n. 60 above) 314ff; and chapter seven of Otte (n. 60 above 98-120. 72

Text, lines 79-81 below.

This passage is in perfect harmony with Baldus's definition

of law: "ius est sit quae est recta ratio factibilium"; to D.I.1.1, Iuri

(additio);

It also imitates Thomas: "ars est recta ratio factibilium;" 2a-2ae, q. 47. a. 9. ad 2. 73

Text, line 75 below.

74

Text, Unes 106-108 below.

l.fol. 7va.

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JULIUS KIRSHNER

French jurist, Guillaume de Cunh (d. 1335),75 and an opinion of the Roman jurisconsult, Paulus. According to Paulus, when someone rescues another from thieves or enemies, receiving a reward for his action, the grant is considered irrevocable.76 Invoking their authority, Baldus compared Ser Orlando's citizenship to a concession made in perpetuity by the Roman emperor.77 The statute of 1379 which granted Ser Orlando citizenship, the jurist added, takes precedence over the law of 1352 setting the procedure for satisdation. Inserted in both measures as a formality were derogatory clauses that had the effect of partially repealing all contrary legislation. In contemporary legal theory, the earlier statute could only be revoked if it was expressly mentioned in the derogatory clause of the later measure.78 This requirement, Baldus claimed, was met by the statute of 1379 declaring null and void all contrary laws, including those that necessitated specific citation ("mentio specialis").79 There was another reason why the latter enactment has precedence. Where the law of 1352 operated retroactively, the law of 1379 possessed a wider scope. As Baldus disclosed, the law making Ser Orlando a citizen calls him to citizenship "plainly, simply, and for all time." 80 Baldus questioned the constitutional validity of the law of 1352 itself. A revised version of the statutes of the Podesla and Capiiano del Popolo, published in 1355, had not incorporated the law of 1352.81 The exclusion from the code, Baldus charged, renders the earlier law obsolete and formally invalid.82 Subtly, Baldus avoided claiming that the law had actually fallen into desuetude, for it had been in operation through 1379. Rather, it has lost its force through a technical and formal deficiency. His charge derives from the regulations 75 Guillaume de Cunh, t o D . l . 1 . 1 ; Forll, Biblioteca comunale, MS. 143 fol. 3a. The jurist from Toulouse was admired b y Baldus and was very much influenced by Guillaume's opinions. See the introduction by E. M. Meijers to Baldus's Repetitio super lege Cunctospopulos (C.l.1.1), in Tractatus duo de vi et potestate statutorum (Haarlem 1939) i-x.; and D. Maffei, La donazione di Coslanlino nei giuristi medievali (Milan 1964) 196. 78 D.39.5.34: "Si quis aliquem a lactrunculis vel hostibus eripuit et aliquid pro eo ab ipso accipiat, haec donatio irrevocabilis est". See also Glossa ordinaria, t o £1.39.5.34 § irrevocabilis; 3.119b. 77 Earlier, Baldus had stated exactly the same principle in defense of a t a x i m m u n i t y conceded by Florence t o an immigrant who had served the commune in an hour of need. W h e n the commune at a later date decided t o abrogate the i m m u n i t y , Baldus fought against this action, arguing that "debet privilegium concessum a principe esse mansurum"; Bologna, Collegio di Spagna, cod. 122. fol. 320v. I am preparing a critical edition of this opinion. 78

On this complicated doctrine, see Bartolus, Tractatus super constitutione ' ad reprimendum' in Consilia, quaestiones, tractatus (Lyons 1530) fols. 83v-84 § non obstantibus. 79 Text, lines 95-96 below. For Baldus's doctrine on derogatory clauses, which was heavily influenced by Cino da Pistoia, see his commentary on C. 1.14.8, Humanum; 6. fol. 69a-b; C.l.1.1. Cunctos populos; 6. fol. 8a; C.6.23.21.3, Hoc inter [= N. 107]; 8. fol. 65b. 80 81 82

Text, lines 99-100 below. Baldus's statement is confirmed by m y examination of the compilation of 1355. Text, lines 81-89 below.

"ARS IMITATOR NATURAM"

317

governing the citation of Justinian's Code and the collections of papal decretals. As a civilian, he referred to Justinian's directive to litigants and advocates prohibiting them from citing constitutions anterior to the Code.83 As a canonist, he drew an analogy between statutes pruned from the codification of 1355 and decretals labeled obsolete, which could no longer be cited and alleged—the "partes decisae" of the decretal collections of popes Gregory IX, Boniface VIII, and Clement VI.84 The analogy is not so casuistical or farfetched as we might today think. Like their Roman and canon-law counterparts, the Florentine codifiers (statutarii) were commissioned by the government to harmonize contradictions, dissolve superfluities and repetitions, correct errors, root out ambiguities—to substitute legal order (ordo) and clarity for disarray and obscurity.85 Baldus construed the omission of the law of 1352 from the compilation of 1355 as intentional; therefore, he considered the law invalid. The gravest flaw in the government's case was its failure to notify properly Ser Orlando of his obligation to undertake satisdation within the one month deadline. Baldus reproached the commune for neglecting to alert the notary through the proper channels of communication at its disposal: issuance of written documents, notification affixed to the walls of public places customarily used for official decrees, and announcements proclaimed by an official town crier.86 Lacking formal publication, the statute cannot be binding upon Ser Orlando. In his lecture on the lex Leges ut generates (C.l.14.3), Baldus went even further by stating that de facto a general statute may not be valid unless made public by a town crier in certain parts of the city.87 To the lex Leges sacratissimae (C.l.14.9), moreover, Baldus had commented that town dwellers are not exculpated from ignorance of the law "after the statute becomes public knowledge." Yet, where the law has not become generally known, error and

83

Text, lines 85-87 below. He cites here C. prooemium § 3. On the "partes decisae," see A. Van Hove, Prolegomena ad codicem iuris canonici (Mechliniae-Romae 1945) 358ff.; A. M. Stickler, Historia iuris canonici latini (Turin 1950) 1.248ff.; G. Le Bras, Ch. Lefebvre and J. Rambaud, L'âge classique, 1140-1378 in Histoire du droit des institutions de l'église en occident (Paris 1965) 7.238ff. 84

85 ASF Statuti del Capitano, 10.1.203.fol. 29v: "De arbitris eligendis ad approbandum statutum domini potestatis et capitanei." The jurist in charge of codification was Tommaso de Gubbio, who was specifically commissioned "ad corrigenda et ad ordinarie reducenda statuta, reformationes, ordinamenta et provisiones dicti populi et communis"; ibid. fol. 169. On codification, see A. Pertile, Storia del diritlo italiano (Rome 1898) 2.2.126ff.; J. Vanderlinden, Le concept de code en Europe occidentale du XIIIe au XIXe siècle (Bruxelles 1967). 86

Text, Unes 119-127 below. "Tertium, si iubetur divulgari per urbem et hoc est bene no. quod solum leges generales vel generalia statuta indigent publicatione et per hoc dicebam de facto statutum est hic, quod non valeat statutum, nisi sit publicatum per praeconem in certis partibus civitatis"; 6. fol. 64a. On this doctrine, see also Bartolus, Tractatus super constitutione ' ad reprimendum,' fol. 102ra § publice; Angelo degli Ubaldi, Consilia (Frankfurt 1579), cons. 334 fols. 234-235. 87

318

JULIUS KIRSHNER

ignorance are said to be excusable.88 The breakdown of communication, according to the jurist, was reflective of a chronic mismanagement of the Florentine corpus of legislation. Sardonically, he exclaimed: Nor is there any wonder that someone may be ignorant of some statutes of the commune of Florence. Indeed, it would be a wonder if all the statutes were known, since they are in a state of diffusion and disorder.89 This indictment, accurate and judicious, struck a familiar chord. The mercurial and unmanageable condition of Florentine legislation had been a long-standing target for criticism, beginning with Dante and continuing into the fifteenth century.90 For rhetorical purposes, it is acknowledged that since the law of 1352 was enacted "in consilio," which has the appearance of a public place and in which a large number of people assemble, its contents consequently became public knowledge. Although the statute was enacted "in consilio," Baldus swiftly rejoined, it does not follow that it was properly publicized. Typically, to support the demarcation between a public place and public knowledge, he reverted to imperial and papal models. The Roman emperor makes his laws and constitutions "in loco publico" and in the presence of his highest officers. Nevertheless, they are not considered generally known and publicly binding until two months have elapsed from the day they were recorded.91 The pope 88

6. fol. 69vb. He raises the question of whether an inhabitant of a city can be ignorant of the law: "aut est ius naturale et non permittitur ignorantia . . . aut est ius civile generale et idem . . . aut est ius municipale alicuius loci et tunc refert, aut loquimur circa habitantes ibidem et non permittitur ignorantia postquam statutum est publice notum . . . aut loquimur circa eos, ad quos verisimiliter statuti notitia non potuit pervenire, et tunc excusabilis est error vel ignorantia, ut 1. ult., de deer, ab or. fa. [D.50.9.6]." The lex Municipii lege cited by Baldus was frequently alleged by jurists in defense of non-culpable ignorance. 89 Text, lines 121-123 below. 90 Francesco Calasso, Medio evo del diritto (Milan 1954) 1.425; Martines (n. 44 above) 184-187. 91 Baldus was following the opinion of Iacopo Bottrigari. To C.l.14.9, Leges sacratissimae, Baldus posed this question: "Quaero, an liceat leges ignorare? Respondeo: si sunt inclusae in corpore iuris, non possunt ignorari; item nec lex nova ignorari debet postquam est publicata per duos menses, in Auth, u t fac. no consti. [A.5.16] secundum lac. But."; 6. fol. 69vb. (For this allegation, see Bottrigari's Ledum super prima parte [super secunda parte] codicis, t o C . 1.14.9). It must be emphasized t h a t Baldus left it to the discretion of the judge to determine whether a person was culpably ignorant before the two-month period of grace: "Sed in lege municipali alicuius civitatis non expectatur spatium duorum mensium, sed relinquitur arbitrio iudicis, scilicet, de termino, an sit aliquis excusandus, necne: quia non excusantur illi, qui citius praesumuntur scivisse; post tempus autem duorum mensium nemo excusatur." Ibid. As a canonist he made the same observation in his commentary on the decretal Ut animarum (VI.1.2.2): "Si . . . est statutum factum in consilio populi, tunc quilibet presumitur

" A R S IMITATOR N A T U R A M "

319

produces constitutions and decretals in consistory, which is certainly a public place; nevertheless, they are not considered published and binding unless they are formally declaimed in "audientia publica."92 Baldus conceded that the requirement of satisdation may have been generally known when the law was promulgated in 1352. But at that time, he maintained, Ser Orlando was a foreigner and was not subject to the law; he was also absent from the city and thus incapable, through no fault of his own, of discharging the requirement of satisdation. 93 Accordingly, the imputation that Ser Orlando cavalierly ignored the law is dismissed. In the parlance of canon law, the notary is innocent of crass and supine ignorance.94 The penalty for negligence and delay—forfeiture of citizenship—is totally mitigated by Ser Orlando's "iusta ignorantia."96 Did Ser Orlando's performance of the guarantee, after he received notification of the law, suffice to meet his legal responsibility toward the commune ? Here Baldus made an incisive distinction between fulfillment of the letter (forma) and the spirit (intentio) of the law.96 Strictly speaking, Ser Orlando had not adhered to the letter of the law. Nonetheless, Baldus argued, the formal procedure surrounding his assumption of citizenship is independent of the procedural mechanism employed for the performance of satisdation. Further-

scire post duos menses a die publicationis sine dubio, ut notatur in spec., de consti. in prima columna [Guillaume Durand, Speculum iuris (Padua 1479) 4 S.D. De Constitutionibus § Positio rei], Sed etiam presumitur scire, si iudex hoc arbitratur, et sic consideratur solum tempus arbitrarium, quia non est lege tempus certum in hoc prefixum ante quod non ligetur, sed bene est prefixum tempus post quod ligetur, ita quod ante duos menses tempus est arbitrarium, ut hie"; Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, Pal. lat. 788 fol. 54va. 92 On this procedure, see G. Barraclough "Audientia litterarum contradictarum" in Dictionnaire de droit canonique (Paris 1935) 1.1387ff; G. Mollat, Les papes d'Avignon (1305-1378) (Paris 1964) 492-494; and the monumental work of P. Herde, Audientia litterarum contradictarum, 2 vols. (Tubingen 1970) 1. 22ff., 416ff. 93 Text, lines 143-144 below. Baldus expressed the same legal principles in his lectures on D.3.6.6, Annus, 1. fol. 208b-va; on £>.3.2.8, Genero, 1. fol. 168b. 94 Text, lines 142-143 below. The canonical prop upon which Baldus acquitted Ser Orlando of culpable ignorance was the decretal Ut animarum (VI, 1.2.2). He lectured on this decretal in extenso, and I cite here a passage relevant to his argument in the consilium: "Ut animarum. Sententia constitutionis non ligat probabiliter ignorantem nec scientem extra territorium delinquentem huiusmodi. In primo casu excusatur propter ignorantiam; in secundo propter locum"; Pal. lat. 788 fol. 54. On this extremely important decretal of Boniface VIII, see A. Van Hove, "La territorialité et la personnalité de lois en droit canonique depuis Gratien (vers 1140) jusqu'à Jean Andreae (f 1348)" in Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis 3 (1922) 322-332; P. G. Caron, "Vignorantia en droit canonique," Ephemerides iuris canonici 2 (1946) 36ff; W. Onclin, "Le statut des étrangers dans la doctrine canonique médiévale" in L'étranger: Recueils de la société Jean Bodin (1958) 12.2d part, 63-64; Lefebvre and Rambaud (n. 84 above) 442-444. 98 96

Text, line 163 below. Text, lines 174-179 below.

320

JULIUS

KIRSHNER

more, the requirement of satisdation is viewed as ex post facto law, that is, it comes into play only after Ser Orlando was made a citizen, and as a result it cannot detract from or alter Ser Orlando's civic status. What counts here, Baldus contended, is whether Ser Orlando satisfied the intention of the law, which was transparently clear: to prevent defraudation of the communal treasury by forcing new citizens to guarantee future taxes and thereby increase the city's revenues. Accordingly, if the commune of Florence is given a guarantee for all taxes by Ser Orlando or someone acting in his name, Baldus asked, can anyone doubt that he has fully satisfied the law? No, Baldus answered, "because the intention of the law has been fulfilled."97 Having met his obligation and having paid taxes as other citizens, Ser Orlando, in the present as well as the future, cannot be deprived of his citizenship. ELIGIBILITY

FOR

OFFICE

Without maundering, Baldus upheld the notary's right to hold office in spite of the injunctions carried in the Statutes of the Capitano del popolo of 1355 and the provision of September 1379.98 As a full-fledged citizen, Ser Orlando is eligible (habilis) to hold all the notarial offices in the commune. Besides, the statute that gave Ser Orlando his citizenship repeals the two preceding enactments. Baldus did not indicate whether Ser Orlando is capable of assuming office immediately or whether he would be required to endure the ten-year probationary period. The latter seems to be the case. As far as I know, there is no evidence to suggest that trial periods for ascertaining the neophyte's fitness for office became a burning legal issue. The underlying issue in this question, as in the first, revolved around the nature and legal valence of acquired citizenship. Earlier, Baldus had analyzed the relationship between acquired citizenship and eligibility for office in a lecture on the lex Omnes populi (D.l.1.9), perhaps delivered at the University of Perugia. He placed before his students the hypothetical case in which a statute prohibits anyone from becoming a prior of the city unless he is an original citizen. Someone is inducted into the citizenry and the statute making him a citizen contains the usual clause "quod habeatur pro originario quoad omnia." Do the benefits and privileges conveyed by this clause, it is queried, include eligibility for the priorate? At first, Baldus opposed eligibility on the grounds that the new citizen's nativeness is fictitious. Without denying that the candidate's citizenship rests on a legal fiction, Baldus shifted to a contrary stance, opining that the clause entitles the new citizen to be treated equal to native citizens under the laws of the city.99 Legal equality does not in itself certify a citizen for office; 97

Text, line 95 below. Text, lines 197-215 below; see above p. 304f. 99 To .D.l.1.9: "Sed pone quod statuto cavetur, quod nullus possit esse de prioribus nisi, sit originarius civis. Modo Titius receptus est in civem cum clausula, quod habeatur pro 98

321

"ARS IMITATOR NATUR AM"

only by filling general requirements relating to office-holding can the new citizen become eligible for office. Legal equality gives to the new citizen a theoretical claim to be treated as if he were an original citizen under the laws governing office-holding. That was the principle Baldus wielded in defense of Ser Orlando's claim to hold office. CONCLUSION

Although we remain ignorant of the ultimate disposition of Ser Orlando's case, it may be presumed, unless evidence is uncovered to the contrary, that the government of Florence had not stripped the notary of his citizenship.100 This presumption rests on the procedure to be followed after a consilium sapientis had been solicited by a tribunal or an administrative body. In theory, the consilium was not binding upon the adjudicating body, but in practice the consilium was tantamount to final judgment. Once the jurist's opinion was read into the official record, it was customarily approved by the presiding officer as the decision to be rendered by the court, and was thus binding upon all parties involved in litigation. There is no reason to believe that this procedure was not carried out in Ser Orlando's case. That Ser Orlando probably won his case is not an occasion for gloating or for pious genuflections at the altar of republicanism. The individual citizen in the trecento was open to new dangers, especially from protobureaucratic cadres attempting to mete out impartial justice under the guise of civic equality.101 Standing alone, as we have already seen, a man like Ser Orlando was at the mercy of the administrative machinery of the Florentine state. But what was administratively possible in late trecento Florence was not always judicially admissible. The actions of Florentine officialdom, here and in hundreds of other cases, were ultimately circumscribed by what Max Weber characterized as a rational procedural system and a rationally constructed substantive law, which have their source in general objective norms.102 As for Ser Orlando's personal fortune, our knowledge of the notary's whereabouts and his career after 1379 is clouded by a lack of documentation, and he

originario quoad omnia. Quaeritur, an poterit esse de prioribus? et videtur quod non: quia ille est idem casus fictus, non verus, ut d. 1. 3 § haec verba [fl.3.5.3]. In contrarium facit infra de verb, obli., 1. quidam cum filium [¿>.45.1.132], et infra de excus. tut., 1. cum ex oratione [Z>.27.1.44]. N a m ex quo sic habeatur, ac si esset oriundus, ista species temperat genus, id est, derogat generi: nam ex quo esse talis et haberi pro tali est expressum et singulariter ordinatum, debet pari iure censeri"; 1. fol. 15a. 100 On this procedure, see G. Rossi, Consilium sapierttis iudicale (Milan 1958) 89ff.; Martines (n. 44 above) 94ff. 101 A theme stressed b y Becker, Florence in Transition (n. 12 above) 2. 102 M. Weber, On Law in Economy and. Society, ed. M. Rheinstein (Cambridge, Mass. 1954) 231.

322

JULIUS KIRSHNER

quickly recedes into the netherworld of Florentine history.103 Yet, in an indirect way, he did leave his mark upon trecento Florence, since his case, if only for a fleeting moment, put into relief the social and political tensions radiating from the process of naturalization. While these tensions came to the fore and erupted over the allocation of special civic privileges, the imposition of taxes, and the apportionment of offices, their source has less to do with these specific interests than with a fundamental rejection on the part of the natives (that is, anyone in Florence who thought of himself as a native, regardless of whether or not his father or grandfather had been born in the city) of those newcomers who claimed original citizenship, not by nature but by law.104 Did the Signoria (which proposed civiparous legislation) and the councils (which approved it) believe that they, through the vehicle of law, more specifically the city's statutes, could transform a foreigner into an authentic original citizen ? Or did they tacitly understand that civiparous legislation conferred certain well-specified privileges, the name and the trappings, but not the substance of original citizenship ? The evidence presented in this paper demonstrates that laymen—nonjurists—were decidedly negative about the transformative capacity of statutes to create "really" true native citizens, and genuinely perplexed about the legal consequences rippling from statutory grants of original citizenship. Acquired original citizenship often turned out to be little more than a veneer under which lurked the foreigner, with his surname, such as da Piemonte, da San Gimignano, da San Miniato, signaling his true place of origin. The "natives" displayed no hesitation in referring to the cives ex privilegio pejoratively as foreigners (forenses, alienigenae) as they did in statutes enacted in 1346, 1355, and 1379.105 This

103 A careful investigation of the provvisioni, the records of the Signori e collegi, deliberazioni, speciale autorità and ordinaria autorità, the Archivio del arte dei giudici e notai (in which no "atti" exist for the period September 1372 t o A u g u s t 1390) and the Archivio notarile has failed in providing additional information on the notary. loi My understanding of the dynamics of nativism has been enlarged by the work of three anthropologists: M. Mauss, "La nation," in Œuvres (Paris 1969) 3.573-625; E. R . Leach, "Rethinking Anthropology", in Rethinking Anthropology (London 1961) 1-27; D. Schneider, American Kinship (Chicago 1968) 21ff. None of these scholars, however, treats the subject of nativism itself. 105

See the statutes cited above in n. 30, 31, 38 and note the words of the chronicler Marchionni di Coppo Stefani on the law passed against the cives e x privilegio in August 1379, t h a t an individual "non fosse n a t o nella città o contado di Firenze, s'intendesse essere forestiere"; Cronica fiorentina ed. N . Rodolico, Rerum italicarum scriptores, voi. 30.1 (Città di Castello 1903-1905) 346.818. The Florentines, of course, did not corner the market on nativism. A Bolognese statute of 1388 defined forensis in this w a y : "forensem intelligendo o m n e m qui non sit Bononiensis origine vera, propria, paterna et avita, vel saltern duabus e x eis; non comprehendentes cives ex privilegio, vel decreto, quos fictos cives appellamus, et improprios, et non veros"; cited b y L. Morpurgo, "Sulla condizione giuridica dei forestieri in Italia nei secoli di mezzo," Archivio giuridico 9 (1872) 269 n. 3. See also the important

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NATURAM"

prejudice, sometimes latent, sometimes overt, was a powerful influence in shaping the contours of Florentine political and social life. It was predicated upon a belief in the existence of an ancient and undiluted core of "natives" bound by a common history stretching back to Rome, and by a common pattern of descent through the male line. These "natives" were the "veri originarii et antiqui cives" of the city, joined together in a community of blood—the "popolo fiorentino." Y e t given the depth of the prejudice "native" Florentines harbored against the new citizens, it may appear anomalous that nativism did not at all inhibit the flow of statutory grants of original citizenship, for these grants represented a public admission of the amalgamation of foreigners and natives. The appearance and formal admission of amalgamation was, however, a fundamental nutrient of Florentine cultural solidarity. Generations of immigration had, of course, contaminated the original "popolo fiorentino," but the fiction and ethnocentric myth of the popolo's enduring purity had to be protected.104 The very integrity of the popolo as a symbol of historical continuity and permanency, of Florence's past, present and future, was inextricably dependent upon this fiction. Hence, the flow of civiparous legislation, the perpetual attempt to conceal change and to guarantee the legitimacy of the popolo by dressing new citizens, through legal fiction, in the garb of the "natives." Civic conflicts arising from the nativism of a particular city such as Florence were mediated by a cosmopolitan jurisprudence. No matter what the personal convictions of Bartolus, Baldus, and other jurists may have been with regard to naturalization, as legal scientists "utriusque iuris" they had no option but to defend acquired citizenship against political assaults. The conferral of citizenship by statute was deemed a privilegium, and there was a body of Roman and canon law which asserted that a privilegium could not be abrogated capriciously and not without just cause. Likewise, in order to avoid conceptual chaos Bartolus and Baldus had no option but to reject invidious legal distinc-

paper of R. Cessi, " L ' Officium ziana nel sec. X I V "

e i sistemi della politica commerciale vene-

de Navigantibus

in Politica

ed

economia

di

Venezia

nel

trecento

(Rome 1952) 23ff.

esp. 45. 106 ^

emphasis here is avowedly anthropological.

For two excellent studies dealing with

the mythic element in Florence's vision of her origins, see N . Rubinstein, The of Political Florentine

Thought Studies

and Florence,

in Florence

(n. 13 above) 15-44, now incorporated with revisions into his

Prophecy

Beginnings

(n. 27 above) 207ff.; D. Weinstein, "The Myth of Florence,"

and Patriotism

"Il Buon Tempo Antico," Florentine

in the Renaissance Studies

Savonarola

(Princeton 1970) 27-66; C. T. Davis,

(n. 13 above) 45-69, admirably depicts the ten-

sions erupting from the clash of the myth of Florence's past (before waves of immigration had "polluted" the city) with the political and social realities of the late duecento and early trecento. On immigration itself, see J. Plesner, L'émigration de Florence

au XIII'

siècle

(Copenhagen 1934).

de la campagne

à la ville

libre

324

JULIUS

KIRSHNER

tions based on the dichotomy "really" true natives ("ex natura") / "merely" true natives ("ex statuto"). To Bartolus, a statute which makes a foreigner a true citizen does exactly that, nothing more and nothing less, not withstanding all primordial reservations. In his view, the new citizen must be equal to all other citizens before the law of the city. Baldus recognized that there existed a philosophical distinction between natural and naturalized citizens, but denied that this distinction could be the basis for questioning and constraining the rights and privileges of new citizens, because legal fiction and juristic art accounted for their natural defects. Both jurists were arguing that, in the world of law, jurisprudentially conceived truth is more exalted than socially perceived truth, that is to say, common sense and conventional wisdom. Governmental officials, and through them, society, were put on notice that as the law would guarantee the legitimacy of the "popolo fiorentino," so it would guarantee the rights and privileges of individual citizens, regardless of their origins. The doctrinal weapons forged by Bartolus and Baldus and wielded in the war against nativism would prove efficacious in individual cases or battles, but were woefully impotent when it came to extirpating nativism and its social and political consequences.107 As jurists they could only treat the symptoms of nativism as expressed in law; they could not reach, let alone extirpate, primordial doubts and suspicions about the foreigner-made-citizen. N O T E P R E F A T O R Y TO T H E

TEXT

As I have already mentioned, a highly abbreviated redaction of the text presented below was included in various editions of Baldus's consilia.108 It is possible that Baldus himself truncated the original text for the sake of brevity. This inference is based on the concluding sentence of the abbreviated redaction: "Ex quibus et multis aliis, quae dictat ratio civilis et aequitas naturalis, quae gratia brevitatis omitto, concludo pro dicto Ser Orlando, quod debeat censeri civis Florentiae, nec teneatur satisdare . . . Ego Baldus." In preparing the text below, I have disregarded the older editions as they do not add anything to or controvert in any way the new edition. The present text is based on a manuscript housed in the Biblioteca apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 14094, fols. 391-393, 30 x 22 cm., 522 folios (s. XV).

107 In late fourteenth-century Florence the government reacted to juristic doctrines and opinions, initially by exerting great pressure to have juridical interpretation converge with political and social imperatives, and when that failed, by asserting the primacy of political and social imperatives over juridical interpretation. I plan to analyze this assault upon juristic Veritas in another paper. 108 (Lyons 1550) 5. cons. 408 fol. 107va-b; (Venice 1575) 5. cons. 408 fol. 107va-b; (Frankfurt 1589) 5. cons. 408 fol. 98va; (Venice 1608-1609) 5. cons. 408 fol. 104va-b. There are other editions of Baldus's consilia but they have been unavailable to me.

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TEXT

1. Factum de quo queritur tale est, videlicet: In mccclii de mense augusti 2. facta et firmata fuit quedam reformatio per opportuna Consilia populi et 3. communis Florentie in qua in effectu disponitur, quod quidam ser Jacobus et 4. alii de Ficicchis et quilibet alius, qui ab anno domini mcccxlviii kalendas 5. augusti citra consecutus specialiter et nominatim fuit vigore alicuius refor6. mationis seu provisionis communis Florentie seu consiliorum populi et communis 7. Florentie beneficium seu Privilegium civilitatis seu cittadinanzie civitatis 8. Florentie seu habilitatis vel idoneitatis officiorum communis predicti ad 9. que cives Florentie possunt seu debent admicti, teneantur et debeant, infra 10. unum mensem a die quo presens provisio firmata fuerit in Consilio domini 11. potestatis et communis Florentie, comparere per se vel alium seu alios coram 12. officio viginti officialium communis Florentie deputato ad augendum introitum 13. dicti communis, et coram eis vel aliquibus ex eis idonee satisdare de libra 14. cc fior. sp. pro quolibet ipsorum de subeundo et solvendo, saltem inde ad 15. quinque annos ex tunc secuturos, omnia onera et factiones communis Florentie 16. que sibi in genere vel specie pro ipso communi imponentur seu indicentur infra 17. tempus et terminum supradictum quinque annorum; et similem satisdationem teneantur 18. et debeant in futurum coram scriba reformationum consiliorum populi et communis 19. Florentie omnes et singuli illi qui dieta beneficia seu privilegia vel aliquod 20. ipsorum vigore reformationum consiliorum populi et communis predicti que in 21. futurum fierent consequentur, interponere et prestare infra unum mensem ven 22. turum a die quo tale beneficium seu Privilegium fuerint assecuti, et quod qui 23. cunque talem satisdationem non prestabit, ut dictum est, intelligatur esse 24. et sit ex nunc privatus omnibus et singulis benefitiis et privilegiis predictis 25. que consequutus fuisset seu consequeretur in futurum, ut dictum est, non 26. obstantibus aliquibus statutis et ordinamentis, et cetera. 27. Postea in mccclv statuta et ordinamenta communis Florentie abbreviata, 28. correcta et declarata in unum redacta ac noviter composita fuerunt per 29. statutarios ad predicta deputatos, et in ipsis novis statutis seu compilatione 30. novorum statutorum non fuit nec est posita dieta reformatio disponens de 31. satisdatione predicta. 32. Post omnia predicta in mccclxxviiii de mense novembris provisum et 33. ordinatum ac stabilitum et firmatum fuit per opportuna Consilia populi et 34. communis Florentie, quod Ser Orlandus Johannis, qui erat forensis origine 35. propria et paterna, sit et esse intelligatur verus civis et popularis 36. civitatis Florentie et potiatur omnibus et singulis privilegiis, beneficiis, 37. honoribus et favoribus quibus potiuntur et gaudent alii cives civitatis Florentie, 38. dum tarnen non possit habere aliquod officium notariatus inde ad decern annos 39. proximos futuros.

N o n obstantibus in predictis vel aliquo predictorum aliquibus

40. legibus, statutis, ordinamentis, provisionibus aut reformationibus consiliorum 41. populi et communis Florentie, obstaculis seu repugnantiis quibuscunque etiam 42. quantumeunque derogatoriis, penalibus vel precisis v e l etiamsi de eis vel 43. ipsorum aliquo debuisset vel deberet fieri mentio specialis et expressa, 44. quibus omnibus intelligatur esse et sit specialiter et generaliter derogatum. 45. Qui Ser Orlandus tempore diete reformationis in eius favorem edite citra,

9 que ex ques corr. ms. 41 repugniantiis ms.

27 abrevieta ms.

28 redueta ms.

34 orrigine ms.

326 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89.

JULIUS KIRSHNER

videlicet iam fuit duodecim anno et ultra, continue stetit et habitavit in civitate Florentie cum sua familia et onera et factiones communis Florentie sibi imposita solvit, fecit et subiit sicut alii cives Florentie, et ignorans dictam reformationem loquentem de satisdatione, ipsam satisdationem facere, interponere et prestare obmisit infra mensem a die firmate dicte reformationis facte in eius favorem, earn tamen prestitit et interposuit ad cautelam, cum ad eius notitiam devenit. Modo queritur, an dictus Ser Orlandus teneatur dictam satisdationem prestare, et si tenebatur prestare, an fuerit in mora prestandi adeo quod sit beneficio et privilegio dicte civilitatis privatus. Item queritur, an dictus Ser Orlandus possit quecunque officia notariatus communis et civitatis Florentie ad que extrahetur seu eligetur acceptare, iurare ac exercere libere, licite et impune, non obstante statuto posito in primo libro domini capitanei sub rubrica: Quod alienigene non admittantur ad officia, et cetera; et non obstante reformatione facta et firmata in mccclxxviiii de mense septembris disponente ultra materiam contentam in statuto predicto, ut aliis in contrarium disponentibus. E t quid iuris < s i t > omnium predictorum, viso punto predicto et hiis de quibus in dicto puncto fit mentio, et visis dictis reformatione statuto, ordinamento et privilegio, de quibus supra fit mentio. In Christi nomine amen. Viso puncto et quesitis predictis et hiis de quibus supra fit mentio. Ad primum quesitum breviter potest dici dictum Ser Orlandum non teneri dictam satisdationem prestare, nec in mora fuisse dictam satisdationem prestandi, et per consequens beneficio seu privilegio dicte civilitatis non esse privatum, sed ipsum Ser Orlandum esse et censeri debere verum civem civitatis Florentie, multis et infinitis rationibus. E t primo quod dictus Ser Orlandus fuerit verus civis effectus a principio non venit in dubium. Nam vera civilitas, licet extraordinaria, conferri potest per cives forensibus, ut not. in 1. edificia, ff. de ver. signi. 1 et C. de incolis, 1. cives, lib. X 2 et per Bar. ff. de usuca., 1. si is qui pro emptore. 3 Unde dictus ser Orlandus in numero et vera essentia civium est redactus. Nam cuicunque competit Veritas diffinitionis, illud est vere tale, quia diffinitio substantiam demonstrat, circumlocutiones autem demonstrant accidentia, licet et ilia magnam partem conferant ad cognoscendum quid est hoc, ff. si cert. pe., 1. II. § appellata. 4 Sed huic competit vera diffinitio civis. Ergo est verus civis, non natura sed arte, quia civilitas est quid factibile, et non solum nascitur sed causatur, ut dicta 1. cives. 6 Nec obstat quod non satisdedit, primo, quia in novis statutis veterum statutorum ac reformationum revisivis et reformativis, nulla prestande satisdationis fit mentio. Ergo sicut non allegantur decretales in parte decisa a compilatoribus novi iuris, sic non potest allegari dicta particula reformationum quasi decisa per conditores novi iuris, ut C. de Justiniano cod. confirmando § hunc igitur in eternum in verbo solis insertis constitutionibus necesse esse uti, 6 et ar. ff. de testo. mili., 1. tribunus § ultimo, 7 et de leg. I., 1. legata inutiliter per dy. 8 Secundo, propter clausulam non obstantium, que

48 ingnorans ms. 58 capitanei ex potestatis corr. ms. 79 ergo ex igitur corr. ms. 88 testo. mili. tr. ms.

63 in dicto repet. ms.

1 D.50.16.139 2 C.10.40 (39).7 3 Bartolus, ad D.41.3.15 (see above n. 54) 4 D. 12.1.2 § 2 5 C.10.40 (39).7 6 C. [prooemium] 2 § 3 7 £».29.1.20 § 1 8 Dynus Mugellanis, ad D. 30 [1].19 (ed. Lugundi 1513, s.p.)

" A R S IMITATOR

90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127.

NATURAM"

327

habet removere non solum obstantiam principiorum, sed etiam princip < i > atorum, quia ista clausula constituit rem in esse et conservat rem in esse, ut patet, ff. de leg. III 0 ., 1. si quis in prin. testa., 9 C. de testa., Auth § hoc inter liberos, 10 de rescrip., cap. cum aliquibus et cap. si propter tua, libro VI. 1 1 Tertio, quia si nominatim dixisset non obstante tali particula reformationum, certum est quod non obstaret. Sed hoc satisdedit per verba equipollentia, ibi dum dicit mentio specialis, et cetera, C. de quadri. prescript., 1. omnes, cum similibus. 12 Item quia dicta reformatio facta et firmata in favorem Ser Orlandi necessario derogat prime de satisdatione loquenti. Nam dicta reformatio facta in favorem dicti Ser Orlandi eum facit civem et ad civilitatem vocat pure, simpliciter et in perpetuum, ff. de constitu. prin., 1. fi., 13 cum similibus. Reformatio autem prima non m u t a t eum pure, sed cum resolutione que retro trahitur; et sic dicta prima reformatio in quantum fingit retro non potest negari, qu < u > m videatur contraria ultime, que facit eum civem et vult quod intelligatur civis, ita quod disposuit secundum veritatem, faciendo eum civem, et secundum fictionem, dum dicit quod intelligatur < u t > civis, que fictiones inter se sunt contrarie. Quarto etiam probatur, maxime quando talis civilitas non fuit gratuita, sed ob aliquod nobile meritum, sicut est in Ser Orlando, ut in dicta sua reformatione, ar. ff. de don., 1. aquilius et 1. si pater. 1 4 Item quia que bene merentibus conceduntur, efficatius conferuntur, ff. ad sillan., 1. si quis in gravi. § hi quoque, 1 6 et 1. I. § I., ff. de iustitia et iure per Guill. 16 Item quia debet concessum a principe Privilegium perpetuo esse mansurum. Secundo principaliter ostenditur manifeste, quia dicta reformatio de satisdatione non ligavit, nec ligat dictum Ser Orlandum, qui ipsam proponitur ignorasse, cum non reperiatur posita in volumine statutorum in vera compilatione nec quod sit publice nota probatur per legem ultimam, ff. de decre. ab ordi. fa. 1 7 et per cap. ut animarum, de constitutionibus, libro VI, 1 8 ubi est textus. Nam dicta reformatio non erat nec est publice notata per modum de quo in similibus not. glo. in 1. si tutor, C. de periculo tu., 1 9 et ut habetur in similibus, extra, qui. ma. accu. possit. c. ultimo, 20 vel quia per edictum publicum, vel pro scripta, vel foribus publicis affixatur, vel publice bannita secundum quod iura disponunt in simili materia. Nec est mirum quod si quis ignoret aliquas reformationes communis Florentie. Immo mirum esset si omnes scirent, cum sint diffuse et inordinate. Hinc est quod expedit quod ius consuetudinarium et reformatio coram iudice producatur, ut not. glo. in 1. prescriptione, C. si contra ius vel utilitatem publicam., 2 1 ad quod facit et id quod notatur in 1. II. § quod observari, C. de iureiurando < p r o p t e r > calumpniam, per glo. et doc., 22 et quod not. dominus Bar. in 1. omnes populi. 23 Nec obstat si

103 videantur ms. 110 hii ms. 115 de ord. (post de) del. ms. 116 extra (post animarum) add. ms.; testus ms. 119 publica ms. 120 bampnita ms. 121 ingnoret ms. 126 n a t a t u r (post quod) del. ms. 9 jD.32.[1].22 10 C.6.23.21 § 3; JV.107.3 11 VI. 1.3.4; 10 12 C.7.37.2; Glos, ord., ad C.7.37.2 v. omnes (ed. Yenetiis 1591 1130b) 13 D. 1.4.4 14 D. 39.5.27; 34 15 D.29.5.3 § 15 16 Guillielmus de Cuneo, ad D.I.1.1 (see above n. 75) 17D.50.9.6 18 VI. 1.2.2 19 Glos, ord., ad C.5.38.5 v. ostenderis (ed. cit. 787b) 20 Glos, ord., ad X. IV.18.6 v. publice (ed. Venetiis 1572 912a) 21 Glos, ord., ad C.l.25.2 ( = C.l.22.2) v. iuris (ed. cit. 138) 22 Glos, ord., ad C.2.59 (58).2 v. existimat (ed. cit. 311b-312a); Cynus de Pistorio, ad C.59 (58).2 § 2 (ed. Francoforti ad Moenum 1578, vol. 1. fol. 125 n. 24) 23 Bartolus, ad D.l.1.9 (ed. Venice 1570, vol. 1. fol. 13a-b)

328

JULIUS KIRSHNER

128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 165. 166. 167. 168.

dicatur quod eo proposito quod reformatio est facta in consilio dicitur publice nota ex eo, quia fit in consilio ubi est gentium multitudo et videtur locus publicus, quia non sequitur quod licet sit facta in consilio quod propterea sit publice nota. Nam imperator facit leges et constitutiones suas in loco publico coram suis proceribus, ut 1. humanum, C. de legibus, 24 et tamen eo ipso non ligant, sed demum post duos menses postquam sunt insinuate publicate et palam facte, ut in cor < p o r e > Auth., ut facte nove constitutiones coll. V. 26 Sic papa facit constitutiones et decretales in consistorio, qui est locus publicus, et tamen non ligant, nisi postquam sunt in audientia publicate, ut habetur in prima Clementina < r u m > 2 6 et in VI. libri., 2 7 facit quod no. Cy. in 1. II., C., que sit longa consuetudo. 28 Ex quibus infertur quod postquam de novo devenit ad notitiam dicta reformatio quod a die suprascripto infra tempus mensis a dicta reformatione prefixum sufficit dictum Ser Orlandum satisdedisse de oneribus subeundis. Ad quod bene facit glo. in 1. universa, C. de precibus imperat. offer., 29 et quod ibi no. Bar., 30 nec potest dici ignorantiam dicti Ser Orlandi esse crassam vel supinam, cum tempore dicte condite reformationis ipse Ser Orlandus non esset in rerum natura. Tertio principaliter probatur. Nam advertendum est quod dicta reformatio civilitate privatur si non fuerat satisdatum, et cetera, non incipit a precedenti conditione, sed a preambula, dispositione et obligatione, ut teneatur quilibet satisdationem prestare infra mensem, et cetera, ut patet in dicta reformatione in verbis et similem, et cetera, et subsequenti conditione, si non fuerat satisdatum, ut in verbis et quod quicunque, et cetera. Ilia ergo verba, si non satisdederit, intelliguntur scilicet, si in mora satisdandi fuerat, 1. si duo § fi., < f f . > de constitu. pecu., 31 et ibi per Bar. 3 2 not., et etiam 1. si homo mortuus, < f f . > de verb, ob. 33 et sentit glo. in 1. Thays § intra, < f f . > fideicom. liber. 34 Ibi in omnibus illis, et cetera, facit quod not. doc. in 1. pe., de condi. inser., C. in I I I a questione. 35 Mora autem non fuit nec culpa donee fuit lusta ignorantia, 1. quod te., < f f . > si cert, pe., 36 ad dictam 1. annus, < f f . > de ca., 37 1. semper § annus, < f f . > quod vi aut clam, 38 et 1. genero, ff. de his qui no. infra., 39 et quod ibi no. Bar., 40 et in 1. penultima, ff. si is, qui testamento liber esse ius. 41 Ergo dicta reformatio contra dictum Ser Orlandum non est locus, ut licet satisdationem non prestiterit intelligatur civilitate privatus, quia exauditur in hiis quilibet potest culpa vel mora satisdationis non prestite imputari ut dictis iuribus, quod in Ser Orlando non est, quia iusta, quin immo iustissima ignorantia ductus est, ut supra in secunda principali ratione probatum et obstensum est. Ergo secundum verum intellectum verborum dicte reformationis, licet prima facie ruditer inspecta sonare illud videatur, non intelligitur esse, nec est dictus Ser Orlandus sua civilitate etiam ipso iure privatus, sed in ipsa civilitate esse et

137 faciat ms.

153 si (post thays) add. ms.

159 quis ms.

24 C.l.14.8 25 A.5.16.3 ( = N.66.3) 26 Clem, prooemiam 27 VI. Sacrosanctae romane ecclesiae 28 Cynus de Pistorio, ad C.8.52 (53).2 (ed. cit., vol. 2 fols. 520b-525va) 29 Glos. ord., ad C. 1.22.4 ( = C.l.19.4) v. praebeatur (ed. cit., fol. 134a) 30 Bartolus, ad C.l.19.4 (ed. cit., vol. 7 fol. 33a-b) 31 £>.13.5.16 § 4 32 Bartolus, ad. D.13.5.16 § 4. 33 D.45.1.69 34 Glos. ord., ad D.40.5.41 vv. non idcirco (ed. cit. 189a-b) 35 Cynus de Pistorio, ad C.6.46.6 (7) (ed. cit., vol. 2 fol. 415a); Bartolus, ad loc. cit. (ed. cit., vol. 7 fol. 45b) 36 D.12.1.5 37 D.3.6.6 38 D.43.24.15 § 4 39 D.32.2.8 40 Bartolus, ad D.3.2.8 (ed. cit., vol. 1 fols. lOOvb-lOla) 41 D.47.4.2

"ars imitatur naturam" 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211.

329

permanere. Quarto et ultimo principaliter probatur indubitanter dictam reformationem de satisdatione disponere eidem Ser Orlando non obstare nec in aliquo obesse, quia dicta reformatio, ut patet ex prefatione sua per quam dispositioni datur intellectus, ut 1. ultima., fi. de he. insti., 42 et 1. Titia § idem respondit, < f f . > de ver. ob. 43 et de lega. I., 1. si servus plurium, 44 non est de forma adsumptionis ad civilitatis beneficium. Quod apparet, quia ex post facto prestari potest infra mensem, ergo et cetera, ut C. de preci. impera. offer., 1. universa, 45 et in 1. cum lex, ff. de fideiu., 46 et in 1. filio preterito, < f f . > iniusto. testamento. 4 7 Unde cum non sit de forma, sufficit quod legis servetur intentio in effectu, licet non servetur forma, ut ostendam infra. Nunc ad propositum. Reformatio predicta voluit satisdari ut communis Florentie augeretur introitus in civium asumptione, et ut non fraudaretur introitus voluit satisdari, quoniam per satisdationem commune Florentie de suo introitu magis est securum, ff. de preto. stip., 1. I., 48 et ff. qui satisdare cogantur, 1. I. 49 Si igitur commune Florentie de omnibus est satisfactum per dictum Ser Orlandum vel alium eius nomine, quis dubitat legis menti esse totaliter satisfactum, que ad finem satisfactionis voluit satisdari. Unde stipulationibus iudicialibus et pretoriis satisdationem requirentibus et aliter sunt mille, satisfit per satisdationem pignorum aut pecuniarum per quam stipulationes sunt securiores, ut no. per glo. et doc. in dicta 1. I. 50 Similiter, quis dicet in 1. universa 6 1 vitiari rescriptum si non cavetur, tamen aliter creditor sit magis securus quam per satisdationem. Idem dico de testamento usurarii, ut in dicto c. quamquam. 5 2 Concludo igitur quod cum satisdatio non sit de forma, sed solum de substantia, quia ex quo Ser Orlandus satisfecit et soluit ut alii communis Florentie onera et factiones, nullam penam privationis incurrit nec incursus est, quia inpleta est legis intentio, licet non sit satisdatum, ex quo est satisfactum plenarie, ut supra dictum est. Ad secundum quesitum omnino dicendum est, dictum Ser Orlandum omnia officia notariatus civitatis et communis Florentie ad que extraheretur seu eligeretur acceptare, iurare et exercere posse (non obstante dicto statuto posito sub rubrica: Quod alienigene, et cetera, et non obstante dicta reformatione disponente citra eandem materiam dicti statuti de qua supra fit mentio) libere, licite et impune, sicut alii cives Florentie, quia, ut superius est probatum, dictus Ser Orlandus effectus fuit et est civis Florentie per dictam reformationem in eius favorem factam, et per consequens habilis ad omnia officia notariatus, ut patet in ea. Non obstante statuto et reformatione predicta loquente de alienigenis, et cetera, quia derogatum est ipsis expresse. Nam lex sequens derogat precedenti et earn corrigit, licet sigillatim de ea mentionem non faciat, ff. de legibus, 1. sed et posteriores, 63 cum multis similibus, glo. est ordinaria in cor < p o r e > < A u t h . > , de non eligen. sec. nuben. § si vero intestatus, 6 4 et per clausulam derogatoriam positam in dicta reformatione facta in favorem dicti Ser Orlandi, que habuit potestatem derogandi,

171 deponentur ms.

189 Bar. (post per) del. ms.

42 D.28.5.93 (92) 43 D.45.1.134 § 2 44 £>.30.[1].50 45 C.l.19.4 46 £>.46.1.46 47 D.28.3.17 48 £>.46.5.1 § 7 49 £>.2.8.1 50 Bartolus, ad £>.2.8.1 (ed. cit., vol. 1 fol. 61a-b) 51 C.l.19.4 52 V/.V.5.2 53 £>.1.3.28 54 Gtos. ord., ad A. 1.2 v. intestatus ( = TV.2.3 § si vero intestato) ed. cit. 17b)

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J U L I U S KIRSHNER

212. ff. de lega. III., 1. si quis in principio, test., 5 5 C. prescrip. X X X < v e l X L > 213. annorum, 1. omnes, 5 6 ff. de iure codicillorum, 1. divi. § licet., < a d h o c > facit 214. quod not. glo., 5 7 C. de naturalibus lib., 1. I. in glo. III, 5 8 et C. sen. 215. et rescin. non posse., 1. fi. 5 9 —

APPENDIX

A NOTE ON THE TERM NATURALIZATION

The Oxford English Dictionary informs us that naturalization denotes the action of admitting an alien to the position and privileges of a native-born citizen or subject. 1 If formally correct, the definition is incomplete. To one degree or another, everyone realizes that a naturalized citizen or subject is not truly a native. In this sense, naturalization represents a legal fiction, since it is really understood to mean that a nonnative by virtue of an act of law must be treated as if he were a native under the same law. This meaning, however, and the assumption embodied in the circumlocution "as if he were a native," remains implicit. Indeed, the term naturalization is intentionally used in place of the hypothetical "as if" to avoid acknowledging the fiction on a verbal and grammatical level. Naturalization has proved to be an immensely fruitful legal fiction in facilitating the entry of millions of immigrants into the civic life of modern nations. Since naturalization was practiced throughout Europe in the late Middle Ages, it may appear baffling that the noun naturalization and its cognates, to naturalize, naturalizing, and naturalized, were not included in medieval vocabularies, either Latin or vernacular. These words made their debut only in recent times, in sixteenth-century France. 2 In the second half of the fifteenth century royal documents were already characterizing the legal position and privileges enjoyed by the natives of the kingdom of France as la naturalité, and it was only logical t h a t the procedure of granting la naturalité to aliens be expressed by the neologism la naturalisation.3 For our purpose, logic without historical insight is not very helpful. The appearance of the new terminology signals an important linguistic and historical leap t h a t is shrouded in mystery, and which awaits further study. 4 The linguistic feat of the French 55 D.32.[l].22 (ed. cit. 404b)

1

56 C.7.39.4 57 D.29.7.6 § 2; Glos. ord. ad D.29.7.6 v. fuerint 58 Glos, ord., ad C.5.27.1 v. rescripti (ed. cit. 750b) 59 C.7.50.3

0. E. D. (Oxford 1933) 7.39-40. Französiches etymologisches Wörterbuch (Basel 1953) 7.51-52, s.u. naturalis. 3 J. Boizet, Les lettres de naturalité sous l'ancien régime (Paris 1943) esp. 178. 4 Although it contains many useful references, from an historical perspective Boizet's monograph is a defective work of scholarship. 2

"ARS IMITATUR NATURAM"

331

was inconceivable in the Italian city-states. The source of naturalization in France was the monarch; 6 in the South it was the city. The word civis and the neologism civilitas had no meaning beyond the confines of a particular civitas. In the same way, il cittadino and la cittadinanza were inextricably linked to a particular città. La naturalizzare, derived from la naturalità, was not incorporated into the Italian language until the seventeenth century. 6 Is it anachronistic, then, to speak of naturalization in the fourteenth century, to ascribe a theory of naturalization to Baldus and his contemporaries ? I think not; they most certainly elaborated such a theory. But given their Roman legal and linguistic inheritance, their philosophical framework, and the political and social context in which they spun out their theories and opinions, fourteenth-century Italian jurists were not prepared to coin so economical and bold a fiction as naturalization. Intellectual and practical considerations made it imperative that they resort to a more complex taxonomy and syntactical structure in conceptualizing the making of a citizen. Department of History University of Chicago Chicago, Illinois 60637, U.S.A. 5

I am speaking here of the kingdom of France, not of her cities, which could, on their initiative, grant municipal privileges. 6 Dizionario etimologico italiano, eds. C. Battisti and G. Alessio (Florence 1954) 4.253, s.D. naturalizzare. A. Prati, Vocabulario etimologico italiano (Turin 1951) 683, s.v. naturale.

CITIZENSHIP A T LAW IN LATE MEDIEVAL ITALY

by Peter Riesenberg

Much has been made of the civic idealism of Italians during the late Middle Ages: their love of native place, their willingness to serve as ambassadors and soldiers, their passionate financing of vast churches and public buildings to glorify saint and secular image. Modern historians, themselves committed to Liberty and Democracy, have discovered and emphasized those medieval and Renaissance writers who, in poems, prologues, histories, and formal works of political theory, also wrote of Liberty, and if not of Democracy at least of the common good and the public welfare. 1 If the scholar looks in works of literature this is what he finds, and more and more as study of the ancient authors spreads. But if he looks in another body of sources, late medieval and Renaissance legal works, he finds a quite different emphasis; not so much a moral commitment and willingness to serve the patria, as a concern for the benefits that a city might confer upon an individual and his family. Benefits or privileges, however, if valuable to the person, carried a potential of financial and even political responsibility for the city; hence they were not granted to everyone. To enjoy them one had to possess citizenship—an institution we may define for the purposes of this paper in terms of the control and exploitation of certain legal and political powers best appreciated by observing the citizen at law. It seeing these powers in use, we will not arrive at any formal statement of the law of citizenship as that law functioned in any single city, or generally throughout the urbanized area of central and northern Italy; but we will see how citizenship worked, and grasp what it came to mean to those who could use it. This essay's emphasis, therefore, is not upon the formal arrangements each city made to control its birthright citizens or to naturalize immigrants, but upon the desires men had for the rights of citizenship, and the effectiveness, in contemporary context, with which they employed them. We search for answers to the question: What did it mean to be and act as a citizen of an Italian city-state in the late Middle Ages?

1

See especially, Hans Baron, The Crisis of the Early Italian Renaissance ed. 2 (Princeton 1966), and Eugenio Garin, L'umanesimo italiano (Bari 1958); first Italian ed. 1951.

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By the fourteenth century, Bartolus (1314-1357) and other jurists had examined the basic principles of citizenship and entered into extended discussions of fine points of law. Their work was necessary, given the importance of the institution to society, and the existence of a vast body of legislation, legal commentary, and current litigation that demanded understanding and often judicial judgment. Ancient Roman law presented whole titles for discussion; the constitution of every Italian city included statutes that defined the rights and activities of citizens; and men were forever trying to maneuver within those provisions to benefit themselves economically. Moreover, doctrine and law constantly changed to reflect political and social realities, and as municipal statutes were revised they incorporated the city's immediate concerns. Apparently the needs of each city were under constant review; and the relationships between those needs and citizenship policies were grasped by members of the political and administrative ruling class.2 The importance of citizenship both to the individual and the community must be spelled out. Viewing the city first, and conceiving it as a historical, legal, political, and moral entity, we may observe that the identity of its citizens was of great consequence. For their collective quality determined the city's power and creativity and the image it exhibited now, by the fourteenth century, in a Europe no longer a society of harmonious Christian states, but rather a tense, competitive arena. From the twelfth century on, if not earlier, each city existed in a condition of growing apprehension. It feared for its walls, the less well defended contado, the sustained loyalty of its population, the economic success of its merchants and products abroad—in other words, for the effectiveness of its institutions in preserving an identity in an agitated world in which loyalties and position were uncertain. An international or regional agency might disrupt a city's patterns of life: a European war or a fire raid on communal farms. Urban peace was always precarious: in its own terms as unsettled and fragile as life on the countryside to which the city was so closely bound. If now we focus upon the individual we see that the nature and quality of his citizenship defined a man and largely determined his responsibilities and range of action. His tie to patria called upon a man to fight, to father, and to sacrifice his property, certainly to surrender some time, and possibly his life. Citizenship gave the individual one of his few essential characteristics. Only his family conferred more; and only family commitment grew in like complexity and degree of involvement as one advanced in age. Certainly, by the fourteenth

2

W i l l i a m M. B o w s k y , "Medieval Citizenship: The Individual and the State in the com-

mune of Siena, 1287-1355," Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History 4 (1967) 195-243. Also his "Cives Silvestres: Sylvan Citizenship and the Sienese Commune 1287-1355," in Bullettino Senese di Storia Patria 3.24 (1965) 1-13. Very valuable too is the as-yet unpublished work of Mr. John Grundman on the history of Perugia in the thirteenth century.

CITIZENSHIP AT L A W IN

335

ITALY

century, in the Italian urban environment, Christianity no longer conferred one's essential status to the degree it had in earlier ages. A n d if cities were afraid, so too were men; witness the great variety of corporate forms developed during the Middle Ages and especially during the final centuries of that epoch. These served to mobilize the resources of individuals, to give strength and protect.

Y e t within the city or gild each indi-

vidual still had to maximize his abilities; he still had to acquire that specific legal power that might make him, for example, the legal equal of an antagonist superior in social class or wealth, or might confer some marginal advantage to give him a real edge in commerce or before a judge. T o put it colloquially: here is where citizenship came in. Citizenship could convey the critical advantage. N o t only might it link one to all the powers of the municipal corporation: it might do more by giving him some added legal or political power to employ against a fellow townsman perhaps not yet a citizen, or a foreigner perhaps even more incapacitated in local litigation. For all the contemporary rhetoric about patria,

what the city wanted and

needed by the trecento was money, and what the citizen needed was legal effectiveness, or what the jurists termed commoda and which I would translate as benefits or advantage. 3 If I read the medieval Italian situation correctly, the primary concern of citizens then was not for rights that could allow political participation. T o be sure, such participation was positively viewed, but it was considered just a part of a complex personal or family strategy. W h a t the medieval citizen was more concerned with were those benefits of citizenship which advanced his and his family's social status, facilitated his business life, gave him an edge over the resident noncitizen within the walls and which protected him as he maintained banking or commercial operations abroad. Citizenship status might confer some tax benefit, the right to gild membership, the promise of reprisals. It was viewed as someting tangible, almost with a market value, price tag attached.

I t might mean the difference between receiving a bequest or seeing

it go into the hands of a monastery as the alternate beneficiary. It might mean retention of a dowry or not.

Patriotism did flourish, surely, but it was not

of the romantic, idealistic variety that a number of moralists have been able to envision in the past two centuries. W h a t is true of the citizens by birth is even more true of immigrant citizens, those who entered the legal community as the result of their formal petition and the city's responsive legislative act. (Such acts were always the result of careful deliberation, sometimes the subject of actual politicking within the granting body, and always worded with requirements and concessions tailored

3

For some recent views and bibliography see Marvin Becker, Florence in Transition,

Studies in the Rise of the Territorial

State (Baltimore 1968), and William Bowsky, The

of the Commune of Siena ( O x f o r d 1970).

vol 2: Finance

336

PETER

RIESENBERG

to the person involved.) These persons may indicate their love for a new homeland, their desire to become identified with a great state, but in the act of privilege we read of concrete commercial and legal advantages. Immigrants knew that everywhere citizens had responsibilities and that personal service could be calculated in money terms. Some expenditure of time in office, perhaps military service, certainly a variety of taxes were assumed to be part of the universal civic structure. What proved attractive were the marginal advantages conferred by citizenship. In some cases, benefits—in the form of tax concessions granted for, say, the initial five years of citizenship—were conceded to the newcomer by the city in acts surely prejudicial to its existing body. My impression is that when men left the comfortable city-culture of childhood, with its familiar streets, saints, bells, dialect, dress, traditions, hatreds, fountains, factions, feasts, diet, they did so primarily from materialistic motives. It could hardly have been easy to leave the known circumstances of one environment for another, although the move surely was eased by the relatively homogeneous nature of urban life. And what moved them was not the dream of sitting on some high council after five to twenty-five years of exemplary civic behavior, or of living in a "great" as opposed to "minor" city, but rather the opportunity for gain or survival that new citizenship might bring. Nor were these attitudes and needs restricted to the inhabitants of any single form of city state; citizens of princely Milan held them as well as those of republican Florence. Already in the early fourteenth century, eulogists were praising the law and order of despotic rule that promised justice, the kind of justice, of course, that held benefit for obedient subject-citizens: efficiency and privilege. And a century later, when Galeazzo Sforza made financial concessions to his subjects, he specified that the grant was not "to put our subjects in freedom." His recent historian says that the issue here shows what men were "really concerned about at the time," that is, hard fiscal benefits; property, not political participation. 4 This is not to say that merchant citizens were not high-minded, and did not sacrifice. They did, as we do. But what they were primarily after from citizenship was not something for the public good but rather something private, for themselves and their sons. Such is the interpretation I wish to develop in this paper through an analysis of legal commentaries and consilia, those cases presented to jurisconsults for opinion and decision.5 To be sure, this is the kind of source in which we might expect to find the calculated search for specific rights and benefits. Citizenship revealed in the works of poets, historians, and preachers was of course different, 4 D. M. B u e n o de Mesquita, "The Place of Despotism in Italian Politics," in Europe in the Late Middle Ages, ed. J. R. Hale, J. R. L. Highfield and B. Smalley (London 1965) 316. 5 On the consilia, see m y article "The Consilia Literature: A Prospectus," Manuscripla 6 (1962) 3-22; and more recently and extensively Guido Kisch, Consilia: eine Bibliographic de.r juristisehen Konsilien-sammlungen (Basel 1970), and Guido Rossi, Consilium sapientis iudicale (Milan 1958).

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337

and complementary. Undeniably, the institution was a complex one and I do not assert that the truth about it lies in one set of sources alone. I do believe, however, that this is how citizenship functioned and looked in terms of law and economic activity; and also, that this is what late medieval priorities were. To develop these ideas I wish to examine the concerns of noblemen, merchants, and lawyers to see how attempts to define citizen status and to solve legal conflicts reveal the needs and motivations of medieval townsmen. Because of the complexities of the Digest and the Code, the further difficulties involved in analyzing contemporary life in the terms of ancient law, and changing political and social conditions, citizenship requirements in each city were always in flux or confusion. Given all these difficulties, men were not always sure who was and who was not a citizen. Nor were they always clear about what citizenship included. For these reasons the jurists wrote at length about the institution. 6 And what we must accept from their work is not a formal definition in unambiguous and universally accepted legal terms or the concepts of a theologian or political theorist based upon the Church Fathers or Aristotle. Rather we must follow the jurists and view citizenship as a dynamic institution relating to all aspects of urban life. It is meaningless to say "a citizen is. . .," for in fact there existed a whole hierarchy of citizens within each city, to say nothing of persons of other status: some never to be citizens, others on their way to joining one or another level of the civic hierarchy. Had everything been clear to medieval jurists we would not possess this vast evidence of disagreement—in commentaries and consilia—that we do. As Bartolus wrote in his comment to the title Ad municipem: "hodie utimur isto vocabulo large et improprie."7 This in an introduction, before he even begins to discriminate among problems arising from the related words "municeps," "civis," and "incola." What he had in mind was the large body of scholarly opinion on the significance of these three words as they were used in the Corpus juris civilis in determining rights and privileges. Moreover, as he knew from his familiarity with statutes and the consilia of other experts, the language of town law too was not always precise, or, if precise, could give rise to interpretations that might not always jibe with the intent of the legislative draftsmen. A consilium of Baldus (1319-1400) gives evidence for the way questions of definition came up and shows why they were important. At issue is observance 6

I have examined the consilia of some 65 jurists and the commentaries of m a n y of t h e m on apposite passages in the Corpus juris civilis. My impression is that citizenship in all its relationships is treated in more consilia than any other subject in what might be described as the field of public law. 7 Bartolus to D.50.1.1. in Opera (Venice 1585). The great jurist concludes his discussion w i t h the plea that "verba debent intelligi ut aliquid operentur." See §§ 23. This law became a locus classicus for the jurists' theories on citizenship.

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of an agreement between the commune of Gubbio and certain persons owing military service; manifest here is the need to distinguish between the legal concepts of "civis" and "incola," since a different force attaches to each status. The unwilling freemen have moved to another town and wish no longer to serve Gubbio. Ultimately Baldus decides that Gubbio may command their services when need arises. Of interest here is his passing assertion that since the prince contracted "cum liberis hominibus, cum civibus non incolis, ista pacta sunt perpetuo observanda." Baldus does not base his final view only on an issue of fact, that is, the nature as determined of one contracting party; he is also persuaded by the principle that as free men the citizens were competent to make the original agreement that was perceived of mutual benefit to both parties. This being the case, both parties have an obligation to observe the agreement.8 Precision is sought in another way in a consilium of Alexander of Imola (1423/24-1477) touching a questionable sale of land. At issue is the status of "districtuales." 9 Are persons so designated to be understood as included or not in a statute that prohibits lands sales to foreigners? Noting that counter views may be adduced, Alexander says they, the districtuales, may enjoy the privilege of purchase, citing Bartolus and Petrus de Ancharano (1330-1416). He himself emphasizes what he terms the intent of the law, the "mens statuti," 10 A similar case considered by Paul de Castro (d. 1441) concerns the ability of a woman married in Belluno, but born elsewhere, to alienate a certain property. The statute in question prohibits not only alienation of land but also the purchase by "forenses" and "nonsubditi." And it demands that the person to whom property is alienated must be "habilis ad sustinendum omnia onera, tam personalia quam realia, vel mixta." In evaluating the conditions of the would-be seller, Paulus nicely notes "talis mulier non possit omnino dici forensis, potest tamen proprie dici non subdita et non subeuntem onera." And he goes on to define a foreigner as one who "ibi natus non est" or who "dessit 8

Baldus de Perusio, Consiliorum . . . volumen (Lyons 1550) 4 cons. 401. No attempt will be made in this brief essay to tangle with all the problems posed to contemporaries as well as to modern analysts by such words as "districtus", "provincia," and "habitatio." Already in the fifteenth century, Aretinus remarked that he had "never seen districtus well defined." And from Muratori on, historians have worked on the term. Allowing for changes over time, we may say that "districtus" embraces all that territory outside the city walls subject to city law, government, and in actuality, economic control as well. By the end of the thirteenth century if not earlier, the word serves as another general term, sometimes used alone, sometimes in series with other geographical terms to maximize completeness . . . and inadvertently, to create work for the jurisconsults, as this case of Alexander of Imolas and others reveal. See G.Barni, "Cives e rustici alia fine del xn°secolo e all' inizio del XIII° secondo il Liber Consuetudinum Mediolani," Rivista storico italiano 69 (1957) 5-60, and the many articles of G. de Vergottini cited therein. In other studies I plan to examine the legists' views on these territorial terms in relation to citizenship. 9

10

Alexander de Imola, Liber . . . consiliorum

seu responsorum

(Lyons 1549) 6 cons. 27.

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CITIZENSHIP AT LAW IN ITALY

esse subditus et subire onera." In both consilia definitions of the legal status of individuals, their differentiation from those without specific privilege, is crucial to the jurist's decision; indeed, this is why his attempt at definition is worked into the argument.11 Another word whose interpretation was sometimes critical for the enjoyment of statutory benefit was "habitatio"—often in its more personalized form "habitator." Again Alexander is helpful as he discusses the legality of a gift made by one noble to another. One doubt raised is based upon a statute of Ferrara—one of many cities to legislate in this fashion—forbidding alienation of land to foreigners, to those not subject to Ferrarese law, and to those not bearing civic responsibilities. Alexander allows that the prospective recipient of the gift, Thadeus, does not live in Ferrara, but claims that, as a "civis," he does pay taxes on the property he has there. As long as he performs as a citizen in accordance with the laws to which he is subject, "habitatio non est necessaria." In support, Alexander cites Justinianic texts and the comments upon them by Bartolus, Cynus (1270-1336/1337) and Baldus. His choice of references reveals his awareness of the whole pattern of legal relationships in which citizenship was embraced and discussed.12 Another term whose ambiguity provoked a minor literature is "subditus," sometimes "subiectus." Judging from fourteenth-and fifteenth-century consilia, these words usually bore the same legal weight as "civis," although they were usually used by the lawyers to refer to a person under immediate obligation as opposed to one exercising rights. The jurisconsult's problem was often one of equivalency, that is, he had to determine whether the terms were identical in a particular circumstance given the wording of a specific privilege or law, use of which was being questioned. For example, a statute of Mantua limited inheritance of land to "subditi." Two brothers claim a certain property. In his consilium, Marianus Socinus, Jr. (1482-1556) argues that since the men are regarded as "cives vel incolae," and since they fulfill their responsibilities to the city, they properly fall under the wording of the statute which speaks only of "subditi." In effect he says: if one, then the other, provided the required activity, here the meeting of obligations to the community, is present. In an interesting phrase, Marianus claims that the brothers were "in quasi possessione civilitatis mantuae, seu capacitatis acquirendi bona immobilia in domanio mantuano."13 The overlapping of the two words is also evident in the thought of Baldus who uses "subditus" as something of a catchall in a consilium dealing with right of reprisal. It designates all persons under the rule of a prince, whether

11

Paulus de Castro, Consiliorum

siue responsorum

. . . volumen

(Venice 1581) 2 cons. 89.

12

Alexander de Imola (n. 10 above) 2. cons. 157. 13 Marianus Socinus Jr., Consiliorum . . . volumen Alexander de Imola (n. 10 above) 6. cons. 27.

(Venice 1580) 2. cons. 7.

See too

340

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"cives," "incolae," or others, who might avail themselves of legal privilege.14 In Baldus's consilium the specific prince was Galeatus de Malatesta; and it was under princes, as opposed to multiple executives, that "subditus" was to have its principal conceptual development during the Renaissance. Whereas for Baldus, the citizen jurist of Perugia dealing with the common law of a basically republican city-state system, the operative word of daily usage is "civis," for Johannes Riminaldi (1434-1497), whose ambiance is the ducal court of Ferrara in the late fifteenth century, the term that comes most easily is "subditus." In the view ascribed to them by Riminaldi, both Baldus and Bartolus believed that "citizens are known by the obligations they bear." But he emphasizes the will of the prince in determining status. And whereas earlier civilians had emphasized the mutuality of responsibility and will between person and city in the determination of citizenship, now in Riminaldi's view, the bond between citizen and city can be broken only by the state, which alone may determine and define the relations it desires to maintain with its citizensubjects.15 Other consilia present fortifying evidence of a similar nature. In a case presented to Paul de Castro concerning one's legal capacity to purchase property, what decides the jurist is his discovery of the plaintiff's name on the roll of tax-paying citizens.16 And in another case Jason de Mayno (1435-1519) concludes, with regard to a gild's requirement of citizenship for its members, that the plaintiff has not lost his citizenship and may enter the gild despite his father's long absence from Milan.17 Discussion of these questions was not scholarly exercise in verbal analysis, but rather was crucial to the very exercise of valuable rights. Since property and precedent were almost always involved, and since the intent of a statute was not always clear, the jurists had to intervene with their interpretations. Bartolus's views will help us as they did those contemporaries and later admirers who frequently referred to his comment upon 1. Ad municipem,18 Here Bartolus discusses the term "Perusinus," which, more than "municeps Perusii" or "Talis de Perusia" is what proved troublesome to the jurists. His view is that when used as a substantive adjective ("nomen appelativum") and not as a proper name ("nomen proprium"), "Perusinus" (or "Neapolitanus," etc.) may indicate that the person in question is a Perugian citizen. As proper 14 16 16

Baldus (n. 8 above) 4 cons. 445. Joannes Riminaldi, Consilia (Venice 1576-1579) 3. cons. 479, esp. §§ 1 and 2.

Paulus de Castro, Consiiiorum . . . volumen (Venice 1580) 2. cons. 234. Jason de Mayno, Consiiiorum . . . volumen (Venice 1581) 3. cons. 316. 18 Bartolus, Opera (Venice 1585) to C. 50.1.1 esp. §§ 19. See too his comments upon D.45.16.190 (1. Provinciales) and D.24.1.1 (1. Quia). His experience with this issue and also the legal community's is suggested by his observation that such was "secundm communem usum loquendi." Lucas de Penna found this usage repellent. See his Commentaria (Lyons 1583) t o C.10.38.1 (1. Cum te). 17

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CITIZENSHIP AT LAW IN ITALY

name it never connotes citizenship, and even when used appelatively it implies only place of birth and nothing about the place of actual residence of an individual at a given moment. Bartolus is quite careful about what can and cannot be drawn from the term and leaves the way open for analysis in each specific case to determine the facts and whether, presumably, benefits are to be enjoyed by the person whose citizenship is in doubt. We must be careful to understand that, strictly speaking, he denies that any one of the three usages "de necessitate" says something about citizenship. It is also important to note that, whereas Bartolus makes his most extended and influential judgment in relation to a Justinianic text defining civic status, he confirms it in two other commentaries dealing with reprisals; this would indicate the context and implications of the whole subject. That is to say, he discusses the status of people in relation to the legal aspects of their activities in the world; always in mind is a concern for one's ability or inability to perform specific acts. This long discussion of legal differentiae confirms our picture of the complexity of life within the Italian cities, and adds a new dimension to it. Not only were men distinguished by their wealth, profession, family reputation, parish, friends, and allies; they were known too, by their legal capabilities, as determined by citizenship status. These defined what economic and political shape their lives might take. The city must be viewed as a secne of constantly shifting status as men won new rights over time and through personal accomplishment. Not only was there social advance (and decline); there was also much change in legal status, and often these two kinds of change were related. If the acquisitiion and exercise of citizenship provoked a constant discussion of rights at law, so too did questions of loss. "Privari patria grave est" wrote Philippus Decius (1454-1535) in a tight phrase that summed up the fear that men had—and were supposed to have—over the loss of their powers under citizenship.19 Discussions of citizenship loss involve renunciation of status and transfer of residence, that is, acts of the individual; and also deprivation of citizenship, which is an act of public authority. The principal concept behind a grant of citizenship was society's expectation of some service from the new citizen. It was also the case that nonperformance of civic duty occasioned loss of citizenship, or at least of certain of its legal benefits. Such is the clearest conclusion that emerges from a study of legal and constitutional references to this subject. Subtleties aside, there is no conflict between the views of the jurists and those of the statutes. Baldus's opinion that a citizen who refuses to help his community in moments of crisis should lose his citizenship, and Albertus Gandinus's (fl. end of the thirteenth century) view that those who do not perform military service on demand lose the right of political participation and the privileges of civil and criminal law,

19

Philippus Decius, Consilia

sive responsa

(Venice 1575) 1 cons. 282.

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PETER RIESENBERG

are relected in the statutes of Florence, Perugia, Arezzo, and other cities.20 Perugia, for example, decreed in 1342 that citizens or residents of the city or contado who did not pay "date e colte e prestanze" were to be treated as foreigners and were not to be heard by any judicial officer of the commune in either civil or criminal cases.21 Both Viterbo and Pistoia threatened loss of citizenship and expulsion for those who might bring economic and physical damage upon their co-citizens.22 Arezzo threatened this penalty for nonpayment of taxes, while Florence emphasized the legal incapacity that would follow upon tax delinquency.23 And in the legislation of Siena, which was concerned as was every city to protect its strength in economic affairs, we find banishment promised again and again for those who would default against foreigners or fellow Sienese. And here, as elsewhere, he who paid no taxes might find himself debarred from public office, stripped of the podestá's protection, and eventually banished from the city.24 These Sienese laws are highly instructive, for they reveal consciousness both of the ideal of civic brotherhood, and the practical need for maintaining a sound corporate image in the international market. In some consilia, questions of both loss and gain of citizenship are involved, often in relation to matters of priority of obligation and applicability of citizenship benefits—two widely discussed topics. Some of the issues are revealed in a consilium of Decius. It concerns a marquis who contested the bequest of property of his deceased wife to her two daughters by a previous husband. A Milanese statute prohibits alienation of "large" dowries in the manner proposed by the marchesa's will. At issue are two questions: whether the property is large enough to fall under the statute, and whether the benefit of the statute may be enjoyed by the marquis, who, like the wife, had renounced his place of birth and become a Milanese citizen. Examining only the jurist's views on the second issue, we find that he accepts the new status of the marquis and accords him the benefit of Milanese law for a variety of reasons, all of which imply approval by the legist of an individual's right to move about with the hope of gaining a new equality of legal status. In the marquis's favor 20

Baldus, Commentaria (Venice 1486) to. C.8.51.2. See too Albertus Gandinus, Quaestiones statutorum ed. E. Solmi in Bibl. iurid. med. aev. (Bologna 1901) 3 cap.101. I owe this reference to Professor J. Mundy of Columbia University. 21

G. degli Azzi, ed. Statuti

di Perugia

dell' anno MCCCXLII,

2 vols. ( R o m e 1913-1916)

2.27. 22 Cronache e statuti della citta di Viterbo, ed. Ignazio Ciampi (Florence 1872) 554-555. Those banished had ravaged Sienese merchants headed for Viterbo. For Pistoia see Ludovico

Muratori, Antiquitates italicae medii aevi (Milan 1738-1742) 4.540-541. 23 Statuto di Arezzo, ed. G. Camerani Marri (Florence 1946) 2.32. A n d Statuti república fiorentina, ed. Roberto Caggese 2 vols. (Florence 1910-1921) 5 cap 41. 24

della

II constituto del comune di Siena dell' anno 1262, ed. Ludovico Zdekauer (Milan 1897) 1.368, 412; 2.73, 74, 76, 78, 80-84. Many consilia present data for a study of banishment which remains t o be done.

C I T I Z E N S H I P AT LAW IN

ITALY

343

is his obvious awareness of the full dimensions of his act. He was aware, says Decius, repeating a familiar saw, that it is better to be of moderate condition in a great city than top man in a small town. Moreover, he says, citizenship itself is defined by its legal benefits according to Bartolus, which benefits, according to Baldus, are to be interpreted broadly. Decius also notes the marquis's sustained devotion to Milan and the power of legislation to make a man the equal of citizens by birth. That the noble bears no "onera" in Milan does not trouble Decius, for the city may exercise its sovereign power as it wills. In the present case the presumption is that the very grant of citizenship indicates that in the eyes of the city he is doing his share.25 Self-serving attitudes may most clearly be seen in the goals of immigrants. Why did one choose to leave his native place? What motivations underlay the phenomena of migration and immigration ? As suggested, men knew quite clearly what they wanted, and were willing to lose in order to gain. What they lost, whether from a nearby town, or distant Italian city, or foreign country, was among other things the psychological comfort of familiarity and cultural support that enchanced dignity. These the emigrant sacrificed as he moved from one civic culture to another. But if he lost something positive, he left behind also his listings on the tax rolls, possibly crushing personal obligations to the community, and perhaps an untenable position in factional strife. If a soldier, he may have left behind the dismal prospect of local peace. An artisan might have found his future blocked, his skills valued more in another city. The student could leave a stifling atmosphere; the professor the university where his talents, his ego might tell him, were inadequately rewarded. What do the documents say? Above all that, if we discount rhetorical flourishes about ardent affection for the new city, the prospect of some kind of material advantage attracted the foreigner. Not some burning idealogical commitment to Florentine libertas but the desire to improve the familial business, social connections, and its legal situation, or to escape, like some ancient curialis, heavy civic responsibilities. The medieval rational, urban businessman, even small town merchant or rural speculator was certainly a calculator and frequently an aggressor on the world. And the most dramatic chance he grasped at was a benefit that allowed investment, for example, in the great trading ventures of Genoa and Venice. In 1301, the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia and Velletri intervened to obtain Venetian citizenship for Mameto de' Pulci di Firenze and his descendents.26 And some idea of the importance merchants attached to the benevolence of their government may be seen a generation later in the attempt of Zonta, a citizen of Cavarzere in the Venetian contado, to establish his precise civic identity before leaving for Lombardy to trade. On 16 November, 1322, Zonta received 26 26

See n. 19. above. I libri commemoriali della /¿publica di Venezia regesti, et. R. Predelli (Venice 1876) 1.57.

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from the Venetian podestà in Cavarzere a document attesting that, although a resident of Venice, he was in fact a citizen of the mainland community. Three days later Zonta petitioned the doge for some formal attestation of this citizenship. And on the next day, 20 November, he redeived his document, which explicitly mentions the proof furnished by the Venetian podestà. We have no idea how long Zonta planned this operation; but at face value this display of Venetian bureaucratic practice is impressive for its speed, formality, and apparent justice to the citizen 27 The news from Genoa is the same, and as early as citizenship in any form is visible it is associated with the trading privilege For services rendered ("proficium et utilitatem comune Janue") Fulco Strictus is permitted to send 200 lire "ad laborandum . . . supra mare . . . sicuti cives Janue." 2 8 As valuable as these privileges were the tax reliefs that immigrants sought and received. The Statuti of Verona of 1276 offer foreign agricultural workers 15 years' freedom from "honeribus rusticorum" if they come to work of Veronese farms, while any foreigner of good reputation who stays in the city may live there free of tax burdens for five years. Like Veronese citizens, however, he remains liable for military service in the host and night watch. If he remains on the countryside for more than five years fhe must fulfill normal obligations there and must not try to avoid them by fleeing into town. (So reads an undated additio to the basic statute on citizenship.)29 The city of Arezzo promised its new citizens ten years' freedom from many kinds of imposts—when the newcomer's house, valued at 300 lire, is completed. At the end of that decade, however, he will be held to "omnes factiones reales et personates sicut quando faciunt alii cives aretini." 30 In Siena, when members of the Florentine Franzesi family petitioned for citizenship, they requested tax immunities, some of which were granted after much discussion by several

I libri commemoriali (Venice 1883) 3.4-5. It is noteworthy that both kinds of Venetian citizenship included the privilege of trading under the city's auspices. A few years earlier, in 1313, Venice ruled that all those in the area between Grado and Cavazere had to have their status certified by the Provveditore, the official to whom Zonta applied. It is clear that Zonta was taking this regulation seriously; clear too is the importance with which citizenship benefits were regarded. 2 8 Fulco was a foreign judge who, for his part, swore to do right by his Genoese employers. See Codice diplomatico della repubblica di Genova, ed. C. Imperiale (Rome 1936) 250-251. The date is 1149. A more formai and complete grant of citizenship that also includes the vital right to trade may be found in Liber iurium, ed. E. Ricotti in Mon. Patr. Hist. (Turin 1854) 7.158. 29 Gli statuti veronesi del 1276 colle correzioni e le aggiunte fino al 1323, ed. Gino Sandri, 2 vols. (Venice 1940, 1959) 1 cap. 227. Noteworthy are the instructions to the podestà to inquire into the status and activities of foreigners within three months of his taking office. He is to keep a record of all privileges granted foreigners, said record to be kept in the palazzo publico. 27

30

Statuto di Arezzo, (1327 (n. 23 above) 12.48.

CITIZENSHIP AT LAW IN

345

ITALY

civil authorities, for five years.31 In Florence such permissiveness was conventional as the town sought to attract important new people.32 If conventional, however such policy was not automatic or necessary, for the city was ever conscious of its real financial needs. Such were some of the valuable benefits foreigners sought when they calculated a switch in allegiance. No wonder then that the immigrant merchant had his strongbox, his equivilant of the city's vault. Among the books and papers found in the study of Ser Cola d'Ascoli upon his death was "l'istrumento de la civiltà di Firenze per messer Giovanni et ser Cola d'Ascoli," presumably one of his most important family papers.33 The lure of legal and material advantage did make movement attractive, and men did migrate; yet we must not overemphasize either the frequency or the ease with which they moved.34 W e may imagine how difficult it was to enter a new community and to shed early cultural and institutional experience. What helped to make transfer from place to place humanly possible was the similarity of values and institutions throughout upper Italy. With changes in emphasis, the ethic of work and success was everywhere respectable. Local venerations might vary, but each town had its saint, it festivals, its concentration of religious houses, its peculiar history into which the immigrant and his children might be initiated. From city to city patterns of family and party rivalry, gild organization, and commerce and industry might vary, but a structure of urban existence, a civic culture, was universalized; and what is more, despite the constant ambivalance towards the outsider, a feature of the civic culture was the very process of integration established by each city for the socialization of strangers. That this procedure was everywhere expressed in a language heavily dependent for its concepts and clarity upon ancient Roman law itself was a unifying element of the civic culture.35 Of greater daily impact were service in the local watch or militia company, membership in the local gate organization, to say nothing of prescribed gild

31

W . Bowsky, "Medieval Citizenship" (n. 2 above) 201-202.

32

See, for example: Archivio di stato firenze Prow.

40.fol. 30, 3 Dec. 1352 and Prow.

49.fols.

53v-54, 26 Nov. 1361. 33

A . S. F. Acquisti

e Doni, 302, no pag. I owe this reference to Professor G. Brucker of the

University of California at Berkeley. 34

Certain Consilia deal with this concern.

See, for example, Baldus (n. 8 above) 1 cons.

393 and in ed. (Venice 1576) 2. cons. 29. See too Alexander de Imola (n. 10 above) 2 cons. 157. And Bartolus, Consilia

(Venice 1575) 2 cons. 29; also §§ 4-6 of his "de represaliis" in

Opera (Venice 1602). Guido Fava, in his widely read Dictamen,

advises judges to take special

note of litigants' citizenship, especially when men of several cities are involved. Dictamen 35

rhetorica,

See my

ed. A . Gaudenzi in II Propugnatore,

"Civism and Roman Law in Fourteenth-Century Italian Society," in ed.

D. Herlihy, R . S. Lopez, and V. Slessarev Economy, Italy Studia

See his

nuov. ser. 5 (1892) 107. Society,

and Government

in

Medieval

(Kent, Ohio 1969) 237-254; and "Citizenship and Equality in Late Medieval Italy" Gratiana

15 (1972) 423-39.

346

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affiliation, and appearance in a parish church. Through these mechanisms men were able, over years, to pass from one institutional environment to another, and become accepted without paralyzing difficulty. Women had their special problems, solved, if at all, in the market place and at the communal fountain. For them, too, institutional and social similiarity made possible the wrench away from familiar circumstances; that and the "commodo" they and their husbands expected new residence and citizenship eventually would bring. This word, as employed by Carlo Ruino (d. 1530)38 in a consilium dealing with retention of citizenship privileges, reveals so much. It was benefit, advantage, an edge, that people expected as they transferred their membership from one civic soul to another, or remained in place bearing taxes, performing duties so that maximum effectiveness might be theirs in the mercato and the piazza as well as in the palazzo communale. If this interpretation is correct, it may help clarify a major historical phenomonon: the ability of the late medieval or Renaissance state to muster the resources of its people more efficiently than before. It was not just a new force based on police and military power and administrative efficiency that made Italian businessmen-citizens surrender some measure of their privacy and resources to the needs of the state. Nor was it just the influence of a new morality provoked by the threat of aggression and sustained by the cultivated revival of antique literature and values. Privileges that could be granted by the state alone coaxed the individual out of his private world into the larger public world where his talent and treasure, or some significant part of these, might be mobilized for large-scale public enterprise. Department of History Washington University St. Louis, Missouri 63130, U.S.A. 38

Carlo Ruini, Responsorum sive consiliorum oolumen (Venice 1571) 2 cons. 200, § § 6 . The word appears in the plural when used by Alexander de Imola: " c o m m o d i s e t e m o l u m e n t i s dicti communi." See (n. 10 above) 5 cons. 32.

THE GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

by David Herlihy

Historians have long been accustomed to dividing the communities they study into smaller groups, more easily observed in the texts, more conveniently manipulated intellectually, than the total society. Historical writings abound with references to kingdoms, churches, estates, classes, towns, occupations, and the like. The burden of this paper is to recommend another, newer way of viewing and describing past societies, and hopefully to illustrate its value. For among the many standards used to identify social groups—residence, loyalties, beliefs, status, wealth, occupation, and so forth—the one that is most present to our daily experience and least used by historians would seem to be age. Quite obviously, every community and most groups within it contain members who stand at different places along the path of human life. Every human community and every group within it must take care to rear and train new members to replace the aged and the dying. These fundamental processes of replacement do not always run smoothly. Numerical imbalances may appear—too many aspirants among the young to fill the places vacated by the old, or too few neophytes to maintain the group and its traditions. The present, troubling state of the academic profession, with many applicants for the few places that death or retirement now open, illustrates the distress that numerical imbalances between age levels can generate. Certain professions, such as the religious ministry, today face the opposite problem of diminished vocations; the churches now must strain to provide their usual services and to maintain their traditional role in society. Differences in attitudes and values may also come to distinguish young from old. It is of course true that all conscious members of society, at all ages, have equal opportunity to observe the events, and share the experiences, of an epoch. But those events, especially such psychologically arresting episodes as economic depressions, wars, victories, or defeats, are also likely to affect the impressionable young more deeply and more permanently than the experienced aged. The long and crowded memories of the aged lead them to An earlier version of this paper was read at the annual meeting of the Medieval Association of the Pacific, at Stanford University in February, 1973.

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DAVID H E R L I H Y

assimilate new experiences with what they have already seen; events observed late in life thus lose their psychological impact. For the young, the same experiences operate on a collective consciousness that is still largely unformed; they therefore can operate powerfully to shape that consciousness, and to create the standards by which the young, as they grow older, interpret subsequent events, arrange their values and elect their style of living. Americans who came of age during the booming '20s, the Great Depression, World War II, the silent '50s, or the tumultuous '60s—were they not permanently affected by the shape of the world that they first discovered and observed as young adults? Imbalances in relative numbers and differences in outlook can further generate tensions within the age groups and sow conflicts among them. Inevitably, the young will feel pressures, as they wonder when, how, and whether a stable place in society will be open to them. The young may also consider that they are not admitted soon enough to participation in the exercise of power or the management of property; the old, in contrast, may believe that their own position and prerogatives are threatened by the impatience and the importunities of the young. The processes of replacement, in sum, essential to the survival of every human community, can deeply affect its internal structure, its social relationships, and the values and culture of its members. If age distribution within society merits the attention of historians, then the word that at once acquires importance is the generation. The notion of the generation possesses a long history, and figures prominently as a measure of human time both in Antiquity and during the Middle Ages.1 In a notable use of the concept, the evangelist Saint Matthew located the historical setting of the birth of Jesus in terms of generations.2 Following his example, medieval theologians used it in their conceptions of sacred history, to measure the duration of man's sojourn on earth. 3 A review of the meanings of generatio in the Thesaurus linguae latinae for the classical literature or in DuCange's 1 For a short discussion of the meaning of generation, see Julián Marías, El método historico de las generaciones (Madrid 1949), trans. Harold C. Raley as Generations: A Historical Method (University, Alabama 1970); and Yves Renouard, "La notion de génération en histoire," originally published in the Revue historique in 1953 and reprinted in Études d'histoire médiévale (Paris 1968) 1.19-39. Most writers on the generation have considered it primarily as "a group of men . . . the unity of w h o m is based upon a certain mentality," not simply as an age cohort. Examples of the use of the concept in the history of philosophy and of literature are François Mentrê, Les générations sociales (Paris 1920), from whom I have t a k e n the above definition (13), and Henri Peyre, Les générations littéraires (Paris 1948). In history, compare the use of the concept, not very rigorous, in Carleton J. Hayes, A Generation of Materialism ( N e w York 1941). 2

Matthew 1.1-17. See, for example, S. Iuliani episcopi toletani "De comprobatione aetatis sextae libri tres," P L 96.537-586. St. Julian, who wrote in Spain in the seventh century, affirmed that the exact duration of each generation was k n o w n only to God. 3

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GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

glossary of medieval Latin makes apparent that the traditional understanding of the word does not differ notably from our own.4 From its root sense of birth, "generation" comes to signify the aggregate of persons of approximately the same age—what a modern demographer would call, more precisely perhaps but less evocatively, an age cohort. It may also mean the duration of time that this group survives on earth—the average length of the lives of its members. Finally, and still more commonly, it may also signify the average distance in time separating parents from their children. In ancient and medieval writings, it is often difficult to know what sense of the word should be preferred, and, when it is used to measure time, what value in years should be given to it. But in viewing human history as a succession of generations, ancient and medieval authors express a truth that can also lend insight to the interpretations of modern scholars. The recommendation I am making here—that generational balances and relationships be considered in the study of medieval society—is by no means new, but the method has attracted much greater interest among sociologists and social philosophers than among historians. Many of the great figures in the history of modern social thought—Auguste Comte, John Stuart Mill, Wilhelm Dilthey, Emile Durkheim, and others—have seen in the rise of new generations a primary force working to change society.5 The Spanish philosopher Ortega y Gasset and his disciple Julián Marías have made perhaps the most systematic effort to found a philosophy of historical change upon the succession of generations. Marias's book, entitled Generations: A Historical Method was first published in Spanish in 1949 and appeared in English translation only in 1970.6 It remains to be seen what impact it will have on American historical thought. Marias maintains that modern European history at least can be meaningfully divided into generational periods of exactly fifteen years. This surely will strike many readers as rigid and mechanistic, but his basic assumption, that new generations bring new perspectives into society, should still challenge historians. Among medievalists, in 1951 the distinguished French scholar, Yves Renouard, in an article written under Marias's influence, concurred that shared experiences at the same moment in time lent the generation a kind of unique spiritual cohesiveness; he recommended that historians of the Middle Ages make use of this concept in their social and cultural studies.7 It is difficult, however, to cite many works in medieval history which have followed this advice. Even before it was tendered, in 1951 the American art historian Millard Meiss, in his Painting in Florence and Siena after the Black Death, independently

4 Thesaurus linguae latinae, 6 (Leipzig 1925-1934) cols. 1780-1788. infimae Latinitatis, ed. G. Henschel (Paris 1844) 3.505-506. 5 6

Glossarium

The thought of these and other figures is reviewed in Marías (n. 1 above). 7 Ibid. Renouard (n. 1. above).

mediae

et

350

DAVID H E R L I H Y

recognized the value of this approach.8 He contrasted the generations of Florentine and Sienese painters before and after the Black Death of 1348, and brilliantly illustrated how their methods and artistic vision were affected by its horrendous carnage. In 1964 the French medievalist Georges Duby gave another excellent example of the method in his study of the "jeunes," the young, in French aristocratic society of the twelfth century.9 In this perceptive essay, the nobles of twelfth-century France emerge not as a compact class uniform and consistent in its values, but as a group sharply divided along generational lines; young and old cultivated quite different styles of life, and contention often disturbed their relationship. We may conclude that the historian of the Middle Ages who wishes to utilize the "method of the generation" could profitably seek answers to four principal questions. What was the relative size of the generation in the period of his interest, in relation to those that immediately preceded or succeeded it ? Relative size is here more important than absolute numbers, which are, at all events, difficult to establish in a medieval context. Under conditions of population growth, which presumably prevailed in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, each succeeding generation would tend to be larger than its predecessor. This would create a problem of superfluous youth—too many aspirants for the social positions held by their elders. Under such conditions, the chance to marry, access to careers, and the achievement of a stable place in society, might be denied to many of the young or delayed for them, and this would most likely create intense dissatisfactions. On the contrary, the collapsing population in the late fourteenth century would normally mean that the older generation would be followed in time by reduced numbers of the young. The young would enjoy a wider choice of careers, and social mobility would be enhanced; they would also gain access to positions of influence at comparatively young ages. Would this not have some impact on the cultural style of the epoch ? The second principal question regarding the generation is this: what was the average duration of life enjoyed by its members in the period under examination ? For the medieval generation cannot be regarded as a fixed unit of time. On the contrary, as we shall subsequently see, the duration of a generation varied considerably over the course of medieval history, and these very swings have considerable social importance. The third question that seems worth posing is the following: what was the mean distance in time separating mothers and fathers from their children ? Here, it is important to note that the dura-

8

Millard Meiss, Painting

9

Georges D u b y , "Au x u ' siècle: les ' j e u n e s ' dans la société aristocratique,"

in Florence and Siena after the Black Death (Princeton 1951).

economies-sociétés-civilisations article is available in Lordship ( N e w York 1968).

19 (1964) 835-846. and Community

Annales-

A n English translation of this important

in Medieval

Europe,

ed. Fredric L. Cheyette

G E N E R A T I O N IN M E D I E V A L

HISTORY

351

tion of time separating parents from children, in the Middle Ages or any other period, is not necessarily the same if traced through mothers as through fathers. Because of differences in the mean age of marriage for men and for women, the matrilineal and patrilineal generations could have notably different durations. The failure to recognize this, the tendency to think of generations exclusively in masculine terms, are major weaknesses in the writings that up to now have been devoted to the topic. Fourth, and finally, what events or experiences affected the cultural or spiritual formation of the generation under study, and how deeply ? To the first three questions in the program proposed above, exact answers could be given, at least in theory; the only practical limitation on the precision of the responses is the state of the sources. To the last question, however, answers of comparable exactness can hardly be expected. The question itself redefines the nature of a generation. It no longer is regarded as a cohort of persons found at precise levels in the age pyramid, but as a group of individuals who have shared the same deep experiences at approximately the same period of their lives. But at what age does youth end and sensitivity wane ? Clearly we cannot say, and the generation, considered as a community formed through shared experiences, necessarily possesses fluid margins; inevitably too, it is hard to estimate the strength of its inner coherence. But the scholar would be short-sighted indeed if he denied to the generation so understood all social or historic reality. To analyze the generation as a cultural group requires that the historian show great insight and sensitivity, but the very difficulty of the analysis will increase the interest of his work. In this paper, we shall attempt far less than the ideal program of analysis described in the preceding paragraphs; our goal will be only to point out some few, salient characteristics of the generation in medieval history. Essentially, the second part of this essay will offer partial, tentative answers to the second and third questions posed above: How did the mean duration of life change during the Middle Ages? How did age of marriage change also, and with it age of parenthood, for men and for women? And what importance did these shifts have for the character of medieval society ? The research devoted to all these queries has been, up to the present, scattered and inadequate. I hope that these tentative answers will both aid and stimulate the more intensive study of these basic themes. How long was a medieval generation, in the sense of the average duration of a human life ? Only from the thirteenth century can we offer fairly reliable estimates. Some years ago, J. C. Russell studied the longevity of the male members of England's royal families in the Middle Ages. Before 1276, the average duration of their lives was 35 years. It declined slowly in the early fourteenth century, and precipitously after 1349, during the period of the great medieval plagues. In the quarter-century after 1348, the average length of a princely life was only 17 years, down by more than 50 percent from its

352

DAVID

HERLIHY

height in the thirteenth century. Only after 1425 does the span of princely days once more become extended.10 How typical was England and its princes ? In a different and distant corner of Europe, in Florence and its region, memoirs preserved by household heads since the late thirteenth century also give scattered but usable information on the births, marriages, and deaths of family members. Before 1348, the average duration of life of those mentioned in these memoirs (26 men and women) for whom the dates of both births and deaths are recorded is approximately 40 years.11 The figure falls to 35 years in the generation immediately following the Black Death and 19 years in the last quarter of the fourteenth century. Only after 1450 does the average length of a Florentine life once more grow extended. These Florentine burghers are far removed socially and geographically from the English princes, but the two groups show remarkable similarities in their experience of life and encounters with death in the late Middle Ages. In sum, the medieval generation, in the sense of the average duration of human life, was comparatively protracted in the thirteenth century, probably reaching or surpassing 35 years, but it was brutally reduced to half that figure amid the shocking catastrophes of the fourteenth century. It is possible that 10

J. C. Russell, British Medieval Population (Albuquerque 1948) 180, table entitled "Generation Life Table of Males." The exact figures are: up to 1275, 35.28 years; 1276-1300, 31.30; 1301-1325, 29.84; 1326-1348, 30.22; 1348-1375, 17.33; 1376-1400, 20.53; 1401-1425, 23.78; 1426-1450, 32.76. 11 The exact figures are as follows: before 1348, 26 persons, 39.53 years; 1349-1375, 55 persons, 35.47 years; 1376-1400, 24 persons, 18.54 years; 1401-1425, 35 persons, 20.17 years; 1426-1450, 15 persons, 21.93 years; 1451-1476, 22 persons, 43.41 years; 1476-1500,13 persons, 52.38 years. In collecting the above figures, the following published ricordi were surveyed: Il libro di ricordanze dei Corsini (1362-1457), ed. Armando Petrucci, Fonti per la storia d'Italia, 100 (Rome 1965). Il libro segreto di Gregorio Dati, ed. Carlo Gargiolli, Scelta di curiosità letterarie, inedite o rare, dal secolo x m al x v n (Bologna 1869). Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, 1: "Il Zibaldone quaresimale," ed. Alessandro Perosa (London 1960). Diario fiorentino dal 1450 al 1516 di Luca Landucci continuato da un anonimo fino al 1542, ed. I. del Badia (Florence 1883). Giovanni di Pagolo Morelli, Ricordi, ed. "Vittore Branca (Florence 1956). La cronica domestica di messer Donato Velluti scritta fra il 1367 e il 1370 con le addizioni di Paolo Velluti, scritta fra il 1555 e il 1560, ed. Isidoro del Lungo and Guglielmo Volpi (Florence 1914). Ricordanze di Bartolomeo Masi calderaio fiorentino dal 1478 al 1526 ed. G. O. Corazzini (Florence 1906). F. Polidori, "Ricordi di Guido dell'Antella, " Archivio Storico Italiano (henceforth, ASI) 4 (1843) 5-24. Idem, "Ricordi di Cristofano Guidini [senese]," ASI 4 (1843) 25-48. Idem, "Ricordi di Oderigo di Credi," ASI 4 (1843) 49-110. Ricordi storici di Filippo di Cino Rinuccini dal 1282 al 1460 colla continuazione di Alamanno e Neri suoi figli fino al 1506, ed. G. Aizzai (Florence 1840). Cronaca di Buonaccorso Pitti, ed. A. Bacchi della Lega (Bologna 1905). Libro A di'Richordi d'Antonio di Taddeo Rospigliosi (1459-1498), ed. Giulio Cesare Rospigliosi (Pisa 1909). "Diario del Monaldi," Istorie pistoiesi ovver delle cose avvenute in Toscana dall'anno MCC al MCCCXLVIII, e diario del Monaldi, ed. A. M. Biscioni (Milan 1845). Alessandra Macinghi negli Strozzi, Lettere di una gentildonna fiorentina del secolo XIV ai figliuoli esuli, ed. Cesari Guasti (Florence 1877).

GENERATION

IN

MEDIEVAL

353

HISTORY

the long duration of the average life in the thirteenth century was the culmination of a trend that had begun in the early Middle Ages, and which paralleled the great demographic and economic expansion from approximately the year 1000.

For example, the surveys of Carolingian estates, most notably the

celebrated Polyptych of the monastery of Saint-German-des-Prés near Paris, rarely give examples of peasant families with three generations of members within them.12 Perhaps the technical character of the surveys explains the absence of grandfathers and grandmothers, but perhaps too, the harsh conditions of life, particularly among the peasants, took a heavy toll of older persons. There are, moreover, hints in literary works that the duration of the average life was relatively extended in the thirteenth century.

In his "Four Ages of

Man," written about the middle of the thirteenth century, Philippe de Navarre, a lawyer by profession, extended childhood to age 20, and jovens or youth to age 40; "middle age" lasted until 60 years, and old age until 80.13 Dante in his Convivio similarly conceived of life as divided into four periods, and he extended youth to an even later year, to age 45.14 Both estimates of life and its divisions seem upwardly extended.

Saint Augustine, for example, considered

that man reached the perfection of his days and the end of his youth at age 30, after which decline immediately set in.15

Subsequently, amid the calamities

of the late Middle Ages, shorter estimates of life come to the fore. The prolific French poet Eustache Deschamps, writing in 1386, divided life into four periods of sixteen years, rather than the twenty proposed by Philippe de Navarre; he said "adieu" to youth at age 32, rather than 40, and looked at 64, rather than 80, as the full allotment of life.16 In the 1420s Saint Bernardine of Siena likewise affirmed, like Augustine, that men after age 30 were already in decline.17 Impressed by the brevity of their days, authors of the late Middle Ages also entertained the opinion that their ancestors spent a longer time on earth

12

Polyptyque de l'Abbé Irminon,

ed. Benjamin Guérard, 2 vols. (Paris 1844). This survey

is by far the largest and the most detailed of all those that have reached us from the Carolingian epoch. 13

Philippe de Navarre, Les quatre age de l'homme, ed. Marcel de Fréville, Société des

anciens textes français 27 (Paris 1889) 5.188.102: " E t a lui meisme sambla que chascuns des .iiii. tens d'aage deust estre de .xx. anz." 14

Dante Alighieri, Convivio 4.24 in Le opere di Dante. Testo critico della Società Dantesca

Italiana, ed. 2 (Florence 1960) 279-293. Dante's first age, which he calls adolescence, extends from birth to age 25. 15

Augustine, De civitate dei 22.15: "Circa triginta quippe annos definierunt esse etiam

saeculi huius doctissimi homines iuventutem: quae cum fuerit spatio proprio terminata, inde iam hominem in detrimenta vergere gravioris ac senilis aetatis." 16

Œuvres complètes de Eustache Deschamps, ed. M. De Queux de Saint-Hilaire (Paris 1878)

1.128.250, "Adieu a la jeunesse."

"Jusqu'à seize ans que nostre enfance endure / . . . Autres

.xvi. ans, l'a jeunesse en sa cure. / . . . Par li .xvi. ans; autant y vers m'apresse." 17

Prediche volgari di San Bernardino da Siena, ed. Luciano Banchi, 3 (Siena 1884) 365.

354

DAVID

HERLIHY

than they could hope for. Giovanni Morelli, a Florentine merchant who wrote a particularly lively set of memoirs not long after 1400, declared that in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 40 years of life were reckoned as 25 or 30 years in his own time.18 Concerning children born in that happy epoch, he noted that "their constitution was good and strong, and they lived a long time."19 It is worth observing that Morelli was viewing the distant past not exclusively through clouds of legend; he had at hand family records which, in composing his own memoirs, he assiduously consulted. The average duration of a human life is, however, a somewhat deceptive figure; it is greatly influenced by the death of children, and tells us little directly about survival once the dangerous years of childhood are passed. The death of children was particularly pronounced under conditions of plague and famine. Sylvia Thrupp, for example, has shown that English peasants were much more successful in the thirteenth than in the subsequent medieval centuries in replacing their own numbers, presumably because more of their children were reaching adulthood. 20 Giovanni Morelli, as we have mentioned, was convinced that children survived better in the thirteenth century than they did in his own days. It is therefore important to inquire into the average duration of an adult life. According to J. C. Russell's study of the longevity of English princes, a male of age 20 before 1276 lived on the average an additional 29 years.21 Length of adult life fell in the later Middle Ages, reaching 21 years (still calculating from age 20) in the last quarter of the fourteenth century. This reduction of average adult life by about 27 percent was substantial, but much less than the fall of 50 percent which is noticeable when the entire span of years is studied. It is valuable also to inquire into the average duration of adult careers, the length of time men could expect to exercise a particular profession. Because of surviving documentation, the profession most readily studied is the religious life, but we may assume that this career was similar to other careers in its average duration. A surviving necrology from the Dominican convent of Santa Maria Novella at Florence permits us to calculate for several hundred friars the average duration of their life in religion.22 Between the taking of

18 Giovanni di Pagolo Morelli, Ricordi, ed. Vittore Branca (Florence 1956): "Del tempo non voglio ti maravigli, perchè allora s'usava cosi e perchè l'età era molto maggiore che oggi: era tenuto questo tempo allora come sarebbe oggi tenuto uno di venzei insino in trenta anni. " 19 Ibid., "ed erano di buona e forte natura e viveano assai." 20 Sylvia Thrupp, "The Problem of Replacement Rates in Late Medieval English Population," Economic History Review 2nd ser., 14 (1961) 218-224. 21 Russell (n. 10 above) 180. The exact figures are as follows: before 1276, 28.74 years; 1276-1300, 25.19; 1301-1325, 23.80; 1326-1348, 22.13; 1348-1375, 23.86; 1376-1400, 21.45; 1401-1425, 29.38; and 1426-1450, 27.70. 22 "Necrologio" di S. Maria Novella. Testo integrale dall'inizio (MCCXXXV) al MDIV, ed. Stefano Orlandi, O.P., 2 vols. (Florence 1955).

GENERATION IN M E D I E V A L

355

HISTORY

vows and death, the average elapsed time was 32 years in the last quarter of the thirteenth century and 26 years in the last quarter of the fourteenth— a contraction of less than 20 percent.23 A comparable necrology from Christchurch, Canterbury, in England, shows a similar moderate decline in the duration of religious life, from 30.6 years in the early fourteenth century to 27.6 years at its end.24 The average duration of this career, and probably of most careers, suffered much less reduction in this troubled age than the average duration of adult life. The reason for this seems apparent. To compensate for losses from the plague, the convents had to recruit, on the whole, men younger than those who had died. The average age of the friars was reduced, and average life expectancy increased; this partially compensated for the shorter duration of life in the total population. Viewed another way, in order to maintain needed services, society attempted to keep the average duration of careers as stable as possible, and attempted to achieve this by admitting greater numbers of younger men into the professions. The careers that surpassed all others in social importance were, of course, those of husband and wife, father and mother, master and mistress of the household. How was age of marriage affected by the changing duration of life across the Middle Ages? The picture is rendered obscure and uncertain both by a dearth of information and by the likelihood that different marriage habits prevailed in different parts of Europe, and also within different classes. Here is an area of medieval social history in which much further research is needed, and the following remarks can only be considered a preliminary sketch. In one of our Carolingian manorial surveys, coming from the church of Saint Victor of Marseilles in 813 or 814, the children of the peasants are listed according to age.25 The survey also identifies, but without giving exact ages, those men and women in the population considered marriageable; they are called baccularii and baccularie, respectively. As the oldest age found among the children for both boys and girls is 15, then evidently both young men and young women age 16 and older were considered marriageable. The number of marriageable young men and women, however, is distinctively high, 247 out of approximately 1000 persons; this indicates that the young people were entering marriage only gradually in their late teens and twenties. This doubtless held back the growth of the population, but also gave it great potential for expansion, should the young men and women be allowed or be willing to marry sooner. The number of bachelor men, 127, is nearly the same as the number of 23

T h e e x a c t f i g u r e s are as f o l l o w s : 1 2 7 6 - 1 3 0 0 , 3 2 friars, 3 1 . 7 8 y e a r s ; 1 3 0 1 - 1 3 2 5 , 56 friars,

3 0 . 0 7 y e a r s ; 1 3 2 6 - 1 3 5 0 , 1 5 5 friars, 2 7 . 4 6 y e a r s ; 1 3 5 1 - 1 3 7 5 , 65 friars, 2 6 . 2 2 y e a r s ; 1 3 7 6 - 1 4 0 0 , 35 friais, 26.51 years.

T h e d e c e a s e d friars are c o u n t e d in t h e q u a r t e r - c e n t u r y t h a t i n c l u d e s

t h e i r y e a r of d e a t h .

U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e d e t e r i o r a t i n g q u a l i t y of t h e n e c r o l o g y d o e s n o t

p e r m i t a n e x t e n s i o n of t h i s list b e y o n d 1400. 24

See R u s s e l l (n. 10 a b o v e ) 191.

25

Cartulaire

de I'abbaye

de Saint

Victor

de Marseille,

ed. B . G u i r a r d ( P a r i s 1857) 3 3 1 f f .

356

DAVID

HERLIHY

maiden girls, 120, and this suggests that brides and grooms were usually close in age at marriage. If men, for example, were marrying at a considerably older age than women, we would expect to find fewer of them, because of the inroads in their ranks made by death. Our best source for studying marriage patterns within the aristocracy of early medieval society is probably saints' lives, and they indicate a pattern not noticeably different from what we observed among the peasants of the church of Marseilles. According to the life of Saint Eptadius of Autun in northern France, written in the late eighth century, the neighbors and the parents of the young saint urged him to take a wife when he reached age 20.26 He hesitated, and his angered parents found him a bride and set the day for his wedding. Eptadius, however, was happily struck by a fever and his virginity saved. Saints' lives and other sources point to a spirited competition for brides, which would tend to lower their age of marriage, but also a reluctance on the part of parents to let their valued daughters go. The abduction of girls is a prominent crime in the early medieval laws, and Charlemagne's renowned attachment to his daughters may not have been atypical.27 supposedly in the sixth century, Saint Rusticula of Aries was abducted by a rich nobleman at the age of five; he intended to rear the girl himself, then marry her when she came of age.28 The charm of the five-year-old is not explained, but clearly, brides were appreciated. A great battle was waged over the fate of the young girl, involving her widowed mother, her abductor, the bishop and of course Rusticula herself, who wanted to save herself for religion; she succeeded, and to her sainthood we owe the surviving record of her tumultuous childhood. From what we can reconstruct of marriage in early medieval society, therefore, both boys and girls were considered marriageable from approximately age 16, but, at least under the difficult conditions of the Carolingian age, entered marriage slowly. The bride and groom seem also to have been close in age, at least at first marriage. It is purely speculative, but the early phases of the population expansion from the tenth or eleventh centuries may have meant younger marriages for both men and women, fewer baccularii and baccularie in the population. Ultimately, however, the long duration of life in the thirteenth and probably in the twelfth century affected marriage in distinctive 26 "Vita Eptadii presbyteri Cervidunensis, Passiones vitaeque sanctorum aevi merovingici, ed. Bruno Krusch MGH: Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum 3 (Hanover 1896) 2.120. "Et cum esset annorum viginti, crescentibus annis, iam vicini matrimonium eum quohortabant." 27 Among the peasants of the church of Marseilles, there were 36 "foreigners" (extranei) among the husbands and 24 among the wives, suggesting that males were somewhat more likely to leave home after marriage than wives. Many fathers sought to keep their daughters at home, even after marriage. 28 Vita Rusticulae sive Marciae abbatissae arelatensis, Passiones vitaeque sanctorum (Hanover 1902) 2.341.

357

GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ways. Medieval society, like most traditional societies, could allow neither its constituent social groups, nor its total numbers, to expand without limit. If older men survived well, so younger men had to delay before they could enter fully upon their careers, including the career of marriage. Philippe de Navarre, in the middle thirteenth century, advised that no male be allowed to marry before completing his twentieth year, while girls could be "willingly" married after their fourteenth birthday. 29 In fact, at least among the nobles and the urban patriciate, men by that time seem to have been much older than 21 at marriage. In contemporary terminology, iuvenis and its romance equivalents were virtually synonymous with "bachelor" or "celibate." Philip's own decision to extend the period of jovens to age 40 suggests t h a t he viewed a society in which many men, up to that age, were still unmarried. Georges Duby has noted that in the twelfth century the soldier of fortune Guillaume le Maréchal married at age 45, and that another nobleman, Arnold d'Ardres, took a bride 13 years after he was dubbed a knight, which would have made him 30 or older at his marriage. 30 In courtly literature, male figures often convey the impression of mature years at marriage, and often show extreme reluctance to take a bride. King Mark of Cornwall in the Romance of Tristan and Iseult agreed to marry only after his barons threatened to make war against him if he remained celibate. 31 The bride he chose, Iseult, must have been a generation younger than himself, if she was (as seems appropriate) the same age as her lover Tristan, Mark's nephew. The Carolingian hero Aymeri delayed marriage until well after the emperor had given him the rich city of Narbonne; even after he had made his fortune, he yielded with misgivings to the entreaties of his vassals to marry. 32 In the late thirteenth-century poem Hervis de Mez, the king of Spain, suitor of the young and fair Biatris, is variously represented as 60 or 80 years old; for 20 years his barons have been urging him to find a bride, which means that he was 40 at the youngest, before he thought about, or was reminded of, marriage. 33 Biatris declares that she

29 De Navarre (n. 13 above) 5.191.103: "L'an ne devroit ja volantier marier anfant malle, très qu'il ai .xx. anz acomplis, se ce n'est por haste d'avoir hoirs, se il a aucun grant heritage ou por avoir aucun grant mariage . . . Mais les filles doit l'an volentiers marier pui que eles

son passé .xiiii. anz." 30 31

D u b y (n. 9 above) 836. The Romance of Tristan

and Iseult,

as retold by Joseph Bédier, trans. Hilaire Belloc

( N e w York 1945) 40. 32 Aymeri de Narbonne, Chanson de Geste, ed. Louis Demaison, Société des anciens textes français 25 (Paris 1887) 57-58. 33

Hervis

von Metz.

Vorgedicht

der Lothringer

Geste, ed. E. Stengel, Gesellschaft fiir ro-

manische Literatur 1 (Dresden 1903) v v . 635-636; "Vix fu et fraisles, si ot son tans usé / . L X . ans ot li rois en son aé." See also v v . 863-865: "Qu'au roy d'Espaigne me cuide marier. / V i x est et frailles, si a ses jours passés, / Quatre-vins ans a il moult bien d'ae."

358

DAVID H E R L I H Y

would much prefer a young, brave, and strong knight, even if, she adds significantly, he owns no property. 34 In the late Middle Ages, writers again nourished the view that men in former times were older at marriage than their own contemporaries. An Italian chronicler, who in 1354 described the mores of men in the early thirteenth century, affirmed that Italian males then refrained from marriage until age 30.35 The Florentine Giovanni Morelli offers still more precise comments. The usual age of marriage for men in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries was, in his estimation, 40 years, and he tells his reader not to be surprised, as this was the custom.36 The long duration of life in the central Middle Ages also raised the age of marriage for women, but less visibly and less decisively. Dante congratulates the ancient Florentines for not rushing their daughters into marriage, as his contemporaries were doing.37 Morelli sets the usual age of marriage for Florentine girls at 24 or 26 years in former times; in his own days, many fathers were reluctant to wait until the fifteenth year before marrying their daughters.38 What could these men have known about the social customs that prevailed a century and more before their times ? Again, the traditional Italian custom of maintaining and preserving family archives certainly extended their range of vision into the past. It may also be worth noting that the famous Matilda of Tuscany, champion of Pope Gregory VII, born in 1046, was first married between 1070 and 1076, between her twenty-fourth and thirtieth birthday. Several factors prevented the age of marriage for women from swinging quite as widely as the age of marriage for men. Grooms, even older grooms, preferred brides in the prime of their lives; marriage to an older woman would mean fewer heirs, and thus threaten the survival of the lineage; and the girl's' parents might be eager to settle her future as quickly as possible. Philippe de Navarre has no objection to the marriage of girls 15 or older. In the thirteenth-century poem picturesquely called "Berte of the Large Feet," the beautiful if flawed Berte is 16 years old when she is married to King Pepin.39

34 Ibid. v v . 867-869: "J'amaisse m i x .1. legier baceler / Preu et hardi pour ses armes porter; / S'il n'eust terre, jou len donasse assés." 38 Marcha di Marco Battagli da Rimini, Breviarum italicae historicae, ed. Aldo Francesco Massera, Rerum italicarum scriptores, n.s. 16 pt. 3 (Città di Castello 1913) 10. "Cum autem matrimonia eorum fiebant, erant quasi annorum x x x . " 36

Morelli (n. 18 above).

37

Dante Alighieri (n. 14 above) Paradiso 15.103-105; "Non faceva, nascendo, ancor paura la figlia al padre; chè '1 tempo e la dote non fugian quinci e quindi la misura." 38 Morelli (n. 18 above) 112. "E le fanciulle si maritavano allora nell'età d'anni ventiquattro o venzei." 39 See Margaret Walker Henderson, Women in the Medieval tation, N e w York University, 1965) 152.

French Epic (Ph. D. Disserta-

GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

359

In the early thirteenth century, according to her life, the Florentine saint Umiliana dei Cerchi was also first married at the age of 16.40 In sum, in so far as we can reconstruct its history, the great change in European marriage across the central Middle Ages would seem to be the opening up of a significant gap between the ages of the bride and groom, which is most apparent, and probably most extreme, within the aristocratic classes. This doubtless served to limit the size of families, and to slow and perhaps ultimately to halt the hitherto rapid growth of the community. Morelli claimed that the Florentine women in former days bore "at most" only four or six children.41 He attributed their infertility to the tardiness of their marriages, but surely the tardiness of their husband's marriage was also a factor. The husband's relatively advanced age, probably declining powers, and possible early death, would effectively remove his wife from the ranks of child-bearers. As age of marriage changed, so also did the duration of the generation, in the sense of the average time separating parents and children. The gap between fathers and children grew long; Duby estimates it as some 30 years among the French nobles, but in some areas of Europe, notably the Italian cities, it was doubtless even longer.42 Equally significant, however, is the fact that the generational difference between mother and children did not expand as much. For any given period of time, generations traced through the mother are therefore shorter and more numerous than generations traced through the father. We shall return to consider the repercussions that followed from this distinctive social circumstance. The demographic collapse of the late Middle Ages, in opening careers to greater numbers of the young, also tended to lower the average age of marriage. The chronicler from northern Italy, previously quoted, was surprised that men in olden times waited until age 30 to be married; Morelli claimed that age of marriage for men fell at Florence from 40 in the twelfth century to 26 or 30 in his own day, the early fifteenth century. 43 At Florence in 1427, the average age of marriage for girls was approximately 17 years, and for men it was approximately 30.44 Several factors worked to keep the age of marriage for men relatively high. A young man still needed to be financially independent

40

Acta sanctorum, Mai 4 (Paris 1866) 386-401, "Domina quaedam Humiliana nomine, filia Oliverii Cirki, civis Florentiae, cum esset annorum X V I , tradita est nuptui a parentibus." Umiliana was born ca. 1219. 41 42 43

Morelli (n. 18 above) 112. "E aveano in t u t t o il più quattro o sei figliuoli." D u b y (n. 9 above) 840, "L'écart m o y e n des générations était d'une trentaine d'années." See nn. 18 and 35 above.

44 See D. Herlihy, "Vieillir au Quattrocento," Annales-economies-sociétés-civilisaiions 24 (1969) 1346. The information comes from a survey of the urban population in that year, k n o w n as the Catasto. The exact figure for brides at first marriage is 17.6 years, for 73 girls married in 1427-1428. It is difficult t o distinguish first and later marriages for men, but the average age difference between the spouses married in 1426-1427 was 13.6 years.

360

DAVID HERLIHY

before marriage. The plague sometimes aided him by carrying off his elders, but the uncertain economic times made it difficult for him to become established in a new career and to make his fortune. 45 Moreover, in spite of the shrinking population, aristocratic houses still feared that too many heirs would fragment and ruin their patrimonies, and were therefore reluctant to allow their sons, particularly younger sons, to marry young, or marry at all. The gap between the generations probably did shorten in the late Middle Ages, but mothers remained much closer to their children than did fathers. At Florence in 1427, because of a surviving census, that difference can be accurately measured, although Florence seems to present an extreme example of this common pattern. In 1427, the average baby born was received by a mother 26 years of age, and the average father was nearly 40.46 This gulf between the ages of husband and wife, the consequent unequal spans of time separating fathers from children and mothers from children, affected the internal structure of families and inevitably the larger society. Within the family, the father became an older, distant, but still powerful figure. He could do favors for his sons, but his very presence, once his sons had reached maturity, blocked them in the attainment and enjoyment of property and in the possession of a wife. This set the stage for conflicts between the male generations, which seem particularly acute in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when the old clung tenaciously to life, property, and power. Within noble society, as Duby again reminds us, conflicts, even rebellions, of sons against their fathers were commonplace.47 To cite familiar examples, Emperor Henry IV at the start of the twelfth century, and Henry II of England at its closing, faced successive revolts from their dissatisfied sons. In imaginative literature, in Hervis de Mez, the young hero repeatedly collides with his bourgeois father, who will not give him the support he needs, and who in turn objects to his son's prodigal ways.48 For different reasons, but still fundamentally over the use of property, the young Francis of Assisi disputed with his parsimonious father, who objected to his charities. In that memorable scene before the bishop of Assisi, Francis stripped from his body and gave back all the clothes his father had provided him.49 The saint thus had personal reasons for affirming that questions of property were the source of all disputes in the world. Within the family the position of the mother was also affected. She remained much nearer in years to her children, more approachable to them, and emo45

Pagolo Morelli, father of Giovanni, married only after his three older brothers were killed by the plague of 1363. He said of his eldest brother: "E perchè era maggiore avea moglie." Morelli (n. 18 above) 149. 46

Herlihy (n. 44 above) 1341.

47

D u b y (n. 9 above) 840.

48

His father, the prévôt of Metz, even strikes the young man, who has squandered m o n e y at the fair of Provins. Hervis von Metz (n. 33 above) 22. 49

Thomas of Celano, Life of St. Francis

of Assisi,

ed. H. G. Rosedale (London 1904) 17.

GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

361

tionnally tied more closely with them. This enabled her to serve as an intermediary between the often hostile male generations. She frequently assumes that role in the literature of feudal society. In the epic Les Narbonnais, Aymeri of Narbonne sends his six oldest sons from his court, to make their fortunes in the world virtually without their father's aid. Hermengarde, his wife, their mother, protests against the harshness of this decision, to the point of provoking blows from her unyielding husband. 50 Aelis, mother of Hervis of Metz, mediates in the opposite direction, urging her husband to apologize for striking their son.51 A historian, writing about the place of the mother in the French epics, says this of her: "In extreme need, the heroes betake themselves to their mother, with whom they always find love, counsel and help. She takes them under her protection, even against their father." 52 The mother of Francis of Assisi similarly sought to reconcile him with his father, and took the risk of removing the chains with which his father had bound him in the dungeon of their house. 53 In sum, changes in marriage patterns isolated the wife and mother in the family and conferred on her the distinctive function of serving as intermediary between the male generations. Did this affect estimations of the role of women in other areas? Did it, perhaps, lend strength to the developing cult of the Virgin Mary ? Certainly, many men who looked to the Virgin for help, solace, and intercession were accustomed to viewing their natural mothers in a similar light, as intercessors. For society at large, the practices we have described tended to divide age cohorts in their late teens and twenties into married young women and unmarried young men. Again, tensions, erotic and otherwise, were likely to spring up involving the two groups, as well as the generation of older husbands. Moreover, these practices helped form two dissident and sometimes disruptive social groups: the young men, waiting to acquire a position in society; and the young girls, with reduced chances of finding a husband. Among the nobles, these males are the "jeunes," the bachelor knights who wandered across the world in search of their fortunes, fighting for position against one another and against their elders. Their counterpart in the towns were the young merchants, who similarly wandered through the world in hopes of finding wealth, before returning home in their mature years to take a wife. The clerici vagantes or "wandering scholars" were the ecclesiastical equivalent of the same 50 Les Narbonnais. Chanson de Geste, ed. Herman Suchier, Société des anciens textes français 42 (Paris 1898) 11-12, 19. 51

Hervis von Metz (n. 33 above) 23. Theodor Krabbes, Die Frau in altfranzoesischen Karlsepos, Ausgaben und Abhandlungen aus dem Gebiete der romanischen Philologie 18 (Marburg 1884) 63. "In der aussersten N o t h flüchten die Helden sich zu ihrer Mutter bei der sie immer Liebe, R a t h und Hülfe finden, und die sie auch gegen den Vater im Schutz nimmt. " 52

53

Thomas of Celano (n. 49 above) 15-16.

362

DAVID HERLIHY

cohort of young men, forced to wait before they could gain a stable place in society. The curtailment of length of life in the late Middle Ages, the opening of careers to younger persons, probably reduced these groups but did not extinguish them. The unmarriageable young girls are less visible, but perhaps more pitiable. Delay in marriage for men inevitably meant that some girls would not find a husband, as death would claim many a prospective groom before they could do so. The resulting preponderance of brides upon the marriage market lowered their competitive value and weakened their negotiating position. This was doubtless a factor in changing the character of the dowry and reversing the flow of property between marriage partners. In the early Middle Ages, as reflected in the barbarian laws, as among the primitive Germans, the groom brought the dowry to the bride, but this changes in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The size of dowries, now provided by the bride and her family, also entered upon an inflationary spiral, as desperate fathers sought to find reluctant grooms for their daughters. In Dante's opinion, by the early fourteenth century, the birth of a daughter was likely to strike terror into her father's heart.64 Even the regular religious orders could not or would not offer sufficiently numerous havens to these unmarriageable girls. Little wonder that the heretical or irregular religious movements from the twelfth century gained particular response among women.85 The Albigensians in southern France even opened schools for girls, and among the lessons taught them was that the marriage they could not have was an abomination before God, worse than fornication or sodomy. In response to this heretical recruitment of women, Saint Dominic founded his first convent for nuns, specifically for the daughters of impoverished nobles, at Prouille in southern France.5® The structure of generations we have examined further affected the composition of society and of its constituent professional and functional groups. It is often argued that the mature and the aged, as experienced, reflective, and cautious persons, tend to act as a conservative factor in cultural history, exerting restraint upon the exuberance and innovative fervor, as well as the occasional recklessness, of the young. The distribution of ages thus affects the balance between conservation and innovation, and hence the cultural style of a society.

64 55

Dante Alighieri (n. 37 above). Gottfried Koch, Frauenfrage und Ketzertum

im Mittelalter.

Die Frauenbewegung im

Rahmen des Katharismus und des Waldensertums und ihre sozialen Wurzeln (12.-14.

Jahrhun-

dert) Forschungen zur mittelalterlichen Geschichte9 (Berlin 1962). Ernest W . McDonald, The Beguines and Beghards in Mediaeval

Culture with Special Emphasis on the Belgian Scene

(New Brunswick 1954). 56

According to Jordan of Saxony, Libellus

M. H . Vicaire, Saint Dominic

de principiis

ordinis praedicatorum,

cited in

and His times, trans. Kathleen Pond (New York 1964) 118.

363

GENERATION IN MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The society of the thirteenth century was, by medieval standards, old, and because of delayed and restricted admissions, its professional and functional groups reserved particular place to older men. The statutes of Robert Curzon, imposed upon the University of Paris in 1215, stipulate that no one could receive the doctorate in theology before the remarkably advanced age of 35.57 Both Stephen of Tournai and Roger Bacon heaped scorn upon the pretensions of the young in academic circles.58 The society of the fourteenth century, battling for survival against the devastating plagues was, even by medieval standards, young, and its constituent social and functional groups had equally to welcome relatively greater numbers of young neophytes. At Florence in 1427, the average age of the entire urban population was only 26, and one-half the populace were age 22 or younger.59 We should not, of course, allow such aggregated figures to cloud the memory or obscure the importance of exceptional careers, of men such as Petrarch, who survived to the age of 70 during the most terrible of the plague onslaughts. But even Petrarch was deeply affected by the experience of his own generation, by its many sufferings, by the premature death, most obviously, of Laura. While some men did reach extreme old age, still the balance of ages swung in favor of the young, and gave prominence to such presumably youthful characteristics as critical dissatisfaction with inherited traditions and a strong taste for change. Petrarch himself noted these qualities in his encounter with the four young Averroists of Padua, who told him that he was a good but ignorant old man, not abreast of scientific attainments. His famous response was that both he and they were ignorant, but they, in their youthful arrogance, did not know it.60 The demographic contraction of the late Middle Ages inevitably gave greater opportunity to the young. The extinction of many family lines encouraged considerable physical and social mobility, as new men sought to move from less advantaged positions to the higher posts that death swept clear for them. Moreover, the shorter average duration of careers in the late Middle Ages permitted a faster turnover of persons in positions of power, and a greater likelihood that talent and opportunity would meet, if only for brief periods. Molded by ubiquitous death, short generations, and accelerated replacement, the society of the late Middle Ages appears to historians, as it did to many contemporaries, as a stormy and disordered world. But in giving a stronger 57

Hastings Rashdall, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, ed. F. M. Powicke and A. B. E m d e n (Oxford 1936) 1.472. n. 1. 58 Ibid. 1.303.n. 1. Roger Bacon, Compendium studii philosophiae, quoted in C. H. Beeson, A Primer of Medieval Latin ( N e w York 1925) 301. 59 See D a v i d Herlihy, "Some Psychological and Social Roots of Violence in the Tuscan Cities," Violence and Civil Disorder 1972) 143. 60

ih Italian

Le traité "De sui ipsius et multorum

Cities, 1200-1500,

ignorantia,"

ed. Lauro Martines (Berkeley

ed. L. M. Capelli (Paris 1906).

364

DAVID H E R L I H Y

voice to younger men and newer men, it was able to transform and enrich the medieval cultural tradition. In all societies, men and women will marry, raise their young, pass on to them responsibilities, property, and power, and prepare themselves for death. These processes may appear so commonplace, so natural, as scarcely to merit the special attention of historians. But the manner in which a society accomplishes these tasks—the manner in which it consequently assures its own survival—will affect its internal structure, the relationships of its members, and the style of its culture. Appropriately, therefore, the study of social structures, social relationships and cultural styles in the Middle Ages should lead us to consider the generation in medieval history. Department of History Harvard University Cambridge, Mass. 02813 U.S.A.

THE POLITICAL B I A S OF MALORY'S "MORTE DARTHUR"

by Richard R. Griffith

The political leanings reflected in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte Darthur are a matter of obvious concern for the biographer, the literary historian, and the critic. The question, however, has received remarkably little, and remarkably casual, attention from scholars. The pattern was set some fifty years ago by W. H. Schofield, who noted a few passages in the Morte which seemed to suggest that, in the dynastic struggles of his age, Malory favored the Lancastrian cause. In 1933 Nellie S. Aurner elaborated on and augmented Schofield's suggestions, and a few years later George R. Stewart reaffirmed the thesis of Lancastrian leaning in his study of the Morte's geographical references. As E. K. Chambers pointed out, such allegiance did not accord with external evidence concerning the assumed author, Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revel, Warwickshire, for he was repeatedly imprisoned during the reign of the Lancastrian Henry VI—one of the charges against him being an attempt to assassinate a leading Lancastrian lord—whereas Duke Richard of York and his son Edward IV granted him pardons. When, however, the newly discovered Winchester manuscript made it certain that the author had been a prisoner while writing the Morte, the need to account for this overrode Chambers's mild objections. The Warwickshireman was thus identified with the unrealized Sir Thomas Malory excluded from four of Edward IV's pardons in 14681470, which explained why he might have been a prisoner; and the supposed Lancastrian allegiance underlying the book he was assumed to have written explained why he was excluded. Even Chambers failed to question the accepted view of the Morte itself, writing "it would be easier to think of the romancewriter than of the Warwickshire knight as a Lancastrian." More recently, Eugene Vinaver has given cautious approval to most of the evidence for Lancastrian allegiance on the author's part, and added some suggestions of his own; Edward Kennedy has argued that the Morte's treatment of Arthur's marriage is to be explained as a Lancastrian comment on Edward IV's union with Elizabeth Wydville. One of the most assiduous and skeptical among modern Malorians, Professor William Matthews, has examined almost every aspect of the Morte Darthur in his search for information about its author.

366

RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

Matthews concludes that a different Thomas Malory, seated in Studley Royal, Yorkshire, is a better candidate for the honor of writing the Morte than the accepted one. But this new entrant seems likely to have been a Lancastrian, and, although Matthews finds the book's purported allusions to contemporary events "more curious than convincing," he does not question the interpretation given them: "If the reader is inclined to make such parallels seriously, he may think with numerous scholars that Malory's sympathies were with Henry VI." In her study of the book's political philosophy, Elizabeth Pochoda contends that "to read Le Morte Darthur as a political allegory of contemporary conditions is to miss the really significant issues of the book," but she finds parallels between Malory's thought and that of the Lancastrian (until after the Morte's completion) Sir John Fortesque, and offers no opposition to the generally accepted view of the author's political bias. Thus the view that the author of Le Morte Darthur supported the Lancastrian cause has gone unchallenged for more than half a century.1 Upon examination, the evidence for Lancastrian bias drawn from the Morte proves both tenuous and equivocal. Six brief passages, all purportedly departures from Malory's sources, have been cited as reflecting sympathy with Henry VI's position. The first of these, noted by Schofield, Aurner, Stewart, and Vinaver, is the Morte's account of an early battle against enemies from the North, which Malory locates specifically at Saint Albans, and to which the king, he notes, was borne in a horse-litter. This is seen as "a reminiscence of the first battle of Saint Albans (22 May 1455), when another sick king [that is, Henry VI] was carried forth at the head of his troops to meet ' a great host of the North.'" 2 None of the standard historical sources asserts that Henry was ill before the battle, nor do they mention that he was "carried," in a horselitter or any other conveyance, and York's forces were not drawn exclusively from the North, even if the description means merely north of Saint Albans; but these are minor objections. Somewhat more serious, if the similarities are intentional, is the question of the author's purpose in this allusion, for Malory's monarch is Uther, not Arthur, and comparison to this less idealized ruler seems a poor compliment. Moreover, Uther's presence inspired his army to victory,

1

W. H. Schofield, Chivalry

in English

Literature

(Cambridge, Mass. 1912) 92-93; Edward

Hicks, Sir Thomas Malory: His Trurbulent Career (Cambridge, Mass. 1928) 60, 71-73; Nellie S. Aurner, "Sir T h o m a s Malory—Historian?" Publications of the Modern Language Association [PMLA] 48 (1933) 362-391); George R . Stewart, "English Geography in Malory's Morte D'Arthur,"

Modern

Language

Review

[MLR] 30 (1935) 204-209; Sir E. K. Chambers,

English

Literature at the Close of the Middle Ages (Oxford 1947) 204-205; Eugène Vinaver, The Works of Sir Thomas Malory, ed. 2 (Oxford 1967) x x v - x x v i , 1649, inter alia; Edward D. K e n n e d y , "Malory and the Marriage of Edward IV," Texas Studies in Literature and Language 12 (1970) 156-162; William Matthews, The 111-Framed Knight T. Pochoda, Arthurian Propaganda 2 Stewart 208; Vinaver 1286.

(Chapel Hill 1971) 27.

(Berkeley 1966) 105-121; Elizabeth

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE DARTHUR"

367

while Henry's troops fled the field, leaving their king to be captured. 3 But such cavils are immaterial, for all three distinctive details—Saint Albans, the Northern host, and the litter-borne king—appear in Geoffrey of Monmouth's account of this battle, and in Wace and Layamon as well, all written centuries earlier. 4 A second passage, advanced (by Vinaver) as indicative of Lancastrian sympathies on Malory's part, is a purported alteration of Arthur's itinerary during his Continental compaign (as recorded in Malory's source, the alliterative Morte Arthure) to make it resemble the march of Henry V through France just prior to the Battle of Agincourt. The suggested similarity between the two monarchs' routes is subtle indeed. It depends upon selecting a small triangle (Amiens-Athie-Calais) from Hal's parade through northwestern France (Harfleur to Fecamp, northerly along the coast to Eu, east to Abbeville, southeast to Amiens and Athies, and finally northwest to Agincourt and Calais) and comparing this to a much larger triangle (Soissons-LuxembourgFlanders) chosen from Arthur's lengthy march across continental Europe (Barflete southeast to Castle Blanc [?], northwest to Soissons [?], east to Luxembourg, northwest to Flanders, southeast to Lorraine, east to the German Empire, southwest to Lombardy, Tuscany, and Rome, and thence northwest to an unspecified embarkation point for Dover). The more general campaign in Malory's source lacks the seemingly pointless detour northwards from Luxembourg to Flanders, which does indeed run parallel to Henry V's route from Athies to Calais. Vinaver sees an "obvious" analogy between Arthur's conquests and Henry V's victory, and feels that Malory "attempted to strengthen it by suggesting t h a t Arthur had chosen the same route as Henry V." 6 There are the following difficulties: 1. The textual base is flimsy, for Caxton omits the reference to Luxembourg. Caxton's readings are, of course, not always inferior to the Winchester Manuscript's; but even assuming that Luxembourg was present in Malory's original, scribal transposition of names in series is so common an error that it is perilous to base a theory on the ordering of items in a list. More important, if Caxton has in fact edited out the Duchy's name and blurred the sequence of Arthur's visits to the other provinces, then the printer must have missed entirely the 3 Sir J a m e s H . R a m s a y , Lancaster and York 2 (Oxford 1892) 181-183 et alia; Vinaver, Works (n. 1 above) 7-11. Stewart (n. 1 above) evades the difficulty t h a t the first Battle of St. Albans was a Yorkist victory by suggesting that Malory also had in mind the second battle fought there (1461), which the Lancastrians won. On this occasion the "Northern host" was Lancastrian, however, while Henry V I was not with the royal troops but was a prisoner in the Yorkist c a m p ( R a m s a y 2.244-245).

* Geoffrey of Monmouth, History of the Kings of Britain, trans. Sebastian Evans, rev. Charles W. D u n n ( N e w York 1958) 179-180; Arthurian Chronicles: Wace and Layamon, trans. Eugene Mason (London n.d.) 40-41,178-179. 5

Vinaver, Works (n. 1 above) 1396-1398.

368

RICHARD R.

GRIFFITH

point Malory was making. Since Caxton was well informed historically and was personally acquainted with the area involved, one wonders whether anyone at all would have noted the similarity in routes. 6 2. The reality of Arthur's "detour" depends in part upon a correct identification of "Sessoyne," a matter about which Vinaver seems quite positive on pages 1396-1397, where he presents this theory, but rather uncertain on pages 1389 and 1697. To a lesser degree, our picture of the route taken also depends upon the location of "Chastel Blanc," for which no evidence is provided. And ultimately, the detour depends on the sizes and relative locations of two rather nebulous areas, Luxembourg and Flanders: was Malory's conception of their positions and boundaries in King Arthur's time identical with our modern information about them in the fifteenth century? One argument against the assumption that it was is the absence from the Morte of any reference to Burgundy, a dominant force in the Europe of Malory's day. If "Sessoyne" is not Soissons but the home of the Saxons, and Flanders is generalized to include Brabant, the "detour" entirely disappears. The medieval author is unlikely to have had a map before him while he was writing, nor could he expect readers to refer to an atlas for clarification of his references, yet the supposed resemblance between Arthur's campaign and Henry V's can be presented to the more geographically informed modern reader only by means of a map.7 So subtle a similarity as that proposed would surely require emphasis if it is to be recognized, for it is a matter of shape and direction, without so much as a single place-name common to both campaigns. Yet the wording of the passage—"Arthur . . . entryth streghte into Lushburne and so thorowe Flaundirs and than to Lorayne," [my emphasis]8—suggests that for author and audience this would seem a reasonable and direct, not a roundabout, route. 3. Vinaver asserts that "the route given in the alliterative poem is the normal route from Normandy to Tuscany: starting at Barflete, it goes through Soissons, Luxembourg, Metz, Lucerne, Gothard, and Como." 9 One may observe that such a path does not seem sufficiently "normal" to be represented on maps showing trade routes of the period,10 but more important, this is not at all a fair representation of the route described in the alliterative Morte. Here, 6

Ibid.

1 3 9 6 ; Sir T h o m a s Malory, Le Morte

Darthur

. . . first printed

by William

Caxton,

ed. A. W . Pollard (New Y o r k 1 9 5 5 ) 133. 7

Cf. F l e t c h e r P r a t t ' s c o m m e n t : "The sense of geography, so familiar t o us, was almost

completely lacking from the medieval mind. . . . pictorial representations of the world.

Maps existed only in t h e form of fanciful

The normal location of a place was t h a t it lay so

m a n y days' journey in a given direction from X . " The Third

King

(New Y o r k 1950) 8 5 ;

t h e lack of evidence for the location of Chastel B l a n c was kindly called to m y attention b y Professor William Matthews. 8 10

Vinaver, Works (n. 1 above) 2 2 7 . Colin M c E v e d y , The Penguin

m a p for 1 4 7 8 ) ; Illustrated Middle Ages).

Atlas of Medieval

9

Ibid.

History

1396. (Baltimore 1 9 6 1 ) 89 ( E c o n o m i c

World Atlas (New Y o r k 1 9 6 6 ) 105 ( E c o n o m i c m a p of E u r o p e in t h e

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE DARTHUR"

369

it is clear, Sir Arthur's battle with the emperor takes place on the sea coast of the Cotentin penninsula, where Barflete itself is located; Arthur buries Bedwere at neighboring Bayeux, itself in Cotentin (the form, Bayone, suggests Bayonne, but this would entail a round trip of eight hundred miles), and Kay is interred at nearby Caen. Afterwards, Arthur marches southeast to Burgundy to bury four more fallen knights, and thence almost straight north into some part of the German Empire, which would include his next stop, Luxembourg; from here he moves to Metz in Lorraine and on south,11 as Vinaver says. The alliterative poem thus contains the same sort of detour northwards, from Burgundy to Luxembourg, as the Morte Darthur's detour from Luxembourg to Flanders. And since Malory clearly used either Geoffrey of Monmouth or Wace or some work derived from them to supplement his basic source, it is worth noting that both these authorities assert that Arthur went to Flanders after burying Bedevere.12 Malory is not, of course, ready to kill off Kay and Bedevere this early in his work, so he omits the account of their burials, and of the Burgundian burials as well; but he picks up the march at Luxembourg, and then simply adds Flanders, from his other source, before sending Arthur on to Lorraine. 4. After a medieval battle, it was common practice for the victorious army to march around the conquered area, mopping up stragglers, establishing order, and generally subduing the countryside with a show of strength. Thus what strikes a modern audience as dilatory and requiring explanation would have seemed normal and reasonable to Malory's readers. 5. Henry V's great victory came at the end of his "triangle," while Arthur's comes at the beginning of his. Henry was trying to cross the river Somme and escape by sea from Calais, thus avoiding a battle, and his quite involuntary detour resulted from the presence of French troops on the opposite bank. He 11 Morte Arthure ed. Edmund Brock, Early English Text Society (EETS) O.S. 8 (London 1871) 70-71. In Geoffrey of Monmouth (n. 4 above, 221) "Soissie" is clearly described as a valley between Langres and Autun, some 220 miles south of the city of Soissons, and Kay was doubtless buried at Chateau Chinon, about twenty miles northwest of Autun, in Geoffrey's source. Geoffrey was obviously unfamiliar with this small village, however, and assumed that the better known Chinon, on the borders of Anjou, is intended, for he says Kay's burial was suitable for a Count of Anjou (232). By the time the alliterative poem was written Chinon has become confused with Caen in Normandy—Wace asserts that Kay had built the castle and named it after his own name (n. 4 above, 109), and certainly Caen would have seemed more suitable for "Sir Cayous the Keen," and it was conveniently near Arthur's last clearly identifiable location, Mont St. Michel. Thus, for the alliterative poet, "Sessione" is clearly somewhere on the Norman coast, for he mentions the proximity of the sea five separate times, while Soissons is almost a hundred miles inland. Malory, perhaps familiar with the latter city on the river Oise, changes the coast of Cotentin by the clear sea shore to "the contrey of Constantyne by the clere stremys," Vinaver, (n. 1 above) Works. 226, and escapes most of the inconsistencies involved in returning the battle site to an inland location by omitting the references to Caen and Bayeux/Bayonne. 12

Geoffrey of Monmouth (n. 4 above) 232; Wace (n. 4 above) 109.

370

RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

fought only after being trapped, and even after Agincourt he took ship and retreated to his island home.13 Arthur, in contrast, was the aggressor; he deliberately sought out the enemy, defeated him on several occasions, subdued and laid claim to enemy territories, and finally drove all the way to his opponents' capitol to claim the imperial diadem. The only apparent similarity between the two campaigns is that both were victorious. If a comparison is indeed implied, Henry V's glory is not increased by it. 6. Even if Malory was reminding his readers, in a very general way, of Henry V's Continental triumphs, this would not be especially indicative of Lancastrian sympathies on his part. The rivalry between the Roses did not develop until a full generation after the warrior-king's death, and a prime grievance of the Yorkist party was that Henry VI's government had lost those very French territories won by the valiant Hal. All Englishmen looked back to Agincourt as the epitome of national glory; in 1462 a Yorkist poet sings of Henry V's "knyghtly prowesse" and praises him for upholding England's honor, while condemning his son's folly.14 By the middle of the fifteenth century, any mention of England's past successes on the Continent was as likely to intend reproach for the party of Cardinal Beaufort, Suffolk, Somerset, and Queen Margaret as praise for the Lancastrian line. Closely related to this attempt to associate Arthur's campaign with Henry V's is the suggestion that the crowning of Arthur as Roman Emperor echoes either the union of the English and French monarchies achieved by Henry V or the young Henry VI's coronation as king of France (1432).15 Neither identification has much to commend it. Henry V was, of course, never crowned as ruler of the joined realms, his prize being the hand of the French princess and the promise that their child should reign over both kingdoms. Neither compromise nor marriage vitiates Arthur's achievement, and again, if comparison is intended, Hal's reputation is not enhanced. As for Henry VI's coronation, there seems little similarity between a mature warrior receiving from the pope's hand the imperial diadem he has won by his military prowess and a ten-year-old boy receiving from an archbishop the crown of a single realm, inherited from his grandfather. Indeed, Henry VI's coronation was staged by his Uncle Bedford in an unsuccessful effort to bolster declining English fortunes in France, and bears no comparison with Arthur's accomplishments. It is easy enough to account for Malory's giving Arthur the crown of empire without reference to Lancastrian claims. The alliterative Morte Arthure, source for this section of Malory's book, reflected to some extent—not with complete approval—the proud achievements of an earlier monarch, Edward III, and 13

Kenneth H. Vickers, England in the Late Middle Ages (London 1913) 352-356. "A Political Retrospect (1462)," Historical Poems of the XlVth and XVth ed. Rossell H. Robbins ( N e w York 1959) 23. 14

15

Vinaver, Works (n. 1 above) x x x i , 1368.

Centuries

POLITICAL

BIAS

OF

"MORTE

DARTHUR"

371

there may be some carry-over of this into Malory's work. Certainly Edward, from whom both Roses were descended, established claims to a joined AngloFrench crown on the fields of Crecy and Poitiers which provide a better parallel to Arthur's exploits than the unmilitary career of Henry V I . In reality, the problem facing Malory as author was essentially narrative and structural, literary rather than political. For his source broke off Arthur's chain of Continental victories before he reached Rome, having him recalled to Rritain by news that Mordred has seized power, but Malory was by no means ready to lead into that final battle with Mordred which would conclude his work, and needed a different ending for this section. As Vinaver acknowledges, Malory's ending resembles closely that of John Hardyng's Chronicle,16 and may have come from it or Hardyng's source. Also, the Charlemagne romances make much of the pope's crowning their hero Emperor of the West, and one may suspect that Malory's coronation of Arthur derives partly from these "histories." From a literary standpoint it provides a suitable ending for the Roman campaign, and gives the British Worthy honor equal to Charlemagne's, while politically it establishes England's prior claim to a Continental empire. The fourth passage cited to support claims of Lancastrian bias (by Stewart, Chambers, and Vinaver) is Malory's statement that the traitor Mordred was supported by the counties of Kent, Sussex, Surrey, Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, which are described as the major areas from which Yorkist support came.17 The historical accuracy of this description may be questioned, at least as an oversimplification, for between 1455 and 1469 the south and east were a kaleidescope of shifting allegiances. Many of the leading families were killed off, died out, or were attainted and exiled, to be replaced by others of different political persuasion, while the remainder changed sides at least once. Thus it is possible, by selecting one's dates carefully, to present almost any combination of these counties as devoted to whichever Rose one chooses. For example, during the 1450s the Lancastrian lords Somerset and Buckingham (supported by Rivers and Henry V I himself) dominated all of Kent but a few coastal towns, while these same two lords joined Suffolk and the still-Lancastrian Arundel in contesting control of Sussex and Surrey with the Yorkist Earl of Norfolk. Although both York and Norfolk were indeed strong in East Anglia, the chief power in the area was the Lancastrian duke of Suffolk, who was supported by Oxford and Buckingham in Essex, while another Lancastrian, Lord Scales, held the territory on the Wash. During the next decade there was an uprising against the Yorkist Edward in Surrey (1461), as well as two Oxford-inspired plots in Essex (1462 and 1464). Although the Lancastrians

16

The Chronicle

of John

Hardyng,

ed. H e n r y Ellis ( L o n d o n 1812) 145; ( V i n a v e r ,

Works

(n. 1 a b o v e ) 1405. 17

Stewart (n. 1 a b o v e ) , 208-209; Chambers (n. 1 a b o v e ) 205; V i n a v e r Works (n. 1 a b o v e )

1649.

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RICHARD R.

GRIFFITH

had lost ground in East Anglia as a consequence of Suffolk's death and the passing of the Scales lordship into Yorkist hands, Suffolk's widow remained a strong influence in the district, and not until the 1470s could it be described as reliably behind Edward. Indeed, when Edward, returning from exile in 1470, attempted to land in Norfolk, he was repulsed, and after his restoration he had a court sit to fine rebels specifically in Kent, Sussex, and Essex. The southeast and east coasts were certainly an early source of Yorkist troops, but their loyalty was primarily to Warwick, and at the end of the 1460s the men of Essex and Kent joined Kingmaker and his Lancastrian allies against Edward. In contrast, notably missing from Malory's list are some of the very strongest Yorkist bases: Wales and the Welsh marches, Yorkshire (after 1462), and the southwestern and central Midlands (where an alignment of Norfolk, the nowYorkist Scales, Hastings, Gray, and Warwick stretched from Nottingham almost to Severn mouth).18 Thus the inclusion of dubiously Yorkist areas and the omission of areas providing far stronger support for the White Rose make one doubt whether it would have occurred to a fifteenth-century reader that Malory was identifying traitors with Yorkists. There are several other bases on which Malory might have grouped these particular counties together and assigned them to Mordred. For one thing, they were politically volatile and may have seemed likely candidates for a sudden and ill-motivated shift in allegiance.19 For another, all of them were originally Saxon settlements, as their names reveal, and in an Arthurian context the Saxons were potentially disloyal. Early accounts of Arthur portray him as the Celts' defender against these Germanic invaders, but the later romances envisioned Arthur as the mighty king of a united Britain, and consequently de-emphasized the Saxon threat, treating the Teutons as subdued settlers rather than active opponents. Their presence is acknowledged, however, and their hostility to Arthur mentioned in both of Malory's sources for this final book of the Morte. The alliterative Morte Arthure asserts that Mordred had made a treaty with Kent (settled by the Jutes) and was lord of all the area that the Saxon leaders Hengist and Horsa had held, traditionally extending as far west as Southampton (just past the Sussex border). His other source, the stanzaic Le Morte Arthur, places Mordred at Dover and says that through

18

K. B. McFarlane,

" E n g l a n d in t h e F i f t e e n t h C e n t u r y , "

Cambridge

Medieval

ed. J. B . B u r y et al. ( C a m b r i d g e 1936) M a p s v o l . , 84; P a u l Murray K e n d a l l , The Age ( G a r d e n City 1965), 1 8 9 - 1 9 3 ; J o h n W a r k w o r t h , Chronicle 1839) 13, 2 1 ; Cora L. S c o f i e l d , The Life and Reign

of Edward

History Yorkist

ed. J a m e s O. H a l l i w e l l ( L o n d o n IV

( L o n d o n 1923) 1.194, 2 7 3 ;

R a m s a y (n. 3 a b o v e ) 2 8 9 - 2 9 0 , 3 6 7 , 371, 384, 3 8 7 . 19

A l m o s t all t h e s e c o u n t i e s w e r e i n v o l v e d in b o t h t h e P e a s a n t s ' R e v o l t a n d J a c k Cade's

uprising, as well as a n u m b e r of lesser disorders. T h e s t r e n g t h of L o l l a r d y in N o r f o l k , S u f f o l k , E s s e x , a n d S u s s e x m a y h a v e b e e n a f a c t o r in t h e s e c o u n t i e s ' r e a d i n e s s t o u p s e t t h e e s t a b l i s h e d order.

See G. M. T r e v e l y a n , England

m a p facing 252.

in the Age of Wycliffe:

1368-1520

( N e w York 1963)

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE DARTHUR"

373

gifts he had bound to himself the earls and barons along the coast on each side of that port. 20 Malory's entire list of counties is thus implied in his sources, and it would seem that he has merely followed his customary practice of expanding and making specific the more general geographical statements he found in them. Indeed, except for Surrey (a Saxon settlement adjacent to Sussex, but inland), the counties mentioned represent simply the range of reasonable landing points for an army returning from the Continent, reflected historically in their being the counties actually invaded earlier by the Saxons. Had the Morte's list included some less likely shires—Glamorgan, say, or Cheshire—it might be possible to infer something about the author's views, but the counties named tell us nothing. The fifth item cited (by Stewart and Kennedy) as indicating Lancastrian leanings on Malory's part is that King Mark received aid from "sertayne of the traytoures" from the castle of Magouns, which the author had earlier identified with Arundel castle, home of the Yorkist Fitz-Alans. 21 Again Malory seems to be equating Yorkists with traitors. The difficulty with this interpretation is that the identification of Magouns with the Fitz-Alan castle occurs, not in this dubious context, but in a highly flattering one. In these happier days Magouns belongs to Anglydes, wife to the good Prince Bodmin and mother to the admirable Alexander "le Orphelyne." Fleeing from Mark, her husband's murderer, Anglydes journeys from Cornwall to Sussex, where she is loyally received by the constable of Magowns, whose wife is Anglydes's "ny cousyn." She remains in this safe refuge until the infant Alexander has grown to manhood. The reference to Magouns as a nest of traitors comes two tales later, and how the castle passed out of Anglydes's hands is not explained in the Morte (the conclusion of Alexander's history is very briefly summarized, but he, like his sire, is "falsely and felonsly" slain by Mark). In Malory's French sources "Magance" is clearly in Cornwall, not Sussex, and it seems to be back in the neighborhood of Tintagel and Lyonesse when it is mentioned again. Presumably this implies a cancellation of the identification with Arundel, some two hundred miles east of Mark's stronghold. 22 A simpler explanation 20 Morte Arthure 88 (Oxford) 92. 21

(n. 11 above) 104; Le Morte Arthur,

ed. J. Douglas Bruce, EETS, E.S.

Stewart (n. 1 above) 208; K e n n e d y (n. 1 above) 159. Vinaver, Works, 635, 675-677. The setting for the section in which Magouns harbors traitors is "the costys of Cornwayle." Tristram is imprisoned, in a castle that is clearly within t h a t subkingdom, by Mark and "the Traytoure of Magouns," which may imply that the unnamed castle is itself Magouns. Sir Sadocke ambushes King Mark and "sertayne of the traytoures of Magouns" at a location "faste b y the castell of Tintagyll," on the western coast of Cornwall, and then goes south t o Lyonesse t o raise Tristram's supporters. Mark, at Tintagel, summons his own army and sends Tristram (seemingly nearby) two sets of forged documents enjoining him to go on crusade. Tristram is released by Percival, who rides straight to K i n g Mark on his way to Wales, which apparently means that the prison castle was some where south of Tintagel. U p o n Percival's departure Mark imprisons Tristram again— 22

374

RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

for the Morte's inconsistent portrayal of Castle Magouns is that the initial identification with Arundel was intended as a compliment to the Fitz-Alans (Matthews points out that the Earl of Arundel was Malory's companion-inarms on the northern campaign of 1462),23 and Malory failed to anticipate that the castle would reappear in his sources as the resort of traitors. A similar discrepancy arises later in the Morte, for the identification of Lancelot's Joyous Gard with Alnwick Castle is hardly compatible with the constant commuting that has gone on between Lancelot's castle and Carlisle (almost ninety miles from Alnwick, on the opposite coast), or the rather definite indication in the final book of the Tristram that the two are barely three miles apart. In short, Malory's specific localizations are best regarded as applying only to their immediate context. The final argument for a Lancastrian bias, put forward by Schofield and Stewart (and tentatively approved by Vinaver) is the assumption that Arthur is to be identified with Henry VI in that celebrated passage toward the end of the Morte Darthur in which Malory deplores the fickleness of Englishmen, who are never satisfied with anything for long, and seek change and novelty even when they have the best ruler imaginable.24 The crucial question is whether Malory's ideal king bore any resemblance to the Lancastrian monarch. In this very passage Arthur is characterized as "the most kynge and nobelest knight of the worlde, and most loved the felyship of noble knyghtes," which seems a poor description of the shy, pious Henry, who eschewed tournaments and combat, and preferred the company of monks, scholars, and architects to that of wicked warriors. Elsewhere Malory gives a yet more specific picture of his model ruler: Arthur had played the knight errant himself,'and when his followers heard of his adventures "they marvayled that he wold jouparde his person so alone. But all men of worship seyde hit was myrry to be under such a chyfftayne that wold putte hys person in adventure as other poure knyghtis ded."25. Henry VI was a timid man who took no part even in battles affecting his own crown, so it would be ridiculous to imagine him engaging in single combat or hazardous quest. Clinching evidence against any intended association between Arthur and Henry appears in Malory's account of Arthur's coronation as king of Britain. An author who holds a particular individual

although whether the same castle is used t o cage him is not clear—but Sir D y n a s forces his release, and the Cornish knight brings his Isolde "by w a t i r i n t o this londe [clearly England]." All these events obviously occurred in the neighborhood of Tintagel, almost t w o hundred miles from Arundel. Although this evidence is not absolutely conclusive, since the denizens of Magouns might have been far from home, and the identification of the castle with Tristram's prison is not a certainty, it seems strongly suggested that Malory conceived of Magouns as being in Cornwall throughout this section. 23 24 25

Matthews (n. 1 above) 130. Schofield (n. 1 above) 93; Stewart (n. 1 above) 207; Vinaver, Works 1229. Ibid.

54.

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE DARTHUR"

375

in the back of his mind as pattern for a character in his work may not be so blatant as to alter his sources' statements in order to make the resemblance absolutely explicit; but he will most certainly not take matter in his sources which accords perfectly with his model's character, and introduce changes that destroy the resemblance. Yet in the French Merlin, source for the Morte's coronation scene, when Arthur accepts the crown he pledges himself to the service of Holy Church—a highly suitable sentiment for the saintly Henry— but Malory omits this entirely. 26 Thus, considered seriatim, each passage advanced to support the thesis t h a t Malory's sympathies were Lancastrian proves ambiguous, susceptible to different explanation, or inconsistent with other portions of his work. These six brief citations, however, assembled from a 1200-page work, have had sufficient cumulative effect to convince almost all Malory scholars that the Morte's author favored the Red Rose. And once a thesis has been accepted in toto, piecemeal analysis inevitably creates an impression of "explaining away" details, leaving a residue of conviction difficult to dissipate. There are, however, a number of other passages in the Morte Darthur bearing on the question of its author's bias, and analysis of these may serve to disperse this remnant. Before doing so, however, it seems appropriate to raise the related question: If Henry VI was not the model for Arthur, was Malory simply presenting an abstract ideal in his portrait of the Britons' ruler, based on his sources' hints and his own political philosophy; or did he have consciously in mind his era's obvious alternative, Edward IV? If his leanings were not Lancastrian, was he a neutral in the dynastic struggle, or was he a Yorkist? Although an attempt to consider simultaneously the evidence against Lancastrian and for Yorkist leanings proves awkward on occasion, such a procedure has the advantage of avoiding a great deal of repetition. 1. Henry VI was royally reared and crowned as an infant, coming to the strong and stable realm of his father. No one doubted his right to the throne, and no disorders intervened between his reign and the preceding one. Arthur, in contrast, was not brought up as a future king; he was reared by "a lord of fair lyvelode in many partys in England and Walys," and also "grete lyvelode aboute London" (a departure from the Merlin, where his foster-father is merely a knight, his means are modest, and there is no mention of Wales or London). He gained the throne after the realm had stood "in grete jeopardy long whyle, for every lord that was myghty of men made hym stronge, and many wende to have ben kyng" (items added by Malory). He is a young man at this time, apparently in his late "teens." (Malory is vague

26

Ibid. 16, 1287; Pochoda (n. 1 above) 80-81. Aurner (n. 1 above) passim, attempts to account for the disparities between Henry VI's character and Arthur's by postulating t h a t Arthur represents all three Lancastrian monarchs; it is possible t o prove anything, starting with such a premise.

376

RICHARD R.

GRIFFITH

about Arthur's age, omitting the statement in the Merlin and elsewhere that he was fifteen. His enemies describe him as a "berdless boye," but this is familiar hyperbole. In fact, Arthur's age must be within a couple of years of Kay's, for he replaced K a y at his mother's breast, and K a y received his knighthood—presumably at twenty-one—just two months before Arthur pulled the sword from its stone). Envious lords rejected Arthur's right to the crown, asserting that he was a bastard or "come of lowe blood," despite Merlin's explanations that he is "rightwys kynge borne of all Englond." B u t he is finally acclaimed king at the insistence of the commons, who hail him outside London's greatest church—"whether it were Powlis or not the Frensshe booke maketh no mencyon"—and he afterwards receives the crown from the archbishop of Canterbury (the bishop of Logres in his source). He then restores estates to their rightful owners. 27 Edward of York was reared at the Ludlow home of his father, a lord who held extensive lands in nearby Wales, as well as in England; he also owned Baynard's Castle in London. (In the French source Arthur and his adopted family stay at a hostel with a hostess; in Malory it is Sir Ector's "lodging," and when Arthur returns for Kay's sword "the lady" and all the rest are absent. 28 Edward gained the throne after the realm had suffered many years of civil disorder (during the minority and mental lapses of Henry V I ) and rivalry between Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, Suffolk, Somerset, and York as to who should rule England. Edward became king at nineteen, the archbishop of Canterbury officiating. Lancastrian lords circulated the rumor that he was of low birth, his real father having been a "tall archer" whom his mother had favored in France; they also denied the Yorkist claim generally, despite proclamations and genealogies issued to show Edward's line of descent as superior to Henry VI's. After his coronation, Edward reversed the attainders of his Yorkist following and restored seized estates. 29 2. Arthur's realm was still divided after he became king, many nobles refusing to accept him as their overlord. Having first "stablisshed alle the countryes aboute London" in a series of battles early in his reign, he brought southern and central England under his sway, but had to appoint a warden Vinaver, Works 10, 12, 15-17, 1286-1287; Pochoda (n. 1 above) 78-79. Vinaver, Works 13. If Malory is thinking of "the feld" where jousts are held as the London tournament ground, Smithfield, and actually has in mind the York Inn, Baynard's Castle, as Sir Ector's lodging in London, then Arthur's route when he returns for Kay's sword would take him right past St. Paul's. (Entering the City through Newgate, he would have gone down Dean's Lane to Carter Lane, and a brief jog to his left would have brought him to Addle Street, which runs into Thames Street right opposite Baynard's Castle. St. Paul's churchyard was within the angle of Dean's Lane and Carter Lane, and could be entered from either.) See fold-out map, "London in the Fifteenth Century," in C. L. Kingsford, Prejudice and Promise in Fifteenth-Century England (Oxford 1915). 27 28

2 9 Eric Simons, The Reign of Edward IV (London 1966) 29-59, 81, 145; Scofield (n. 18 above) 1.151, 157-158, 221.

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE D A R T H U R "

377

to hold the northern sector, "fro Trent forwardes, for it was that tyme the most party the kynges enemyes. But within fewe yeares after Arthur wan all the North, Scotland, and all that were under their obeissuance." Henry VI's reign offers no parallels to these events, but again there are resemblances to the early days of Edward IV. The Yorkist monarch likewise came to a divided kingdom, but London and its environs supported him, and between 1461 and 1464 he established his military supremacy at Mortimer's Cross, Ferrybridge, Totton, Hedgeley Moore, and Hexham. He had similar difficulties with the North, where Warwick was appointed his warden, for the Scots aided Queen Margaret and Lancastrian uprisings were supported by troops from across the border, but with a few years he too had humbled the Scots and established his rule above the Trent. "A parte of [Walys] helde ayenst Arthur, but he overcam hem all," declares Malory, and he might easily have been thinking of Jasper Tudor's rebel forces in that realm, and of Harlech Castle, which held out against Edward for some seven years.30 3. Arthur had two casual love affairs in his youth (the ladies were Lyonors and Margawse of Orkney), each resulting in a child. He married the beautiful daughter of one of his own subject-lords, against the wishes of his chief counselor, who prophesied division and trouble from the match. Henry VI has no recorded extramarital amours. He married a foreign princess chosen by his chief advisor, Suffolk, and apparently had little interest in even churchsanctioned sexual relations, for he reportedly thought the Holy Ghost must have sired the young prince borne by his wife. Edward, like Arthur, had two recorded early affairs (with Elizabeth Lucy and Eleanor Butler), which resulted in at least two children—one of whom he actually named Arthur. Certainly against the wishes of his chief advisor, Warwick, he married the beautiful daughter of Lord Rivers, and split his kingdom as a consequence. It is true that his marriage was more fruitful than Arthur's, but it produced no sons until the year after the Morte was finished.31 4. Arthur was a valiant warrior and an outstanding general—he never lost a battle. In contrast, Henry VI was neither fighter nor strategist, and his standard fell in defeat every time he raised it for battle. Edward, on the contrary, was the most noted warrior and finest commander of his age, with a record of victory equal to Arthur's—more than one Yorkist writer compares his achievements to the British Worthy's. He also, like Arthur, took part in and sponsored tournaments, and clearly "loved the felyship of noble knyghtes," while Henry had no such tastes.32

30 31

Vinaver, Works 16; Simons 51, 63-71, 83-96, 100-104, 157. Vinaver, Works 38, 41, 97; Simons 106-114; John H. Jesse, Memoirs

of the Court of

England: Richard III and Some of his Contemporaries (Boston n.d.) 163-164n. 32 Robbins (n. 14 above) 227; Sidney Anglo, "The British History in Early Tudor propaganda," Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 44 (1961) 24; Philippe de Comines, History,

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RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

A number of isolated passages reinforce the suggestion of Yorkist sympathies. In Book II, for example, Malory includes among Arthur's Continental enemies "the kynge of Portyngale," a gratuitous addition for which Vinaver suggests no explanation. In 1464, however, the exiled Lancastrians attempted to enlist the aid of the Portugese monarch, who was descended from John of Gaunt and was thus a kinsman of Henry VI. The date seems a reasonable one for the composition of this early part of the Morte, and there is no difficulty whatsoever in accounting for this addition if the author was a partisan of Edward IV.33 Omissions are less telling than additions, but when they run counter to an author's usual practice they may carry some weight. In the alliterative poem's account of Arthur's return to confront Mordred, the traitor has a fleet assembled at Southampton which attempts to prevent the king from landing, and a lengthy sea battle ensues. Malory, never one to leave out a good fight, omits all mention of Southampton and treats Arthur's disputed landing in half a sentence. During the late 1460s there was an actual fleet at Southampton, commanded by one of the most prominent Yorkist leaders, the queen's brother, Lord Scales, and part of its responsibility was to patrol the Channel against a rumored invasion by Margaret of Anjou and her son, the Lancastrian heir. It seems at least possible that Malory elected not to include his source's Southampton-based armada in order to avoid any association in his readers' minds between Mordred's fleet and the contemporary one.34 In presenting arguments for the Morte's Lancastrian bias, Sir E. K. Chambers notes a passage recommending that obstreperous vassals go to Rome and enlist in a crusade, for "that is fayrer warre than thus to areyse people agaynste youre kynge," although he concedes that such sentiments could have been expressed by adherents of either party. Henry VI's piety might possibly have inspired him to consider crusading a worthy endeavor, but his unwarlike nature would have discouraged any such impulse, and I can find no indication that he ever actually proposed a crusade. Edward IV, however, did project an expedition to free the Holy Land early in his reign. Although his motives were probably more political than religious, and although nothing came of the proposal, the idea of a crusade never completely died. As soon as the Lancastrian threat had been eliminated at Tewkesbury, a leading Yorkist lord, Anthony Wydville (now Earl Rivers), proposed a "day against the Saracen," and received royal permission to enlist men under his banner, but he never actually set forth on this venture. (His younger brother, Sir Edward, ultimately inherited the obligation and led a small English force against the Moors in the

trans. Thomas Danett, et. Charles Whibley (London 1896, A m e s reprint 1967), 1.275; K e n dall (n. 18 above) 147-150, 194. 33 Vinaver, Works 193, 1376; letter from Sir John Fortescue t o the Earl of Ormond, dated 13 December 1464, quoted in J. R . Lander, The Wars of the Roses ( N e w York 1966) 149. 34

Brock (n. 11 above) 1 0 4 , 1 0 6 - 1 0 9 ; Simons (n. 29 above) 150-161.

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379

1480s.) In his epilogue to Godfroy of Bologne (1481), dedicated to Edward IV, Caxton is still urging "warre for the defense of Cristendom, and to recouer the sayd Cyte of Jherusalem." This Yorkist dream of a crusade may account not only for the passage cited by Chambers, but also for the final sentences of the Morte, in which the last remnants of the Round Table are said to have gone to fight in the Holy Land, where they "did many bataylles upon the myscreantes, or Turkes. And there they dyed upon a Good Fryday for Godes sake." (This is another of Malory's additions to the book). 35 The Morte's treatment of the rebels' reasons for joining Mordred is also suggestive. In Malory's source, the stanzaic Le Morte Arthur, Mordred entertains lavishly and gives great gifts, so that people say "with hym with ioye and wele, / And in Arthurs tyme but sorow and woo." He later employs a false report of Arthur's death to call a parliament which chooses him king, and everybody says, in essence, that Arthur had lived by the sword and died by it, getting what he deserved: "Arthur louyd noght but warynge, / And suche thynge as hym selfe soght, / Right so he toke hys endynge." In the alliterative poem his support comes from elevating foreigners—Danes, Saracens Saxons, Picts, and Irishmen—and outlaws. Geoffrey, Wace, and Layamon stress Mordred's pact with Childeric and say that he imported Saxons from the Continent to fight against Arthur, Wace adding that Mordred had taken homage and fealty from Arthur's vassals and demanded that every castle provide a hostage. In contrast, Malory emphasizes the change in allegiance of the English temselves: "Mordred made wryttes unto all the baronny of thys londe. And much people drew unto hym; for than was the comyn voyce amonge them that with kynge Arthur was never othir lyff but warre and stryff, and with sir Mordrede was grete joy and blysse." The complaint regarding the war and strife of Arthur's reign may have been suggested by the stanzaic poem's comment about Arthur's love of warfare, but the focus is quite different, for the poem is referring to the Continental campaigns that led to his reported death, while Malory's common voice is clearly concerned with conditions in England itself. A remarkably similar comment is made by Warkworth, writing a very few years after 1469, regarding the common attitude just before Edward was deposed by Warwick: having hoped for good times after replacing Henry VI, "when Kynge Edward iiij t h regnede the pepul looked after alle the fore seide prosperytes and peece, but it came not; but one batayle aftere another, and moche troble and grett losse of goodes amonge the comone pepul." 36 Vinaver Works 680, 1260; Chambers (n. 1 above) 202; Scofield 2.31-34; W. H. Prescott, The History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic (London 1902) 489-490, 494; The Prologues and Epilogues of William Caxton ed. W. J . B. Crotch, EETS (London 1928) 48; N. F. Blake, Caxton and his World (London 1969) 89-90. 3 6 Bruce (n. 20 above) 90; Brock (n. 11 above) 104; Geoffrey of Monmouth (n. 4 above) 233-234; Wace (n. 4 above) 109-110; Layamon (n. 4 above) 259-261; Vinaver, Works 12281229; Warkworth (n. 18 above) 12. 35

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RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

Malory adds the comment: "many there were that kynge Arthyr had brought up of nought, and gyffyn them londis, that myght nat than say hym a good worde." 37 This is a common reproach, but if Malory was aware of the way the opposing sides were being drawn up, he could easily have been referring to Wenlock (made a lord by Edward), Fawconberg (elevated to the earldom of Kent), Thomas de la Launde (a Gascon given estates and position), Richard Lord Welles (given the title by Edward), Sir Thomas Dymock (Edward's own royal Champion), John Neville (whom Edward had made earl of Northumberland), Thomas Cooke (a London merchant whom Edward had knighted), and many another. Many of the general points of resemblance between Arthur and Edward IV are, of course, to be found in Malory's sources, and there are naturally numerous events in each monarch's career which have no parallels in the other's. Le Morte Darthur is certainly not to be read as a roman a clef, or even as a political allegory in which Arthur consistently represents Edward IV. But with a reigning monarch of nine years' standing who resembled Arthur in so many ways, it is hard to conceive of Malory's harking back to the weak, simpleminded Henry for his image of the ideal ruler. And while alterations of the Morte's sources which would make Arthur resemble Henry are notably absent, several such changes clearly serve to augment similarities to Edward IV. Nonetheless, the possibility remains that Malory had neither monarch specifically in mind, but included local and contemporary matter simply to give concreteness to his work. External evidence, however, confirms the likelihood that Arthur represents, in a very general way, Edward IV, for association of the two monarchs was common during Edward's reign. Through his Mortimer ancestry Edward could trace his descent from Arthur's heir, Cadwalader, and royal pedigrees of the period consistently do so. It is easy to forget that the first Lancastrian ruler usurped the throne not only from Richard II, but also from Edmund Mortimer (a minor at the time), and Edward IV was Mortimer's heir. In the latter years of Richard II, when it had become obvious that the royal marriage was barren, Roger Mortimer, earl of March, was recognized as heir presumptive. Heralds drew up genealogies showing him as the rightful heir of King Arthur, as well, sparking a revival of interest in Arthurian matter. Earl Roger's death in 1398, leaving a young child as heir, cleared the way for the Lancastrian Henry IV, since the troubles resulting from the minority of Richard II were still fresh in memory, and no one wanted another boy-king. B u t the rebellions against Henry IV and V during the early fifteenth century always involved the Mortimer claim to some extent, and even the 1450 uprising against Henry VI was led by a man calling himself John Mortimer, perhaps with the intent of recalling the Mortimer descent of the duke of York, 37

Vinaver Works 1229.

381

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE D A R T H U R "

whom the rebels supported. The importance of the Mortimer connection with the early British rulers was kept alive by Owen Glendower, whose daughter married a Mortimer, and who claimed among his own ancestors Brutus, the purported founder of Britain. Edward IV, growing to manhood at Ludlow, the Mortimer stronghold on the Welsh border, and receiving the Mortimer title, earl of March, would have been well aware of his Arthurian background. Doubtless, among the reasons why York claimants could always count on strong support from Wales and its marches, the Mortimer descent from the line of Arthur and Brutus ranked high. Edward IV was the first reigning monarch who could claim to be Arthur's heir, and Anglo's recent study shows he made more use of this connection than did the Tudors, although modern attention has been focused on that family's British origins. (One roll of arms for Henry VII's son, Prince Arthur, traces his ancestry back to his namesake, not through the Tudors, but through his mother, daughter of Edward IV !) Thus Edward was hailed as Arthur returned from Avalon, the Red Dragon revived, by poets and heralds alike.38 In such an atmosphere, Malory's readers would have been predisposed to identify Arthur with his Yorkist descendent, and only specific disclaimers, of which there is no trace, would have prevented this. It is hardly too much to say that Malory's choice of the British Worthy as subject for his writings must have been influenced by the revived interest in matters Arthurian—"old hat" in literary and aristocratic circles since the previous century—and that interest was strictly Yorkist. I cannot find that even the most ardent Lancastrian ever thought of Henry VI as resembling Arthur, and genealogically, as Anglo notes, "there was no connection that could have been satisfactorily employed."39 Indeed, Henry was thought of as representing the Saxon line, the Albus Draco of Merlin's prophecy, which would be defeated by the heir of Cadwalader, the Red Dragon, Edward IV. To return to Malory's condemnation of English fickleness, it seems probable that this passage was written around 1469, since it occurs in the final section of a book completed in 1469-1470. By this time Edward's honeymoon with his subjects was over, and his situation was sufficiently perilous to justify applying these remarks to him. The latter 1450s saw a revival of Lancastrian activity. In 1468 a conspiracy between Queen Margaret and several prominent Londoners came to light. It was followed immediately by an abortive attempt on Wales, led by Jasper Tudor. A rumor that Margaret was readying a fullscale invasion sent the English fleet cruising the Channel to intercept her. (October-November 1468). By thè year's end, another conspiracy had been uncovered, involving the lords of Oxford and Exeter, and such important families as Hungerford, Tresham, and Courtenay. But the most serious threat

38

Mary Giffin, " ' 0 Conquerour oi Brutes Albyon, "' Studies (Quebec 1956) 92-103; Anglo (n. 32 above) 20-26, 37, 43-45. 39 Anglo (n. 32 above) 21.

on Chaucer and his

Audience

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RICHARD R. GRIFFITH

came from Edward's own supporters. Warwick Kingmaker, angry over the rise of the Wydville clan and Edward's alliance with Burgundy, had set out to humble (or replace) the ruler he had helped to the throne. When Edward IV dismissed Warwick's brother from his position as chancellor (June 1467) and forbade the marriage of Kingmaker's daughter to his own royal brother, George of Clarence, Warwick responded by stirring up trouble in the northern counties he controlled. Early in 1469 a rebel calling himself Robin of Redesdale (Sir John Conyers, almost certainly backed by Warwick) led an unsuccessful rising in the North. Shortly thereafter, another Robin (this time of Holderness) sponsored a revolt in the same area, likewise put down without demanding Edward's presence. But in midsummer the first Robin reappeared with a much better equipped force, and when Edward marched out of London to suppress this rising in person, Warwick acted. He had the forbidden marriage solemnized at Calais (July, 1469), and promptly issued a manifesto signed by his new son-in-law (Clarence was still heir presumptive, since the Queen had borne only girls) calling upon all those interested in reform to assemble in Kent. While the southern rebels, joined by Warwick and Clarence, marched into London, Robin's men defeated the royal forces at Edgecote, and by August Edward was a prisoner in his own realm.40 It must certainly have seemed, to a writer completing his work in the ninth year of Edward IV (4 March 1469—3 March, 1470, N.S.) as though the English had turned against their once-popular king. Consequently, it is hard to believe that Malory's complaint about the fickleness of his countrymen harks back some nine years to the deposition of the preceding monarch. To intend such an interpretation without providing a clear indication of one's sympathies would be to invite misunderstanding. Thus, none of the evidence adduced to demonstrate that the author of the Morte Darthur had Lancastrian leanings stands up very well under examination. What bias there is seems, indeed, to be Yorkist. This is hardly surprising, since a book like the Morte must have been designed for an aristocratic audience, and the only members of this class at large in the England of the 1460s were at least nominally Yorkists. Furthermore, such leanings are in perfect accord with two of the three things we know about Malory the author: first, he complimented a Yorkist lord, the earl of Arundel, by introducing a reference to his castle; and second, he must have been (in view of the Morte's identification of Joyeux Gard with Alnwick or Bamborough) the Thomas Malory who took part in the 1462 seige of these northern castles, and that man fought on the Yorkist side. The third item, that the author was a prisoner during part or all of the period during which he wrote his book, remains a puzzle. If he was indeed a loyal Yorkist, it seems unlikely that he would have been imprisoned at all during Edward's reign, and most unlikely that his incarceration should 40

Simons (n. 29 above) 142, 148-149, 156-183,199.

383

POLITICAL BIAS OF "MORTE DARTHUR"

have lasted long enough for him to write so extensive a book. If he was a Yorkist, he can hardly be the Sir Thomas Malory excluded from Edward's pardons in 1468-1470, for all the identifiable names there listed belong to Lancastrians.41 Furthermore, almost all of the individuals excluded were demonstrably at liberty; and the disposition of the pardons (three of the four extant copies were sent to possible sources of Lancastrian support, and the fourth is apparently connected to one of the others) suggests that they were designed as warnings, to prevent the recipients from giving aid to persons who were at large and represented a danger to the crown. Since the author's last words include a plea for "good delyveraunce," he must have been a prisoner during the very years these pardons were issued, and his identification with the Malory excluded from them is therefore dubious on grounds independent of the Yorkist bias here suggested for his book. It is possible, of course, that the incarceration of Malory the author was a consequence of strictly local infractions or persecutions, unrelated to national politics; the various imprisonments suffered by the well-to-do and essentially law-abiding Pastons reveal how easy it was to get on the wrong side of local law. Or perhaps Matthews's conjecture that Malory was a prisoner-of-war is the correct answer.42 But since there is no evidence that a Thomas Malory was imprisoned for either Lancastrian or Warwickian activities during the 1460s, the attribution of Yorkist sympathies to the author merely leaves unsolved a preexisting mystery. Acceptance of the thesis that the author of Le Morte Darthur favored the Yorkist cause necessarily has implications for the question of which particular Thomas Malory wrote the book. Sir Thomas of Newbold Revel, the Warwickshireman favored by most authorities, was (as is pointed out in the opening paragraph) clearly no Lancastrian. His loyalties, however, seem to have been less to York than to Warwick, for he lived in the Kingmaker's earldom and two of Warwick's followers provided bail for him in the 1450s. He might well have become sufficiently involved in Warwick's plots of 14681470 be the Sir Thomas excluded from Edward's pardons,43 but it seems unlikely that he during this same period wrote a condemnation of fickle Englishmen who turn against their king. In contrast, the Thomas Malory of Studley and Conyers, Yorkshire, who has been proposed as possible author by Professor Matthews, came from a family whose sympathies were seemingly with Lancaster or Warwick, for this Thomas's brother was very probably the William

13

Matthews (n. 1 above) 130-135.

42

Ibid. 139, 150.

44

Chambers (n. 1 above) 202-203; Matthews 30, 135. Matthews's argument that the Warwickshireman could not have been the Sir Thomas excluded from the pardons because he was too old depends upon the assumption that his treasonous activities include hiding in a Yorkshire cave and raising insurrections in the North, and loses much of its force when one considers this Malory's vitality just a decade earlier, when he was well into his sixties.

384

RICHARD R.

GRIFFITH

Mallerye listed among the rebel dead in Robin of Redesdale's 1469 uprising.44 Assuming he agreed with his brother politically, this Yorkshire Thomas Malory is also a good candidate for exclusion from Edward's pardons (although there is no indication that he was a knight, and his elder brother was still a squire), but again it seems unlikely that a participant in such rebellions would have penned the Morte's comments on English fickleness. The head of the Yorkshire Malorys, Sir William, however, seems to have avoided involvement in the dynastic struggle, and brothers have been known to disagree on political issues—indeed, some families encouraged their sons to join opposing sides in order to ensure continuance in their estates whichever party triumphed. It is also true that the Yorkshireman, two generations younger than his Midlands rival, would have spent most of his adult life under the scepter of Edward IV, and would be more likely to reflect that monarch's reign in any book he might write. Thus while acceptance of Yorkist bias in the Morte Darthur slightly favors the Warwickshireman's claim as author, it provides no certain basis for choosing between the two candidates. The critic and literary historian will unquestionably find a modified view of Malory's political allegiance extremely useful. For example, Edward D. Kennedy has recently noted parallels between the Morte's treatment of Arthur's marriage and English sentiment toward Edward IY's union with Elizabeth Wydville; but conviction that the author's bias was Lancastrian forces him to conjecture that Malory "wrote Tale I, with its presentation of a loving husband, before Edward's marriage inl464." 45 Kennedy's argument is that a supporter of Henry VI would have disapproved of Edward's marriage, and would not have portrayed Arthur as so loving a husband in Tale I (yet so unaffectionate in the latter sections), as Malory does. If the author's Yorkist partisanship be granted, this inconsistency in Arthur's emotional history provokes quite different speculations: Edward IV's critics felt he had sacrificed the welfare of his kingdom, best served by a marital alliance with some foreign princess, to his personal passion for Elizabeth Wydville, and compounded the offense by yielding to his queen's pleas for elevation of her numerous family, to the detriment of the old nobility. For an author who supported Edward to deny his love for Elizabeth, as reflected in Arthur's marriage to Guenevere, would have offended both king and queen, as well as being futile. But to show Arthur as uxorious after the first years of his marriage would be to confirm Edward's critics by suggesting that this failing was common to both monarchs. In the course of Malory's narrative, Arthur develops from a rather self-centered and 44

Ibid. 136. Kennedy (n. 1 above) 161. Although Kennedy asserts that "Arthur was surely not intended to represent Edward IV" (162), his thesis is dependent upon such an identification, at least as regards his marriage. The assumption that a Lancastrian author would have disapproved of Edward's union with Elizabeth Wydville ignores the fact that the Wydvilles were former Lancastrians whose elevation was resented chiefly by Yorkists. 46

POLITICAL B I A S OF " M O R T E

DARTHUR"

385

irresponsible youth to a mature and wise ruler who is more concerned for his principles, his realm, and his followers than he is for his wife; an adherent of Edward's would have seen a similar pattern in his life. The Yorkist ruler spent the early 1460s in self-indulgence—except for an occasional battle— and let the Nevilles run the country; but after the middle of this decade he took matters into his own hands and exhibited both concern for his subjects' welfare and considerable ability as an administrator. If he favored his wife's relatives excessively, it may well have been because they were an unusually intelligent and talented family whose Burgundian connections aided his foreign policy and whose loyalty and support were an effective counterbalance to the Nevilles's power. Malory may also have chosen to minimize Arthur's love for Guenevere after the first few years of their marriage in order to make less personal, and hence less heinous, Arthur's later betrayal by Lancelot (the author's favorite) through his affair with the queen. If this is the correct explanation, then recognition of Malory's Yorkist sympathies has made it possible to see his treatment of Arthur's marriage as motivated, not by political bias at all, but by artistic considerations. Similarly, the elimination of partisan undertones in the account of Arthur's Continental triumphs permits one to see it as more broadly patriotic, designed to establish a "historical" basis for English claims to a Continental domain, and perhaps looking ahead to Edward IV's projected campaign to win back England's lost possessions. In contrast, Elizabeth Pochoda's general thesis is substantially reinforced by attribution of Yorkist leanings to Malory. Arthur's failure, she argues, results from his basing his government on his knights' loyalty to him personally, rather than to the concept of kingship as the continuing source of authority, the embodiment of the State.46 One may fairly question how many of Malory's contemporary readers would have been sufficiently conversant with political philosophy to recognize and reflect upon this issue as an abstract proposition. Henry VI was by no means the sort of charismatic leader who inspires excessive personal loyalty. Indeed, the transfer of royal authority through the successive Lancastrian monarchs was relatively smooth, approximating Fortesque's ideal. Edward IV, however, had built a party—the Wydvilles, Herbert, Hastings, Tiptoft, Stafford—obligated to him directly, and the Morte may well reflect a thoughtful Yorkist's worries about the future of the White Rose regime. Since Edward, like Arthur, was still without a son (Edward V was born the year after the Morte was finished), such personal allegiance would have to be transferred to his brother George, duke of Clarence, a dubious prospect indeed. Eugene Vinaver feels that we are fortunate in knowing so little about the Morte's author that it is impossible to interpret his work in terms of his per-

46

Pochoda (n. 1 above) passim.

386

R I C H A R D R.

GRIFFITH

sonal life, or of specific events in fifteenth-century history.47 However, Vinaver's own notes and comments show how difficult it is to resist the temptation when occasions arise, and other Malory scholars seem no better at ignoring possible allusions, personal or political, in the author's work. If we are to interpret these correctly, our premises must be unassailable. The assumption that the Morte's bias is Lancastrian depends on arguments that are demonstrably invalid or, at best, dubious. A much larger body of evidence, both internal and external, favors the view that Malory the author, if he had strong political convictions at all, was a Yorkist. Department of English C. W. Post College Long Island University Greenvale, New York 11548, U.S.A. 47

V i n a v e r , Works (n. 1 a b o v e ) x x v i i .

B I B L I C A L WOMEN IN THE MERCHANT'S TALE: FEMINISM, A N T I F E M I N I S M , AND BEYOND

by Emerson Brown, Jr.

"Of all creatures women be best," begins the famous refrain; "Cuius contrarium verum est," it misogynistically concludes.1 Similar thorns on the rose of gynecolatry appear frequently in the Merchant's long opening digression ostensibly in praise of wives and marriage (E 1267-1392), and such irony has often been proposed as the essence of his allusions to Rebecca, Judith, Abigail, and Esther in that speech (1362-1374).2 A fuller understanding of the role these and other women play in the tale will involve moving beyond the level of masculine indignation confronting feminine duplicity, but we must begin there in order to define the context in which the women appear. After setting the scene of the tale and introducing his senex amans, Januarie, who was so eager to wed, the Merchant digresses from his barely begun narrative to deliver a long ironic epithalamion. As G. G. Sedgewick noted, "That glory song is really the stream which has been passing through the mind of January, the old fool who was so wise." 3 But the stream of Januarie's thoughts has passed through the Merchant's mind before it reaches us and has become polluted by his cynicism:

1 Rossell Hope Robbins, ed., Secular Lyrics of the XlVth and XVth Centuries, ed. 2 (Oxford 1955) 35. 2 See, for example, R. M. Lumiansky, Of Sondry Folk: The Dramatic Principle in the Canterbury Tales (Austin 1955) 160; W. Arthur Turner, "Biblical Women in The Merchant's Tate and The Tale of Melibee," English Language Notes 3 (1965-1966) 92-95; Robert J.Blanch, "Irony in Chaucer's Merchant's Tale," Lock Haven Review 8 (1966) 12-13; and re lines 17041705, where Rebecca reappears, see J. S. P. Tatlock's excellent article "Chaucer's Merchant's Tale," Modern Philology (MP) 33 (1935-1936) 373. See also the commentary on the passage in Maurice Hussey, ed., The Merchant's Prologue and Tale (Cambridge 1966) 82. In an article that appeared after this study was nearly completed, however, Charlotte F. Otten persuasively interprets the four heroines in bono as "Deliverance Types": "Proserpine: Liberatrix suae gentis," Chaucer Review (ChRev) 5 (1971) 277-287. Citations from Chaucer are to The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, ed. F. N. Robinson, ed. 2 (Boston 1957). 3

G. G. Sedgewick, "The Structure of The Merchant's Tale," University terly 17 (1947-1948) 341.

of Toronto

Quar-

388

EMERSON BROWN, JR.

But the actual speaker, the Merchant, must be heard also, in his own right; and he speaks in a sort of double-talk. From the mouth of a man to whom marriage has been a literal hell, you cannot expect either innocent praise or the sentimentality of an old dotard. His voice, in Robinson's words, is "bitterly ironic"; there is a savage sneer in the "heigh stil" of his eloquence; his fine words about marriage are really ironic curses extorted by the spectacle of an amorous fool whom he is about to expose. But beneath the obvious savagery runs an undercurrent of which he seems at best half-conscious: for the curses fall on himself as well as on January. The stream of consciousness we see flow by was the Merchant's own, two months ago. That is how he knows what is going on in old January's mind. Chaucer is making him speak as if in a mood of ugly reminiscence and self-loathing.4 Our awareness of this bitter, disillusioned narrator gives to lines that seem widely different in attitude a uniformity of tone. Statements at first glance lavish in their praise turn out to contain ironic overtones.5 "Ther nys no thyng in gree superlatyf, / As seith Senek, above an humble wyf" (1375-1376), he announces, leaving those familiar with the well-known Latin saying to make for themselves the essential point: "Ita nihil est crudelius infesta muliere."6 To demonstrate that "womman is for mannes helpe ywroght," he cites the woman who in the entire history of the human race was the least helpful to man, Eve (1324-1336). And it is clearly not the foolish senex amans but his cynical interpreter who voices the final couplet: "They [husband and wife] been so knyt ther may noon harm bityde, / And namely upon the wyves side" (1391-1392). Even without the Merchant's comment in his Prologue on the 4

Ibid. 342. The interpretation of the Merchant's Tale as a "dark" tale of unusual bitterness for Chaucer, set forth b y Kittredge more than fifty years ago and supported b y Tatlock and Sedgewick among others, has recently been reaffirmed. See Norman T. Harrington, "Chaucer's Merchant's Tale: Another Swing of the Pendulum," Publications of the Modern Language Association (PMLA) 86 (1971) 25-31, which summarizes both sides of the controversy up t o that point, and E. Talbot Donaldson, "The Effect of the Merchant's Tale," in Speaking of Chaucer ( N e w York 1970) 30-45. 5 The effort of Sedgewick and others to read this speech on marriage as dramatically consistent w i t h the character of the Merchant narrator (and hence as contributing t o the unity of the tale as a whole) has been challenged, some years ago b y Bertrand H . Bronson, "Afterthoughts on the Merchant's Tale," Studies in Philology (SP) 58 (1961) 583-596, a n d m o s t vigorously b y Robert M. Jordan, "The Non-Dramatic Disunity of the Merchant's Tale," PMLA 78 (1963) 293-299, repeated with little change in Chaucer and the Shape of Creation: The Aesthetic Possibilities of Inorganic Structure (Cambridge, Mass. 1967) 132-151. It will be evident that I assume that the Merchant's Tale achieves a higher degree of unity ("organic" and otherwise) than Jordan does. 6

As quoted by Albertano of Brescia, the source for much of the material in this speech, in his Liber consolationis et consilii, ed. Thor Sundby, Chaucer Society 2.8 (London 1873) 18. The quotation from Seneca continues: "Quanto enim sapiens v i t a m suam pro viri salute opponit, tanto maligna ad mariti mortem etiam v i t a m suam feputat."

BIBLICAL WOMEN IN T H E MERCHANT'S TALE

389

"long and large difference" between the Clerk's portrait of wifely patience and his own wife's "passyng crueltee" (1223-1225), this unmistakable irony would confirm our suspicion that throughout this speech the epithalamic glitter of the surface is not to be trusted. 7 Furthermore, this digression on marriage not only exposes the Merchant's misogyny but also introduces a complexity and an indirection that force the audience into active collaboration with the poet. The dubious example, the insincere hyperbole, the fragment of a commonplace taken out of context— all these techniques shock us into exercising our own memory and creativity in order to determine what the lines mean, for they rarely mean simply what they say.8 With these demands on the audience in mind, we can turn to the role the Old Testament heroines play in this speech and in the tale as a whole. Towards the end of his digression, the Merchant extolls the benefits of wifely advice, urges his listeners to "Do alwey so as wommen wol thee rede" (1361), and cites these examples of the "good conseil" that women are able to offer men: Lo, how that Jacob, as thise clerkes rede, By good conseil of his mooder Rebekke, Boond the kydes skyn aboute his nekke, For which his fadres benyson he wan. Lo Judith, as the storie eek telle kan, By wys conseil she Goddes peple kepte, And slow hym Olofernus, whil he slepte. Lo Abigail, by good conseil, how she Saved hir housbonde Nabal, whan that he Sholde han be slayn; and looke, Ester also By good conseil delyvered out of wo The peple of God, and made hym Mardochee Of Assuere enhaunced for to be. (1362-1374) 7 This m a y appear t o be belaboring the obvious. T w o recent attempts t o remove the bitter Merchant-narrator from our response to the tale, however, m a y help vindicate m y decision t o quote Sedgewick at length and to dwell on the unmistakable bitterness and irony in this opening digression. See Peter G. Beidler, "Chaucer's Merchant and the Tale of January," Costerus 1972 5. 1-25 and Martin Stevens, " ' A n d Venus Laugheth': A n Interpretation of the Merchant's Tale," ChRev 7 (1972) 118-131. 8 In such a poem the sharp distinction between t e x t and interpretation fades, for the "text" can scarcely be said t o exist as an entity independent of the creative participation of the audience. For discussions t h a t treat this kind of relationship between t e x t and audience, see Richard Hazleton, "The Manciple's Tale: Parody and Critique," Journal of English and Germanic Philology ( J E G P ) 62 (1963) 1-31; R . E. Kaske, "Patristic Exegesis in the Criticism of Medieval Literature: The Defense," in Critical Approaches to Medieval Literature: Selected Papers from the English Institute, 1958-1959, ed. Dorothy Bethurum ( N e w York 1960) 27-60; and Earl R . Wasserman, "The Limits of Allusion in The Rape of the Lock," J E G P 65 (1966) 425-444.

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EMERSON BROWN, J R .

As with most of the material in the digression on marriage, this passage is far from original. Throughout, the Merchant draws his examples from traditional lore, warping them to fit the needs of his own misogyny. Originating, apparently, in a widely translated work of Albertano of Brescia, the passage had already been heard on the way to Canterbury by the time the Merchant came to tell his tale, for Chaucer borrowed it from the French Livre de Mellibee et Prudence for the Tale of Melibee (B2 2287-2290).9 In none of these works are the women other than the greatest of heroines. Yet the Merchant can hardly have praise of women in mind when he introduces them into a speech already packed with antifeminist irony. Although Prudence uses them with no pejorative intent in the Melibee and thus causes some uncertainty about how they have turned into figures of treachery in the Merchant's Tale,10 one has only to compare the two passages to see the Merchant's motives. These are the heroines as Prudence presents them: Loo, Jacob, by good conseil of his mooder Rebekka, wan the benysoun of Ysaak his fader, and the lordshipe over allé his bretheren. Judith, by hire good conseil, delivered the citee of Bethulie, in which she dwelled, out of the handes of Olofernus, that hadde it biseged and wolde have al destroyed it. Abygail delivered Nabal hir housbonde fro David the kyng, that wolde have slayn hym, and apaysed the ire of the kyng by hir wit and by hir good conseillyng. Hester by hir good conseil, enhaunced greetly the peple of God in the regne of Assuerus the kyng. (B2 2287-2290)11 9

See J . Burke Severs, "The Tale of Melibeus," Sources and Analogues of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, ed. W. F. Bryan and Germaine Dempster (Chicago 1941; repr. New York 1958) 560-566. According to Robert A. Pratt's order for the tales and its reaffirmation of the "Bradshaw Shift," Chaucer's Tale of Melibee is told before the Merchant's Tale: "The Order of the Canterbury Tales," PMLA 66 (1951) 1141-1167. Thus the Merchant's outburst can be seen as a reaction not only to the Clerk's and Wife of Bath's tales but also to the Tale of Melibee. Annoyed by the treatment of womanly wisdom in the Melibee, infuriated by the Wife of Bath, and finally driven to the breaking point by the Clerk's Tale, the Merchant incorporates motifs from all three of these tales in a conscious but not fully controlled attempt to set the record straight about women and marriage. 10

Turner (n. 2 above) attempts to deal with this problem, but by attributing the entire speech to Januarie instead of the Merchant he misses the sarcasm that pervades it and is thus perhaps more puzzled than necessary about how the heroines can be used ironically in the Merchant's Tale after having been used straightforwardly in the Melibee. Further, he does not notice how Chaucer has changed the passage in adapting it from the Melibee (see below). He concludes: "Clearly, by the time he wrote The Merchant's Tale, Chaucer saw both sides to the characters of Rebecca, Judith, Esther, and Abigail" (95). 11 Compare these lines with the parallel passage in their source: "Jacob, par le bon conseil de Rebeque, sa mere, gaingna la beneïçon Ysaac, son pere, et la seignorie sur tous ses freres. Judith, par son bon conseil, délivra la cité de Buthulie, ou elle demouroit, des mains Oloferne, qui l'avoit assigee et la vouloit destruire. Abigal délivra Nabal, son mary, de David le Roy, qui le vouloit occirre, et l'appaisa par son sens et par son conseil. Hester, par son bon conseil,

BIBLICAL WOMEN IN T H E

MERCHANT'S

TALE

391

The Merchant manipulates his text to the detriment of the women. To the statement about Rebecca, he adds "Boond the kydes skyn aboute his nekke," calling attention to the trick she suggested for deceiving her blind and helpless old husband. Concerning Judith, the Merchant changes the detail that both mitigates the crime and explains its necessity—the fact that Holofernes had besieged Judith's city and "wolde have al destroyed it"—to the bland "she Goddes peple kepte." Then having reversed Prudence's order of events, he adds what appears in his telling to be a gratuitous act of violence: "And slow hym Olofernus" and again underlines the treachery involved: "whil he slepte." His point about these two now made, the Merchant repeats the rest of the passage without significant change. Perhaps he thereby invites his audience to think back on the letter of the biblical text and perform the same kind of selective reconstruction with Abigail and Esther which he has already performed with Rebecca and Judith. Thus it is clear that the Merchant intends to debase the heroines. Is our critical response complete, however, if like many critics of the poem we take our interpretation of these heroines no farther than the Merchant's own conscious intention? To do so, we must allow his outlook to counteract extremely widespread traditions that assign to the heroines positive roles in the unfolding of God's plan in temporal history and that interpret them allegorically as figures of moral strength and typologically as figures of the Church and the Blessed Virgin. These traditions are found not only in Latin commentaries and treatises but in virtually every conceivable sort of popularization of religious lore as well. The cynical Merchant may for the moment triumph over Dame Prudence, but one wonders if Chaucer wishes him effectively to undercut Holy Scripture as interpreted by the Church, and in turn by poets of unquestioned orthodoxy and piety.12 To begin to see the function of the heroines in the Merchant's digression on marriage and in the tale as a whole,13 we need to perform two apparently esleva moult son pueple ou royaume de Assuere le Roy," in Bryan and Dempster(n. 9 above) 576. Even such slight differences as there are between the French text and Chaucer's translation can be accounted for by manuscript variants (576 var.). 12 Dante places Sara, Rebecca, and Judith in the celestial rose (Paradiso 32.7-10); Gower, to illustrate the thesis that "Grant bien du bonne femme vient," mentions the activities of Hester, Judith, and Abigail among others (Mirour de l'omme 17461ff., in The Complete Works of John Gower, ed. George Campbell Macaulay, I, The French Works [Oxford 1899]); Rutebeuf presents Judith and Esther as types of the Virgin in "Les neuf joies Nostre Dame," vv. 1316, in Œuvres complètes de Rutebeuf, ed. Edmond Faral and Julia Bastin, Société des anciens textes Français (Paris 1959-1960) 2.247, as does Chaucer's contemporary William of Shoreham in Religious Lyrics of the XlVlh Century, ed. Carleton Brown, ed. 2 rev. G. V. Smithers (Oxford 1965) 46-49, esp. vv. 37-48, a tradition discussed in detail below. See also Rosemary Woolf, The English Religious Lyric in the Middle Ages (Oxford 1968) 129-130, 279, 284-285. 13 Chaucer joins the group of Old Testament women in the Merchant's digression to the tale itself by later allusions which associate May with Rebecca (1704-1705) and Esther (1744-

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

contradictory scholarly and critical functions. We need to follow the biblical adventures of the heroines with as unsympathetic an eye as the Merchant's, eager to pounce on every unfavorable detail. At the same time, we need to become aware of the full range of positive moral and typological interpretations given the heroines in the Middle Ages, for it is against these positive traditions that the Merchant's cynicism must eventually be measured. Whatever one's judgment concerning the particular interpretation these facts lead to, I would suggest that the potential for success of any interpretation that ignores the medieval reputations of the heroines is likely to be rather limited. For this reason I feel justified in treating them individually and at some length—with a cynical eye to the letter and a believing eye to the spirit—while developing an interpretation of their literary purpose. By stressing Rebecca's deceitfulness in promoting Jacob's cause at the expense of her husband, the Merchant indicates how he chooses to see her, and she who deceived her old husband by taking advantage of his blindness serves as an ominous préfiguration of May, who will use the same technique.14 Not long after the wedding, May will indeed carry out the priest's adjuration to "be lyk Sarra and Rebekke / In wysdom" though perhaps not in "trouthe of mariage" (1704-1705). The moral significance of Rebecca's act of deception, however, is not easily obscured even by the Merchant's cynicism. Understood spiritually, her act is entirely justified. Her true victim is not Isaac but Esau, and Esau is anything but innocent. His troubles began when he sold his birthright for a pottage of lentils (Genesis 25.29-34), and this was widely interpreted as a sign of gluttony in particular and of carnality in general.15 Januarie is an explicit Epicurean (2021 ff.), and the downfall of both men is caused not by the female agents of their undoing but by their own sensual appetites. Jacob and Esau had assumed figurai significance by the time of the later prophets (Malachi 1.2-3) and Paul (Romans 9.13). The goodness of Jacob and the idolatrous carnality of Esau were chronicled in a rich

1745). I shall be treating these in an article on the cluster of biblical and classical allusions enriching the presentation of the wedding of Januarie and May (1703-1754). 14

Noted b y Bernard F. Huppé, A Reading of the Canterbury 153; and Hussey (n. 2 above) 12 and 82. 15

Tales, rev. ed. (Albany 1967)

See, for example, Augustine, De eivitate Dei 16.37; Gregory, Moralia in Job 30.60 ( P L 76.557); and the Glossa ordinaria and H u g h of St. Cher on Genesis 25. Citations from the Glossa ordinaria and from Nicholas of Lyra are to the Venice 1588 edition of the medieval glossed Bible: Biblia sacra cum glossis interlineari et ordinaria, et Nicolai Lyrani postilla ac moralitatibus, Burgensis additionibus, et Thoringi replicis, henceforth referred t o as Biblia sacra. Citations from H u g h of St. Cher are to the Venice 1732 edition: H u g o de Sancto Charo, Opera omnia in uniuersum vêtus et novum testamentum. As is fitting for a protoEpicurean, "Esau interpretatur quercus, quia quercus fert fructum, qui est cibus porcorum," H u g h of St. Cher on R o m a n s 9.13 (7.52). Wycliff alludes to Esau as an example of gula; see Morton W. Bloomfield, The Seven Deadly Sins (East Lansing 1952) 189.

393

BIBLICAL WOMEN IN THE MERCHANT'S TALE

b o d y of J e w i s h legend. 1 6

A n d t h r o u g h o u t t h e Middle A g e s t h e s t r u g g l e of t h e

t w o b r o t h e r s w a s i n t e r p r e t e d as a k i n d of psychomachia

in w h i c h J a c o b rep-

r e s e n t e d g o o d i n v a r i o u s f o r m s a n d E s a u r e p r e s e n t e d all t h a t w a s o p p o s e d t o God's will. 1 7 devil.

18

A m o n g t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e s of E s a u is his role as a figure of t h e

R e b e c c a , w h o s e "conseil" l e a d s t o E s a u ' s d o w n f a l l , is t h u s an instru-

m e n t of God's will c o m b a t i n g evil.

H e r role as a t y p e of t h e Church or t h e

Virgin increases her grandeur. 1 9 T h i s t h e m e of t h e v i r t u o u s w o m a n c o m b a t i n g evil i s far m o r e o b v i o u s w i t h t h e n e x t w o m a n o n t h e M e r c h a n t ' s list, J u d i t h . J u d i t h g a i n e d f a m e n o t primarily b y d i s p e n s i n g " w y s conseil" b u t b y d e capitating Holofernes.

D a m e P r u d e n c e d i d n o t bring u p s u c h a detail, b u t

t h e Merchant, a s w e h a v e seen, t o o k p a i n s t o p r e v e n t a n y o n e f r o m f o r g e t t i n g just how Judith's

"conseil" w a s m a n i f e s t e d .

Chaucer's c h a n g e s f r o m

the

Melibee s e e m , therefore, directed solely a t t h e Merchant-narrator, for i t w a s surely u n n e c e s s a r y t o p o i n t o u t J u d i t h ' s f a m o u s act.

T h e b e h e a d i n g of H o l o -

fernes is t h e b e a u t i f u l l y s t a g e d c l i m a x of t h e B o o k of J u d i t h a n d is t h e central t h e m e of v i r t u a l l y e v e r y i c o n o g r a p h i e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of J u d i t h in t h e Middle Ages. 8 0

A l t h o u g h n e i t h e r t h e r i g h t e o u s n e s s of her c a u s e nor t h e w i c k e d n e s s

16 See the chapter "Jacob" in Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews (Philadelphia 19091938; repr. 1964-1968) 1 esp. 309-340 and the appropriate notes in vol. 5. 17 Ambrose: "Esau enim typus erat malitiae, Jacob figuram bonitatis gerebat" (De Cain et Abel 1, P L 14.335); Augustine: "sed minor in bonis christianis, electis, piis, fidelibus; major in superbis, indignis, peccatoribus, contumacibus, sua peccata defendentibus magis quam confitentibus" (Ennaratio in Psalmum 46.6, PL 36.527), and "Esau carnales, Jacob spirituales figurât. . . . Esau, qui vult carnaliter vivere, vel carnalia in futuro saeculo sperare" (Sermo 4, De Jacob et Esau 3, PL 38.34); and Fulgentius: "In cujus persona [Esau] significati sunt non illi tantum qui fidem negant, sed et illi qui usque in finem vitae suae intra Ecclesiam positi, in malis operibus perserverant" (Epislola 15.9, PL 65.438). In vernacular treatments of the Harrowing of Hell, Jacob is named among the saved; Esau, unnamed, may perhaps be presumed to have been left behind (Dante, Inferno, 4.59; Arcipreste de Hita, Libra de buen amor, 5.1561). In illustrations of Augustine's De civitate Dei, Esau appears among the inhabitants of the temporal city, Jacob among the inhabitants of the City of God; see A. de Laborde, Les manuscrits à peintures de la Cité de Dieu de Saint Augustin (Paris 1909). 1.218ff.; 3 pl. 2 and 3. In short, "Jacob, boni; Esau, mali" (PL 175.648). 18

For example, Biblia sacra 1.84v; Hugh of St. Cher 1.34. See Anselm Salzer, Die Sinnbilder und Beiworte Märiens in der deutschen Literatur und lateinischen Hymnenpoesie des Mittelalters (Linz 1893) 498-499. 20 The ubiquity of this motif makes documentation difficult, if not superfluous. In the dozens of photographs of artistic representations of Judith which I have examined at the Index of Christian Art at Princeton University, at the copy of the Princeton Index at UCLA, and elsewhere, I have found few in which Judith is shown in any other pose, and even then such representations are usually part of cycles that do not neglect to portray her violent act at some point. The first letter of the Vulgate text of the Book of Judith is A, and by far the most common initial illumination is a picture of a tent formed by the letter A, housing Holofernes (usually asleep in a bed), with Judith cutting off his head. See Frances G. Godwin, "The Judith Illustration of the Hortus deliciarum," Gazette des becuix-arts 6.36 (1949) 25-46; Louis Réau, Iconographie de l'art chrétien (Paris 1955-1959) 2.1.329-335; and Engelbert Kirschbaum, S.J., et al., Lexikon der Christlichen Ikonographie (Rome 1968-) s.v. Judith. 19

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of her adversary is ever in doubt, it is clear that Judith is calculatingly deceitful and that she glories in the bloody destruction of her enemy. Yet Judith's triumph is absolute, her glory unqualified. Holofernes is far from a passive victim of a crafty woman's guile. Not only is he an enemy of Judith's people out to destroy her city but that sleep that gave her the opportunity to slay him was brought about by his own drunkenness and lust. As with Esau, it is specifically his sensual appetite that leads to his downfall.21 The "historical" Judith's stark brutality was clothed in an elaborate fabric of exegesis. Important in this tradition is the widespread interpretation of Judith as a figure of the Church or the Virgin defeating the enemies of the Church, often the devil himself. This interpretation is found in the most traditional commentaries, in Latin hymns and sermons, and in vernacular literature as well.22 An impeccably hackneyed Middle English sermon can incorporate it without startling a single parishoner: "And {)an Judith, J)at nobull womman . . . be whom I vndirstond Oure Ladie Seynt Mari, J)e wiche is meke and mylde, she is oure vockett, and oure helpe to hure swete Sonne, he to 3eue vs grace to withstonde Jje temptacion of Olofern, J)at is J)e feende of

21 H u g h of St. Cher glosses t h e b a n q u e t of H o l o f e r n e s (12.1) as "delitiae, & d i v i t i a e m u n d i " (1.387), a n d Nicholas of L y r a n o t e s : "Dispositio vero a d m o r t e m , H o l o f e r n i s f u i t a r d o r libidinis, ex eo sequens sopor e b r i e t a t i s " ( B i b l i a sacra 2.301v). R o b e r t H o l k o t u s e s H o l o f e r n e s as a n e x a m p l e of t h e d e s t r u c t i v e p o w e r of l u s t : " T e r t i a conditio l u x u r i a e est, q u o d d e s t r u i t spiritualia . . . E x e m p l u m istius h a b e m u s de H o l o f e r n e , q u e m t o r p o r in t a n t u m i n u a s i t , q u o d I u d i t h c u m gladio c a p u t eius a m p u t a u i t , " in Moralitas 38, Moralitatum historiarum liber, p r i n t e d a t t h e end of In librum Sapientiae regis Salomonis praelection.es 213 (Basel 1586) 741; also Lectio 22 on W i s d o m 2.9 (80) a n d Lectio 156 on W i s d o m 13.3-5 (520). P r u d e n t i u s alludes t o J u d i t h a n d H o l o f e r n e s in describing t h e b a t t l e b e t w e e n " L i b i d o " a n d " P u d i c i t i a " (Psychomachia 58-65). H o l o f e r n e s is p r e s e n t e d as a f i g u r e of l u s t or g l u t t o n y iconographically as well. A n i l l u m i n a t i o n in a f o u r t e e n t h - c e n t u r y m a n u s c r i p t of Le somme le roi depicts t h e vice of luxuria in t h r e e scenes: a personification of L u x u r y , a n u n i d e n t i f i e d scene, p e r h a p s of J o s e p h a n d P o t i p h a r ' s wife, a n d J u d i t h slaying H o l o f e r n e s (MS B.M. R o y a l 1 9 C . I I , 8 5 v ; B r i t i s h M u s e u m , Catalogue of Western Manuscripts in the Old Royal and King's Collection, b y Sir George F. W a r n e r a n d J u l i u s P . Gilson [ L o n d o n 1921] 4 pi. 109). A t t h e b e g i n n i n g of t h e Book of J u d i t h in a n i l l u m i n a t e d Bible t h e r e is, in a d d i t i o n t o t h e u s u a l scene w i t h i n t h e initial A described a b o v e , a b a n q u e t scene w i t h J u d i t h a n d H o l o f e r n e s seated a t a t a b l e ; see Charles Oursei, La miniature du X I I e siècle à l'abbaye de Cîteaux, d'après les manuscrits de la bibliothèque de Dijon ( D i j o n 1926) 67, pl. 10 a n d 12. 22 J e r o m e : " I n t y p o Ecclesiae, d i a b o l u m c a p i t e t r u n c a v i t " ( E p i s t o l a 79.11; P L 22.732); H u g h of St. Cher: " J u d i t h significat E c c l e s i a m . . . . H o l o f e r n e s i n t e r p r e t a t u r i n f i r m i t a s discessionis, et significat divites h u j u s m u n d i . . . . I n h a c q u a r t a die occiditur H o l o f e r n e s , q u i a n o n n u n q u a m cessât diabolus u s q u e a d f i n e m v i t a e . . . . Holofernes, id est d i a b o l u s " (1.384v-387v); see also t h e Glossa ordinaria on J u d i t h 8.1 ( B i b l i a sacra 2.298), et p a s s i m . T h e s a m e t r a d i t i o n a p p e a r s in one of t h e r e d a c t i o n s Aegidius of P a r i s m a d e of P e t e r R i g a ' s Aurora: "Qui I u d i t h u i d u e f u i t e x H o l o f e r n e t r i u m p h u s / Ecclesie l a u s est de t i t u b a n t e S a t h a n , " in Aurora Petri Rigae biblia versificata, ed. P a u l E . Beichner, C.S.C. ( N o t r e D a m e 1965) 1.383. See also Salzer (n. 19 a b o v e ) 492-494; Analecta hymnica medii aevi 17 (1894) 25; a n d R o s e m a r y Woolf (n. 12 a b o v e ) 130, 279, a n d 284-285.

BIBLICAL WOMEN IN T H E M E R C H A N T ' S

TALE

395

hell."23 Finally, Judith slaying Olofernes as a figure of the Virgin overcoming Satan is a common iconographic motif.24 The woman of "wys conseil" overcomes the devil himself. Abigail did save Nabal from death, an act of wifely solicitude that even the most unregenerate misogynist could hardly fail to applaud. Yet shortly thereafter Nabal died, and Abigail, with a haste that might redden the cheeks of Queen Gertrude, became the wife of his would-be murderer (1 Kings 25). Like May, Abigail is beautiful and has an old, rich, and unattractive husband, who was "churlish, and very bad and ill-natured . . . a son of Belial, so that no man can speak to him" (1 Kings 25.3, 17).25 Abigail aids Nabal but behind his back (25.19), and her words to David evince a minimum of connubial respect: "Let not my lord the king, I pray, regard this naughty [iniquum] man Nabal: for according to his name he is a fool [stultus es/] and folly is with him" (25.25). Her marriage to David is the culmination of Abigail's story, and when she is mentioned thereafter it is only as one of his wives (1 Kings 27.3, 30.5; 2 Kings 2.2). Her intervention on Nabal's part is only a preliminary step towards that union. Far more important is Nabal's death, for that makes her marriage to David possible.26 The illuminators either omit 23 Middle English Sermons edited from British Museum MS. Royal 18 B. xxii, ed. Woodburn O.Ross, Early English Text Society (EETS)o.s. 209 (London, 1940) 153; in the Ancrene Riwle Judith becomes a iigure oi Confession slaying Satan: "Iudit 5et is schrift ase was 3eare iseid; slouh oloferne. Set is 8e ueond of helle" (The English Text of the Ancrene Riwle: Edited from Cotton MS. Nero A. XIV, by Mabel Day, EETS o.s. 225 [London 1952] 134). The prologue to the Book of Judith in the Wycliffite Bible speaks of "JVdith . . . Jje whiche in figure of Jje chirche; girde of {)e deuel in f>e hed" (ed. Conrad Lindberg, Stockholm Studies in English 13 [1965] 97), and William of Shoreham's lyric to the Virgin lists Judith among many of her Old Testament types: "E>ou ert Iudith, {>at fayre wyf, / £>ou hast abated al J>at stryf; / Olofernes wy{> hys knyf / Hys heuede Jiou hym by-nome," in Brown (n. 12 above) 48. This commonplace is repeated in an early fifteenth-century acrostic poem to the Virgin, which contains a stanza beginning "I for Iudith" and concluding: "O lady Iudith, that euer durst sehe I Prynce Olyfern with your handes kyll, / In ffygure off my lady, yt was Goddes wyll"; see "Lydgatiana," ed. H. N. MacCracken, Archiv, 131 (1913) 53. 24

It is powerfully rendered in two manuscripts of the Speculum humanae salvationis; in both an illustration of the Virgin defeating Satan is juxtaposed with an illustration of Judith slaying Holofernes; see J. Lutz and P. Perdrizet, Speculum humanae salvationis (Mülhausen 1907-1909), 2 pi. 59; and Speculum humanae salvationis: Being a Reproduction of an Italian Manuscript of the Fourteenth Century, described and prefaced by M. R. James, with a discussion of the school and date by Bernhard Berenson (Oxford 1926) 29 pi. (chap. 30); Berenson suggests that the illustrations in this manuscript are "Florentine from the end of the Trecento" (57). 26 "Fiii u s Belial"; the Glossa ordinaria explains: "Id est diaboli" (Biblia sacra 2.91); repeated in Hugh of St. Cher 1.238v. Turner points out the similarity between Januarie-May and Nabal-Abigail (n. 1 above) 93-94. 26 The importance of Nabal's death and Abigail's marriage is seen clearly in Hugh of St. Cher's division of 1 Kings 25: "Tripartitum est hoc capit. In prima parte agitur de morte Saulis. In secunda de morte Nabal Carmeli. In tertia de matrimonio Abigail uxoris Nabal, & David" (1.237v).

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entirely Abigail's intervention to save Nabal or juxtapose it with Nabal's death and her marriage to David.27 In one picture David claims Abigail on the left while on the right Nabal falls dead.28 "Most wicked speed," indeed. As understood in the Middle Ages, however, Abigail is entirely exemplary. Like the other women, she is seen as a figure of the Virgin Mary, and her intervention to save Nabal prefigures the Virgin's intervention on behalf of sinful mankind.29 Also prominent is the interpretation that centers on Abigail's turning from Nabal to David. This conversion is the key moment in her story: "Nabal . . . Iudaeos . . . Abigail vero prudentissima, & speciosa, plebem illam significat, quae ad Deum conuersa est."30 Below the picture that shows David claiming Abigail beside Nabal falling dead Christ clasps the hand of the Church personified.31 In this cosmic drama Abigail's first husband plays but a walk-on role, the stupid fool struck dead by the Lord (25.38) to permit her to turn to a better man. Moreover, Abigail's precipitate turning to David may signal a further connection with the Merchant's Tale. Given Januarie's desire for faithfulness from May even after his death (2079-2080), Abigail's limitations as a model of wifely perfection become even more pronounced. Although Nabal benefited only briefly from her aid, she left that son of the devil behind and turned to take her place at the side of a far greater man. It is as David's wife, not Nabal's, that she is seen as the uxor-ecclesia of Ephesians 5.27—"non habentem maculam, aut rugam," as the commentators indicate.32 27 Two fourteenth-century English manuscripts provide good examples. See Donald Drew Egbert, The Tickhill Psalter and Related Manuscripts: A School of Manuscript Illumination in England During the Early Fourteenth Century (New York 1940) 35-36; pi. 25; and Henry Yates Thompson, Illustrations of One Hundred Manuscripts in the Library of H. Y. Thompson (London 1907-1918) 4.4; pi. 55. 28 Oxford, MS Bodleian 270b, 143v; Alexandre de Laborde, La bible moralisée, conservée à Oxford, Paris et Londres (Paris 1911-1927) 1 pl. 143. 29 For Abigail "placatrix" as a figure of the Virgin, see Salzer (n. 19 above) 471-472; Abigail's words to David, "Ecce famula tua sit in ancillam" (25.41) provided a temptation to link her with the Mary of Luke 1.38 that the commentators found impossible to resist; e.g., Hugh of St. Cher: "Sic respondit Beata Virgo Angelo. Ecce ancilla Domini. E t utrobique commendatur humilitas" (1.239v). A fourteenth-century illumination pairs a scene depicting Christ holding three lances above the Virgin Mary kneeling with a scene showing David in armor, with sword girded on and lance in hand, pacified by Abigail, kneeling beside him; see Lutz and Perdrizet (n. 24 above) 2 pi. 73. And see the fifteenth-century acrostic poem cited above in connection with Judith (n. 23 above). 30 Glossa ordinaria ( Bib lia sacra 2.90v); see also Ambrose, Epistolarum classis 1.31 (PL 16.1112); Bede, who gives a detailed allegorical reading (In Samuelam prophetam allegorica exposito 4.4; PL 91.681-689); Rabanus Maurus, Commentaria in libros Regum 1.25 (PL 109.6366); and Angelom of Luxeuil, Ennaraliones in libros Regum 1.25 (PL 115.325). To Nicholas of Lyra Nabal is the proud philosopher, Abigail philosophical wisdom; and her marriage to David after Nabal's death signifies that "post mortem Gentilium philosophorum sapientia philosophica copulata est ipsi Christo in sacris ecclesiae doctoribus" (Biblia sacra 2.90v). 31 32

Laborde (n. 28 above) 1 pi. 143. For example, Hugh of St. Cher, citing the Glossa ordinaria (1.238).

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TALE

397

Esther, like Judith, with whom she was often paired,33 saved her people by bringing about the slaughter of their enemies. She achieves this by slyness and dissembling: "Esther interpretatur absconsa," the commentators repeat.34 The Book of Esther is full of joyful exultation when the tables are turned against the enemies of the Jews. The irony and poetic justice involved in having Esther's enemy Aman hanged on the very gallows he prepared for her uncle Mardochai is striking in the biblical narrative and is heightened by Christian commentary.36 In biblical illumination, the usual representation of Esther—showing Assuerus extending his scepter towards her in a gesture of clemency—is often accompanied by a second scene, Aman being hanged.36 As an allusion to Judith might call to mind the beheading of Holofernes, so the name Esther might remind one of Aman on a gallows—even without the reference to slaughter already introduced by the "praise" of Judith. Moreover, Esther's devotion to her husband is less than absolute. Even an uncritical observer might look upon her impassioned defense of the loathing she feels towards him (14.3-19) as qualifying somewhat her position in a speech ostensibly praising wives and marriage. The Merchant leaves more to the imagina-

33 As in Isidore: "Judith et Esther typum Ecclesiae gestant, hostes fidei puniunt ac populum Dei ab interitu eruunt" (Allegoriae quaedam sacrae scripturae, PL 83.116); repeated in Rabanus Maurus, De universo 3.1 (PL 111.66). Indeed, so closely were they associated that Gower blends their stories together, getting Esther's uncle Mardochai involved with Judith (Mirour de l'omme, vv. 12685-12686). In one manuscript illumination a representation of Judith about to decapitate Holofernes and one of Esther beside Aman being hanged appear side by side (Munich, Staatsbibliothek, MS Clm. 14159, Dialogus cruce Christi, 4v [Georg Leidinger, Miniaturen aus Handschriften der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek in München 8 (Munich 1924) 39f. pl. 33). 34

Rabanus Maurus, De universo 3.1 (PL 111.66); Pseudo-Hugh of St. Victor, Allegoriae in vetus testamentum (actually by Richard of St. Victor) 9.1 (PL 175.735); Hugh of St. Cher 1.391, etc.; "Nesciat enim sinistra quid facit dextra t u a " (Biblia sacra 2.307). 35 "Aman, Judei, qui per legem volunt damnare Christianos, sed ipsi è contrario per legem condemnati sunt" (Hugh of St. Cher 1.393). 36 For three of many possible examples of the latter, see the following: Florence, Biblioteca Laurenziana, Edili: 125-126, 2 fol. 83, in E. B. Garrison, Studies in the History of Mediaeval Italian Painting 2 (Florence 1955-1956) fig. 186; Dijon, Bibliothèque Communale, MS 14, Bible, Stephen Harding, 3.122v, in Oursel (n. 21 above) 67; pi. 12; Frankfurt, Museum Kunstgewerbe, L.M. 17, 245, in Georg Swarzenski, Die illuminierten Handschriften und Einzelminiaturen des Mittelalters und der Renaissance in Frankfurter besitz (Frankfurt a.m. 1929) 52f pl. 26D. In an illumination of the Hortus deliciarum, Mardochai, Esther, Assuerus, and Aman are seated at a banquet table all indicating by various gestures a gallows on which Aman is hanged; see Herrade de Landsberg, Hortus deliciarum . . . Texte explicatif commencé par le chanoine A. Straub et achevé par le chanoine G. Keller, 1879-1899 (Strassburg 1901) pl. 18 (1). So central is the hanging of Aman to the iconographical tradition of Esther that in one manuscript I know of the illumination at the beginning of the Book of Esther shows only Aman being hanged: Darmstadt, Landesbibliothek 825, II, 229v, in Hanns Swarzenski, Die lateinischen illuminierten Handschriften des XIII Jahrhunderts in den Ländern an Rhein, Main, und Donau (Berlin 1936) 97 pl. 30 fig. 177.

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tion with Esther than he did with Rebecca and Judith, but he has shown us the way to the truth as he sees it—and his point is clear enough. Y e t in Esther's case, too, there is a level of positive meaning beyond the Merchant's cynicism. Her deception and ruthlessness become triumphant virtues as she prefigures the Church or the Virgin struggling against evil, against even the devil himself.37 Two essential points emerge from this brief study of the Old Testament heroines. For all their obvious virtues, they do exhibit deceitful, treacherous, unfaithful, or even murderous behavior, and even in the believing Middle Ages—as the Merchant himself has demonstrated—this can be stressed to undercut their apparently beneficial roles as dispensers of "good conseil." By approaching them with the Merchant's cynical misogyny, in other words, the more we learn about them, the worse they seem. They can be viewed in this light, however, only by concentrating on the letter of the biblical text and remaining blind to higher meaning. Such literalism in spiritual matters contradicts the basic theory of Christian exegesis established by Saint Paul (2 Corinthians 3.6),38 richly developed by the early Fathers, and popularized and widely disseminated throughout the Middle Ages. To the medieval Christian the historical truth of biblical events was only one of several levels of meaning and was often not the predominant one.39 Even with the increase of interest in the literal level in the later Middle Ages the spiritual meanings were everywhere in evidence and were too strongly imbedded in the consciousness of the age to be easily forgotten—as sermons, hymns, poems, songs, and works of art so amply demonstrate.

37

Jerome: "Esther in Ecclesiae typo populum libérât de periculo, et interfecto Aman, qui

interpretatur 'iniquitas,' partes convivii et diem celebrem mittit in posteros" (Epistola 53; P L 22.547-548); a Latin hymn: "Haec est Esther redimita, / Quae cor placat regium, / Per hanc plebi datur vita / Et Aman suspendium" (Analecta hymnica, n. 22 above); and see the lyrics of Rutebeuf and William of Shoreham cited above (n. 17). For Esther as a figure of the Virgin see also Salzer (n. 19 above) 473-476. After noting that Judith and Esther are spiritual sisters, Hugh of St. Cher explains in outline form the higher significance of the Biblical narrative: "Mysterium autem planum est. Assuerus est Christus: Vasthi, synagoga: Aman diabolus: Esther, Ecclesia: Mardochaeus, Paulus, & caeteri praedicatores Evangelii" (1.389v). Earlier, Rupert of Deutz also saw in Aman a type of the Devil (De dioinis 4.15; P L 170.106; also in De glorificatione

Trinilatis

officiis

et processione sancti Spiritus 8.9; P L

169.169). 38

" N o t in the letter but in the spirit. For the letter killeth; but the spirit quickeneth."

39

See Henri de Lubac's monumental Exégèse médiévale: Les quatre sens de l'écriture (Paris

1959-1964); Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Jean Daniélou, Sacramentum futuri:

Ages (Oxford 1952); and

Études sur les origines de la typologie biblique, (Paris

1950; trans., From Shadows to Reality,

London 1960). As Smalley indicates, "The Latin

Fathers, followed by the assistants of Charlemagne, made Bible study serve their present needs.

They retained both the literal sense and textual criticism, but only as a basis for

the spiritual interpretation" (358).

BIBLICAL WOMEN IN THE MERCHANT'S TALE

399

The Merchant's cynical literalism, therefore, might come as a shock. We are invited to participate in it at the outset, to be sure, as we are invited to share with Dante the pilgrim his initial reaction of total sympathy to the words of Francesa da Rimini. But Francesca is in Hell, and we learn to distrust her words. As we learn that the Merchant carries his Hell within him, we come to distrust his words as well. Far from hidden at the outset, his spiritual blindness is underlined towards the end of the tale when he describes a speech of Januarie's which is full of phrases from Canticles (2138-2148) as "olde lewed wordes" (2149). So they are, to one who is blind to spiritual significance. As Saint Augustine says, in a favorite passage of scholars of the exegetical persuasion, "when that which is said figuratively is taken as though it were literal, it is understood carnally."40 Since Canticles was universally assumed to have been "said figuratively," the Merchant's condemnation of its language reflects his own shortcomings: "honi soit qui mal y pense."41 Giving one's self up to the dark humor of the Merchant's cynicism, therefore, may be like participating in the game of the Pardoner's sham relics, a game even Harry Bailley refuses to play. The question is whether Chaucer leaves us with the Merchant's cynical literalism or whether he directs us beyond it to some positive level of meaning which is potentially present in the allusions. Warned by Saint Jerome that "where there is no deep inner meaning, it is useless to draw our attention to the mystic sense,"42 we should guard against forcing more meaning into Chaucer's poetry than it can contain. If the positive implications of the biblical allusions suggested above are to be operative, they need to be strengthened by support from elsewhere in the poem. Fortunately, such support can be found. The theme of a woman triumphant over a male deserving punishment appears again in the Pluto and Proserpina episode.43 Not subtly present in 40

Augustine, On Christian Doctrine 3.5, trans. D. W. Robertson, Jr. (Indianapolis 1958)

84. 41 See Tatlock (n. 2 above) 375, and Gertrude M. White, "'Hoolynesse or Dotage': The Merchant's January," Philological Quarterly (PQ) 401-402; in Bruce A. Rosenberg's words: "In view of what Chaucer knows about the passage, and what his audience must have known about it, the Merchant's evaluation is primarily self-revealing" ("The 'Cherry-Tree Carol' and the Merchant's Tale," ChRev 5 [1971] 270). 42 Jerome, Adversus Jovinianum 2.26; trans. W. H. Fremantle, Saint Jerome: Letters and Select Works, A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, ser. 2, 6 (New York 1893) 408. 43 For studies of different aspects of this episode, see Robert A. Pratt, "Chaucer's Claudian," Speculum 22 (1947) 419-429; Mortimer J. Donovan, "The Image of Pluto and Proserpine in the Merchant's Tale," PQ, 36 (1957) 49-60; and Karl P. Wentersdorf, "Theme and Structure in the Merchant's Tale: The Function of the Pluto Episode," PMLA, 80 (1965) 522-527. Otten develops in some detail the comic relationship between the Old Testament women and Proserpina (n. 2 above); our interpretations differ but may be complementary in some

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

levels of meaning that can be uncovered only by reference to now obscure medieval traditions, the subjugation of Chaucer's whimsically recreated ruler of the underworld is comically acted out before our eyes. Chaucer's episode, although original, is not totally self-contained, however, for his allusion to Claudian (2232) surely invites us to keep the well-known De raptu Proserpinae in mind as the episode unfolds. As R. A. Pratt indicates, "Chaucer's allusions to [Claudian's] poem and to its materials do not seem learned or forbidding, but instead take on some of the charm of effortless recollection of literature long familiar both to him and to much of his audience."44 There are many parallels between Claudian's poem and the Merchant's tale of Januarie and May.46 Pluto, like Januarie, is old, long wifeless, and eager to marry. Yet in sharp contrast to old Januarie's pathetic and disgusting lust is Pluto's still powerful and terrifying masculinity (1.79-83).46 To stress the violence of Pluto's abduction of Proserpina and her helplessness Claudian compares him to a lion seizing a heifer (2.209-13). Proserpina is swept off utterly powerless to resist.47 Chaucer refers to this violent abduction when he first mentions Proserpina, Which that he ravysshed out of Ethna Whil that she gadered floures in the mede— In Claudyan ye may the stories rede, How in his grisely carte he hire fette— (2230-2233)

respects. For the connection Pluto as god of avarice and Proserpina as goddess of wealth may have with the world of the Merchant's commercial values, see Paul A. Olson, "Chaucer's Merchant and January's 'Hevene in Erthe Heere,"' ELH 28 (1961) 203-214; esp. 211-212. 44 Piatt (n. 43 above) 429. De raptu Proserpinae was included in the widely used collection known as the Liber catonianus. For information concerning its dissemination see, in addition to Pratt's article, M. Boas, "De librorum catonianorum historia atque compositione," Mnemosyne n.s. 42 (1914) 17-46; Paul M. Clogan, ed., The Medieval Achilleid of Statius (Leiden 1968) 2-3, 11-17; and J. B. Hall, ed., Claudian: De raptu Proserpinae, Cambridge Classical Texts and Commentaries 11 (Cambridge 1969) 64-76. The Liber catonianus was among the books listed in an inventory of 1358 of books left to the school which Chaucer most likely attended; see Edith Rickert, "Chaucer at School," MP, 29 (1931-1932), 257-274. 45

See Donovan (n. 43 above) who has treated them in detail. "Ipse rudi fultus solio nigraque verendus / maiestate sedet: squalent inmania foedo / sceptra situ; sublime caput maestissima nubes / asperat et dirae riget inclementia formae; / terrorem dolor augebat" (I, 79-83): "Pluto himself sits propped on his rugged throne, awful in funereal majesty; foul with age-long dust is his mighty scepter; boding clouds make grim his lofty head; unpittying is the stiffness of his dread shape; rage heightened the terror of his aspect" (trans. Maurice Platnauer, ed., Claudian, Loeb Classical Library [London 1922] 2.299). 47 "Interea volucri fertur Proserpina curru / caesariem diffusa Noto planctuque lacertos / verberat et questus ad nubila tendit inanes" (2.247-249): "Meanwhile Proserpine is borne away in the winged car, her hair streaming before the wind, beating her arms in lamentation and calling in vain remonstrance to the clouds" (Platnauer 2.337). 46

BIBLICAL W O M E N IN T H E M E R C H A N T ' S

TALE

401

With Chaucer and at least some of his audience undoubtedly familiar with Claudian's version of the story, these lines might elicit a set of predictable recollections and expectations. Even those unfamiliar with Claudian could hardly fail to recognize the pattern of violently dominant male and helplessly passive female. And yet this figure of once triumphant virility is first seen "Folwynge his wyf, the queene Proserpyna" (2229). With his first words, on "The tresons whiche that wommen doon to man," this Pluto who was once so eager to wed reveals that he has become as complete a misogynist as Dame Alison's Jankyn, and he has developed similar tastes in literature (2237-2263). Pluto's marriage does not seem to have worked out quite as he hoped.48 The extent of this comic role-reversal soon becomes clear when Pluto surrenders and lets Proserpina have her way: "I yeve it up I"' (2312). And that surrender leads to the surrender of Januarie himself, who, when given sight, refuses to see and subjugates himself completely to the will of his wife. This wryly humorous continuation that Chaucer provides for the De raptu Proserpinae may be anticipated in Claudian's poem. Pluto sees his mating with Proserpina as his triumph, making him the equal of his brothers Jove and Neptune. Yet Venus, although carrying out Jove's orders, sees the series of events she precipitates as leading to a personal triumph, specifically over the king of the underworld. Such is the power of Venus that even Pluto and all his realm will soon bow to her.49 In the Merchant's Tale it is at first surprising to find Pluto yielding so easily to the once helpless Proserpina. But the plans of Venus as Claudian describes them—easily read as a comment on the capacity of sexual passion to control the human will—make Chaucer's continuation, while surprising and amusing, not implausible.50 If Proserpina can so embitter and subdue once mighty Pluto, what can mere mortal men expect of their wives? The Merchant might like to leave us with that question and with Pluto taking his place in a long line of males, beginning with Adam, to whom females 48

In view of all this, I am puzzled by Otten's assertion that "in the Merchant's Tate there is no apparent unhappiness in the marriage of Pluto and Proserpine" (n. 2 above, 283). 49 "Prima dolo gaudens et tanto concita voto / it Venus et raptus metitur corde futuros, I iam dirum flexura chaos, iam Dite subacto / ingenti famulos Manes ductura triumpho" (2.11-14): "First goes Venus exulting in her trickery and inspired by her great mission. In her heart she takes account of the coming rape; soon she will rule dread Chaos, soon, Dis once subdued, she will lead the subject ghosts" (Platnauer, 2.319). 50 One phrase cited in Fulgentius metaforalis may indicate that a uxoriuos Pluto was thought possible by other medieval observers of life and letters. This phrase has to do with Pluto "ligatus": "Ligno coronatus, opibus ditatus / inferis prelatus, Cerbero delatus, / Etati ligatus, Furiis armatus, / Et Fatis vallatus" (John Ridewall, Fulgentius metaforalis: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der antiken Mythotogie im Mittelalter, ed. Hans Liebeschutz, Studien der Bibliothek Warburg 4 [Leipzig 1926] 100); also: "Quinta pars picture est de dei Plutonis ligamine. Nam poete pingunt eum ligatum vinculo coniugis Etati, que alio nomine dicitur Proserpina" (106).

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

have brought misery. The Merchant and his spokesmen Justinus and Pluto blame women for much male unhappiness, but that does not mean t h a t Chaucer wishes us to assume the same point of view and see all the women in his tale as examples of unprovoked malice. It is not so easy to write the poem off as just "another high card played in the unending Game between the Sexes." 51 The women are provoked—Hester, Judith, Abigail, Proserpina, and, for that matter, May. Needless to say, no subtle analysis can improve the character of "fresshe May," but seeing her in the company of these other women who have had to deal with devilish males certainly measures her own activities against more charitable values than the overt misogyny of the Host and Merchant. As with the Old Testament heroines, once we see t h a t the male is responsible for his own downfall, the female agent of that downfall is relieved of final responsibility. As Karl Wentersdorf puts it, "The Pluto episode, therefore, simultaneously emphasizes not only the inevitability of May's urge to be unfaithful to her husband but also, and this more importantly, the ultimate responsibility of January himself for his wife's infidelity, on account of the wrongnessof the initial action—the 'ravishment' of May." 52 Further, the subdued male in this episode is not a type of the devil, such as Holofernes or Aman, but the devil himself, the pagan world's version of the ruler of Hell. Once again the devil has met his match. Although we must not overlook the wry humor of this episode, it has farreaching implications. This triumph of a woman over the ruler of the underworld is a central theme in the Christian view of human history. After the Fall, the Lord assured the serpent that "I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel" (Genesis 3.15). This mulier was interpreted as the Church or the Virgin, of course, and the promise was fulfilled when a woman, Mary, gave birth to the Redeemer. The Bible records numerous types of t h a t woman. A verse from Canticles, universally associated with the Church or the Virgin, illustrates her ambivalent character: "Thou art beautiful, 0 my love, sweet and comely as Jerusalem: terrible as an army set in array" (6.3). The woman seen by Saint John in Apocalypse 12.1 is also a type of the Virgin, and "Swyl a leuedy nas neuere non / WyJ> {jane fend to werre." 53 The tradition of reading militant biblical women figuratively back to the mulier of Genesis 3.15 and forward to the Virgin and the Church is richly set forth in the commentary on the mulier fortis of Proverbs 31.10 ff. The mulier fortis was established as a figure of the Church in the early fathers, and by Chaucer's

51 Bronson (n. 5 above) 596. Bronson is gracefully but t h o i o u g h l y refuted by E. Talbot Donaldson (n. 4 above). 52 53

Wentersdorf (n. 43 above) 527. Brown (n. 12 above) 49; and see Albertus Magnus, Biblia

mariana,

liber

Opera omnia, ed. Augustus and Emilius Borgnet (Paris 1890-1899) 37.438-439.

Apocalypsis,

BIBLICAL W O M E N IN T H E M E R C H A N T ' S

TALE

403

time, through Bernard, Bonaventura, and the various glossators and compilers of the great commentaries, was clearly established as a figure of the Blessed Virgin as well.64 Figures of the triumphant woman—such as the mulier of Genesis 3.15, Judith, Esther, the arnica of Canticles 6.3, and the mulier fortis of Proverbs 31—are often linked together as préfigurations of the Virgin in her militant role as an adversary of Satan.55 As might be expected, this triumph is a common iconographical theme. It can be depicted in quite violent terms, with the Virgin piercing Satan with a spear or crushing him with a cross.56 The connection between the Virgin and the woman of Genesis 3.15 is unmistakable in the first illustration of the Biblia pauperum. This commonly presents the beginning of New Testament history with a central picture of the Annunciation. To the left of this is an illustration of Genesis 3.15, often with the woman in a tree, trampling the head of the serpent coiled around the trunk.57 Januarie's paradise is also furnished with a woman in a tree, and it is difficult to ignore the narrative and descriptive motifs that encourage us to see beyond the characters and events depicted on the literal level to other characters and events and to other levels of meaning. If there ever has been a literary episode that is, in Dante's word, "polysemous," this is it.58 Moreover, this is no simple

61

See, for example, Augustine, Sermo 37, on Proverbs 31.10-13 (PL 38.221-35); two Pseudo-Augustine sermons on the same passage (actually by St. Cesarius) PL 39.1853-1855; and Bede, "De muliere forti," PL 91.1039-1052; also Bernard, Super missus est homilia 2.5, 11 (PL 183.63, 66); Bonaventura, in his commentary on Luke (Opera omnia, Quaracchi, 1883-1902, 7.22), in sermons on the Annunciation (Opera omnia 9.659 and 667), in sermons on the nativity of the Virgin (Opera omnia 9.712 and 717), and elsewhere; Hugh of St. Cher on Proverbs 31.10ff. (3.67-70) and on Psalm 84 (2.222). 56 See Bernard, Super missus est homilia 2.4-5 (PL 183.63); Bonaventura, De nalivitate b. virginis Mariae, sermo 5.3 (Opera omnia 9.718), De assumtione b. Virginis Mariae, sermo 3.4 (Opera omnia 9.695), De annuntiatione de b. virgine Maria, sermo 5.1 (Opera omnia 9.678), and the Collationes de septu donis Spiritus sancti 5-6 (Opera omnia 5.479-489); and Albertus Magnus, Questiones super evangelium missus est, 43.2 (Opera omnia 37.86). In these passages we see how reference to one of these figures of the Virgin in triumph over the devil leads almost inevitably to consideration of others. The Biblia mariana of Albertus Magnus provides a lengthy treatment of types of the Virgin (Opera omnia 37.365-443), among them the mulier of Genesis 3.15 (366), Abigail (380-381), Judith (386-388), Esther (388-389), the mulier fortis (394), and the amica of Canticles 6.3 (399). 56

Above at n. 24. See, for example, Henrik Cornell, Biblia pauperum (Stockholm 1925) 16ff., 74, 249ff.; pl. 1, 46, 47. 58 "Istius operis non est simplex sensus, ymo dici potest polisemos, hoc est plurium sensuum" (Letter to Can Grande, Le opere di Dante: testo critico della Società Dantesca Italiana, a cura di M. Barbi et al., ed. 2 [Florence 1960] 404). This letter moves in and out of the Dante canon with perplexing frequency and is, I believe, at present out. See Paget Toynbee, A Dictionary of Proper Names and Notable Matters in the Works of Dante, rev. Charles S. Singleton (Oxford 1968) s.v. Can Grande de la Scala; and Allan Gilbert, "Did Dante Dedicate the Paradiso to Can Grande della Scala?" Italica 43 (1966) 100-124. Someone wrote that 57

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

allegory in which the characters on the literal level have abstract equivalents that, once identified, remain constant. This is more like biblical typology, in which meaning adheres more to event than to character and in which quite distinct meanings can be found in the same characters at different—and even at the same—points in the narrative.59 Januarie is, on the narrative level, a typical fabliau character: the jealous old husband fated to be cuckolded. He never loses that identity, but as the action progresses he is shown to "bear the person" (as Augustine would put it) of other characters involved in other actions. So absurd is his effort to build a paradise of sensuality in his dotage that in his garden Januarie becomes a mock (and very old) Adam as he frolics with his wife in their sham paradise and as his eyes are opened at the foot of a mock tree of knowledge.60 As this grotesque reenactment of the Fall is played out before our eyes, Chaucer reminds us of many things, among them the fact

letter, however, and saw fit to apply the word "polysemous" and the four levels of biblical exegesis to Dante's poem. 59 See Thomas D. Hill, "Sapiential Structure and Figural Narrative in the Old English ' Elene,'" Traditio 27 (1971) 159-177, esp. 162 and n. 10. This article as a whole should be consulted by anyone interested in the complexities of significance possible in medieval narrative. I do not mean to suggest, however, t h a t the kind of meaning I am striving to isolate in the Merchant's Tale is equivalent to that of "Elene." "Elene" is a religious poem with a complexity of spiritual significances built upon an already overtly spiritual letter. It may be that the Merchant's Tale contains certain suggestions of positive spiritual significance in spite of the intentions of its narrator, but the basic thrust of the poem is not thereby made religious. I am anxious to avoid presenting Chaucer as the voice either of a jovial protohumanism or a saturnine Augustinian moralism, even though we may eventually come to agree t h a t one of his greatest achievements was reconciling artistically those two philosophically irreconcilable extremes. 60 Paradise was known to be from the Greek word meaning garden, and paradisus and hortus were considered the Greek and Latin equivalents of Eden. See, for example, Isidore, Elymologiae 14.3.2 Papias, Vocabulista, s.v. paradisus; and Bartholomeus Anglicus, De rerum proprietatibus, 15.112 (Frankfurt 1601) 680ff. Any garden thus has the potential to be associated with Eden. Chaucer has already prepared us to make t h a t association here by earlier allusions to paradise (1265, 1332, 1822, 1964) and to Adam and Eve (1325-1329), and perhaps by Januarie's foolish confidence that marriage will lead to having his "hevene in erthe heere" (1647). See, of course, D. W. Robertson, Jr., "The Doctrine of Charity in Medieval Literary Gardens: A Topical Approach through Symbolism and Allegory," Speculum 26 (1951) 24-49, especially the brief treatment of Januarie's garden, 43-45. Also see Michael D. Cherniss, "The Clerk's Tale and Envoy, the Wife of Bath's Purgatory, and the Merchant's Tale," ChRev 6 (1972) 235-254, a study of the marriage as paradise-marriage as purgatory motif in the two tales. Concerning the episode in the garden, Cherniss notes: "In the climactic scene of the tale (2150-2415), January's garden, the mirror of his marriage, stands fully revealed as a place of discord and betrayal, as a false paradise. Chaucer transforms the Pear-Tree story into a parody of the Fall of Man with Damyan under a bush (2155) and then in a tree (2210), playing the serpent" (252), and he refers us to Paul A. Olson's description of the scene as a "mimic fall in a mimic bourgeois paradise where failure threatens more than evil because success and prosperity are everything" (n. 43 above, 213).

405

BIBLICAL W O M E N IN T H E M E R C H A N T ' S TALE

t h a t t h e e f f o r t of l u s t t o create a paradise of d e l i g h t s in a fallen w o r l d is d o o m e d t o failure. 6 1

It is t r u e t h a t " A d a m a n d E v e w e r e n a k e d a n d u n a s h a m e d like

children so l o n g as t h e i r s e n s u a l i m p u l s e s w e r e u n d e r t h e control of t h e i r wills." 6 2

O n l y t h a t long, h o w e v e r , a n d n o t h i n g is m o r e certain t h a n t h e f a c t

t h a t J a n u a r i e ' s s e n s u a l i t y is n o t u n d e r t h e control of h i s will.

I n d e e d , so f o o l -

i s h l y w i c k e d is J a n u a r i e in his desire t o h a v e his " h e v e n e in erthe heere" a n d p l a y t h e role of prelapsarian A d a m in h i s E p i c u r e a n garden, t h a t h e "bears t h e person" n o t o n l y of t h e A d a m h e w o u l d like t o b e in s e n s u a l g r a t i f i c a t i o n b u t also of t h e S a t a n h e m o r a l l y r e s e m b l e s in t h e a p p r o p r i a t e n e s s of h i s p u n ishment.

J a n u a r i e , h a v i n g d e c e i v e d himself i n t o b e l i e v i n g t h a t h e c a n p l a y

t h e role of A d a m , f i n d s himself s t a n d i n g u n d e r t h e tree, like S a t a n , u n d e r t h e heel of a w o m a n .

H e is a t o n c e A d a m manqué

a n d a S a t a n in t h e i n e v i t a b i l i t y

a n d r i g h t e o u s n e s s of his p u n i s h m e n t a n d in t h e a g e n t of his p u n i s h m e n t as well.

One's r e l u c t a n c e t o agree t h a t o l d J a n u a r i e can "bear t h e person" of

b o t h A d a m a n d t h e devil m a y b e s o m e w h a t r e d u c e d b y o n e ' s a w a r e n e s s t h a t t h a t q u i n t e s s e n t i a l old m a n of t h e Christian t r a d i t i o n , t h e " v e t u s h o m o " of t h e P a u l i n e epistles, w a s h e l d t o s i g n i f y , a m o n g o t h e r t h i n g s , precisely t h e s e t w o : " A d a m " a n d "diabolus." 6 3

61

John V. Fleming, following D. W. Robertson, Jr., notes that "the Merchant's Tale . . . shows what happens when Viellesce, or Old Age, gets into the garden," in The Roman de la Rose: A Study in Allegory and Iconography (Princeton 1969) 32. In addition to the connection with the Roman (2032; and see George P. Economou, "Januarie's Sin Against Nature: The Merchant's Tale and the Roman de la Rose," Comparative Literature 17 [1965] 251-257), with Eden, and with the hortus conclusus of Canticles (2029, 2141), there is strong evidence t h a t the episode also alludes to the story of Susannah and the "doubled unnatural lust of the elders"; see Alfred L. Kellogg, "Susannah and the Merchant's Tale," Speculum 35 (1960) 275-279. I have treated elsewhere the allusions to Priapus (2034) and to Pyramus and Thisbe (2128) and the two Ovidian stories they bring to bear on this episode: "Hortus Inconclusus: The Significance of Priapus and Pyramus and Thisbe in the Merchant's Tale," ChRev 4 (1970) 31-40. As we learn more, it may eventually be possible to bring these and additional levels of meaning together into an intellectually and aesthetically satisfying reading of the pear-tree episode and the tale as a whole. For now, we may have to be content to uncover one level of meaning at a time. 62 J . M. Evans, citing Peter Comestor, in Paradise Lost and the Genesis Tradition (Oxford 1968) 169. 63 Hugh of St. Cher on Ephesians 4.22 (7.175v). In addition to this explicit connection between the "vetus homo" and both Adam and the devil, the association of the "vetus homo" with Adam is a commonplace, as is the association of Adam with the devil. For the former, see commentary on Colossians 3.9 (e.g., Pseudo- Hugh of St. Victor, PL 175.585), Romans 6.6 (e.g., Peter Abelard, PL 178.875), and additional commentary on Ephesians 4.22 (e.g., Nicolas of Lyra, Biblia sacra 6.94v). For the latter, see, for example, Hugh of St. Cher glossing Psalm 35.13: "ceciderunt qui operantur iniquitatem: scilicet diabolus, & Adam, qui fuerunt auctores iniquitatis. . . . expulsi sunt: de coelo diabolus, & de paradiso homo." Hugh's commentary on this Psalm concludes: "vnde dicit Greg. Quid celo securius, quid paradiso iocundius? E t tamen diabolus de coelo, & Adam cecidit de paradiso." I am aware of the difficulties involved in accepting an interpretation t h a t requires the same

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

May, too, plays many roles. She is the young and lusty fabliau wife whose passions the old jaloux is unable to control. She also "bears the person" of the sponsa of Canticles (2138 ff.) and, of course, of Eve. Her continued identity with the sponsa, with prelapsarian Eve, with the benevolent Virgin-ecc/esia of the exegetical tradition depends, however, on the moral equivalence of Januarie to the sponsus and to prelapsarian Adam. Faced with a patently sinful man, the woman here assumes the other face of the Virgin-ecclesia and, triumphant in her tree, provides a hilariously outlandish reworking out of the pattern of triumphant femininity promised in Genesis 3.15, prefigured in the stories of the Old Testament heroines and the mulier fortis, and realised with the birth of Christ. With his first words after his sight has been restored and he has looked into the tree, Januarie addresses May with a curious epithet: "0 stronge lady stoore," he cries, "what dostow" (2367). However much we might be encouraged by Chaucer's editors to read "stronge" as "flagrant" or "flagrantly guilty," "stronge" in Middle English means, primarily and irreducibly, "strong." "Stoore" also means "strong," with a range of connotation running from "sturdy" and "stalwart" to "violent" and "fierce." Yet May's strength seems hardly at issue. This phrase, then, seems just inappropriate enough on the literal level to cause one to wonder if its purpose may be to direct us to some other level of meaning. Although "strong" seems a slightly strange epithet to apply to May in her tree, it is precisely the correct term to apply to that woman of Genesis 3.15-Proverbs 31.10 in hers.64 "Stronge" translates "fortis" precisely. "Lady" rather than "womman" may add a further touch of irony bracketed as it is by "stronge" and "stoore," and may serve to reinforce our awareness of the bizarre connection between the Virgin and the arboreal mulier in Januarie's paradise. "Stoore" in part emphasizes "stronge" by

character to "bear the person" of both Adam and the devil, whatever precedent there may be in biblical commentary. Yet I am more and more persuaded that Chaucei is doing something very much like this. The general parallels with Eden are, I take it, sufficiently obvious not to require detailed pleading. Januarie's similarity to the devil is at best suggested, for Chaucer has Januarie play many roles and this is but one of them. But the suggestions are there: through the subtly implied connection between Januarie and the victims of the Old Testament heroines, through having Pluto act as patron to Januarie, and surely through Januarie's defeat at the hands of a woman in a tree. Even Januarie's age does not break the pattern (cf. Apocalypse 12.9 and 20.2). To the Merchant, Damian is the serpent in the garden—the "hoomly foo," the "servant tray tour," "Lyk to the nadder in bosom sly untrewe" (1783-1794)—seducing Januarie's Eve as Januarie-Adam stands below the tree. Yet perhaps we are to look beyond the Merchant's purposes here—as we do with the Old Testament heroines—and see that such wickedness as Januarie's bears its devil within itself, and that the defeat of such wickedness can reenact the defeat suffered by the father of all wickedness, as prophesied in Genesis 3.15. 64 The Wycliffite Bible translates the "fortem" of Proverbs 31.10 as "strong"—as one would expect; see Lindberg (n. 23 above) 274.

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repetition but at the same time adds pejorative overtones to the phrase: "Oh you strong lady, and I mean fierce." To Januarie, May at that moment is indeed "flagrantly guilty," but if she is playing the role of the Virgin-ecclesia overcoming the devil it is fitting that she bear the epithet of the mulier of Proverbs 31.10, who is often associated with that triumphant woman. But even with whatever slight support the phrase "stronge lady stoore" may offer to this interpretation, if Chaucer had wished the theme of the woman overcoming the devil to be of such importance in the Merchant's Tale, would he not have stated it more explicitly ? As a formidable opponent of the misuse of patristic exegesis in the criticism of medieval literature points out: "It is appropriate to notice here what St. Thomas repeats from St. Augustine about the fourfold interpretation of Scripture: 'There is nothing darkly related in any part of Holy Writ which is not clearly revealed elsewhere.'"65 Anyone familiar with the Merchant's Tale will be far ahead of the argument at this point, for it is scarcely necessary to point out that the requirements of Saint Augustine, Saint Thomas, and more recent critics of unrestrained allegorizing are met in the Prologue to the tale, where the Merchant explicitly states the theme suggested by the allusions to the Old Testament heroines, comically acted out by Pluto and Proserpina, and grotesquely figured in the denouement of the pear-tree episode: I have a wyf, the worste that may be; For thogh the feend to hire ycoupled were, She wolde hym overmacche, I dar wel swere. (1218-1220)66 Such is the viciousness of a wicked woman, the Merchant wants us to believe. Such is the punishment of a wicked man, Chaucer may quietly lead us to infer. With the theme thus clearly announced at the outset, Chaucer is free to develop it more darkly, that is, more subtly and allusively, in the body of the tale. But this motif, once isolated and analyzed, must be reintegrated with the work as a whole. The tale cannot be reduced to some rigid allegorical scheme presenting the triumph of ecclesia over synagoga, charilas over cupiditas, or the Virgin over Satan in the manner of a Rabanus Maurus: "May idest Ecclesia; Januarie idest Diabolus,"andsoon. Chaucer's thematic interests do not appear to be so narrowly doctrinal, nor, surely, would he wish to allow any interpretation that helped account for Januarie's own responsibility for his 65

E. Talbot Donaldson, "Patristic Exegesis in the Criticism of Medieval Literature: The Opposition," originally published in Bethurum (n. 8 above) 9; reprinted in Donaldson (n. 4 above) 140. 66

D o n o v a n points out the connection between Pluto and Proserpina and the lines in the Prologue: "Since Pluto and Proserpine immediately suggest feend-Yike agents . . . one is left with the impression t h a t January, helped b y Pluto, and May, by Proserpine, are intended as characters t o exemplify t h e Merchant's t e x t in his special prologue" (n. 43 above) 59-60.

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EMERSON BROWN,

JR.

troubles to blind us to May's obvious faults. It is more likely that this theme of the "strong lady" overcoming the devil is not the final, highest meaning of the tale—the fruit amongst the chaff—but rather a kind of background motif that accompanies the story of Januarie and May and sets it in a more comprehensive, more moral, and more charitable context than the embittered Merchant himself is capable of presenting. As R. E. Kaske has shown, verbal echoes of the symbolic language of Christian charity can give to even a bawdy fabliau a "'moral edge'—an implicit orientation toward a controlling set of values."67 This "moral edge" can be, of course, completely beyond the conscious intention or the ethical capacity of the narrator. It is clear enough what kind of a tale the Merchant wants to tell. The "moral edge" is introduced allusively, indirectly; and capturing its essence puts a burden on the reader, for one must listen for the voice of love hidden beneath words spoken in hatred. For that voice we need to turn once more to the role of the Virgin in the tale. The presence of the Virgin is "clearly revealed" through four allusions to her (1337, 1899, 2334, 2418). Given that explicit emphasis, one might suggest that her presence is also "darkly related" through various Old Testament prefigurations of her, such as Judith, Rebecca, and Esther; through a large number of traditional Marian symbols, such as the hortus conclusus itself (2029), the gate (2045, 2118, 2152-2159), and the turtle dove (2080); and through echoes of Canticles (2138 ff.), which was associated allegorically with Mary. There is, furthermore, just above the level of immediate recognition a subtly suggested comparison between Januarie and Joseph, two rather different old husbands, and between May and Mary, their radically different young wives.68 Chaucer certainly did nothing to block the ironic association of Januarie's spouse with Joseph's when he decided to name his heroine May.69 Not only did that choice bring the initial letters of the four names into neat parallel, but the Virgin is frequently referred to as a "May" (maiden) in religious lyrics,70 and "the month of flowers, May, bore her name: 'le mois de Marie.'" 71 The 67

R. E. Kaske, "The Canticum canticorum in the Miller's Tale," SP 59 (1962) 497. My debt to Professor Kaske goes far beyond what I can suggest by citing this article or any of his published work. He first suggested the possible relevance of the mulier fortis of Proverbs 31 to this study, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that anything worth reading here is in one way or another attributable to him, either through his helpful criticism of the article itself or through the model of scholarly method he has provided. 68 Arnold Lee Wright treats this theme perceptively in "January of the Merchant's Tale and St. Joseph: The Earthly Spouse of the Virgin Mary" (Master's thesis, University of North Carolina 1962). For an intriguing theory concerning anotheT link between JanuaryMay and Joseph-Mary, see Rosenberg (n. 41 above). 69 The names were "Janvier" and "Avril" in the poem of Deschamps that appears to lie behind Chaucer's; see William Matthews, "Eustache Deschamps and Chaucer's 'Merchant's Tale,"' Modern Language Review 51 (1956) 217-220. 70 For a few examples see Brown (n. 12 above) 13,14, 74, and 178. 71 Yrj6 Hirn, The Sacred Shrine (London 1912) 468.

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attributes of fairness, freshness, and brightness, so incessantly applied to May, were prominent among the attributes of the Virgin in lyric verse: "Heo is of colour and beute / As fresch as is J)e Rose In May"—"on Jjat is so feir ant brist."72 May, like Mary, heals blindness.73 When Januarie greets May with a song rich in phrases from Canticles, the effect is to force a ruthlessly unfavorable comparison between the sponsa of the biblical verses and Januarie's May, between his foolish dream and the rather tawdry reality of an unhappy wife setting up the opportunity for adultery. As these lovely words are spoken, the lady whose breasts are fairer than wine, the lady with eyes of doves, the lady who is without spot—is signaling her lover to enter her husband's little paradise to await her arrival. The comparison between May and Mary becomes almost vicious when May in her effort to get Januarie to allow her to climb the pear tree to join her waiting lover calls "Help, for hir love that is of hevene queene !" (2334)—especially when we recall that May's particular patron in this episode is the queen not of heaven but of Hell. As I see it, the Merchant introduces the Virgin into the narrative for the same reason he alludes to the Old Testament heroines: to discredit May, and through her, his wife and all women. His purpose is the same, but his technique is different. By stressing certain selected facts from the literal level he is able to present the Old Testament heroines as treacherous and deceitful. He presents them, in other words, as parallels—almost préfigurations, if you will —of the treachery he will reveal in May. The Virgin, however, is a contrast to May. May suffers in both cases. The important point is that the apparent antithesis between the Old Testament women and May on the one hand and the Virgin on the other can be resolved in the mind of the audience. An awareness of the spiritual significance of the heroines, of their inseparable connection with the Virgin herself—an awareness that no one in fourteenthcentury England who knew anything at all about them could have failed to have—that awareness reveals the limitations of the Merchant's literal view. Thus once the Merchant introduces the Virgin into his tale she can take on significance beyond his intention, as can the language from Canticles he puts in Januarie's mouth. He may dismiss that speech as "olde lewed wordes," but Chaucer and his audience knew that such language signaled the existence of a love greater than anything the Merchant is capable of comprehending. Although allusion to this higher love may give the tale the "implicit orientation 72

Brown (n. 12 above) 180, and English Lyrics of the Xlllth Century, ed. Carleton Brown (Oxford 1932) 24; see also 26, 112; cf. Merchant's Tale, 1748, 1882, 1896, 2328, etc. 73 Mary as healer hardly requires documentation. For a fourteenth-century English poem associating her specifically with healing blindness, note Friar William Herebert's "Ave Maris Stella," v. 10: "Bryng lyht tyl hoem J)atboethblynd"in Brown (n. 12 above) 21. The woman's

putative role in healing her husband's blindness is basic t o the plot Chaucer used in this tale. See also m y note "Why is May Called 'Mayus"?" ChRev, 2 (1968) 273-277.

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EMERSON BROWN, JR.

toward a controlling set of values" which Kaske sees in the Miller's Tale, the Merchant's cynicism is never completely submerged under the positive assertion of triumphant charilas. There is something disturbing in the world of the Merchant's imagination. He may not fully succeed in his effort to force us to see Rebecca and the others simply as treacherous, but in the act of trying to do so he reveals a personality so embittered that he throws a dark cloud over the whole universe. Even though we may reject his vision of the world, we cannot quite forget its sinister attraction. There is no easy resolution of the tension between the Merchant's cynicism and scepticism and the divine love that his very cynicism forces us to consider. A t the end of this poem no one calls "child" for us to reply "My Lord." This is something new—and troubling.74 To even the most "enlightened" medieval thinker before Chaucer, I suspect, the treachery exhibited by such as Judith and Rebecca would be of little consequence compared to their typal and moral significance. When Dante places Judith and Rebecca in company with Beatrice and the Blessed Virgin, he is following a thousand years of biblical exegesis and iconographical tradition that saw Old Testament characters and events almost exclusively in terms of the New, leaving aside their complexities in viewing their essential roles in the unfolding of God's plan in time. Chaucer, in contrast, insists through the Merchant that we keep in mind the treachery as well as the virtue and typal significance of the Old Testament heroines. By having the embittered Merchant sarcastically introduce them as tainted examples of feminine virtue, Chaucer forces us to maintain a multileveled viewpoint on them, on their function in his tale, and, indeed, perhaps on all ostensibly virtuous women. We may recognize ultimately that the Merchant's view of the women is inadequate, but we can neither ignore the force of that view nor totally deny its insidious appeal to all male vanity and some male experience. If the reader of the Merchant's Tale does succumb to that appeal, however, he may find himself nearly overwhelmed by the pervasive unpleasantness of the tale. Norman T. Harrington remarks: "Everything in the tale is either 74

One of the difficulties involved in accepting the

"exegetical" approach and rigidly

applying Augustinian, or for that matter, Thomistic, categories to Chaucer's poetry is that such an approach tends to underemphasize the severe crisis of late medieval theology and philosophy—a crisis Chaucer could hardly have avoided confronting and one which his poetry mirrors at every turn. See Gordon L e f f , Medieval

Thought: Saint Augustine

(Baltimore 1958) esp. Part 3, "Scepticism" and David Knowles, The Evolution

to Ockham of

Medieval

Thought ( N e w Y o r k 1962) esp. pt. 5, "The Breakdown of the Medieval Synthesis." The index to D. W . Robertson's Preface

to Chaucer (Princeton 1962) a book most of us owe more to

than we are accustomed to admit, lists dozens of references to St. Augustine (surpassed only by the Bible and by Chaucer's own works), but only one to Duns Scotus (that a mere glancing allusion) and none to William of Ockham.

A significant recent effort to treat a

work of Chaucer's in its contemporary intellectual atmosphere is Sheila Delany's House of Fame:

The Poetics of Skeptical

Fideism

more work along these lines in the future.

Chaucer's

(Chicago 1967), and one can only hope f o r

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411

mean, foolish, or ugly, and if the tale provides us with any kind of an overview by which the Merchant and his world can be made palatable, I confess I cannot find it." The Merchant's world is, as Harrington perceptively indicates, a bleak one. There is, indeed, "no faith in wives, no loyalty in squires, no certainty in friendship, no rectitude in religion, no hope in supernatural powers" —in the world as the Merchant sees it and wants us to see it.75 But we learn to distrust the Merchant's view of the world, and we see that the Old Testament heroines—even at the moment of their apparent treachery—act not in contrast to but in perfect harmony with the actions of that greatest of women, the Virgin. As types of the Virgin in her triumph over Satan they marshal their wiles in the service of God. The Merchant himself does not intentionally provide us with this "overview." Part of the point is that he is incapable of attaining such an overview. But his tale does. Thus the ultimate purposefulness of apparently gratuitous feminine treachery—from the Old Testament heroines' to Proserpina's and even to May's—provides, I suggest, just the sort of overview that Harrington believes to be missing. This awareness of ultimate good behind apparent evil is, of course, most fully worked out in Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy, and it should come as no surprise to see Chaucer's affinities with Boethius once more affirmed. In short, then, the Merchant's Tale is dark and bitter, for its narrator is a disillusioned, cynical man who is incapable of presenting even the action of a potentially hilarious fabliau without snickering and sneering. Yet at the same time Chaucer gives us a glimpse of a level of meaning that is positive, that from a Boethian perspective sees treachery and deceit and violence in the service of good. Perhaps the time has come to move beyond arguing whether the Merchant's Tale is either "dark" or "mirthful," for to do so, I fear, is both to misread this astonishing poem and to underestimate its artistic complexity and moral significance. To the Merchant the last two lines of his tale may be said with a sneer, as Januarie and that one woman who in all of history is most unlike May are wedded poetically by meter and rhyme: "Thus endeth heere my tale of Januarie; / God blesse us, and his mooder Seinte Marie I" But it is that final line that rings in our ears, and at the end of this bitterly comic tale of the failure of love we are left with the reminder that there is a love that will never fail. At the same time, the artistic process that has preceded this final affirmation reveals its fragility. We are left with the Blessed Virgin, but we have been instructed as to other, less pleasant, ways in which the will of God is made manifest through woman. As the reality of the Blessed Virgin gives to the rambling diversity of her Old Testament types fixed and eternal significance, so, I suggest, the theme of woman overcoming the devil aids in uniting the diverse features of the Merchant's Tale into a complex whole and reminds us

76

Harrington (n. 4 above) 30.

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EMERSON BROWN, J R .

that even the treachery of women can have a positive function to perform in the divine order of things. Beyond that view of women, in this tale, at least, even "genial" Chaucer did not go.76 Department of English Stanford University Stanford, California 94305, U.S.A. 76 This paper was substantially complete in the spring of 1972, and that summer I prepared a slightly abridged version of it for an MLA seminar, The Use and Validity of Typological Interpretation for Medieval English Literature, Annual Meeting, 1972. Several articles on the Merchant's Tale have appeared since then, and I have added references to some of them but have not felt it necessary to revise my basic argument.

THE WIFE OF BATH AND ALL HER SECT

by William Matthews

The title of this essay is a slightly garbled quotation from an Oxford don, not one of the present generation but one born from an English imagination some six hundred years ago. Despite the gap in time, it may be suspected that the speaker, Chaucer's Clerk of Oxenforde, had been tempted by the occasion and the unwonted variety of his audience into one of those ironic generalizations that are the Cleopatras of university teachers. He was looking at Alisoun of Bath through the spectacles of an inherited idée fixe. From her looks, talk, and behavior she was in his eyes the alarmingly living summation of all those vices of the daughters of Eve which clerks like himself had been deploring in books for centuries. His irony, therefore, is directed not only against her but also against the whole of her sect, womankind almost in general. The Wife, quite deliberately, had afforded him solid grounds for that opinion and had also reckoned on his bitter response. But to confirm the generalizations of antifeminists and to provoke a debate on women and marriage are not the sole reasons for her being. She exists no less for herself and the delight she can give. Many literary concepts and much direct observation went into her making, and she is heir to more than one literary pattern. Among these, the ancient tradition of the comic old woman is not the least important. From her behavior it may not be easy to think of Alisoun as old, especially in these days of extended middle age, but it is the thesis of the present essay that one profitable way of regarding her is as the paragon of that amusing and scandalous company, the randy old women of medieval narrative. Perverting the Clerk's phrase to this belief, the essay first summarizes some medieval notions about old age, then surveys the more interesting old women of the medieval line, and concludes with a discussion on the relevance to the Wife of Bath of the traditions concerning this limited sect within all her sect.1 If the seemingly endless discussion of old age in all Western literatures represents the everyday outlook, the Middle Ages were almost as much preoc1

This essay is a revised and expanded version of lectures delivered before the Mediaeval Society of Manchester and at King's College, London.

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WILLIAM MATTHEWS

cupied with senescence and its problems as is our own Age of Geriatrics.2 Their concern was not based on any preoccupation with Social Security—this side of heaven they had little hope of that—but, in addition to the basic human interest in the matter, they had their own peculiar stimulus to think as they did. The literature with which they were most familiar, both the biblical and the classical, was itself very much absorbed in the social and moral problems of old age. Not infrequently in medieval writings there are echoes of this ancient concern and reflections of some of the older attitudes. The biblical concept of an old age that should be honored and venerated for its wisdom and grey hairs, the ideal expressed in Plato's Republic of an aged man, mature in wisdom, understanding of the ways of youth and admired by all young people, the Ciceronian and Senecan program for a wisely resigned and dignified senescence,3 all these filter into medieval writings, usually in addresses to the young, manuals of domestic conduct, treatises on government, and other works where these ideals are appropriate. So, too, does the unidealized view of a physically and morally degenerate old age which co-existed with these nobler concepts and found expression in the taedium oitae or impatient satire of such writers as Ecclesiasticus, Ovid, Horace, and Juvenal. The literary traditions that the Middle Ages inherited from the ancients presented both a noble and a satirical view of old age and its role in society, and it is therefore not surprising that on the one hand medieval workers will counsel a prince to take only old men as advisers or portray so benign an old age as that of the Menagier de Paris, and on the other that they will delineate old age as a time of feeble, hopeless misery. Philippe de Novare4 presents the latter view with the caution befitting his own advanced age:

2 Medieval ideas concerning old age are discussed in George R . Coffman, "Old Age from Horace to Chaucer," Speculum 9 (1934) 249-277, and more fully b y Maria H a y n e s in a Ph. D. dissertation written under m y direction at U.C.L.A. in 1955.

Joseph de Morawski's introduction to his edition of Pamphile et Galatée (Paris 1917) 90159, contains a learned discussion of the history of the old w o m a n as a literary type: this treatment is more categorical and folkloristic than the present essay, and its proportions, coverage, and emphases are also quite different. Incidental comments on the t y p e are also contained in: Thomas Wright, Womankind in Western Europe (London 1869); Charles Lenient, La satire en France au moyen âge (Paris 1883); Thomas Lee Neff, La satire des femmes dans la poésie lyrique française au moyen âge (Chicago 1900); Josef Bartsch, Liebe und Ehe im altfranzösischen Fablei (Berlin 1900); A u g u s t Preime, Die Frau in der altfranzösischen Schwaenken, Palaestra 97 (Göttingen 1901); Charles V. Langlois, La société française au xiiie siècle (Paris 1911); Blanche H . Dow, The Varying Attitude toward Women in French Literature of the Fifteenth Century ( N e w York 1936). 3 Cicero, De senectute, Loeb Classical Library (London 1927); Seneca ad Lucilium morales, Loeb Classical Library (London 1953).

epistulse

4 Philippe de Novare, Les Quatre tenz de l'âge de l'omme, Société des anciens textes français (SATF) (Paris 1932).

WIFE OF BATH AND ALL HER SECT

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La some de vieillesce si est la darrienne; mout affiert as vieus que il doignent as jones bon exemple de bien faire; et il meismes se doivent mout traveillier de garder aus de faire oevres de jones; car ce est chose qui mout desplet a Dieu et au siecle. E t touz jors doivent avoir en remembrance de savoir qu'il sont sus l'ourle de lor fosse, et que ne puet eschaper a la mort. The old man's lament in a Middle English lyric is more despairing: Ich wolde ich were in rest, Wei lowe leiid in a chest; Mi blisse is al forlore. 5 The importance of the subject for medieval writers and the relative weight given to these two attitudes was greatly affected by some new emphases which thrust up as part of the literary and intellectual surge of the twelfth century. Two rival themes then began to dominate the world of ideas and books: contempt of the world in devotional and ascetic writings, adulation of youth and a springtime world in the literature of romance. To explain the fearful new stress t h a t was then given to the age-old contemptus mundi, Benjamin Kurtz 6 has suggested t h a t the Church was seeking to weaken the success of the ascetic Catharists and Manichaeans by stealing their thunder. Whatever the explanation, and it is probably more complicated than this, certain it is t h a t from the later part of the twelfth century the attitude represented by Bernard of Clairvaux, Innocent III, and Bernard of Morlaix, a sweeping opposition to man's delight and hope in a present world of beauty, began to make itself manifest not merely in monastic writings but also in much secular literature. In this ascetic movement, old age, the condition to which the most golden lad or lass must come before long, is the inescapable proof of the emptiness of all man's worldly hope. The contrary medieval attitude, the delight in worldly love and beauty that illumines the courtly lyric, romance, or the allegory of love, did little to mitigate this harsh view of man's earthly prospect, for it is an attitude t h a t idealizes youth at the expense of age, and frequently in direct opposition to it. In the Roman de la rose, as in Claudian's Epithalamium for Honorius,7 Old Age is portrayed outside the wall of the garden of love: decrepit and doting, he is, like his companions Envy, Avarice, Hate, 5 "Regret de Maximian," lines 202-204, in Carleton Brown, ed., English Lyrics of the 13th Century (Oxiord 1932). 6 B e n j a m u n Kurtz, Gifer the Worm, University of California Publications in English 2 (Berkeley 1929) 235-261. 7

Roman de la rose, ed. Felix Lecoy, Classiques français du m o y e n âge (CFMA) (Paris 19661970) lines 330-360; Claudian, Epithamium de nuptiis honoris Augusti, Loeb Classical Library (London 1922) Unes 77ff.

416

WILLIAM

MATTHEWS

Poverty, debarred from ever entering that courtly plesaunce. In Alain de Lisle's Anticlaudianus8 the opposition is still more intense. Old Age is there a champion in the army that Allecto, the prince of Hell, had gathered to destroy the ideal youth whom God and Nature had combined to create: in the assault he hurls his feebleness upon his youthful opponent, envy and murder at his heart. Nor is this malice against man's hope restricted to the Old Age of courtly literature: one of the most dramatic scenes in Piers Plowman is the attack that Old Age launches upon Holy Church and the poet himself.9 In all such works, the courtly as well as the ascetic, the lineaments of old men are very much the same and utterly melancholy. Bald or white-haired, wrinkled, watery-eyed and half-blind, sallow, stinking and filthy, toothless, blabber-lipped, gouty and pain-wracked, weak-legged, stooped, and supported by crutch or stick, cold, dry, shivering, these are the physical traits. The moral defects are more bitter in their antiidealism: childish, quarrelsome, and shorttempered, avaricious, complaining, impotent but lecherous in desire or recollection, suspicious and fearful, eager for death but clinging to life, carping at the present, always talking never listening, boastfully doting on its long-faded youth, envious of the young and by them disdained and mocked. This picture is presented endlessly and in an abundance of forms. Jean Régnier in the fifteenth century 10 draws with words a genre self-portrait that Bosch or Jan Steen might have copied in paint: toothless, crouched over the fire, his nose dripping, slobbering milk-soup, bitterly mulling over his lost youth. The Parlement of the Thre Ages11 does the same thing in the abstractions of allegory: A beryne bownn allé in blake, with bedis in his hande; Croked and courbede, encrampeschett for elde; All disfygured was his face, and fadit his hewe . . . He was ballede and blynde and aile blabirlippede, Totheles and tenefull, I tell 3owe for sothe. And ever he momelide and ment and mercy he askede. . . . Envyous and angrye, and Elde was his name. (153-163) But whether it is drawn autobiographically by Régnier, Deschamps, Gower, Rutebeuf, Langland, and others, comically as in Chaucer's January, or abstractly in allegories like the Roman de la rose, King Hart, or the Castle of Perseveraunce, it is in essence the contempt-of-the-world portrayal that appears 8

Alanus de Insulis, Anticlaudianus, Rolls Series (London 1872) 2.268ff.

in Thomas "Wright, ed. Anglo-Latin

Satirical

Poets,

9

W. W. Skeat, ed., The Vision of Piers Plowman (Oxford 1886) Passus 20. Jean Régnier, Les fortunes et adversitez, ed. E. Droz, S A T F (Paris 1923). The poem here referred to is the last in Le livre de la prison. 10

11 M. Y. Offord, éd., The Parlement 246 (London 1959).

of the Thre Ages, Early English T e x t Society ( E E T S )

WIFE

OF BATH

AND ALL H E R

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in the treatises of Innocent III, Bernard of Morlaix, and Philippe of Novare. And the writers who draw it are also nearly all celebrants of youth and a springtime of beauty and devotion to love. Two related literary traditions are involved and two conventions. Romantic love and contempt of the world, adulation of youth and denigration of age, are dawn and dusk of the same medieval day. Though for the most part this death's-head image is male, it is a likeness t h a t the medieval critic held up to women as well. In some allegories the character of Old Age seems to be of both sexes. But whenever the ideas are applied to women, no chivalric sympathy softens the portrait: on the contrary, the drawing is prone to be even less kindly. The old man who disregarded counsel to act his age was often a figure of fun. But the old woman who tried to paint youth on her face and to continue the ways of kind was rarely so favored. Christine de Pisan and the feminists advise the aging widow to retire into familial and social benevolence. 12 Anything less dignified evoked little but disgust. Among the dishes served in the infernal banquet of Raoul de Houdenc's Le songe d'enfer is one made from "vieilles putains aplaqueresses." 13 If the old woman married, she was said to be behaving like a stag, ein bockelndesweib, sinning against nature and hastening her death. "An old woman when she useth dalyaunce, she doth nothing els in affecte but delyteth death," wrote Erasmus in the Praise of Folly. Even if her new spouse were of her own age, the marriage was repulsive to imagine: "deux porretures en un lit" said old Philippe de Novare. And if she married someone much younger, then he might expect to be very soon dead from her lust—among the witnesses to t h a t is the old German proverb: Bekommt ein junger Weib ein Alter an die Seite So ist ein kleppe da, drauf er zu grabe reite and the warning of Les quinzejoies de mariage: "And wit ye well t h a t frequenting an old woman doth abridge a young man's life: what saith Yprocras: Non vetulam novi: cur moriarT'u Nor is this horror restricted to the monastic-minded or to such brutal cynics as Eustache Deschamps. Nowhere is it more bitterly stated than in the searing Invettiva of Guido Guinicelli, the poet of the gentle heart: Va rea vecchia, con questi carrezivoli, Susurri tuoi, va, ingorda vecchia, al diavolo.15 12 Mathilde Laigle, Le livre des trois vertus (Paris 1912) summarizes Christine's and Anne de Beaujeu's views on women's old age. 13 Raoul de Houdenc, Le songe d'enfer, ed. Phileas Lebeesque (Paris 1908). 14 Freidenks Bescheidenheit, trans. Karl Pfanner (Leipzig 1878) 158.17.3. "Ayoungwoman married to an old man provides him with a horse that will carry him to his grave"; and The Fifteen Joys of Marriage, trans. Richard Aldington (New York 1929). 16

Guido Guinicelli, Invettiva in Ganifranco Contini, Poeti del duecento, 2 vols. (Milan 1960).

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WILLIAM MATTHEWS

As to the time when this physical and moral degeneration might be expected to set in, there was difference of opinion. Cicero mentions that according to the reckoning of his forefathers old age began at forty-six, and this is a time favored by those medieval writers who divide man's life into four periods corresponding to the four seasons. It was in the tradition of this classical lifeexpectancy t h a t Innocent III declared t h a t even the longest-lived men of his own time could hope for a shorter stay in this unseemly life than the seventy years of biblical tradition: "pauci nunc ad quadraginta, paucissimiad sexaginta annos perveniunt," and declared that generally man's energy to liveis complete spent by forty. 16 Not everybody agreed. Andreas Capellanus and Philippe de Novare, possibly because he was himself seventy when he wrote his treatise on man's four ages, set the beginning of the last age as late as sixty, and the poet of the Parlement of the Thre Ages displayed a Methuselah-taste, his spokesman for Old Age and contempt of the world being no less than one hundred. But most medieval writers accepted Pope Innocent's optimum and divided the sixty years into a differing number of periods, sometimes six, more often four. For Roger Bacon, senescence began between forty and fifty, and the Pricke of Conscience agreed. For Pieraccio Tedaldi, forty marked its onset. For Dante, as for Cicero, winter and old age started at forty-six. For Eustache Deschamps it began at forty, and was divided into two phases, ten years in which the old man should be preparing for the oncoming death of which his increasing pains and misery were warning him, and ten more of moral and physical disintegration in which he was like a rotting boat on the sea of death. 17 For women, the beginning of old age was commonly put earlier. Christine de Pisan and Anne de Beaujeu, feminists both, claim as much for their own sex as men claimed for theirs: they counsel their women readers to prepare at forty for a dignified, Ciceronian senescence. But antifeminists declared t h a t the degeneration of old age began with women at thirty, thirty-five at the latest. January in Chaucer's Merchant's Tale is dead-set against marrying an old woman half his own age:

16

Lotharii Cardinalis (Innocentii III), De miseria humane conditionis, ed. Michele Maccarrone, Thesaurus mundi (Lugano 1955); trans. Donald R . Howard ( N e w York 1969). See also James A. Geary, ed., An Irish Version of Innocent Ill's De contemplu mundi (Washington 1931). 17 Philippe de N o v a r e (n. 4 above) sec. 81; Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, trans. J. J. Parry ( N e w York 1941) 32; The Parlement of the Thre Ages (n. 11 above) lines 163, 284, 285; Roger Bacon, De retardandis senectutis accentibus, trans. Richard Browne (London 1683) 5; Pricke of Conscience ed. Richard Morris (Berlin 1863) lines 764-765; Tedaldi's statement occurs in Luigi Russo, Sonetti burleschi e realistici dei primi due secoli (Bari 1940) 187; Dante's Convivio, trans. William W. Jackson (Oxford 1909) Tractate 4.24.23-66; E u s t a c h e Deschamps, Oeuvres complètes ed. Gaston R a y n a u d , S A T F (Paris 1878, 1903) 2 balade 191; Deschamps, ibid. 6 Balade 1185; Deschamps, ibid. 3 Balade 525; for Christine de Pisan's and Anne de Beaujeu's views, see Mathilde Laigle (n. 12 above).

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I wol noon oold wyf han in no manere . . . I wol no womman thritty yeer of age; It is but bene-straw and greet forage. (MT 1416-1422) And Deschamps, Chaucer's friend but a professional malcontent, took delight in composing balades in which women of thirty lament their hopeless, feeble state. "A trente ans fu ma coulour muée," complains one of them: Verdeur n'ya, esbatement ne joye, Fors espines, ronses, tristesce, esmay, Langour, freour, du penser qui m'enoye; Le chahuant ses chans de mort m'envoye, Autre déduit n'a en celle contrée Fors que gresil, nois, froidure et gelée, Le souvenir des perdues doucours.18 Even allowing for early marriage and the burden of women's life in the Middle Ages, there is something outrageously hostile in these assertions of so early a withering of her beauty and hope. Here again, the literary tradition must probably be laid at the door of the ascetics. There is rhetoric in the matter, but still the double standard has seldom been so strong as in the Middle Ages: Innocent III and other exponents of the contemptus mundi seemed to find special satisfaction in mocking Eve's daughters with the grinning skull of corruption. But whichever literary tradition was involved, the feminist, courtly, or antifeminist, old age in medieval literature came upon women early: at thirty in the opinion of women-haters and even for their defenders at forty. And from its beginning, in the view of most writers, it was characterized not only by all the defects that showed up in old men but also by a particular accentuation of the lechery that they regarded as being natural to woman. These moral and satirical ideas are to be found in most of the characterizations of old women in medieval narrative, but they are there employed less singlemindedly than in writings whose major purpose is to satirize women or to bend the ways of man to the ways of an ascetic God. For the old women of story are older than Innocent III: their family tree has its roots in classical comedy and satire, and, although they may be wind-blown by antifeminism and contempt of the world, they also retain the essence of their literary heritage and breathe the less frigid air of comedy. Plautus, whose plays were known to the Middle Ages through late classical imitations, freely uses the type of the comic old woman, either mother or 18 Deschamps 3 Balade 525. For his m a n y other comments on and portraits of old age, male and female, see inter alia: Rondels 613, 668; Balades 25, 27, 95, 191, 223, 225, 297, 321, 333, 613, 675, 865, 1216.

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bawd. The wily Scapha of his Mostellaria might even have served as a prototype for later centuries. Servant to the young courtesan Philematum, her function is to contrast age with youth in the progress of a lady of pleasure. The brief autobiography of her career and her sage advice are like those of her medieval followers: do not put all your cargo into one vessel, she advises Philematum: she herself had foolishly devoted her youth to one worthless ribald, and when she got old he left her. A similar characterisation appears in one of the elegies (4.5) of Propertius, in the form of a curse upon Acanthus, a dribbling, stinking old trot who has been advising the poet's mistress on the tricks of the trade: how to hold off impoverished suitors; how to lie and weep so as to raise the price. Of all the old women of Latin satire, however, the one who impressed herself most strongly upon the medieval literary imagination was the anus in Ovid's Amores, Book 1. That short poem is very similar to Propertius's elegy.19 Ovid represents himself as overhearing an old woman named Dipsas advise his inamorata to take her beauty to a more profitable market than a hard-up poet. As her name shows, Dipsas is a tipsy hag, white of hair, eyes weeping from the wine she swigs. Nearly the whole of her life has been in the love trade, but now, all her old earnings having gone, she is reduced to the job of a lena, trotting between man and girl and, in exchange for presents that never seem to enrich her, using her arts as sorceress, witch, and bawd. She is her own biographer, but most of the poem is taken up with her advice to the girl on the economics of the game. Her views on the art of being loved are as Ovidian as the poet's own on the art of loving; but, because they are the other side of the coin and directed against himself, he curses her and can hardly hold from tearing out her old white hairs. Chastity, she says, is the virtue of those whom no man wants, for all women are servants of Venus and will amuse themselves wherever they can. A girl's beauty, her one precious asset, lasts only a short time, and while she has it she should exploit man's inborn amorousness whenever the chance offers. Any means to fatten the profit is economically justified. Lies, tears, a pretence of passion or of indifference, a real or imagined rival, another appointment, all or any will increase the lover's ardor and the value of his gifts, and the profit may be swollen by securing loans that need never be repaid or by prompting servants and the family to join in the sponging. To lavish love on one man alone is normally unwise; brass must be polished often if it is to shine brightly. To expend youth and beauty upon a moneyless man, no matter how young, witty, or talented he be, is sheer madness. Homer himself and all his hexameters would not be the equal of a man who could pay for his pleasure with thousands of sesterces.

19

These comments on the old women of Plautus, Propertius, Ovid, are based upon the Loeb Classical Library editions of their works.

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Brief as the poem is, it is a seed that was to produce a rich harvest in medieval literature. Dipsas, the loquacious old lena with her autobiographical memories of splendeurs-et-misères and her cynical advice from a lifetime's commercial experience, is reflected in many medieval mirrors, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, English. The sketch may be filled out with ideas from the literature of antifeminism or contempt of the world, her advice may be supplemented or replaced by tricks borrowed from Oriental tales or fabliaux, she may become seemingly as learned as any Clerk of Oxford, her autobiography may take her to Paris, Orleans, Castille, or Bath; she may be represented as a neighborly amateur or given a sideline in business as seamstress, weaver, helmet-maker, or seller of knickknacks; and the name that she bears may be nationalized as Richeut, Auberée, Alisoun, Houdée, Uracca, or La Vecchia. But the basic pattern of her life, character, and role is always the same. Among the earliest medieval versions of the classical anus is the old nurse who plays a small part in Guillaume de Blois's Aida,20 a Latin comedy written about 1170. Guillaume claims that he based the work upon a Latin translation from Menander, and its types are similar to those of the New Comedy, though the scabrousness of the description bespeaks familiarity with the fabliaux. The nurse in this narrative is said to be as subtle as all old women and she helps her young master to seduce the naive Aida by dressing him up in women's clothes—a trick characteristic of many of the entremetteuses of the fabliaux. More significant in the history of the type, however, are the derivatives of Dipsas who appear in two poems that claim to have been written by Ovid himself and were in the Middle Ages believed to have been his work, even though it should have been obvious that they were modern imitations. Sharing in the tremendous vogue of Ovidian story, these tales, the late twelfth-century Pamphilus and the mid-thirteenth-century Vetula, were among the most popular and influential Latin poems of medieval literature. The Pamphilusa narrative that is varied with abundant monologue and dialogue and may have been meant for recitation at some school of rhetoric, recounts the history of an Ovidian seduction. Pamphilus, deeply enamored of his young neighbor Galathea, has been making no headway against the watchfulness of her parents. Venus, however, assures him of the natural amorousness of women and advises him to get an old woman to help him. The old woman, after pointing out the difficulty of the job and making sure of a substantial reward, pays her visits to Galathea, pleads the lover's cause and makes arrangements for his getting what he desires. She is nameless but is introduced as: 20

The Pamphilus

and Guillaume de Blois's Aida are published in Gustave Cohen, éd., La

comédie latine en France au xiie siècle, 2 vols. (Paris 1931). 21 Jean Brasdefer's early fourteenth-century version of the Pamphilus de Morawski (n. 2 above).

is edited by Joseph

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WILLIAM MATTHEWS

subtilis et ingeniosa, Artibus et Veneris apta ministra satis. Old and tottery, her beauty and the money it had brought her long since vanished, her sole remaining resources are woman's endownment of cunning and flattery and her long experience. Garrulous but shrewd, she is expert in persuading a young woman to take her pleasure while she may and free with advice and reminiscence on the complementary arts of loving and being loved. In a few ways she differs from Dipsas. Appropriately in a work written for the medieval schools, she uses her skills on behalf of a hero who is far from rich, and her speech is touched with the rhetoric beloved of scholastics. Nor is she described as a witch. But although the clerk who wrote Pamphilus—possibly a scholar of Orléans—produced little more than a Dipsas with a medieval accent, the claim that the story was Ovid's work gave it a popularity that it scarcely deserved. For two centuries it was the habit to think of this old woman and Dipsas together, both creations of Ovid and both points of departure in portraying a comic old woman. The second pseudo-Ovidian poem is more original, adapted to the thirteenthcentury tastes for fabliaux and poetical self-portraiture. Although, as we now know, the VetuldP was written by Richard de Fournival, chancellor of Amiens, it pretends to be Ovid's own autobiography, found in his grave some centuries after his death. The plot might have been taken from a fabliau. It begins with the poet's infatuation for a young girl who is closely guarded by her parents. Like Pamphilus, he seeks the help of a go-between, who, in Jean Lefèvre's later French adaptation, is described as: Povre et de petite fortune, Bien parlant et de beau langaige, La vieillotte estoit assez saige, Et de ma sueur estoit voisine. By exaggerating the difficulties of her task, the old woman squeezes present after present out of the poet, everything from a goat to cloth for a shirt. But when her holy fears of Hell are profitably calmed, she sets to work and Ovid at length arrives at the paradise he had dreamed of—only to discover that the woman in bed with him is not his maiden of bahsful sixteen but the old woman herself. The Ovid portrayed in this poem is very much a medieval clerk and although his old woman is in essence a scion of Dipsas, she too has taken on medieval traits. Some may be attributed to antifeminism and contempt of the world. The inspiration for others is more comically worldly. The scatal22

The Vetula is published in Ovidii Nasonis Pellgnensis erotica et amatoria opuscula (Frankfort 1610). The French translation (ca. 1370) b y Jean Lefèvre is in H i p p o l y t e Cocheris, ed., La vieille (Paris 1861).

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ogical description of her, which may have been one of Deschamps's models for his scarifying portraits of old women, the practicality of the gifts that she cadges, the ingenuity of her trick, and the amoral gaiety that characterises all her doings are probably the result of Richard de Fournival's familiarity with fabliaux. Both the Pamphilus and the Vetula were expansively translated into French during the fourteenth century, but even as early as the twelfth the old entremetteuse had begun to occupy a significant place in native French literature. Gautier d'Arras's Eracle,23 written about 1160 for Marie de Champagne, provides the earliest example. The first and third sections of this Byzantinestyle romance deal with the military adventures of the emperor Eraclius, but the second is a version of the Inclusa-story, about Athenais who was locked in a tower by her husband and rescued by her lover Parides. His intermediary is a wily, loquacious old woman, who gets to Athenais by taking her cherries, carries letters to and fro, and arranges an assignation at her own house. Although the role is conventional for the story, and the old woman's character is not drawn with any individuality, casual details about her gay youth, her skill in medicine, her sageness in love show that she derives her being from the classical lena. More lively is Thessala, the old nurse in Chrétien de Troyes's Cligés.u In many ways this romance is an anti-Tristan story, and Thessala is a Brangwain recreated in the tradition of the classical go-between and the witches of Thessaly, from whom she derives both her name and her skills. Her function in the romance is to further the adulterous love of Cligés for Fénice, the girl she had raised from childhood. Having diagnosed the nature of Fénice's sickness from her long observation of love, Thessala first prepares a potion to preserve the heroine's virginity, by making her unloved husband believe that he is enjoying Fénice when he is in fact only dreaming, and then clears the way for the lovers' adultery with a second potion that makes Fénice seem dead. There are few original elements in her characterization: she is the aged plotter and necromancer who is devoted to her charge and has cunning enough to outwit the old doctors of Salerno who become suspicious of the reality of the heroine's death. What makes her so much more amusing than the old woman of Eracle is the lively farce that accompanies her activities and the detached, ironical humor of Chrétien towards both her and the whole love affair. The same elements enliven the traditional doings of some of the old women of the fabliaux. The minstrels who related these comic tales about the amorous clerks and willing wives of their bourgeois world found the go-between an almost indispensable type. Usually she is young, but in some tales she is an aged servant or an old neighbor who ekes out a living as seamstress or the like. The environment in which she lives and works is the everyday world of northern 23

Gautier d'Arras, Oeuvres ed. E. Lôseth (Paris 1890) vol. 1.

24

Chrétien de Troyes, Cliges ed. Wendelin Foerster (Halle 1884).

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France, and always she is drawn as an amusing representative of contemporary reality. The tricks she performs in the service of love, however, are largely arabic or oriental in origin, and she herself is a descendant of Dipsas, an experienced and ingenious humbug, ready for a suitable consideration to use her skills on behalf of any kind lady or gentleman. Hersent, the old servant in Aloul, her namesake the sacristan in Le prestre teint, and the old aunt from Salerno in the Lai des deux amants, are examples of the type, and the heroine of what has been called the earliest fabliau, Richeut, has many of the proper traits, even though that satire deals mostly with her youthful exploits and the Casanova-career of her bastard, Samson.25 Nearer to the main tradition is Dame Siriz, the only old woman to appear in an English fabliau.26 Besides the old woman, the cast of Dame Siriz is Margery, an innocent young wife, and Wilikin the clerk who is enamored of Margery and tries to persuade her to reciprocate while her husband is away on business. Dame Siriz comes into the tale when all Wilikin's unaided advances have been rejected. She is a watery hypocrite, full of complaints about her age and illhealth, constantly protesting her devoutness, honesty, and innocence of witchcraft. But when Wilikin promises her "moni a pound and moni a mark," she forgets how holy she is and promises to teach Margery such a lore that she will love him more than any man in the land. The lore she uses is an oriental trick that had been described three hundred years earlier by Petrus Alphonsus in his Disciplina clericalisF She feeds pepper and mustard to her little dog, totters around to Margery, and, after being fed well by the generous young wife, tells a strange tale of woe. It is about her own daughter, a pretty girl who loved her husband but was wooed by a clerk: she had refused his love, and in revenge the clerk, who like any good medieval university man was skilled in magic, had turned her into a bitch. And Siriz points to her own bitch, still weeping from pepper. Innocent Margery is understandably scared, and in short time Wilikin has his will. As it is told in the English version, the fabliau is not very distinguished, but its materials are true to pattern, a plot derived from oriental story and an old woman drawn in the tradition of Dipsas. The fabliau is normally too brief a form to favor any major treatment of the old woman, who is usually a secondary figure in any tale in which she appears.

28

Richeut

is edited by I. C. Lecompte in Romance

Review

4 (1913).

The other fabliaux

cited here and elsewhere in the essay are published in Anatole de Montaiglon and Gaston Raynaud, Receuil

generate

des fabliaux

8 vols. (Paris 1872) Aloul

is no. 24; Le prestre

teint

no. 139. 26

Published in George H . McKnight, ed., Middle

27

Petrus Alfonsus, Disciplina

1911).

clericalis,

English

Humorous

Tales (Boston 1913).

ed. Alfons Hilka and Werner Soderhjelm (Helsinki

The author (b. 1062) prepared this collection (mainly of Jewish and Arabic tales) as

a gift to his new church on his conversion. W i t h the Seven Sages of Rome, the work provided one of the main sources by which the bawd and her tricks were passed on to such fabliaux as Auberie and Dame Siriz, carrying an oriental tradition that goes back to the Kama

Sutra.

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WIFE OF BATH AND ALL HER SECT

It is only in Auberée,w a fairly long story and one in which the old woman is drawn as the principal character, that the comic possibilities of the type are fully realised in a fabliau. According to a recent suggestion, the author of this unusually urbane and skillful tale may be Jean Renart, one of the masters of romance in the early thirteenth century. 29 The attribution is uncertain, but the smooth and convincing narration of an intricate, improbable plot, the drawing of firm characters with the barest minimum of author's description, and the amused irony of the telling are comparable with Renart's work in romance. The characters are substantially the same as in Dame Siriz, a suspicious old merchant, his loyal but excessively kind-hearted young wife, a lovesick gallant, and Auberée, an old seamstress of Compiégne. The core of the plot, the deliberate mislaying of a robe which causes the husband to think t h a t he has been cuckolded and to throw out his wife, into the welcoming arms of Auberée and the lover, is also oriental in origin. But the portrayal of Auberée is done with skill and delight t h a t are completely out of the ordinary. She brings the two young people together, diverts the suspicions of the old merchant, who is almost her match in shrewdness, and persuades him t h a t only he was at fault by a virtuoso's display of the old woman's traditional arts and a series of tricks t h a t are as carefully thought out as any good detective story. Many of her traits are common to the type, but she is also drawn through her actions as a masterful Machiavelli who can time her devices to perfection and anticipate every thought of the people with whom she has dealings. A gaily malicious wit in an innocently wicked world, speaking a language t h a t echoes the living idiom of everyday speech, she is the most engaging character achieved by any of the medieval writers who followed the simple Dipsas line, the only one to express in full measure the essence of the esprit gaulois. She may lack the Wife of Bath's subtle complexity, but she alone measures up to Chaucer's creation in the bright gaiety and confidence with which she pursues her deplorable activities. Ovid's Dipsas had been given a touch of reality by the setting of autobiography in which she was drawn: it was at the poet's own expense t h a t she gave her advice to the girl. This device was also favored by medieval writers. One of the earlier examples is the Vetula, which has already been mentioned in this essay, and which extends Ovid's autobiography to include some unfortunate experiences with an old woman t h a t the Ovid of real life, unfortunate as he was, knew nothing of. In somewhat similar style is Rutebeuf's short poem, Le mariage Rutebeuf,30 which describes the miseries of his marriage to a woman of fifty. She is a woman holy enough, not a lena, and she bears the

28 29

Montaiglon and R a y n a u d (n. 52 above) no. 110. See R i t a Lejeune-Dehousse, L'oeuvre de Jean Renart (Paris 1913).

30 Achille Jubinal, ed., Oeuvres complétes de Rutebeuf, Les poésies personelles de Rutebeuf (Strasbourg 1938).

2 vols. (Paris 1839); Harry Lucas,

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poet a child, but his account of her contains some of the traits of feminine old age that appear in medieval satire: - Et si n'est pas gente ne bele L- anz a en s'escuele S'est maigre et seche N'ai pas paor qu'ele me treche. Closer to the comic line are two short sections in the abusive and biographical jeu-parti of the minstrels Vairon and Jean Renart: those passages are vigorous descriptions of their mothers as old bawds of the Dipsas kind.31 An influential Latin poem that also employs the first-person construction is the Lamentations of Matheolus, written about 1295 by Mahieu de Boulogne, who was, according to his own statement, a lawyer and an unfrocked priest.32 The poem is actually a full-scale anticlerical and antifeminist satire, possibly inspired by the firmness of the Council of Lyons, 1274, in dealing with the problem of marriage and "bigamy" among clerks; but its framework is an account of the author's bitter experiences with Petronilla, or as he prefers to call her, Petra, the female rock. He had married her when she was a young widow, beautiful and to all appearance gentle and loving. Now everything had changed, and in a combination of domestic scenes, dialogues, and commentaries, he presents her as she had become. The children of her first marriage were still young and whimpering, so she could not have been much over thirty; nevertheless, like the married old hags of similar age in the satires of Deschamps, she was white-haired, crooked, wrinkled, deaf, her breasts like old purses. The one-time reasonableness had given way to unceasing complaint, day and night. Only one virtue remained, her constancy; and this was an affliction, for he was by now too feeble to satisfy her ceaseless lust. Petra, the rock on which he had foundered, he writes, was the same as all other women: she was just like the old woman who made the dog weep, the old woman who corrupted Galathea, and the old woman who deceived Ovid. The Lamentations is not a very good poem and most of it is devoted to diatribes against clerks and women in general, but it is interesting and important in the development of the old woman as a type. It is clear from his comparisons that the author thought of Petronilla as one of the tribe of Dipsas. Nevertheless, she is a married woman, no lena at all, and as respectable as any woman can be who is married to a clerk. What Mahieu de Boulogne has done is what Chaucer was to do again later, to associate the old woman of the Ovidian and fabliau traditions with the antifeminist satire that was usually directed by 31 32

Published in R i t a Lejaune-Dehouse (n. 29 above). A. H. v a n Hamel, ed., Les lamentations de Matheolus,

also contains Jean Leffevre's French adaptation.

2 vols. (Paris 1902-1905), which

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medieval clerks against married women. Whether Chaucer knew and used the poem has not been settled, but Mahieu deserves credit for being apparently the first author to effect a union that Chaucer later employed to such wondrous effect. More traditional in her status is the old woman in El libro de buen amor.33 This Spanish galimaufry is also presented as an autobiography, written by Juan Ruiz, arcipreste de Hita, while he was in prison, some time around 1330 to 1340. Its narrative sections describe his religious activities, his wanderings and adventures in Castille, and, above all, his love life and the help he receives in it from the old woman Doña Uracca, usually referred to as Trotaconventos. Despite her Spanish name, about her literary ancestry there can be no doubt: as Juan Ruiz himself makes clear when the God of Love gives him advice, she is a descendant of Dipsas and the anus of the Pamphilus: Sy leyeres Ovydio, el que fué mi criado En él fallarás fablas, que l'ove yo mostrado: Muchas buenas maneras para enamorado; Pánfilo é Nasón de mí fué demostrado. (St. 429) Trotaconventos, an ugly old beldame, experienced as a bawd, skillful in mixing drugs or acting as midwife, was in the habit of haunting churches, convents, and fine houses, peddling knickknacks as a cover for more profitable business. She first comes into the poem when the archpriest, under the fancy name of Don Melon de la Huerta, is advised by the God of Love and Venus to seek her assistance in winning the love of Doña Endrina, a widow much younger than himself who is impeded from love by foolish devotion to her late husband. Trotaconventos, who had once been Endrina's nurse, assures the archpriest that she can mold her like wax; and, after wheedling sufficient money out of him by pretending that he has a rival, she makes an assignment at her own house and conveniently disappears. This episode is very little more than a localized adaptation of the Pamphilus, and were it not for the sequel Uracca would be merely a Spanish-speaking lena. But that is far from being the end of her; from time to time she has further errands for the hairy, bull-necked priest with the large stomach and long ears. Not long after, she tries out for him another likely young widow. Later, because she had once been servant to a nun and knew how well the religious did by their lovers, she fixes him up with the nun Garoza; and when Garoza dies she goes to work on a Moorish dancing girl. Despite this close fraternity, relations were not invariably cordial between the archpriest and Trota, and sometimes he cursed her in Ovidian style but in the salty terms with which 33 Juan Ruiz, El libro de buen amor ed. Alfonso Reyes (Madrid 1917); Rigo Magnani and Maria A. Di Cesare, trans., The Book of Good Love (Albany 1970).

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Spanish is so richly endowed, and then had to placate her—the very title of his work is a sop to her. Their relationship is more varied and extensive than is customary in this literary tradition and it also differs in the engaging mixture of admiration, affection, and cynicism with which Ruiz regards her. When, like most of the ladies with whom she has dealings, she dies, he even writes a first-personal epitaph for her which, despite its conventional reminders of mortality, retains a proudly amused devotion to her life in the affairs of love: Urraca só, que yago so esta sepultura; En cuanto andude el mundo, ove vicio é soltura Con buena rrazón munchos casé é non quis' locura; Cay en una ora so tyerra del altura! (Sí 1576) There is no doubting the greatness of Urraca as a version of the medieval old woman, although she is far from being a wholly original creation. Most of her traits and actions can be matched in the fabliaux and Latin poems that have already been mentioned in this essay. Nevertheless, there is something unique about her. Some of this individuality is contributed by the familiarity with which the poet, himself drawn as a complex but familiar character, regards her. She seems more real than most of her kidney; she is accorded the honor of a busy life of devoted immorality and the dignity of burial with sanctimonious ceremony just like any godly lady; and, living and dying, she belongs to the world of fourteenth-century Castille—Uracca, nicknamed Trotaconventos, shuffling around the Spanish world of fine ladies, nuns, and dancing girls all for the sake of Juan Ruiz, arcipreste de Hita, a loving sinner who was no credit either to himself or to the God he served, no better than herself. Juan Ruiz had little of Jean de Meun's learning to lend Trotaconventos and little of Chaucer's warmth; but he brought to his creation something that is characteristically Spanish, local realism mixed with courtliness in the form, and cynicism mixed with sentiment in the spirit. It is this mixture that makes her so important in the literary history of Spain and western Europe. Two centuries later she was the inspiration for La Celestina and so had a phoenix rebirth as the head of the Spanish novel and drama of low life that exerted so potent an influence on the literature of all western Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Some sixty years before El libro de buen amor, a major variation upon the type was created which had greater effect upon medieval literature itself, La Vieille of the Roman de la rose.34 This work, too, is in the autobiographical pattern. It recounts a dream that the poet, Guillaume de Lorris pretends to have had and his continuator, Jean de Meun, pretends to have continued, in 34

Felix Lecoy's edition (n. 7 above).

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which the dreaming poet seeks the Rose of Love and, after a succession of difficulties, wins it. The dream-narrative is the frame for a many-sided discussion on major aspects of the art of loving and being loved, through which the lover and the rose are advised at great length by personages who speak for courtliness, religion, philosophy, and worldliness. The worldly speakers are Amis, a young-old man who is full of Ovidian ideas and experience and advises the lover how to get love cheaply and avoid being deceived or fleeced by women. His opposite is La Vieille, whose role in the narrative is duenna to the rose and lena for the lover. Under gentle financial stimulus she takes the lover's present, forces it upon the rose's hesitancy, and then fills her sails for a monologue of two thousand lines in which is expressed a feminine viewpoint directly contrary to that of Amis. There is much backing and filling in the harangue, but its two major elements are those traditional for old women of her stripe: an autobiography of her career and practical advice on the art of being loved. The monologue is tied in with the great discussion of the poem as a whole. Amors had given the lover Ten Commandments, and two of these, the command to be loyal to one person and the command to be generous, are the spur to the old woman's disquisition. Out of her own experience she knows that for a woman both are foolish. As a young woman her beauty had led lovers to batter at her door: she had had the world and its riches at her feet. Now, although she hobbles around with a stick, age-riddled, poor, despised by men, the memory of those glorious days can still warm her cold veins: Par diex I si me plest il oncores Quant ge m'i sui bien porpensee; Mout me delite en ma pensee Et me resbaudissent li menbre, Quant de mon bon tens me remembre Et de la jolivete vie Dom mes quears a si grant envie; Tout me rajovenist le cors Quant g'i pens et quant jou recors; Touz les biens du monde me fet, Quant me souvient de tout le fet, Qu'au mains ai-ge ma joie eiie, Combien qu'il m'aient deceue. (12901-12910) But those are neiges d'antan and the memories are not all pleasing. Sometimes men had outwitted her, and once she was foolish enough to allow her heart to completely rule her head, and, as Plautus's Scapha did with her ribald, and Frankie was later to do with Johnny, threw herself away upon a handsome, sexually athletic gambling man, who dragged her from pillar to post, spent all her money, and then left her. Reduced to the job of duenna and go-between, she laments her wasted youth and nurses bitterness against men as a whole.

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Her advice to the rose is one way of being revenged upon the whole pack of them: if she were the rose, she would squeeze them dry, hang them bare. This vengeful bitterness is one of De Meun's chief variations upon the traditional character. Another is the core of seriousness in her lengthy exposition of the economics of love. For Amis, her masculine counterpart, love is largely an irresponsible pleasure that should be bought as cheaply as possible; for Amors it is the spur to noble deeds; for Genius and Nature its function is to propagate the species and to repair gaps caused by death in the chain of being. The thesis that La Vieille belabors is that love is woman's profession and should be conducted in professional fashion, with full awareness that relations between women and men are a form of warfare. As she states her code it is one for a courtesan, but in spite of the satirical tradition that lies behind her monologue, the author allows it to be inferred that, allowing for exaggeration, La Vieille also expresses the commonsense views of respectable married women toward the everyday necessities of married life and the haunting problems of economic sufficiency, especially in widowhood and old age. A woman's assets, she states, are her youth and beauty, her mother wit, and the reckless amorousness of men. But the first of these vanish with the springtime of life and, unless a woman is sensible enough to capitalize on them while she may, she will in the autumn and winter be left lonely, despised, and worst of all, penniless, forced to support herself by degrading jobs. In full detail she lists the devices by which a young woman can extract profit from men and love in order to provide for old age. In rare cases this might be possible with only one lover, but normally variety offered the best prospect. A wise young woman would not put all her eggs in one basket; while taking her pleasure and profit from one lover, she would sensibly arrange for his successor at a suitable time. Freedom, La Vieille urges, is as essential for women as Amis had claimed that it was for men, and, with her usual excess, she warms to the argument by claiming that monogamy is an unnatural restraint imposed by custom upon the law of Nature. The materials that go into her monologue and character are the tradition of Dipsas and the Ars amatoria, treatises of antifeminists from Jerome to Matheolus, and the contemptus mundi that colors her continuing contrast of old age with youth. Nevertheless, she is still a highly original creation. Jean de Meun manipulated the traditional materials with a dramatist's sympathy and understanding. She is neither an antifeminist's marionette nor a figure of fun. She is not completely divorced from normal domestic concerns, and her discussion of etiquette may have been a model for Chaucer's Prioress. As a controversial doctrinaire, "bien parlant et de beau langaige," she is the equal of Amis, Raison, Nature, and Genius; and she propounds an opinion that in more reasonable terms and within a churchly context may be shared by a large part of womankind, little as it appears in the literature of romance or even the manuals of conduct. She lives in a world of sous; she is solemn,

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embittered, cynical, sentimental by turns; she rambles and is often inconsistent in her arguing; and sometimes she exaggerates her theses like an overenthusiastic lecturer.

Nevertheless, she is still an appealing figure, the first of the

old women to claim the reader's sentimental sympathy.

Elsewhere in the

Roman de la rose, Jean de Meun had expressed his pity for the poor and hungry, and varying the satire and mixed in with his love for épatant les bourgeois, something of the same pity colors his delineation of La Vieille.

The grim

satisfaction of exponents of contemptus mundi in the gnawings of the worm of corruption are replaced by an old woman's sentimental nostalgia for her lost youth; the mockery of antifeminists is dramatically absorbed into an exaggerated feminine point of view. For all its remorseless length, the Roman de la rose is still an exciting and shocking work.

"Tout est pour enseignement," Jean de Meun claimed; "il

fait bon de tout savoir." But he was a medieval G. B. S., and the opinions he advanced through the lectures of his characters were couched in deliberately provocative and extreme terms. Since critics still find the work uncomfortable, it is hardly surprising that in the later Middle Ages it should have stirred the literary world to admiring imitation but also to outraged protest.

Then, as

now, most of the criticism was directed not against the opinions of Amis, Amors, Raison, or Nature, but against the economic worldliness of La Vieille. Medieval writers were familiar enough with her arguments in satire and comedy, and were not distressed by them. It was something else, however, to meet them in a serious context, and for many this seriousness dominated the work.

For

them, La Vieille was the essence of the Roman de la rose, a deplorable work that advocated immorality and was specially designed to corrupt young women. This kind of attack is anticipated even in the poem itself.

For dramatic

effect, De Meun matches some of the curses that Ovid had hurled at his Dipsas, and Bel Accueil, to whom La Vieille directed her monologue, was shocked by it just as much as the Lover had been shocked by the masculine counsel of Amis.

N o t many years later, Mahieu de Poirier's Court d'amours reproached

Jean de Meun for speaking ill of women, 35 and in 1316 the Cistercian monk, Guillaume Deguileville, launched a full-scale attack in his Pèlerinage de la vie humaine, an influential work that was later put into prose by Jean Gallopes and then turned into English verse by John Lydgate. 36 This autobiographical allegory, in which the poet relates a dream-journey that mirrors his spiritual struggles from birth to death, is a unrelenting exposition of a monkish view of life, although the monotony of its allegorical narrative is strangely varied

35

Mahieu de Poirier, Le court d'amours, in Charles F. W a r d , The Epistles

of the Rose and Other Documents 36

on the Romance

in the Debate (Chicago 1911).

Guillaume Deguileville, La pèlerinage de la oie humaine, ed. J. J. Stiirzinger, Roxburghe

Club (London 1893); John L y d g a t e , The Pilgrimage E E T S , e.s. 77, 73, 92 (London 1899-1904).

of the Life of Man,

ed. F. J. Furnivall,

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by lively, romantic adventures. It is also a countercheck quarrelsome, however, and its targets are Jean de Meun and La Vieille.

Deguileville's dream, he

writes in his introduction, was mostly inspired by the Roman de la rose: Li biaus Roumans de la rose Bien croi que ce fu la chose Qui plus m'esmut a ce songier. In direct attack he characterizes Jean as a spokesman for Lechery, and how strongly his view of the poem is dominated by La Vieille may be judged from his characterizations of the sins. An ancient tradition of allegory (possibly rooted in the fact that most abstract nouns are feminine) is to make abstractions women and to portray the unpleasant ones with some of the physical traits of old age: of this kind are Papelardie, Povrete, Hypocresie in the Roman de la rose. But in Deguileville's work every sin and temptation that the dreamer meets on his journey toward the blessing of death is drawn as a "blicched shrewe," a horrible old hag, filthy, repulsive, and with no other thought but to drag an innocent creature into the way to hell. Even Venus, riding on a sow, her clothes fouled with dung and clay, is drawn in the pattern of La Vieille as seen by a bitter and solemn adversary: Thogh that I be queynte and gay, I am ryht foul for to beholde; My chekys Rympled and right Olde, And ful hydous, (yt ys no nay) And mor horryble than I dar say. (il 13334-8) Taking a comparable tack, some satirical writers found in De Meun's old woman material for antifeminism. Jean Brasdefer's expanded French version of the Vetula and Richard de Fournival's Lamentations of Matheolus both drew leaves from her book, and some of the bitterly scabrous attacks that Deschamps wrote upon old women who pillaged their loves or wore them to death seem to stem from a similar approach to De Meun's work. Earlier in the fourteenth century, an Italian satirist named Ser Durante had read the poem in the same fashion. His II fiore,37 an Italian version of the Roman de la rose, is a simpleminded perversion of the encyclopoedic original, everything being cut down or omitted save for those elements that could easily be twisted into satirical shape. Amico, Falsemblante, and La Vecchia are the figures that fill this one-sided remaniement. Durante's enthusiasm, however, is mostly for La Vecchia: her long string of sonnets occupies over a quarter of his poem. She relates her history, describes her work as a go-between, gives worldly advice, and reveals the true nature of women. All De Meun's sentiment and serious37

Ser Durante, Il fiore (Florence 1922).

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ness is gone and all his variety; what remains is vigorously unoriginal antifeminist satire. In that lively controversy, the querelle de la rose, which entertained literary France at the turn of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, it was again La Vieille who dominated the dispute. 38 Some of the disputants were concerned to defend De Meun's learning or to attack his views about the functions of sexual love on earth and in heaven, but Christine de Pisan, the literary feminist who began the dispute, had other views. Though a woman of intelligent literary taste and good common sense, her poetic line was constancy in love and she approached the Roman and its author with the intimidating hostility of a young academic widow with daughters. The poem, she declared in her initial attack, was written solely to mislead an innocent maiden, "pour decepvoir, sanz plus, une pucelle." In her Livre des trois vertus she sets out her own view t h a t woman's old age should be quietly dignified, devoted to piety and the inculcation of familial virtues in her descendants. What horrified her in De Meun's poem was the worldly advice that La Vieille had proferred to the rose. Taking the monologue completely au sérieux, she attacks it with bitter irony in one of her later contributions to the quarrel: Beau sire Dieu, quel horribleté, quel deshonesté et divers reprouvez enseignements il recorde ou chapitre de la Vieille; Ha ! Hay 1 entre vous qui belles filles avez et bien les desirez introduire à vie honneste, baillez leur, baillez et querez le Roman de la Rose pour aprendre a discerner le bien du mal, que diz-je, mais le mal du bien. E t a quel utilité ne a quoy profite aux oyans t a n t de laidures ?39 In the face of these and other such oversimple readings of La Vieille by medieval writers, it is pleasant to discover some who could appreciate her in less moral or satirical ways. Before turning to Geoffrey Chaucer, the chief among them, it is desirable to say a brief word about François Villon's treatment of the old woman. Probably the greatest degree of actuality achieved by any medieval writer in the delineation of the type is to be found in this two poems on La Belle Heaulmière. 40 The fair helmet-seller, whose trade, like those of Auberée, Uracca, and the rest, was only a cover for her principal business, was a real person, one of the most famous whores of Paris in the earlier fifteenth century. It is remotely possible that Villon may have known her and t h a t in these poems he may have transmuted her own recollections into poetry. But since at the time he was writing she would have been about eighty years old, 38 The documents in the controversy at published in Charles F. Ward, The Epistles on the Romance of the Rose (Chicago 1911); Christine's part is discussed in Blanche H. D o w (n. 2 above). 39

Ward (n. 35 above).

40

François "Villon, Oeuvres, ed. Auguste Longnon, CFMA (Paris 1923).

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it is more likely that he is following the contemporary fashion, which may be observed in both painting and literature, for linking traditional patterns with living reality. La Belle Heaulmière, real though she was, is in these two balades a member of the literary family that descends from Ovid's Dipsas and the immediate model for her utterances is La Vieille's monologue. Both of Villon's balades are dramatic in form. In one (Testament lines 452-532), after relating her own history, of her youth wasted on clerks, merchants, and men of the church, and of her passion for "ung garson rusé," who had beaten and impoverished her but whom she still loved, even though he had been dead these thirty years, the old woman goes on, in the hauntingly sad way that is typical of Villon, to contrast her crabbed aged with her vanished beauty: Ainsi le bon temps regretons Entre nous, povres vieilles sotes. Assises bas, a crouppetons, Tout en ung tas comme pelotes, A petit feu de chenevotes Tost allumees, tost estaintes; Et jadis fusmes si mignotes 1 . . . Ainsi en prent a mains et maintes. (525-532) This balade of complaint echoes the history, anger, and lament of La Vieille, although it is free from her bitterness. The balade of advice (Testament lines 533-624) draws from the same source. To her pupils in the trade, Blanche the shoesmith, the genteel sausage-maker, and the rest, La Belle Heaulmière recommends that they gather their florins while they may, sparing no man, lest they become as pitiable as herself. Beauty vanishes, beauty passes, and love is full of sorrow, "pour ung plaisir mille doulours." And the girl who lets herself be tied to one man will not only be betrayed but will betray her own nature too. Villon brings his genius for actuality and lyricism to the character of the old woman and La Belle Heaulmière is an eminent example of the literary taste for a sentimental harlot. But she still sings the same old songs. If, as some scholars have claimed, Villon wrote from her reminiscences, she must have been a more literary madam than most of her profession, and her bible must h a v e b e e n t h e Roman

de la rose.

Of all her literary descendants, however, the one of whom Dipsas should have been most proud was Alisoun, Wife of Bath. 41 In some ways she hardly belongs to the family; she was a married woman; she had never, so far as anyone can tell, engaged in the office of an entremetteuse; and to see her riding on pilgrimage, scandalous but still young at heart and prosperous, one might not even think she was old. Yet, for all her fine wimples and all her good for41

Quotations from Chaucer are taken from W. W. Skeat's edition, 6 vols. (Oxford 1894).

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tune, she is still at bottom a chip off the old Dipsas block and she may owe her being to the continuing furore stirred up by De Meun's La Vieille. The proof of the matter appears in the long, enthusiastic prologue with which she introduces her tale. That monologue is often described as a confession. If it were it would be the gayest and least repentant mea culpa ever heard by a parson. Rather, it is her own version, adapted to the company and the occasion, of the disquisition that it had been the habit of literary old women to deliver to their female clientèle ever since the time of Ovid and Plautus. The audience, large and mostly men, is unusual, and it explains some of her departures from strict custom. But its core is traditional enough, an alarming and totally feminine art d'être aimée, presented as the wisdom distilled from a lifetime's experience and illustrated by the history of her own career in love. In the manner that her ancestors had gradually evolved for this lecture, the Wife speaks as a "noble prechour," developing her theses with artful sophistry and making them impressive by lavish misapplication of those texts from the Bible, the Fathers, and the classics with which antifeminists had been wont to belabor women. As an exponent of her own form of Fin Amors, Alisoun is not so professional as Jean de Meun's La Vieille, but her role as instructor is recognized by the Pardoner when he encourages her to pass on from theory "and teche us yonge men of your praktike" and admitted by herself when she suggests that wise wives would do just as she had done. La Vieille, who has a record of ultimate failure, is more of a theoretician; the Wife, with little but success to report, can offer her career as a model for imitation. That career is not one that would have been planned by others of her sect, although doubtless they would have lauded its success. Most of them had been convinced that the trade was profitable only outside matrimony. Alisoun, a great churchwoman, an enthusiastic pilgrim, and a woman of rarest resource, contrived to pursue the craft with the blessing of holy church. Her record by twenty was three rich old husbands—besides other company. As with Petronilla, the cause of the lamentations of Matheolus, the regularity of her status lends the respectability of amateurism to her amorous commerce, enabling her to face her debating opponents among the pilgrims on equal comic footing, with nothing of La Vieille's bitter solemnity. But if the planning of the career and her attitude towards it are something out of tradition, the rules by which it was guided were the tried commercial precepts of La Vieille, Dipsas, and the others. The first three husbands, all good men, even though they were besotted by the amorous itch, cannot have lasted more than eight tortured years between them. Viex homs ne peut plus sa mort aprouchier Que de prendre joeune fem a .xv. ans

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declared Deschamps, and although Alisoun at an earlier age had begun to wear her three old lovers to death, she did not pick them for the manliness that is one of her three postulates for female happiness—"unnethe myghte they the statut holde," she bawdily mocks. The ground for her short-termed commitment to them was their ability to contribute to her second requirement, economic sufficiency: they were near to the pit and they had gold in coffer. By every device in her family book, as well as by some that she may have picked up from the treatises of antifeminists, she hastened their going and made them pay ransom for what they had on their minds. And if she had made their lives a bed of thorns, how profitable the process had been for her, how pleasing the exercise of her feminine arts, is evident not only from the finery that she can still wear, but also from her delight in the recollection of her girlish ruthlessness: As help me God, I laughe whan I thynke How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke I (WB Prol. 201-202) There is cold comfort in an old man's amorousness, however, and young Alisoun, for all her shrewdness, was not immune from that law of female nature that is recognized by all her literary ancestors. She merely endured the old men's lust—"in bacon hadde I nevere délit"—and though she took her pleasure on the side, in time she succumbed to woman's compulsion to crave a man who craved not her. "We women have," she says: In this matere a queynte fantasye; Wayte what thyng we may not lightly have, Therefter wol we crie al day and crave. (WBProl. 516-518) In the days when she was "young and full of ragerye, stibourn and strong, and joly as a pye," desire and realization were never far apart, and in short time the handsome young fellow she hankered after was husband number four. Like De Meun's La Vieille and Villon's La Belle Heaulmière, who submitted to the same urge, the one for a worthless gambler, the other for a garçon rusé, the Wife found him a thorn in her flesh, a young "revelour" who despite her own attractions persisted in keeping his paramour. What she did about it is a story to which I shall turn later, but at least in this regard her history was one of following in footsteps that had been laid out by her literary mothers ever since Plautus's Scapha. At the time when she made her address to the pilgrims, she was also in one other important respect in similar case with La Vieille and Villon's old woman. Those decrepit and melancholy Frenchwomen had taken their opportunity to contrast, part fondly, part sadly, the gaiety of their youth with the wretchedness of their present old age. The Wife, too, was not unaware of the years of the

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locust, and in one superb passage, a passing cloud no bigger than an old woman's hand, she uttered her own fondly sad lament: But Lord Crist I whan that it remembreth me Upon my yowthe, and on my jolitee, It tikleth me aboute myn herte roote. Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote That I have had my world as in my tyme. But age, alias I t h a t al wole envenyme, H a t h me biraft my beautee and my pith. Lat go, farewell! the devel go therewith! The flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle; The bran, as best I can, now moste I selle. ( W B Prol. 469-474) That Alisoun was an old woman at the time of the pilgrimage is clear not only from this passage, which, splendid as it is, is part of the ancient elements in the delineation of Dipsas's descendants, but from other evidence besides. Earlier in this essay it was mentioned that contempt of the world writers usually maintained that women became old at thirty or thirty-five and that even feminists put the onset of old age at forty. It was surely with this figure in mind that Chaucer made the Wife confess to her age when she married her fifth husband: He was, I trowe, a twenty winter oold, And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth. (WB Prol. 600-601) How long she lived with him she does not say, and it may be as part of the tradition of drawing old women of her kind as femmes seules that she leaves it a shade uncertain whether he is still alive or had suffered the strenuous demise that medieval satirists postulated for a young man married to an old wife. But from the way she speaks of their marriage, it would seem that her pax femina must have endured a long time, conceivably almost as long as the twenty years that she must have been married to the fourth. Certainly, by medieval standards, she was well on in old age, and it is not impossible that like January in the Merchant's Tale, and, therefore, like her opponent the Merchant himself, she was conceived by her creator as going on sixty, nearing the brink of an Innocentian pit. For the basic pattern of her character, Alisoun of Bath had inherited the same traits as other members of her sect. Her outlook and behavior owe something to Chaucer's familiarity with contempt of the world and antifeminist writings, but her long and profitable career, her resourceful use of God's gifts and women's devices, her contrast of her gawdy youth with her present old age, her view that love is a form of warfare, the combination of advice on the art of being loved with reminiscences of her own experience

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in that art, and the bitterness that it inspires in her opponents, are all basic elements in the Dipsas tradition. Her long, rambling monologue and the debate into which it is fitted are the special inspiration of La Vieille, to whom probably she also owes her passion for a neer-do-well and the extraordinary learnedness of her discourse. But Alisoun of Bath is a more richly complex and engaging character than any other member of her ancient sect. Her prologue in its present form is the product of careful revision, something of which Chaucer himself was proud, and it shows his imagination at work under the stimulus not only of La Vieille and her forbears, but also of many other literary ideas and modes of the Middle Ages. Most of the other old women have been brought by experience of mutability to their own variety of contempt of the world. They may boast of their gaudy youth, but except for Auberee, Trotaconventos, and one or two more, they are not only shabby and decrepit, they are also a watery crew, commonly embittered against life and malicious towards mankind. Alisoun in contrast, save for one fleeting moment, exhibits nothing of this rheumy melancholy. A few of her traits might be thought to be the failings of old age: her garrulousness, her wandering conversation, her deafness. But the first two are presented as her idiosyncracies, and the deafness as the legacy of that epic fight with her fifth husband when she plucked victory out of defeat only through God's gifts of cunning and tears. Neither of her opponents, the Clerk and the Merchant, pays any regard to her confession of advanced age, and the reason is clear: in her own words, she always had a colt's tooth. Physically, she showed little sign of being in the winter of life: her face was bold and red, her hips large; she sat easily on an ambling horse; and in her battle with Jankin she had been powerful enough to fell him with one single blow. Her dress was not shabby like other old women's: thumbing its nose at the dignity favored by Christine de Pisan and Anne de Beaujeu for aged women younger than she, it is a flamboyant and provocative rig, great wimple, red stockings, hat broad as a shield. If Alisoun recalls to an aging Cockney mind the glory of that great comedienne Marie Lloyd, it is not as one of the ruins of Cromwell knocked about a bit, but as Marie in full peony bloom. The whole picture, physical sartorial, mental, emotional, is one of belligerent vitality, almost impossible to reconcile with old age. Yet that contradiction, it may be believed, was exactly what Chaucer intended. In matters of age, the Wife of Bath is sui generis, completely out of any ordinary literary or human pattern. Now and then, the modern reader of medieval literature is astonished to discover that the courtly beauties of romances or of the love poems of a Froissart or Machault are, like Shakespeare's Juliet, striplings of but fourteen or fifteen. In comparison with such precocious grande dames, Chaucer's heroines of love evince a conventional English propriety: most of them are around twenty. Alisoun of Bath is the remarkable

W I F E O F BATH AND ALL H E R

SECT

439

exception. Totally Venerian, gat-toothed, born under Mars and Taurus, stamped at birth with the seal of Saint Venus, favored by nature with "the best quoniam myght be," she set out on her amorous career even earlier than any Frenchwoman, at the age of twelve. By the time she was twenty, still "jolye as a pye," she had worn out and buried three rich old husbands. If Alisoun is an old woman at the time of the pilgrimage, moreover, she certainly fails to observe the rule of the role. No sooner had she confessed that she was at least forty when she married for the fifth time, than she declared that she was then "faire, and riche, and yong, and wel bigon." And several years, it must be supposed, after this humorous defiance of convention, when she was delivering her autobiographical lecture to the shocked ears of the Canterbury pilgrims, she threw in, possibly with a provocative eye cocked towards the Clerk of Oxford: Welcome the sixte, whan that evere he shal. For sothe, I wol nat kepe me chaast in al. When myn housebonde is fro the world ygon, Som Christen man shal wedde me anon. (WB Prol. 45-50) Some critics have taken this to be a gesture suited to the melancholy that they feel lies behind her show of gaiety. This Pagliacci-view of the Wife, solemn as it is, is less likely than the view that is afforded by a comparison with the other descendants of Dipsas. Unlike La Vieille, La Belle Heaulmiere, and the rest, the Wife of Bath never lost her head long enough to get into serious trouble. In her teens she managed three old husbands with mature expertise; and when she took a young revelour as her fourth husband she lost neither her heart nor her gold. La Vieille, La Belle Heaulmiere, and other old women as far back as Plautus's Scapha wasted both their love and their savings on neer-do-well lovers, and their legacy was poverty and resentment against the whole pack of men. Alisoun was more sensible: as soon as she knew what kind of man her uncontrolled emotion had drawn her to, she made his life purgatory; and when he died, some twenty years later, instead of pining for him like Villon's old woman, she treated him to the penny-pinching funeral he richly deserved—"It nys but wast to burye him preciously" (500). With Jankin, her fifth husband, the second bad one, her rational control over female emotion was even more marked: she lost her heart to him, but still reduced him to submission, persuaded him that it was man's role to obey, and so achieved the third condition, female sovereignty—what John Knox was to call the monstrous regiment of women—which in her own undeniable wisdom she thought essential to successful marriage and to both women's happiness and men's: God helpe me so, I was to hym as kynde As any wyf from Denmark unto Ynde, And also trewe, and so was he to me. (WB Prol. 823-825)

440

WILLIAM

MATTHEWS

From early youth to advanced age, her success was unbroken her reason in control, her powers maintained. Even in youth, when she could dance to " a harpe small And synge, ywis, as any nyghtyngale," she was blessed with the knowledge and self-control that L a Vieille and the rest commend to their female clients but lacked in themselves. A n d in old age, riding easily on her ambling horse, the years had not withered nor the custom of husbands staled her; she could still declare herself willing to welcome the sixth—and mean it, I feel. Despite some solemn critics who are convinced that Alisoun is intended as a perverted exegete—"Myn entente is nat but for to pleye,"

said Geoffrey

Chaucer in vain—Alisoun is a figure from comedy and meant to entertain. But if one were to seek any philosophical ground for her being, it might not be too far-fetched to suggest that Chaucer had in mind to portray one resolution of a dichotomy that has always haunted mankind: "si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait."

In her untender youth, the W i f e knew, and in her unrepentent

old age—given the chance—she still could.

Medieval writers will sometimes

turn their fancy to ways by which old age may be endowed with youth, and with Alisoun it seems almost as though she must have partaken of that wondrous nostrum for maintaining youth which is described in the Book of Quinte Essence or that during one of her farther pilgrimages she had visited the well in the Land of Cockaigne: The chiefest, choicest treasure In that land of peerless pleasure, W a s a well, to saine the sooth, Cleped the living well of youth. There, had numb and feeble age, Crossed you in your pilgrimage, In those wondrous waters pure L a v e d awhile you found a cure.42 Whatever the reason, at the time of her pilgrimage to Canterbury, she was the living example of an aspiration that according to Professor Curtius, was the ideal of the earlier Middle Ages, before writers began to set youth against age, the ideal of the senex puer, young and old at the same time. 43 If the W i f e differs from all the rest of her sect in the maturity of her youth and the youthfulness of her old age, she differs almost as much in her extraordinary verve.

W i t h rare exceptions, other old women in medieval literature

are slip-slop and melancholy; whatever gaiety surrounds them is the contri-

42

The Book of Quinte

Essence,

ed. F. J. Furnivall, E E T S 16 (London 1966). The Land of

Cockaigne is published in F. J. Furnivall, Early 43

English

Poems

(London 1862).

Ernest R . Curtius, " Z u r Literarasthetik des Mittelalters," Zeitschrift

Philologie

58 (1938) 147-148, 151-162.

fur

romanische

W I F E OF BATH AND ALL H E R

441

SECT

bution of the plots or the mood of the authors. But Alisoun's zest, like Auberée's and Trotaconventos's, is made her own, a self-embracing delight that converts matter that is often the basis for bitterness into a comedy that can warm the heart even of its victim, the married man. In drawing her so, Chaucer may have had in mind the mood of his pilgrimage, a holiday occasion for all its holy object, and the comic spirit of the debate into which he was directing his pilgrims. But other pilgrims, younger than she, respond to the occasion in solemn mood, and even if she is gayer than usual, it is hard to believe that Chaucer meant us to think that she was ever like the Merchant. This distinguishing gaiety may be the product of Chaucer's own unaided imagination. But its inspiration could very well have been the fabliaux that were in the forefront of his mind when he wrote The Canterbury Tales. There, if anywhere, he may have found the hint for the gusto and delight with which Alisoun tells of her devilishness toward the three good old men and her masterly use of God's gifts of lying and weeping to bring Jankin to submission. We do not know what fabliaux Chaucer read apart from those that he retold, but the Wife's pleasure in a lifetime of wickedness is the same gallic spirit that goes into the telling of the Reeve's tale and the Miller's and also the French tales44 about Auberée, that gay old maquerelle of Compiègne, Dame Anieuse who won the breeches in the wildest of Donnybrooks, and the Indian princess who subdued Aristotle, the wisest clerk in all the world, by an amused, malicious display of her god-given endowments for the destruction of reasonable men. It is not her mood alone that resembles the spirit of the better fabliaux. As compared with most of the other old women of her sect, Alisoun, from Biside-Bath, is a strikingly individualized character: a weaver by trade, wife of five husbands, born under Mars and Taurus, gat-toothed and deaf, distinguished privately by two quite remarkable birthmarks and publicly by a flamboyant taste in clothes and a rambling style in conversation. It is by no means impossible, as some scholars think, that Chaucer may have copied some of her traits from nature. It is even more likely that he got the hint for many from the fabliaux. For, however ancient or fantastic a tale the fabliau-jongleur had to tell, he preferred to tell it as something that had happened recently and just around the corner. Among his heroines are married women or old trots, Ermeline, Auberée, Anieuse, Galestrot, even Alisoun by name, living in Amiens, Soissons, Compiègne, Orléans, Paris; their occupations seamstresses, shoemakers, or weavers; their avocation and delight cuckolding husbands, young or old, satisfying their natural instinct with clerks and apprentices, and winning the mastery over their spouses by an adroit use of God's gifts of lying, cunning, and tears. Few indeed there are of the Wife's individualizing traits that cannot be matched in the fabliaux. Her marital career and even 44 Auberée, Sire Hain et Dame Anieuse, above) nos. 110, 6, 137.

Le Lai d'Aristote,

Montaiglon and R a y n a u d (n. 25

442

WILLIAM

MATTHEWS

her rambling conversation and the mixture of euphemism and bluntness that characterizes her gossip about bedtime hours with old husbands have their parallels in La Veuvet45 II avoit mult le cuer honeste, Mais ilh n'avoit point le delit Ke le preudome ont en lor lit: Car, cant mes sire astoit couchies, M'er ses cus en mon sainch fichies, La s'endormoit tote la nuit, Si n'en avoi autre deduit. (269-275) If familiarity with the fabliaux led Chaucer to these improvements upon the old woman of literary tradition, the situation in which he placed the Wife led to others no less significant. Except for the nuns and herself, the pilgrims were all men, some almost as experienced as she in amorous affairs. Alisoun was a belligerent personality and a gay one, and she seizes her Chaucer-given chance to set the men by the ears and by so doing to stir up the liveliest debate in all medieval literature. The lead for this may have been the Roman de la rose, but whereas the grand discussion of that poem and La Vieille's part in it are mostly serious, the debate that Alisoun starts is comic and she sets it going by deliberating treading on the corns of the men, two in particular. To observe the propriety of a religious occasion possibly, but also to facilitate this debate, Chaucer made his major departure from the Dipsas tradition, drawing Alisoun as a married woman. For the irritation of the Merchant, that unfortunate old man who had recently married a young wife and was to be third man in the debate, Chaucer provided Alisoun with no less than three old husbands and made her relate how she had made their last days a hell on earth. And to provoke the Clerk of Oxford, second man in the debate, he added one further husband to the pattern of love suggested by La Vieille, a second bad man, husband number five. The first bad man belongs to the tradition of the old woman's autobiography; but Jankin was created solely for the purposes of the debate and in a spirit of raillery. Like Alisoun's pilgrimage opponent, Jankin was a Clerk of Oxenforde, a university man, an antifeminist by training if not by inclination. That Alisoun describes how she deduced from his fine legs the sexual athlete hidden under his Oxford clericals is neither surprising nor irrelevant, for in her account of her dealings with him she is not only showing how masculine reason should reasonably submit to feminine unreason, not only absorbing antifeminism into belligerent feminism, she may also be scandalously hinting that the Clerk of Oxford, mild as he seems and meek as a maid, is conceivably little better than one of the wicked. Like old Jack Falstaff later, old Alisoun 46

Montaiglon and Raynaud (n. 25 above) no. 49.

W I F E O F BATH AND ALL H E R

SECT

443

of Bath was not only witty in herself, she was also the cause of that wit that is in other men. Other members of her sect have their own forms of comedy, but she alone, almost the only one to dare the confines of matrimony, could have stung the Merchant and the Clerk into tales little less amusing than her own. The literary tradition of the randy old woman is one that few comic writers can resist: in later centuries it was to produce such outstanding characters as La Celestina, Regnard's Macette, and Juliet's nurse. Although most of the medieval examples too closely reproduce the ancient classical pattern to be much more than mildly entertaining, whenever a talented writer warmed enough to the old woman to view her afresh, she took on the brilliance of a phoenix reborn. Trotaconventos, La Vieille, Auberée, La Belle Heaulmiere, traditional as they are, have the lively individuality of original creation. Chaucer's Wife of Bath, the one who was made to stray farthest from the inherited habits of her sect, is the most individual, the most amusing of them all. Department of English University of California Los Angeles, California 90024, U.S.A.

A FOURTEENTH-CENTURY PROPOSAL FOR EQUAL TEMPERAMENT

by Oliver B. Ellsworth

Scholarly opinion has long adhered to the belief that serious alternatives to Pythagorean tuning were first considered by theorists shortly before the sixteenth century. In his exhaustive study on the subject, J. Murray Barbour ascribes to the just intonation of Ramis de Pareja (1482)1 the distinction of being the earliest surviving proposal of a serious nature for replacing the Pythagorean system; according to Barbour, the earliest surviving description of temperament—adjustment of tuning to eliminate discrepancies, or commas—belonged to Gafurius (1496).2 He does admit, however, that such proposals most likely were made previously, but as far as he could determine none of them had been preserved.3 Recent investigations have now yielded a previously unknown fourteenth-century proposal for what appears to be a highly practical system, based upon equal temperament. This proposal appears as one of five treatises on music theory, found in an anonymous fourteenth-century manuscript, dated in Paris, 12 January 1375. Located formerly in the Phillipps collection in England, this manuscript is now in the music library of the University of California at Berkeley. One of the most striking aspects of the manuscript is its clear conception as a homogeneous entity, rather than as an anthology of unrelated works, which would be more characteristic of manuscripts from this period.4 Below is a summary of the contents for each treatise in the manuscript. Treatise 1: chant—gamut, solmisation, hexachord theory (properties, mutation, coniuncta), modes, intervals. This article was delivered as a paper in similar form at the Medieval Institute, Western Michigan University, on May 2, 1972. 1 James Murray Barbour, Tuning and Temperament; a Historical Suroey (East Lansing 1951) 89. 2 3 Ibid. 25. Ibid. 4. 4 For further discussion of this manuscript, see Richard L. Crocker, "A New Source for Medieval Music Theory," Acta musicologica 39 (1967) 161-171, and my Ph. D. dissertation, "The Berkeley Manuscript (olim Phillipps 4450): a Compendium of Fourteenth-Century Music Theory," University of California 1969.

446

OLIVER B. ELLSWORTH

Treatise 2: discant arid counterpoint—consonances and their progressions, diminutions of the discant, discant notation. Treatise 3: mensural notation (a revision of the Libellus cantus mensurabilis, ascribed to Johannes de Mûris)—note shapes, mensurations, imperfection, alteration, dots, mensuration signs, coloration, rhythmic modes, ligatures, syncopation, rests, dimunution, color and talea. Treatise 4: speculative theory—proportions, origin of the Greek scale and instruments, monochord and origin of the medieval modes, divisions of the gamut, Greek genera. Treatise 5: temperament—a proposal for equal temperament, based on a 19-fold division of the octave. The first three treatises represent a compendium of musica practica, dealing respectively with chant theory, discant and counterpoint, and mensural notation. Apparently the author originally intended to end the manuscript at this point, and it is here that we find the colophon that provides the date of the manuscript. The remaining two treatises, both speculative in nature, would seem to be slightly later additions, apparently by the same scribe. The author also claims to be the same as before, and there does not seem to be any reason to doubt his word on that point. But whereas the author was obviously in command of his material in the first three treatises, here, in the last two, it is clear that he did not fully comprehend the significance of his material, and the scribe may very well have shared in his ignorance. The single topic of the fifth treatise5 is a proposal for a new tuning system —or, more accurately, a temperament system—based upon an equal division of the tone, a division that is perhaps reminiscent of the proposal of Marchettus of Padua in his Lucidarium for dividing the tone into five equal parts. 6 Marchettus used this division of the tone as a means for constructing three different semitones, named after the three Greek tetrachord genera: diatonic, chromatic, enharmonic. Towards the end of the preceding fourth treatise, the author of the Berkeley manuscript briefly mentions these three genera, which govern all "regular or irregular" semitones. He declines to comment further upon these genera, presumably because the reader could read about them in Boethius or a certain "Jacobus," whom I take to be Jacques de Liège, but it is also possible that he had reached the limits of his knowledge. Although the 5 An English translation of this short treatise appears in the appendix. The Latin t e x t of the entire manuscript is currently in preparation for publication in Corpus scriptorum de musica. 6 Martin Gerbert, Freiherr von Hornau, Scriptores mum (S. Blasius 1784) 3.72-75.

ecclesiastici

de musica sacra potissi-

FOURTEENTH-CENTURY

PROPOSAL

FOR

EQUAL

TEMPERAMENT

447

fifth treatise does not contain the names of the genera, it is entirely possible that the author may have intended it to supplement this passage in the earlier treatise, and its cursory nature is certainly in keeping with the possibility of a footnote or excursus. The system proposed by the author of the Berkeley manuscript differs from that of Marchettus in that it requires only a threefold division of the tone. These two systems are representative of a large variety of different proposals, mostly from the sixteenth or later centuries, designed to temper the scale by making the semitone a rational, aliquot part of the tone. Although the author of the Berkeley manuscript does not discuss intervals larger than the tone in this treatise, the end result of any system of this type is the division of the octave into a certain number of equal parts. Since the octave comprises five tones and two semitones—not six tones, unless the semitone is precisely half a tone—the number of parts in an octave will be the sum of five times the number of parts in a tone plus twice the number of parts in a diatonic (mi-fa) semitone In the case of a division of the tone into three parts, the octave will contain a total of either seventeen or nineteen parts, depending on whether the diatonic semitone contains one or two parts of the tone. The system proposed in this treatise assigns two parts of the tone to the diatonic semitone (here called a semitonus, in contrast to the smaller chromatic semitonium of one part); the octave then contains nineteen parts. This total division is the natural consequence of the notions set forth in the first three sentences of the treatise.7 J. Murray Barbour discusses various proposals for temperament based upon an equal division of the octave,8 including both the 17-division and the 19-division. According to Barbour, the 17-division, in which the diatonic semitone is the smaller of the two, is the "well-known Arabian scale of third tones." Although it seems to work satisfactorily in melody, owing to the exaggerated difference between tone and semitone (212 cents and 71 cents, a 3:1 ratio), Barbour finds it unsatisfactory for harmony because of the "outsize thirds."9 (The major third would be 424 cents, the minor 283). The 19-division, in contrast, provides satisfactory thirds and sixths, already regarded as consonant by the fourteenth century, and nearly perfect fourths and fifths, as table 1 below demonstrates. Barbour ascribes the invention of this system to Francisco Salinas (De musica, 1577), whose claim as inventor 7 The opening sentence of the treatise requires emendation. The statement that the three parts of the tone are a semitonus and two semitonia is obviously inconsistent with the following two sentences, which define the semitonus as the mi-fa semitone, equal to two parts of the tone, and the semitonium as the third part of the tone. The remainder of the treatise supports this emendation. The opening sentence then should read "a semitonus of two parts and a semitonium of one," not "a semitonus and two semitonia." The terms "semitonus" and "semitonium" are two different inflections—one masculine, the other neuter—usually employed interchangeably by most authors of the period. 8 9 Barbour (n. 1 above) 113-128. Ibid. 114.

448

OLIVER B. ELLSWORTH

"has never been disputed."10 We must now, of course, dispute this claim. Outside of a brief reference to Marchettus,11 whose five-fold division of the tone, incidentally, would produce a 31-division of the octave, Barbour does not recognize any surviving tuning proposals between Ptomely and Ramis de Pareja. Table 1 depicts the sizes of the intervals produced by the 19-division. For the sake of comparison, I have included the value in cents for each interval in the Pythagorean system, as well as for the equal temperament approximated by modern use, together with the amount of deviation evidenced by the 19division when compared with the other two systems. The chromatic semitone appears in parentheses, since it is not normally found within the unaltered scale. It is important to note that the deviation of the 19-division from the Pythagorean system is greater than its deviation from modern equal temperament. Minor and major thirds and sixths are comparatively neutral when compared with modern equal temperament, and yet they would sound even more neutral to an ear accustomed to Pythagorean tuning, which tends to exaggerate the difference between major and minor intervals. Also significant are the comparatively slight deviation of perfect fourth and fifth, the perfect consonances, and the gradual increase in deviation concurrent with increase in the level of dissonance, so that the deviation from the expected norm is greatest for those intervals that are least acceptable under any circumstance —minor second, major seventh, augmented fourth or tritone, and diminished fifth. Hence the harmonic practicability assigned to this system by J. Murray Barbour. It is also interesting to note that the adoption of the larger interval for the diatonic semitone in the 19-division, in contrast to the "minor semitone" of 90 cents in the Pythagorean system, causes several intervals to exchange place when ranked by size. The tritone (augmented fourth) is now smaller than the diminished fifth (two tones plus two diatonic semitones), 568 cents to 632, whereas in the Pythagorean system the tritone is the larger interval, 612 cents to 588. Furthermore, the sum of six tones, which slightly exceeds the octave (five tones plus two diatonic semitones) in the Pythagorean system, will now fall short of an octave by one part (1/19) of that octave, or 63 cents. This fact should be immediately apparent when one considers that six tones of three parts each add up to eighteen, one part short of the octave.12

10 12

11 Ibid. 115. Ibid. 120. For the sake of simplicity I h a v e rounded off all values in table 1 to the nearest cent.

The nineteenth part of an octave (1200 cents divided by 19) is equal roughly t o 63.15 cents. Some apparent discrepancies of one cent within this table result from rounding off the numbers. For example, the difference between augmented fourth and diminished fifth should also be one part in nineteen, or 63 cents—not t h e 64 found in the table.

FOURTEENTH-CENTURY PROPOSAL FOR EQUAL TEMPERAMENT

449

TABLE 1 THE 19-DIVISION OCTAVE

Interval

(chrom. m2) diat. m2 M2 m3 M3 P4 A4 D5 P5 m6 M6 m7 M7

Berkeley

(63) 126 189 316 379 505 568 632 695 821 884 1010 1074

Value

Pythagorean Deviation

(114) 90 204 294 408 498 612 588 702 792 906 996 1110

(-

+ -

+ -

+ -

+ -

+ -

+ -

51) 36 15 20 29 7 44 44 7 29 22 14 36

Equal

Temperament

Value

Deviation

(100) 100 200 300 400 500 600 600 700 800 900 1000 1100

(+ -

37) 26 11

+ -

16 21

+ + -

5 32 32 5

+ -

21 16

+ -

10 26

The proposal for a 19-fold equal division of the octave, although buried below the surface in the opening three sentences, is the primary contribution of this treatise. The balance of the treatise concerns intervallic relationships within the tone and, in particular, the use of accidentals to produce the two sizes of semitone. Owing presumably to the comparative lack of experience on the part of the author in this field, there are numerous small errors in the balance of this material; in most cases these can be handled with comparative ease. More exasperating, however, are the frequent omissions, often of logical steps in reasoning which we certainly need today, even though they may have been axiomatic in the mind of the author. The accidentals employed are somewhat ornamental forms of the flat and the modern natural. As expected, the flat lowers the pitch by a chromatic semitone—one-third of a tone. From the third sentence of the text, however, it is clear that the natural raises the pitch by a diatonic semitone—two-thirds of a tone: " I f a natural is placed between fa and sol, there will be a semitonium from fa to sol." The interval fa-sol, formerly a tone, is now reduced to a semitonium, or one-third of a tone. Obviously the lower pitch has been raised by two-thirds of a tone. The examples employ the sharp as well, but it is clear from the rules they illustrate that, for the most part, the scribe is using them in lieu of the natural. 13 13

The sharp in the final example would seem to be superfluous, as also the note to which

it is attached, since it does not appear in the t e x t directly above.

450

OLIVER B. ELLSWORTH

To clarify the application of these accidentals, the author provides four examples of their use: 1. If a major third (such as B-G) has a flat on the upper note (Bb) and a natural on the lower note (G^), the resulting interval is equal to a tone. 2. If a tone (such as A-G) has a flat on the upper note (Ab), the interval becomes a semitonus (diatonic semitone, or mi-fa). 3. If this same interval also has a natural on the lower note (G^), it now is equal to the unison. 4. If a note has been raised by the natural, a following flat will cancel that natural. The first and third examples demonstrate the enharmonic equivalences produced by this tempered system: a diminished third, for example, is equal to a major second, and a diminished second is equal to a unison. The fourth situation provides an apparent exception to the rule that a flat lowers the pitch by one-third of a tone; since the flat cancels the natural here, it must lower the pitch by two-thirds of a tone, the amount raised by the natural. This alternate meaning for the flat is quite clear in context: "And so it is clear that if a natural is placed on G, and later there is a flat in the same space, this will make fa-mi." In other words, the distance between G-natural and an ensuing G-flat is fa-mi, the diatonic semitone of two-thirds of a tone. Further below: "When a flat appears it is a sign to return to the normal pitch, and then you must descend two semitonia—a semitonus—fa to mi." Although the author does not mention the sharp as such, it is obvious that a separate sign—and it might as well be the sharp in a field devoid of other candidates—is needed to raise the pitch by only one-third of a tone. Let us assume a situation in which a diatonic, mi-fa semitonus (such as E-F) is to be altered to the interval of a tone. Here we cannot use the natural, since this would expand an interval already equal to two-thirds of a tone by another two-thirds of a tone, producing the unwieldy interval of 1-1/3 tones. Clearly the sharp, or something, must also exist with a meaning exactly opposite to that of the flat, and, since that is the normal meaning of a sharp, I believe we can safely postulate its existence.14 14 This possible interpretation for the sharp may explain the use of that sign in the first musical example before the third ligature. The text above describes chromatic alteration at the cadence to reduce the final interval to a semitonium. The first, second, and fourth ligatures all represent intervals of a tone which have been reduced two-thirds of a tone by the natural on the lower note. The third ligature, however, represents the interval E-F, already only two-thirds of a tone. To produce the required interval reduction of one-third

F O U R T E E N T H - C E N T U R Y PROPOSAL FOR E Q U A L

451

TEMPERAMENT

If we now admit the sharp with the meaning I have assigned it, we arrive at the following division of the tone:

GÏ

Ab|

1/3

Gjf "

2/3

1/3 G The sharp and flat each alter the pitch by the chromatic semitonium. The natural, in contrast, is used primarily to produce an enharmonic equivalence with a flat on the upper neighboring note. There is no similar provision, however, for lowering the pitch of the upper note by two-thirds of a tone to produce an enharmonic equivalence with the lower sharp, although the flat may lower the pitch by just that amount in order to cancel the natural. (We may certainly find it odd and a little disconcerting today to be confronted by a system that employs the natural to indicate not the unaltered pitch but rather some sort of strange double-sharp.) Let us return now to the 19-fold division of the octave to consider some of the practical advantages as well as the disadvantages of this proposal. The principal asset of this system is its simplicity, a quality that this treatise shares with other proposals for equal division of the octave. A simple division of the monochord into nineteen equal parts would provide all the pitches necessary for any key: B^

C^ Db

C# D# C D 0 1 2 3 4

D1) Eb E 5 6

E^ Fb E#

F^ Gb

G1! Ab

B^ Bb

cb B#

F# Gfl Ajf F G A B 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

This ability to play in all keys is of particular interest when related to the doctrine of the coniuncta, or nearly unlimited hexachord transposition, found earlier in the same manuscript, which provides the logical foundation for the necessary accidentals. Both semitones now become aliquot, logically rational (even if mathematically irrational) parts of the tone and of the octave, rather than superfluous residue left over first from the projection of two tones into

of a tone, the scribe has employed the sharp. Furthermore, contemporary readers surely would have found little difficulty with the employment of both sharp and natural to indicate a raised pitch, since the latter sign is a derivant of the b-quadratum ("square b"). What is new here, of course, is the use of these signs to reflect different degrees of pitch alteration.

452

OLIVER B. ELLSWORTH

the fourth and the further projection of the resulting minor semitone into the tone, which is the Pythagorean solution. Despite the emphasis the author has placed upon the enharmonic relationships within the system, two separate chromatic steps are found between each whole step in the system. Had this proposal been fully developed and accepted by the music community at large, keyboard instruments would have required split keys (double black keys)—as is frequently the case with meantone temperament—and a single black key, where there is none, to produce the strange enharmonic equivalents, clearly demonstrated by the diagram above, of E#-Fb and B#-Ct>.15 As in all temperaments, no interval within the octave would be exactly "in tune," when referred to the natural laws of acoustical physics. And finally the comparative lack of distinction between major and minor intervals is particularly aggravating, especially in contrast to the slightly exaggerated intervals of the Pythagorean system. In any event, it is clear that by 1375, if not sooner, theorists were searching for more practicable alternatives to Pythagorean tuning, probably prompted to a large part by the expanding concepts of consonance and the increasing prevalence of chromatic alteration, either prescribed or implied. Common sense would indicate that the proposal outlined above was not by any means an isolated instance of a purely experimental nature, and there is considerable likelihood that further proposals of a similar nature will reveal themselves as other previously uninvestigated sources come to our attention.

APPENDIX

Berkeley MS text pages 60-61 The tone is divided into three parts—a semitonus and two semitonia. 1 The semitonus is found always between mi and fa and between fa and mi, and it contains two parts of the tone. The semitonium contains the third part of the tone and may be found between fa and sol, or anywhere else, because, if a \\ is placed between fa and sol, there will be a semitonium from fa to sol; I say this is also true from sol to la, from ut to re, and from re to mi. But it may not be used in plain chant, although a t] is always understood at the end of any ascent between the next to the last and the final note on the lower one, as in example 1: h i »

15 Examples of such instruments apparently were made. See the illustration in Gioseffo Zarlino, Istitutioni harmoniche (Venice 1573) 164. According to the text, this is an illustration of an actual instrument, built b y Dominico Pesarese. 1 Cf. n. 7 above.

FOURTEENTH-CENTURY PROPOSAL FOR EQUAL TEMPERAMENT

453

In this respect, if a b is placed on B-fa-B-mi and a t¡ on A-la-mi-re [read: G-sol-re-ut], B-fa-B-mi to G-sol-re-ut will be sol fa or fa sol (a perfect tone), as in example 2: a

1 •* i 1 ^

11

since, by reason of the fa there are two parts of the tone (the semitonus, which is worth two semitonia) from B-fa-B-mi to A-la-mi-re, and from G-sol-re-ut (by reason of the accidental l^) to A-la-mi, there is a semitonium; in this way two semitonia with another semitonium will make a tone. These notes show, then, t h a t from B-fa-B-mi to G-sol-re-ut is a tone, and also from G-sol-re-ut to B-fa-B-mi, as in example 3:

± Also, if a b is placed on A-la-mi-re, t h a t will be a fa, and G-sol-re-ut will be a mi, and this will make a semitonus, as in example 4: 3Œ

£

And, as I said, if a t¡ is placed on G-sol-re-ut, it will make a semitonium with A-la-mi-re, and if a b is placed on A-la-mi-re, G-sol-re-ut and A-la-mi-re will produce one pitch, as in example 5: s-i—PL as i

1 — ^

—JÊ—

since by reason of the (? there is a semitonus from A-la-mi-re to G-sol-re-ut, and there is a semitonium by reason of the b¡ from G-sol-re-ut up to A-la-mire; relating them together, then, they fall on the same pitch. And so it is clear t h a t if a ^ is placed on G-sol-re-ut, and later there is a [j in the same place, this will make fa mi, as in example 6:

yb

•

• fl *

since, as I already said, by reason of the t\ there is a semitonium from G-sol-reut to A-la-mi-re, so t h a t they are raised two semitonia until they make a semitonus (a concord from fa to mi). Also, when a |> appears it is a sign to return to the normal pitch, and then you must descend two semitonia (which make a semitonus—from fa to mi). College of Music University of Colorado Boulder, Colorado 80302, U.S.A.

MEASURES AGAINST WATER POLLUTION IN FIFTEENTH-CENTURY FLORENCE

by Richard C. Trexler

And let this be the law: if anyone intentionally pollutes the water of another, whether the water of a spring, or collected in the reservoirs, either by poisonous substances, or by digging or by theft, let the injured party bring the cause before the warden of the city. PLATO

In the fifteenth century, the government of Florence passed a series of laws forbidding the pollution of fresh water streams by fishermen. These laws were influenced by both ecologic and conservational sensibilities. It is the purpose of this paper to describe the historical context of these laws, and analyze their content. The study of man's ecologic attitudes, his perceived interrelation with nature, is in its infancy. Beliefs have been examined, but few scholars have sought to deduce from human practice the sense of a community between man and the natural world. 1 The signs are everywhere in the continued medieval practice of dropping menstrual flow upon the soil, in the carefully timed spreading of animal and human manure, in the ritual practices aimed at giving rebirth to the soil. But peasant "filth" was scorned by courtiers and city-dwellers, and it was they who wrote the books. The historian of ecology

1 O. Barfield, Saving the Appearances: A Study in Idolatry (New York 1965); C. J. Glacken, Traces on the Rhodian Shore (Berkeley 1967); K. Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic (London 1971); G. Van Der Leeuw, Religion in Essence and Manifestation (New York 1963) esp. pt. 3, "Object and Subject in Their Reciprocal Operation"; L. White, jr., "The Historical Roots of our Ecologic Crisis," Science 10 March 1967, reprinted without footnotes in the author's Machina ex Deo (Cambridge, Mass. 1968) 75-94. I would like to thank Professor White for his help and encouragement, Signora Maria Andreucci Lenzi for her paleographic assistance, and Miss Lorelei Halley for research assistance. The text of Plato may be found in Laws, 845 (Jowett translation).

456

RICHARD C. T R E X L E R

can best start his work, therefore, by searching out ecologic sensibilities among the people of the city. Urban communities built their walls to keep out the country and pursued the goal of a self-contained cosmos. But they were powerless against certain universal qualities like sky and wind. Animals and humans that were putrid by nature, like pigs and prostitutes, could be harnessed and controlled. But the wind knew no walls, and it is in urban attitudes toward air that one finds the clearest evidence of men's sense of an interrelationship with nature. The corruption of the air was thought to be the immediate cause of illness and infection. Being a simple element, air was pure per se, and only became corrupted when mixed with other parts of nature. The position of the stars could corrupt the air, or it might be polluted from below.2 In this view, excremental and body odors from living and dead animals and men polluted the air, which then worked its evil upon humankind. Much of the detailed sanitary legislation of medieval Europe, which increased to a flood after the Black Death, derived from this belief that corrupted animal matter infected the air. 3 The medieval theory of interaction between the surface of the earth and the atmosphere was infinitely more complex than I have indicated. In one tract the hypothesis was advanced that matter discarded into rivers fouled the waters upon decomposing. In turn, the polluted water gave off vapors that corrupted the air. 4 Borne then by the autumn winds, the corrupted summer air spread the plague during August and the fall. 5 Air remained the catalyst in explaining the causes of diseases that were thought to come from the soil. The Parisian masters thought that earthquakes, so closely tied in the contemporary imagination with the approach of disease, were caused by the pressure of decaying matter building up under the earth. 6 The exploding stench of dead men rose skyward, and the sky sent back new death. Finally, air explained how miners contracted their diseases. In the sixteenth century Paracelsus argued that there was a "fog" in a mine just as there was between heaven and earth. The poison contained within certain minerals contaminated the fog, and it in turn infected the miner.7

2

L . Thorndike, A History

K i n g , The Growth of Medical

of Magic

and Experimental

Thought (Chicago 1963) 123.

Science 3 (1966) 244f, 303; L . S. D. R i e s m a n , Story

of

Medicine

in the Middle Ages (New York 1936) 263. 3 Thorndike (n. 2 above) 245; Thorndike, "Sanitation, B a t h s , and Street-Cleaning in the Middle Ages and R e n a i s s a n c e , " Speculum 3 (1928) 192-203; E . Sabine, "Butchering in Medieval L o n d o n , " Speculum Speculum 12 (1937) 19-43.

8 (1933) 335-353; Sabine, "City Cleaning in Medieval L o n d o n , "

4 Sabine, " B u t c h e r i n g , " (n. 3 above) 344; T. F . Glick, Irrigation Valencia (Cambridge, Mass. 1970) 25, 103. 5 Thorndike (n. 2 above) 245. 6

R i e s m a n (n. 2 above) 263.

7

and Society

K i n g (n. 2 above) 133.

in

Medieval

457

MEASURES AGAINST WATER POLLUTION

The theory of diseases and practices to control them were not always complimentary. Legislators working against the plague seem to have felt that once the body of a dead man was buried or covered with stone, it was relatively harmless. Readers of Huizinga's description of the Innocents cemetery in Paris, where tens of thousands of human bones cohabited with visitors to this favorite meeting place, know that the pedagogic importance of communing with the dead was felt more keenly in normal times than the threat of infection. 8 Still, medieval man did possess a scientific theory of material mutuality between various elements in nature, and based many of his sanitary regulations upon it. In the midst of plague, medieval legislators unfailingly rated airclearance as the key to pest control. The intellectualization and personification of the elements in this chain were, it is true, never far below the surface. Corrupt-ness and poison-ness impregnated materials, which in turn affected men drawn by nature to certain diseases.9 Such intellectuality links sanitary legislation to religion, antilittering regulations to the religious processions of the plague season. A century and a half after the Black Death, pious men like the Florentine historian Cambi still viewed communal decrees forbidding processions during a plague as disastrous. If the citizens did not gather together to honor their saintly civic sponsors, he warned, the saints would not protect them.10 Research into the ecologic thought and intents of practical men in the Middle Ages might start with these sanitary laws, especially those that accompanied the plagues of the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries.11 For example, monographs examining the conflicting desires to propitiate deities in procession and remain uninfected during plagues would illuminate medieval concepts of relationships in nature. Hunting and grazing legislation, and the agronomic literature, offer other areas where a perceived chain of interdependencies may have informed action.12 Finally, the cosmological literature of the age would 8

Huizinga, The Waning of the Middle Ages (Garden City 1956) 148f. The fronts of medieval churches commonly had excavated areas in front, which were covered w i t h paving blocks. Bodies were simply dumped into these holes. The frescoes in the Confraternity of the Buonomini in Florence contain a picture of such a burial. 9

Thorndike (n. 2 above) 244f; King (n. 2 above) 123.

10

Giovanni Cambi, Istorie fiorentine, in Delizie degli eruditi toscani (Florence, 17851786) 22.219-223, 236ff.; 23.12f. Ethnocentric elements of this t y p e were anchored in the civic consciousness; see m y "Ritual Behavior in Renaissance Florence: The Setting," Medievalia et humanistica n.s. 4 (1973). 11 Besides the already-mentioned articles by is with the literature appearing in conjunction Black Death. For bibliography, see G. Deaux, P. Ziegler, The Black Death (New York 1969); Plague in the British Isles (Cambridge 1970). 12

C. Petit-Dutaillis, The Forest: Studies

Sabine and Thorndike, a good place t o start with the sixth hundredth anniversary of the The Black Death of 1347 ( N e w York 1969); J. F. D. Shrewsbury, A History of Bubonic

and Notes Supplementary

to Stubbs

Constitutional

458

RICHARD C. TREXLER

yield much of value.13 Much religious literature examines the power relationships of man to his environment, from the astrologers to the magicians,14 through the image and emblem literature15 to the vitae of saints who talked with animals. The conservational impulses of man are more unilinear and parochial than his ecologic ruminations. By now there can be no doubt that the Middle Ages did concern itself with conservation problems to an impressive extent. Still, the literature on the problem is dispersed, contained mostly in writings dealing with other matters. Sources abound, awaiting the researcher. Perhaps the most explored of medieval conservation categories has been the history of the forest, for scholars have been interested in regal hunting rights,18 in Cistercian granges,17 in the medieval city's attempts to insure a wood supply,18 and finally, in the rights of mineral interests to deforest for power and heat.19 So far as can be determined by a mere glance at the literature, motivations were proprietary and thoroughly utilitarian: the king limited tree farming to protect his rights,20 the city did the same in areas contiguous to its walls to assure a wood supply,21 and the Cistercians forbade the cutting of recent shoots.22 Long-term planning is implicit in all this legislation, for trees were growing things that had to be nurtured like animals and men. For all that, concern with the erosive effects of incautious deforesting does not seem to have been

History,

Publications of the University ol Manchester, Historical Studies 23 (1923); H .

Rubner, Untersuchungen

zur

Forstverfassung

des mittelalterlichen

Frankreichs

Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte (Wiesbaden agronomic source is Walter of Henley, Husbandry 13

1965).

Beiheft 49, A

standard

ed. E. Lamond (London 1890).

A fruitful avenue would be an examination of the theological category of

aequitas

see W . Kölmel, "Wilhelm Ockham-Der Mensch zwischen Ordnung und Freiheit,"

naturalis; in Beiträge

zum

Berufsbewusstsein

des

Mittelalterlichen

Menschen,

ed. P. Wilpert (Berlin

1964) 211-214; for humanist cosmology, see C. Trinkaus, In Our Image

and Likeness,

2 vols.

(Chicago 1970). 14

Repeated mention is due the rich work of Thomas (n. 1 above).

15

For a detailed examination of the attitude toward images, see my "Florentine Religious

Experience: The Sacred Image," Studies 18

See the references n. 14 above.

17

D. H. Williams, The Welsh

1970); C. Piatt, The Monastic

in the Renaissance

Cistercians:

Aspects

Grange in Medieval

R . Sprandel, Das Eisengewerbe

19

Ibid.

21

See the Bergamo laws of 1230-1240 cited ibid.

325ff.

20

im Mittelalter Ibid.

of Their

England:

18

19 (1972) 7-41. Economic

History

A Reassessment

(Pontypool

(New York 1969).

(Stuttgart 1968) 72, 325.

326. 325.

In 1420, Venice required each

peasant to plant twenty trees a year, and Siena forbade buying up forests to drive prices up; A. Dören, Italienische

Wirtschaftsgeschichte

(Jena 1934) 235f., 532.

Volterra forbade

glass factories to be opened because of the drain on the wood supply; E. Fiumi, San mignano 22

(Florence 1961) 103f.

Sprandel (n. 18 above) 326f.

Gi-

MEASURES AGAINST WATER

POLLUTION

459

widespread.23 An aesthetic appreciation of trees was even less common, a rare subject of song and story.24 Did medieval people feel like the modern technocrat that when one had seen one oak, he had seen them all ? Did foresters feel then that they grew trees, or cut them ? Did the sacred oak survive the deforestations of the eleventh and twelfth centuries ? Holy Water, after all, did. We do not know why wine and beer were drunk then as water is now. Nor do we know why the Chinese insisted on boiled water and tea. Certainly a part of the explanation was the fouled condition of water around villages, towns, and cities, as well as less tangible reasons like custom and taste. But these cannot be the whole reason. Mountain people do not seem to have been water fanciers any more than their urban cousins. Besides, wine was probably diluted with water then in much the same way as it is in contemporary Europe. Research on attitudes toward water drinking might profitably start with the rubrics "wine," "beer," and "well-poisoning," the latter a subject taken up by medieval agronomists, courtiers, necromancers, and Jew-baiters.25 In the available literature the best place to launch an examination of water usage is in works on mills and canals. Medieval towns provided for the necessary waterfall to drive the water mills, and were thus concerned with the depth of the channel, and the purity of water rushing over water-driven textile machines. They had to deal with the problem of flooding from water backed up for mill purposes.28 In areas where irrigation was used, the main concern was for a stable and smooth flow, unhindered by deposits of refuse.27 Water regulations in Venice and in the Low Countries come to mind as sources that might be rich in materials for a history of water conservation.28 23 Sprandel, for instance, mentions nothing about concern over the erosion caused b y iron works. In his De re metallica of 1556, Agricola does not list erosion as an objection to mining; G. Agricola, De re metallica trans. H. and L. Hoover (London 1912) 6ff. In 1547, however, an Arno flood was t h o u g h t t o have been caused b y erosion from an area deforested for an ironworks; B. Segni, Istorie florentine (Florence 1857) 12.470f.; D u b y believes t h a t from the end of t h e t w e l f t h century, people began t o consider forested areas "a precious value which merited special protection," a "profound modification of previous attitudes"; L'économie rurale et la vie des campagnes dans l'Occident médiéval (Paris 1962) 245. 24

E. Curtius describes the evolution of the forest from a place of battle and seignorial justice t o the selva selvaggia ed aspra e forte of Dante; European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages ( N e w York 1963) 200f. 25 E. R . Robert, Zur Geschichte des Bieres (Halle 1896); E. S. H y a m s , Dionysus: A Social History of the Wine Vine ( N e w York 1965); examples of denunciations for well-poisoning are in J. R . Marcus, The Jew in the Medieval World (New York 1965) 43ff., 174. 26

Glick (n. 4 above) 87; J. Reynolds, Windmills and Watermills ( N e w York 1970); L. White, jr., Medieval Technology and Social Change (Oxford 1962) 193, "Water-Power." 27 28

Glick 86.

Some materials are available in I. Michela, Memorie sull' origine e sullo sviluppo delprogetto di condurre acqua potabile dal continente aVenezia (Turin 1842); S. J. Fockema Andreae, "Embanking and Drainage Authorities in the Netherlands during the Middle Ages, "Speculum 27 (1952) 158-167. For Pisa, see R . Fiaschi, Le magistrature pisane delle acque (Pisa 1939).

460

RICHARD C.

TREXLER

It was mentioned earlier that contemporaries were aware of the putrifying effects of refuse upon water, and had tied it to the problem of diseases. While some town councils found it sufficient to get refuse off the streets and into the rivers, others insisted it be done at ebb-tide so as to hasten its movement away from the area. 29 Some towns actually forbade any waste-disposal into the city stream because of the infective potential when the debris became a substantial part of the liquid volume. 30 Regulations of this type were commonly limited to immediately inhabited areas. Perhaps there was no sufficient concept of long-term, long-distance water pollution. The present paper can shed particular light on the late medieval view of the effect of polluted water upon fish, and this is especially valuable because the literature on fish conservation has such a limited historical component. 31 How widespread was concern for contaminated fish? I would suggest three approaches to the question. First, an examination of milling legislation touching the condition of water after it went through the mill might provide some information. Second, working backwards from the fish market to the river seems reasonable, because fish were one of those quickly putrifying substances against which urban legislation was directed. Florence's earliest extant statutal redaction (1322) addressed itself to the problem of fish decay. 32 Such legislation must abound in Catholic Europe, where a ready supply of fish was of particular importance during Lent and Advent. Finally, laws on the fishing seasons should be examined. Like the forests, so with the fish: Florence can have been no exception in its attempts to prevent the killing of fish during the spawning season.33 How sophisticated was fishing regulation? Contemporaries realized that fish swam over great distances. Would the creatures not transport the waterway pollution they had imbibed? After a long history of half-measures, Florentine laws of the quattrocento finally faced this larger problem. The earliest statutes of Florence contain a good deal of legislation on the use of water. It is primarily concerned with freedom of the waterways, and secSabine, "Butchering," (n. 3 above) 349. Sabine, "City Cleaning," (n. 3 above) 32-39; Glick (n. 4 above) 25, 103. Within the parochial area of concern, some architectural historians have found that "even in the twelfth century there was real feeling for a logical, successive use of the water supply"; G. Goldin, "A Walk through a Ward of the Eighteenth Century," Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 22 (1967) 131, brought kindly to my attention by Bernice Trexler. 29

30

3 1 Fiaschi (n. 28 above); two recent books on the subject, both dealing with modern conditions, are J . R. E. Jones, Fish and River Pollution (London 1964); A. von Brandt, Fish-Catching Methods of the World (London 1964); analogous to the subject of the present paper is J . F. Stokes, "Fish Poisoning in the Hawaiian Islands," Occasional Papers of the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum of Polynesian Ethnology and Natural History 7 (1922) 219233, dealing with vegetative poisons used in salt and fresh water in Hawaii and the Samoan Islands. 32

See below, p. 461.

33

See below, p. 462.

461

MEASURES AGAINST WATER POLLUTION

ondarily interested in the condition of the water. Thus people moving stones for building purposes might use the waterway and literals regardless of the ownership of the banks and no tolls or gabelles were permitted. 34 Watering places for animals were to be free of tolls.35 The canals of the cloth-making Humiliati at Ognissanti were to be kept free of refuse that, presumably, could discolor or otherwise damage cloth.36 People might dispose of such matter directly into the river but not into the canals, and not around the square of the Humiliati. In these same statutes one finds laws concerning fish. Fishmongers had to bring their ware directly to the marketplace, and were forbidden ever to remove it; hostellers were prohibited from storing fish.37 Directly to the point of this article is the first recorded Florentine prohibition (1322) of fish poisoning: Against poisoning fish. No one is to dare or presume to poison fish in rivers, fish farms, wells, or in any type of water, or to dare to catch, buy, or kill fry. 38 Thus legislation against the poisoning of fish came at an early point in communal history, and one must suppose that earlier laws can be found in other municipal statutes. 39 But with the exception of this isolated rubric, the Florentine statutal sources say nothing more until the quattrocento, when a series of laws were passed which are of great interest for the history of conservation. The seven antipollution measures I have uncovered span the period from 1420 to 1485. The condition of the Arno river at Florence at the end of this period was described by the last of these dispositions: It is known . . . that although there are some laws which prohibit anyone from throwing earth, pieces of lime, boulders or other things into the Arno river which would impede the flow of the water, none 34

Statuti

della

repubblica

fiorentina

ed. R . Caggese, voi. 2: Statuto

del podestà

dell'anno

del popolo

(Florence 1910) 244f-

1325 (Florence 1922) 415. 35

Statuti,

36

Ibid. 182.

vol. 1: Statuto

del capitano

degli anni 1322-1325

In 1532, t h e d a m b y Ognissanti h a d to be lowered half an arm length because

t h e previous s u m m e r t h e floor of t h e Arno had been so full of silt t h a t only a scattered mill w a s operating; Cambi (n. 10 above) 23.122. 37

Statuto

del capitano

(n. 35 above) 38.

38 "Nullus a u d e a t vel p r e s u m a t pisces in flumine, vivariis, puteis, vel aliis q u i b u s c u n q u e aquis tossicare, aut inrundines capere, emere vel occidere"; Statuto

. . . del podestà

above) 240.

For artificial pools in France, see R . H . Bautier, The Economic

of Medieval

Europe

(London 1971) 198f.

(n. 34

Development

B r u n e t t o Latini described t h e v i v a r i u m in his

Tresor ed. Carmody (Paris 1948) 128. 39

In E n g l a n d there were various regulations limiting t h e density of fish netting; D . W .

R o b e r t s o n , Jr., Chaucer's Manor

London

(Cambridge 1962) 95.

( N e w York 1968) 105; H . S. B e n n e t t , Life on the

English

462

RICHARD C. T R E X L E R

the less the laws are not obeyed because they are very old. Citizens who have their houses near the said Arno suffer great harm because of this. Often the vaults and the houses are full of water because the river cannot follow its regular course.40 As will become clear in what follows, the reason for this indiscriminate use of the water was the desire for a quick catch of fish. Two types of laws concerning fish were written in fifteenth-century Florence. The first regulated the fishing season.41 The second type—the subject of the following pages—forbade the poisoning of the rivers by fishermen. The first of these laws was passed in 1420 at the insistence of Florentine subjects who were concerned not with pollution, but with forced labor. The Pistoian mountaineers told how Florentine authorities were forcing them to carry loads of lime "up through the gorges of the Apennines, the treacherous places in the rivers, the inaccessible mountain streams." This exposure to physical danger had resulted, they said, in the death of a group of their men during such a forced expedition. The labor and material costs that they bore were one thing. Death was something else. To prevent such tragedies from recurring, the communal government forbade anyone of whatever status from dumping lime into nine designated rivers of the area with the intention "of poisoning or catching fish," even if this were ordered by Florentine officials.42 While this attempt at legislating pollution was really aimed only at suppressing forced labor, a subsequent generation moved to a specifically conservationist position. From mid-century on, the laws of the commune were motivated by a desire for clean water and fish. In a law of 1450 concerning the fish and waterways of the Casentino, the mountain barrier southeast of 40

"Benché alcune leggi sieno che prohibischino che nel iiume d'Arno non si possa gittare terra, chalcinacci, o sassi o altre cose che impedischino il corso dell'aqua, nondimeno per essere molto antiche non si observano, di che i cittadini che hanno le lor case vicine a decto fiume d'Arno ne ricevono danno grandissimo. E t spesso si truovono le volte et le case piene d'aqua per non havere il fiume il corso suo spedito"; Archivio di stato, Firenze (ASF), Provvisioni, 176 fols. 100-101v (25 Oct. 1485). 41 For examples of limitations on the fishing season, see A S F Prow. 1467), and 168 fol. 95 (11 Aug. 1477).

158 fol. 87 (18 June

42 "Quod nullus etiam undecumque et cuiuscumque status . . . audeat vel presummat calcem pro tossicantibus seu capiendo pisces inmictere seu inmicti facere in aliquo ex fluminibus infrascriptis aut ipsa calce piscari tossicare aut venenare pisces alicuius ex ipsis fluminibus etiam commisione vel precepto magnificorum dominorum priorum artium et vexilliferi iustitie populi et communis fiorentini seu capitanei ipsius montanee . . . seu cuiuscumque persone. . . . F l u m e n autem de quibus supra dicitur sunt hec videlicet: Lima, Yesina, Limestie, Verdiana, Volata, Sostaione, Oreno, Marcha, Libentra, que dicitur della Sanbucha"; ibid., A S F Prow. 110 fols. 119v-120 (6 Oct. 1420). It is interesting that in exchange for this protection t h e mountainmen promised to pay a census t o the city of 50 pounds of trout for each of the first two years, and 100 pounds each year thereafter.

MEASURES AGAINST W A T E R

463

POLLUTION

Florence, we find a realistic picture of the pollution of the local river beds. Its prologue reads: Whereas it often happens, especially in parts of the Casentino and areas near there, that poisons and toxic substances are put and inserted into the neighboring rivers and waters to capture and angle fish more easily and in greater number. . . . This is done where those fish are procreated and made which are called Trout, and truly noble and impressive fish they are. The result is that the said fish are destroyed and wasted. And certainly if this were not so, our city and also other neighboring areas would continually and far more abound in the said fish. So that, therefore, the said genus of fish is preserved, and our city and the other said areas have a copious and abundant supply of such fish, the magnificent. . . lords priors . . . ordain. 43 So beautifully Florentine I A legal document introduced by an aesthetic judgement of trout. A touch of sadness at the demise of the magnificent fish. Yet balanced, as always, with an account-book-like assessment of the selfinterest of the citizens of Florence: Take care of the fish upstream, or the tables of the city and dominion will suffer. This prologue gives us some clues to the contemporary understanding of the problem. Conservation had two aspects: the beauty of the fish and their utility. There is no trace of ecologic concern. Indeed the prologue suggests that in 1450 Florentines had little idea that polluted fish and water upstream meant more of the same downstream. They rather understood it as a market problem: the extermination upstream meant that fewer fish would be caught and brought to market. The action section of the law is no less interesting. Placing any type of fish poison in the trout-bearing streams of the Casentino was prohibited. Lime and nut shells were cited as examples of toxic agents. 44 Doubtless in order to 43

"Quia sepe contigit presertim in partibus Casentini et locis ibidem

circumstantibus

quod in fluminibus et aquis ibi existentibus procreantur et fiunt pisces qui dicuntur trote, et sunt valde nobiles pisces, i m m i t t u n t u r et imponuntur venena et tossicamenta pro havendo et piscando facilius dictos pisces.

E t c e r t e nisi id fieret, civitas nostra et etiam alie partes

circumstantes longe magis habundarent continuo dictis piscibus.

U t igitur dictum genus

piscium magis conservetur et cumsequenter r e d d a t u r civitas nostra cetereque partes predicte copiose et habundantes talibus piscibus"; A S F Prow. 44

141 fols. 1 7 5 - 1 7 6 ( 2 3 Oct. 1450).

"Cum aliquo tali veneno ut videlicet calce a u t mallo n u c i u m " ; ibid.

L i m e is t o x i c t o

t r o u t in 2 6 hours a t 92 milligrams per liter; in 10 minutes a t 198 milligrams per liter.

Its

effect upon soft lake water is to increase the productivity of plants, presumably by raising alkalinity and providing larger reservoirs of immediately available carbon dioxide in t h e form of bicarbonates; J . E . M c K e e and H . W . Wolf, Water

Quality

Criteria,

Resources

464

RICHARD

C.

TREXLER

deal with the anglers' craftiness, the law then specified seven rivers and streams by name, and prohibited poisoning in them and their tributaries. 45 No one could say, then, that he did not know there were trout in those rivers. One of the rivers named was the Arno, that river that after winding around the Casentino empties into the lowlands at Florence and continues westward to the sea. Thus while Florentines realized that both fish and water were "poisoned"—that is made clear in the law—at this point their solutions remained parochial.46 If contemporaries had understood the problem fully, they would not have forbidden poisoning only at the source of the river, but at least up to the capital. The penal provision was strict: 100 lire, an amount well surpassing the yearly income of most of the rustics involved in this activity. If one were caught in such a river with the poison in hand, one was guilty. To aid a polluter was the same as doing it yourself. If it were done under cover of darkness, the penalty was doubled. The guilty parties were in the majority "priests, clerks, or other religious, lay brothers and the like." They did it "because they have no fear of being punished, corrected or condemned by lay authorities" 47 Legislators were helpless against the judicial immunity of the religious. The most they could do was to threaten any layman accompanying a religious in the poisoning of fish and water not only with his own fine, but with that of the privileged man of God. Alas, this comprehensive law was observed most often in the breach. The truly noble trout, and his fellows, continued to suffer from the ingenuity of man. The law forbidding the poisoning of the Pistoian rivers (1420) had been passed on petition of the locals, who objected to forced labor. That covering the Casentino (1450) also responded to local demands, but by now the commune of Florence was directly concerned with pollution. When did the Florentines realize over what distances contamination upstream could affect the water conditions in the city?

Agency of California: State Water Quality Control Board Publication n. 3A (1963) 153. Presumably it was the tannic acid content of the nutshells which poisoned trout; for the lethal dosage of the acid on trout, see 281. 45 "Flumen seu fossatum Teggine; flumen seu fossatum Tiggendole; fossatum Gonficutis . . . ; Flumen Bonani . . . ; Flumen Larchiani . . . ; Flumen Solani . . . ; Flumen Arni usque ad Castrum Prativeteris . . . ; Flumen Staggie . . . ; Flumen Montis Mignarii et Battifollis quod mittit in flument Solani . . . ; Flumen Raderacolis quod mittit in Galeatam"; ASF Prow. (n. 43 above). 46 "Immictere vel ponere . . . aliquod genus veneni aptum ad venenendum pisces nec dictas acquas et flumina tossicare vel venenare"; ibid. 47 "Item quia pro maiori parte hi qui venenant et tossicant talia flumina ut plurimum sunt sacerdotes clerici vel alii religiosi conversi et similes quia non timent puniri et corrigi seu condemnari a rectoribus secularibus"; ibid.

MEASURES AGAINST W A T E R

465

POLLUTION

Just five years after the Casentino law, in the year 1455, the complaints of city-dwellers about the condition of the Arno had become so vocal that new legislation affecting the immediate area around Florence had to be put on the books. This new law shows an awareness, albeit limited, of long-distance contamination. There was not a stretch of river within fifteen miles of the city, the citizens' petition read, in which the country people did not poison the rivers between May and September. This might be an easy way for the rustics to catch their fish, but the other fish were indiscriminately killed off in the process, and the waters thus became so slimy that practically no fish were to be found in the rivers.48 The problem had reached home, and the rulers of the city were determined to put a stop to the pollution—be it well noted—within fifteen miles of the city: For besides the harm caused by the pollution of the said rivers during the said period, citizens are not able to fish safely, and thus not able to pursue their profit and pleasure, as they should be able to.49 Laws against pollution for the sake of a quick and abundant catch now covered a fifteen-mile radius around Florence, the areas of the Casentino and the Pistoian Apennines. If they had been obeyed, the interests of the dominion, as the Florentines then understood them, would have been safeguarded. They were not, and just five years later, in 1460, the city councils again addressed themselves to a problem that was clearly reaching dangerous proportions: The magnificent and potent lords etc., considering that only recently the rivers of the territory of Florence contain very few fish. . . . The cause of this situation is said to be the fishing done there using lime, shell, and similar poisons. These not only destroy the fish which at the time are good to eat, but the little fish which are not yet mature, as well as the eggs. The effects of this poison are felt not only in the area where the poisoning has been done, but far beyond it.50 48

"Quamplures cives venerunt ad eorum dominationem querelantes quod omni anno a

mense Maii ad mensem Septempris comitatini non dimittunt aliquod flumen propre Florentiam ad quindecim miliaria quod non tossicent, ex quo accidit quod ultra capturam piscium quos ipsi tossicantes volunt, reliqui pisces fere omnes moriuntur, et adeo vastantur ipsa flumina, quod quasi remanent piscibus destituta"; A S F P r o w . (n. 43 above) 146.ff. 152v (20 June 1455). 49

"Ultra damna vastationis fluminum predictorum sequitur quod cives in dicto tempore

reperientes secure nequeunt in piscatione percipere illam commoditatem et delectationem prout convenit"; ibid. 50

"Que non solum pisces tunc bonos ad commendendum sed etiam non bonos et minutissi-

mos, ac etiam ove disperdunt.

N e c tantum in loco ubi ea toxicatio facta est, sed multo ul-

terius illius veneni tabes id ipsum operatur"; A S F Prow. Aug. 1460).

(n. 43 above) fols. 167v-168v (2

466

R I C H A R D C. T R E X L E R

Despite this sophisticated summation of the effects of waterway pollution, the government could do little more than restate and reaffirm the three basic laws by naming each. The problem lay not in understanding, but in enforcement. Denouncements were made: one Buono di Francesco Beroni was accused of having poisoned a neighboring stream with nutshell.51 But "violators are not being prosecuted by the civil officials who should correct and castigate them." This law of 1460 simply insisted that officials zealously execute their mandate. To encourage prosecution, legislators followed the common practice of offering one-quarter of any fine to the accuser, and a quarter to the official who would extract from the offender the full financial penalty set forth by the law. A decade later (1471), the same complaints of noncompliance, the same reiterations: "The rivers are empty of fish, and the fish are worse." 52 The only new angle to this law was to prohibit fishermen from rechanneling the waterways: "For in this fashion the fish are extinguished." 53 In 1477, the Republic took its last, and most rational step in the battle against water pollution by fishermen. Its motivation was still self-centered: to assure an abundance of fish for the city of Florence. But the measure—from which Florentine citizens were exempted—was enriched by the knowledge communal legislators had accumulated in the past half-century. All the different means of artificially diminishing the fish population were prohibited: diverting the course of waters, damming (even if only with simple rocks or earth), using canals at waterfalls; then any kind of fish poisoning: lime, nutshells, and Aaron's Rod (a tall, dense plant which since Antiquity had been thought poisonous).54 There is little new here. B u t now the law was to be enforced not just in the old pockets covering limited areas. Rather the entire length of the three major rivers of the Florentine dominion, the Arno, Sieve, and Serchio, along with their tributaries, were to be off limits for such activities. Even if the aim of this law was to keep the markets of the capital stocked, 51

A S F , Vfficiali

di notte, 3 fol. 93 (23 Oct. 1460).

This note was given me through the

thoughtfulness of Thomas Compton. 52

" E x quo flumina piscibus evacuantur, et pisces etiam fiunt peiores"; A S F Ufficiali

notte, 162 fols. 58v-59 (10 J u n e 1471).

di

In addition to nutshells and lime, a t a r substance

(Juligo) is here added as a toxicant. 83

" E t similiter intelligatur provisum contra facientes in aliquo dictorum fluminum sec-

che, et per talem modum capientes pisces. ibid.

Quoniam per talem viam pisces extinguntur";

It is worth pointing out t h a t the Italian word for dam is pescaia,

and for fish pesce;

thus from early times the use of the dam was associated with catching fish. 54

"Che niuna persona . . . excepto cittadini fiorentini seccare o svolgere acqua o fare

pescaia o pescaiuoli, etiandio di semplici sassi o terra per cagione di pigliare pesci, o attossicare col calcina, mallo di noce, guaragnasco o altra qualunche cosa apta a venenare pesci, ne mettere cannaie a le cadute in alcuno di fiumi infrascripti, videlicet: Nel fiume d'Arno, Serchio et Sieve, ne in alcuno fiume che in alcuno di quegli in alcuno modo mettessino—"; A S F Prow.

(n. 57 above) 167 fol. 263v (22 Feb. 1477).

MEASURES AGAINST WATER

POLLUTION

467

here was a law suited to an empire. The effects of water pollution were indeed not felt simply within a fifteen-mile radius, "but far beyond." Thus the entire course of the Arno had been vitiated, from the Casentino, past Arezzo to its meeting with the Sieve, which came over Borgo San Lorenzo to join the mother river, through the capital to the subject city af Pisa, just north of which the Serchio, a major river of western Tuscany, flowed into the sea. Remembering that the tributaries of these three rivers were included, we see that the whole heartland of the dominion was now protected by law. To a limited extent, Florence had moved from conservation to ecology. Department of History University of Illinois Urbana, Illinois 60801, U.S.A.

GERSON AND THE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE: GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT WITHIN THE CHURCH

by Louis B. Pascoe, S. J.

In the Middle Ages, few documents received the attention given to the Donation of Constantine.1 Although lawyers and royal publicists frequently doubted its validity, its authenticity was generally accepted. Not until the time of Reginald Pecock (ca. 1393-1461), Nicholas of Cusa (ca. 1400-1464), and Lorenzo Valla (ca. 1406-1457) was the document exposed as a forgery.2 The successful challenge of men such as Pecock, Cusa, and Valla, however, does not lessen the value of the document for the intellectual historian, for medieval man accepted the Donation as a reality. To dismiss the Donation simply as a forgery is to deprive oneself of a most valuable instrument for understanding medieval thought. Moreover, the Donation played an important role in the ecclesiastical history of the period and helped to form the historical consciousness of the medieval church. The endowment of the church by Constantine was regarded as marking a most important transition in its life and history. As a result, the relationship of the Constantinian and post-Constantinian period to the primitive church was frequently analyzed. The question was often posed whether after Constantine the church faithfully reflected the spirit of the primitive church. Questions of this nature were asked in such specific areas as church-state relations, evangelical poverty, religious life, and church law. 1 The most extensive studies of medieval attitudes toward the Donation of Constantine have been those of Gerhard Laehr, Die konstantinische Schenkung in der abendländischen Literatur des Mittelalters bis zur Mitte des 14. Jahrhunderts, Historische Studien 166 (Berlin 1926) and "Die konstantinische Schenkung in der abendländischen Literatur des ausgehenden Mittelalters," Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 23 (1932) 120-181. For the judgment of medieval lawyers see Domenico Maffei, La donazione di Constantino nei giuristi medievali (Milan 1964). The most recent critical edition of the Donation is that of H. Fuhrmann, Constitutum Constantini, MGH, Leges, fontes iuris germanici antiqui 10 (Hannover 1968). 2

The arguments of Cusa, Valla, and Pecock against the authenticity of the Donation can be found in Laehr "Literatur des ausgehenden Mittelalters" (n. 1 above) 151-166. Valla's De donatione Constantini has been edited by W. Schwahn (Leipzig 1927). An earlier edition and translation of this treatise was prepared by Christopher B. Coleman (New Haven 1922).

470

LOUIS B. PASCOE, S.J.

According to the answers to such questions, the Donation was either condemned as a distortion of the true nature and mission of the church or accepted as a valid stage in the unfolding of its history. Whether one's judgment of the Donation was positive or negative, the transformation that it effected within the church always posed for more reflective thinkers the deeper problem of historical change. This problem was especially acute for those with more positive views of the Donation, for they had to acknowledge what were generally regarded as differences between the primitive and post-Constantinian churches and at the same time to justify the essential continuity of spirit within the two churches. The ideological manner in which they explained such development and continuity reveals much about their historical consciousness. The goal of this paper is to study the attitude of Jean Gerson (1363-1429) toward the Donation of Constantine. In the late Middle Ages perhaps no figure occupied a more influential position than Gerson. He served as chancellor of the University of Paris from 1395 until his death, and played a most important role at the Council of Constance (1414-1418), which achieved the resolution of the Great Schism. He was, moreover, one of the leading reformers and mystics of his age. Delaruelle, indeed, calls the second half of the fourteenth and the early decades of the fifteenth centuries the age of Gerson.3 Because of his prominence in the late Middle Ages, Gerson's views on the Donation promise to be especially valuable. His reflections on the Donation should allow us first to understand what he considered as the basic differences between the primitive and post-Constantinian churches. Second, these reflections will permit us to determine whether his outlook with regard to the Donation was negative or positive. A third aspect of our investigation will center around his understanding of change and development within the church as revealed by his reaction to the Donation. Finally, an attempt will be made to discover the sources that influenced his understanding of growth and development. In order to comprehend the differences between the primitive church and the church after the Donation of Constantine, we must begin with an analysis of Gerson's understanding of the early church.4 Chronologically, he considers the primitive church as including not only the period of Christ's life on earth 3

E. Delaruelle et al., L'église 1964) 837-838.

au temps du grand schisme et de la crise conciliaire

2 (Paris

4 For a detailed study of Gerson's understanding of the ecclesia primitiva see m y forthcoming article, "Jean Gerson: The Ecclesia primitiva and Reform," Traditio 30 (1974). For earlier

medieval views on the ecclesia primitiva cf. Glenn Olsen, "The Idea of the Ecclesia primitiva in t h e Writings of the Twelfth-Century Canonists," Traditio 25 (1969) 61-86, and Giovanni Miccoli, Chiesa gregoriana (Florence 1966) 225-299. Olsen is presently preparing an extensive study of the idea of the ecclesia primitiva from its origins through the twelfth century. Much research remains to be done before late medieval views on the ecclesia primitiva can be fully comprehended.

471

GERSON AND THE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

but also the first three centuries of the church's history. For Gerson, the Donation of Constantine during the reign of Pope Sylvester I (314-335) marked the end of the primitive church.5 As will be seen in greater detail, Gerson's reasons for terminating the period of the primitive church at the supposed time of the Donation rest upon the tremendous transformation brought about within the church as a result of the endowment under Constantine. Gerson, moreover, recognizes the privileged position of the ecclesia primitiva in the history of the church. The prominence of the primitive church rests upon its position as the immediate recipient of the Gospel: the apostles and disciples received the Gospel directly from Jesus Christ, and because of their proximity to him were able to comprehend its meaning. The primitive church, in addition, was the direct recipient of the Holy Spirit on the first Pentecost, and thereby especially enlightened as to the dimensions of Christ's Gospel.6 The prominence of the primitive church is further reflected in the fact that it became the authoritative interpreter of the divine law contained in the Scriptures. Together with their commission to spread the Gospel, the apostles and disciples were authorized to make known and to interpret the tenets of the lex divina according to which the church was to be governed. The authority of the primitive church in interpreting divine law was such that laws formulated by the church in later periods of history were not to be regarded as possessing the same degree of authority as divine law. Subsequent laws within the church must be continually measured against the body of divine law as possessed and interpreted by the ecclesia primitiva.'1 The primitive church, finally, was for Gerson a primarily spiritual institution, in the sense that it owned few material possessions. In this respect, it differed considerably from the church of Sylvester and Constantine. Gerson argues that this was so because Christ wanted to establish his church principally as a humble institution and as one dedicated to the spiritual mission of spreading the Gospel. Because of its compelling need to spread the Gospel and extend the church's influence, the primitive church renounced material possessions and 5

Dominus

his opus habet G.5.223. References to Gerson's writings will generally be cited

according to the new edition of his works by Palémon Glorieux, Oeuvres complétes (Paris I960-).

Seven volumes of this edition have thus far been published.

For works not yet

edited by Glorieux, the older edition of L . Ellies du Pin, Opera omnia (Antwerp 1706) will be used. This edition contains f i v e volumes. The letters G and P will stand for these respective editions in all footnotes throughout this article. 6

Contra haeresim de communione

laicorum sub utraque specie P.1.459C.

"Scriptura sacra

in sua receptione et expositione authentica finaliter resolvitur in autoritatem, receptionem et approbationem Universalis Ecclesiae, praesertim primitivae, quae recepit earn et ejus intellectum immediate a Christo, revelante Spiritu sancto in die Pentecostes, et alias pluries." 7

De vita spirituali

G.3.138.

" E x his aperitur intellectus qualiter dicta Apostolorum et

discipulorum Christi sunt alterius auctoritatis, quoad aliquid etiam pure de fide, quam successorum suorum, quoniam primi a Christo doctrinam immediate susceperunt; ejus insuper facta viderunt."

472

LOUIS B. PASCOE,

S.J.

wealth as far as possible. To have immersed itself in the temporal would have considerably hindered the primitive church in the realization of its goals.8 The apostles and disciples, therefore, were ordered by Christ to be content with the food, clothing, and lodging given to them by those to whom they preached. What material possessions the church did enjoy were held in common, as described by Luke in Acts 4.32.9 Moreover, that the poverty of the primitive church was not absolute is seen in that Gerson describes that poverty as an aurea mediocritas, in the sense that material resources were provided for all according to their respective needs.10 According to Gerson this attitude of the church toward material possessions was drastically altered during the reign of Pope Sylvester I by Constantine's endowment of the church.11 The Donation of Constantine, indeed, marks the end of the ecclesia primitiva and the beginning of a new era in the history of the church. Nowhere in his writings does Gerson show any hesitancy with regard to the authenticity or validity of the Donation. He even argues that the endowment of the church was prefigured in the Old Testament. In the early days of his relationship with the people of Israel, the Lord had no permanent place of residence on earth. His abode was the ark of the covenant, which was carried about from place to place. In the time of King Solomon, however, this simple and mobile residence of the Lord was brought to an end, for Solomon constructed the Temple of Jerusalem and installed the ark there amid great riches and magnificence. Gerson argues that a similar parallel existed in the history of the church. In its early years, the time of the ecclesia primitiva, the church was essentially without temporal possessions, but with the endowment of Constantine it entered a new period of history, for it was now officially recognized by the Roman Empire and granted extensive lands, buildings, and income.12 When he discusses Constantine's motives for endowing the church with temporal possessions, Gerson maintains that it was the virtuous lives of the early Christians that motivated him to make such extensive benefactions. The poverty and humility of the early clergy engendered a deep reverential attitude on the part of secular rulers. The indifference of ecclesiastics with regard to the wealth and honors associated with their office quickly won the 8

De concilio

unius

obedientiae

G.6.54.

"Quia enim Ecclesia t u n c multiplicanda erat per

discursum A p o s t o l o r u m et f i d e l i u m , ideo talis jurisdictio temporalis et possessiones fuissent eis ad i m p e d i m e n t u m . " 9 10

Diligite

justitiam

De nuptiis

Chrisli

fraudum sectatricem,

G.7.608. et ecclesiae

G.6.204.

"Postremo sollicitudinem a n x i a m et q u a n d o q u e

ego proprietas, a praelatis et domesticis suis excludo,

distribuens

unicuique prout opus est. . . . H a e c est Ecclesiae primitivae institutio, haec aurea mediocritas q u a m Salomon o p t a n d o descripsit." Cf. Prov. 30.8, A c t s 4.32. 11

De concilio

12

Diligite

unius

justistiam

obedientiae G. 7.608.

G.6.54.

GERSON AND T H E DONATION O F CONSTANTINE

473

admiration of rulers such as Constantine. The virtuous lives of church leaders, therefore, inspired Constantine with great confidence and brought him to the conviction that they would be good administrators and dispensors of temporal wealth. Temporalities in the hands of such virtuous men would aid the church considerably in the realization of its spiritual goals. It is with these aspirations that Constantine initiated the endowment of the church.13 Gerson, therefore, firmly believes that the successful growth of the church in numbers and possessions was rooted in the virtuous lives of its clergy.14 Gerson realizes, however, that after the endowment the indifference of the clergy towards temporal wealth was not long maintained. Gradually, he argues, the church became accustomed to wealth and honors and this attitude eventually led to their abuse. Such a tendency frustrated the very purpose of the Donation.15 He characterizes the church's subsequent attitude towards ecclesiastical property as essentially carnal. Temporal values were strongly preferred to those of a more spiritual nature. Too many of the church's leaders patterned their lives and actions on those of secular rulers. This transformation was reflected in his own time by excessive banquets, preoccupation with the hunt, simony, and the purchase of extensive manors. The image presented is one of rampant pride and ambition.16 Gerson maintains that such an attitude toward ecclesiastical office has led to another abuse so characteristic of his times, namely, the centralization of church offices and benefices under papal authority. In an attempt to curb episcopal greed as well as to satisfy its own material desires the papacy has brought an ever increasing number of benefices under its direct control. The result of this tendency is that the local prelate finds himself without the power to dispose of the least significant benefice in his domain. An additional result of papal centralization has been the increase of taxes and annates for the maintenance of the papacy and the curia. Papal traffic in ecclesiastical benefices has, moreover, led to much fraud and simony within the church.17 The multiplication of temporal possessions and jurisdiction within the church, therefore, has been a major cause of its decline both in the spiritual as well as the temporal domain. In his reflections upon the consequences of the endowment, Gerson feels that if Constantine and his successors could see 13

Super victu et pompa praelatorum G.3.96-97. Cf. De nuptiis Christi et ecclesiae G.6.201. Scriptum est melius G.2.114. "Quae scilicet Ecclesia prout ex virtutibus sanctorum patrum originem, bona et possessiones accepit, sic etiam per virtutes non aliter servanda est." While Gerson closely associates church property with the virtuous lives of the clergy, the latter is not a condition for the valid possession of the former, as was maintained by Wyclif and Hus. 15 Super victu et pompa praelatorum G.3.96-97. "Qui postquam insolescere et eis abuti ceperunt, in contrarium versa est prior largitio, dico in direptionem et contemptum." 16 De comparatione vitae contemplativae ad activam G.3.76. Cf. Dum mentis aciem G.2.25. 17 De concilio unius obedientiae G.6.55. 14

474

LOUIS B. PASCOE, S.J.

the many abuses t h a t have resulted from their endowments, especially the decline in spiritual values, they would hardly be desirous of repeating their benefactions. 18 In addition to the endowment of the church with property, another immediate outcome of the Donation, in Gerson's estimation, was the growth of canon law. For Gerson, the development of cano law is a direct consequence of the church's propertied condition. The ecclesia primitiva, Gerson argues, was governed almost exclusively by divine law that, as was seen earlier, he essentially equates with the Gospel. Since the church in those years was primarily a spiritual institution, divine law sufficed for its governance. 19 Divine law, indeed, regulated men's spiritual relationships with one another and with God. Gerson does not deny the presence of some canons in the primitive church b u t these, he contends, were relatively few. They were, moreover, primarily concerned with the governance of men's relationships with one another in the area of temporalities. 20 This association of canonical legislation primarily with the more material aspects of ecclesiastical life is a consistant element in Gerson's thought. In brief, then, for the spiritually orientated primitive church there was essentially one law t h a t governed its life and t h a t was the divine law. 21 The endowment under Constantine, however, rapidly changed the legal situation within the church, for the church was no longer a primarily spiritual institution. Constantine's benefactions in the form of land, buildings, income, and temporal jurisdiction placed the church on an equal level with the secular powers of its day. The result of this considerable change in the church's status was a comparable modification in its legal structure. The governance of the church and its temporalities required a considerable increase of canonical legislation. This growth resulted from increasing litigation over riches, material needs, and property rights. 22 Such litigation, Gerson contends, has its roots in

18 De nupliis Christi et ecclesiae G.6.201. "Nunc autem si viderint pincernas vini hujus, praelatos, et doctores, labi funditus in inferiora terrae neque ullam de spiritualibus sollicitudinem gerere, quidni repetant quae dederunt, causa cessante conferendi, aut quod a nova saltern donatione tepescant?" 19 Diligite justitiam G.7.608. "La police espirituelle, que nous nommons ecclesiastique ou evangelique, se gouverne principaument par l'evangile et par ceulx qui le scevent, que nous appellons theologiens." 20 Conversi estis nunc ad pastorem G.5.172. "Quemadmodum praeterea lex vetus, quae et mosaica dicitur, complectebatur cum divinis praeceptis ordinantibus immediate ad Deum, judicialia quae proximos in temporalibus regulabant, nec ob hoc plures leges sed una putabatur, non aliter Ecclesia primitive legem evangelicam cum canonica conjungebat quamvis evangelica ad D e u m et canonica magis as proximum ordinaret." 21 22

Ibid.

"Olim pro una voce lex evangelica et canonica haberentur."

Ibid. "Dilatatis nimium per omnes terminos orbis terrarum ecclesiasticis pascuis, aggregatis quoque sub uno ovili et uno pastore quaquaversum ovibus rationalibus prius errantibus, oportuit plurificationem Decretalium et Decretorum pro suo regiminejudiciarioconstitui

GERSON

AND T H E DONATION

OF

CONSTANTINE

475

human greed, which was intensified within the church as a result of the Donation. Property and riches increased the possessive instincts of ecclesiastics. Human greed, moreover, perverted the original motives under which the church was endowed. In order to control this greed and to assure that everyone received his proper due, it was necessary for the church to formulate new laws. From this ever increasing body of legislation canon law emerged as an independent legal system within the church.23 The emergence of canon law, however, was not without its drawbacks. The proliferation of decretist and decretalist legislation after the endowment and especially during the later Middle Ages has, Gerson contends, led to extensive legal confusion.24 The distinction between divine and canon law has too frequently become blurred. Overwhelmed by the successful growth of canon law, canonists have failed to realize the multifold nature of that law. Canon law, Gerson argues, is a composite of divine, natural, and positive law.25 Many aspects of canon law are deductions from divine and natural law and, therefore, share in the immutable characteristics of those laws. Many other segments of canon law, however, are strictly positive in nature and do not share the same immutability. Too many canonists, nevertheless, treat all aspects of canon law as immutable and eternal. The failure of canonists, therefore, to distinguish between the divine, natural, and positive components of their science has led to considerable legal confusion within the church. Laws capable of dispensation are regarded as eternally binding. The changeable, consequently, is confused with the unchangeable and the necessary with the unnecessary.26 Gerson regarded the legal confusion of his day as one of the major obstacles to the resolution of the Great Schism. Such legal confusion has frustrated the convocation of a general council in which Gerson, ever since 1407, saw the sole et maxime postquam ditata est Ecclesia, postquam in multitudine temporalium bonorum et jurisdictionum saecularium ipsa saecularibus potestatibus par facta est. Vulgato quippe proverbio dicitur terram habens guerram habet; quia multiplicatis divitiis, egenis, et angustis et dicentibus hominibus: hoc meum est et hoc tuum, lites ut plurimum consequi necesse est." 23

Diligite justitiam G.7.609. "Car n'est riens se bien ordonne entre les hommes de quoy les mechans n'avysent soit pauvrete soit richesses. Si a convenu, selond la doctrine d'Aristote, faire tant plusieurs ordinations que nous appelons loys, ou decres, ou canons, c'est a dire reugles, pour faire justice a un chascun et rebouter injustice." 24

Conversi estis nunc ad pasforem G.5.172. Ibid. 174. "Est autem haec communis distinctio quod doctrina canonica très in se juris species aggregatas complectitur: jus divinum, jus naturale, jus positivum. " 26 Ibid. 178. "Oportet in decretis et decretalibus distincte videre quid in eisest de jure pure divino, quid de jure pure naturali, quid de jure positivo vel humano. Istis siquidem ignoratis confusionis sequi errorem necesse est dum non separatur pretiosum a vili, indispensabile a dispensabili, incommutabile a commutabili, obligans lex a non obligante, necessarium a non necessario." 26

476

LOUIS B . PASCOE,

S.J.

hope for the settlement of the schism and the return of peace to the church. Purely positive laws that prohibit discussion of the nature of papal power, deny that the papacy is accountable for its actions, and forbid the convocation of a council without the approval of the pope are regarded as flowing directly from divine law and sharing in the immutable characteristics of that law. 27 Gerson strongly condemns the tendency to make positive laws as binding upon the church as divine law. Ecclesiastical unity is not to be delayed because of allegations based on positive law which might seem to argue against the convocation of a council or the resignation of the papal contenders. Gerson, indeed, seeks the resolution of the schism through a return to the true principles of divine law and the application of epikeia to those aspects of positive legislation which have prohibited the convocation of the general council. Such, indeed, was his constant plea at the Councils of Pisa and Constance. 28 After having seen Gerson's understanding of the differences between the primitive church and the church after the endowment, differences that he identified primarily with the increase in ecclesiastical property and the growth of canon law, we are now faced with the question of his basic attitude towards the Donation. He clearly recognized many of the harmful consequences that resulted from the Donation, but did he regard the acceptance of the Donation as an error on the church's p a r t ? Gerson was certainly aware that many medieval writers regarded the Donation as bad for the church because of its harmful consequences. A long-standing medieval tradition going back at least to the twelfth century had maintained that when the church was endowed by Constantine with temporal possessions there was heard a voice in the heavens proclaiming: "Today a deadly poison has been poured out upon the church of God." 29 Gerson acknowledges that he has read this negative account of the Donation in many chronicles and sermons. He recognizes that throughout the Middle Ages many regarded the popes who followed after Sylvester as members of the Antichrist because of their reception of temporal possessions. 30

Apparuit gratia G.5.85. With regard to Gerson's a r g u m e n t s on the insufficiency of positive law to settle the schism and the need for recourse to divine law see Apparuit gratia G.5.73, 85, Conversi estis nunc ad pastorem G.5.178, Acta de schismate tollendo G.6.97, and Dominus his opus habet G.5.228. Gerson's call for the application of epikeia both a t the Council of P i s a and the Council of Constance can be found respectively in his De unitate ecclesiae G.6.138, and in the Prosperum iter facial G.5.478-479. 27

28

29 De comparatione vitae contemplativae ad activam G.3.75. Cf. Diligite justitiam G.7.608, and De nuptiis Christi et ecclesiae G.6.201. The account of the voice f r o m heaven can be traced b a c k a t least to Gerald of Wales (1147-ca. 1221) and enjoyed a long tradition a m o n g medieval writers. Cf. L a e h r , Die konstantinische Schenkung (n. 1 above) 72-73, 172-175, " L i t e r a t u r des ausgehenden Mittelalters" (n. 1 above) 128, 145, and Maffei (n. 1 above) 154, 181, 284. 30

Diligite justitiam.

G.7.608.

GERSON AND T H E DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

477

Gerson is also aware that in his own day the Donation had been condemned by Wyclif (ca. 1329-1384) and Hus (ca. 1369-1415) as an error on the church's part. The Donation of Constantine was regarded by Wyclif as one of the major moments in the corruption and decline of the primitive church. The church that resulted after the Donation, therefore, was not the church of Christ but that of the Antichrist. Wyclif maintained, moreover, that all church property rested upon royal benefaction. He denied the papal argument that Constantine's Donation merely restored a right essentially given by Christ to the church. The church, he argues, has no possessions outside of those for which Christ died. Christ, however, died only to save his followers and not to make them worldly rulers. The world as the patrimony of the church must be understood only in a spiritual sense. According to Wyclif, Constantine's grant of temporal possessions to the church was intended primarily for the supprt of the poor and the maintenance of worthy members of the clergy. The Donation, consequently, merely grants temporal possessions to the church for use as alms and only under the condition that the lives of its leaders prove worthy of such a commitment. When members of the clergy prove unfaithful to their calling then secular lords have the right to revoke their benefactions.31 Yet despite this distinction Wyclif's judgment of the Donation is essentially negative, especially because of the evils that have resulted from the church's immersion in and preoccupation with temporalities. In 1403 Wyclif s assertion that both Sylvester and Constantine had erred with regard to the endowment of the church was listed among the twenty-one propositions added by the University of Prague to the twenty-four previously condemned by the Council of London under Archbishop Courtenay of Canterbury in 1382. Among the new propositions were statements that the endowment was inspired by Satan and was, indeed, contrary to the law of Christ. Finally the pope and all clerics possessing property were declared heretical as well as all secular rulers who gave their approval thereto. In 1412 the University of Prague added specific theological censures to each of the forty-five articles. On 4 May 1415, the Council of Constance formally condemned the forty-five articles of Wyclif.32 An essentially similar attitude toward the Donation of Constantine was adopted by John Hus and his followers.33 In reference to the forty-five articles from Wyclif's writing condemned by the University of Prague, Hus himself

31

Cf. Laehr, "Literatur des ausgehenden Mittelalters" (n. 1 above) 140-148. For the original twenty-four articles condemned b y the Council of London in 1382 see J. D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio 26 (Venice 1784) 695-722. Lists of t h e forty-five articles condemned by the University of Prague in 1403 and in 1412 are printed in F. Palacky, Documenta Mag. Joannis Hus (Prague 1869) 327-331, 451-455. The condemnation of the Council of Constance can be found in Giuseppe Alberigo et al., eds., Conciliorum oecumenieorum decreta ( R o m e 1962) 387-389. The specific articles pertinent t o our study are nos. 32, 33, 36, and 39. 32

33

Laehr, "Literatur des ausgehenden Mittelalters" (n. 1 above) 148.

478

LOUIS B. PASCOE, S.J.

proclaimed in 1412 that anyone who censured those articles without sufficient proof to the contrary was acting presumptuously. During his interrogation at the Council of Constance in 1415 when confronted with article thirty-three and asked to clarify his own position, Hus replied that he neither asserted nor denied that Sylvester and Constantine had erred in endowing the church. Each, he maintained, could have sinned venially. Earlier, however, in a treatise on simony written in 1413, when describing the Constantinian Donation and its effect upon the church, Hus had recourse to the tradition of the voice from heaven proclaiming that with the acceptance of the Donation a deadly poison was poured out upon the church of Christ. Reflecting upon how the material wealth of the church has engendered simoniacal attitudes and practices among its bishops, Hus goes on to ask how many souls have already died as a result of that poison ? How many persons have been afflicted with the disease of simony and thereby spiritually murdered? 34 Hus's pejorative view of the Donation of Constantine was continued by his followers, especially by such writers as Nicholas of Dresden and Jakoubek of Stfibro. 35 In reaction to attitudes towards the Donation such as those expressed by Wyclif, Hus, and their followers, Gerson's evaluation of the Donation is considerably more positive.36 As was seen earlier, he is fully conscious of the harmful consequences of the endowment and recognized that excessive concern for temporal possessions and jurisdiction has adversely affected the church. Although given for the promotion of spiritual values, temporal possessions have become an end in themselves. Such attitudes have led to the reversal 34

H. Kaminsky, A History of the Hussite Revolution (Berkeley 1967) 52-55. The m o s t recent edition of Hus's response at Constance t o the forty-five articles of Wyclif can be f o u n d in A m a d e o Molnàr, "Les réponses de Jean H u s s aux quarante-cinq articles," Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 31 (1964) 85-99. 35 K a m i n s k y 40-48, 52. K a m i n s k y et al. have recently published a new edition and translation of Nicholas of Dresden's Tabule veteris et novi coloris as well as of his Consuetudo et ritus primitive ecclesie et moderne. Cf. Master Nicholas of Dresden: The Old Color and the New. Selected works Contrasting the Primitive Church and the Roman Church, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, n.s. 55.1 (Philadelphia 1965). 36

The very nature of Gerson's argumentation in defense of the Donation makes it clear that he was reacting principally against the positions of Wyclif and Hus. The views on church property which he condemns in his De nuptis Christi et ecclesiae G.6.201 are clearly those attributed t o Wyclif and Hus. In his De futuri summi pontificis electione G.6.279, he explicitly mentions the position of H u s with regard to the endowment. Gerson, moreover, wrote several letters t o the Archbishop of Prague in 1414 urging him to take action against the spread of Wyclif's and Hus's writings, cf. G.2.157-161, 162-166. In t h a t same year he also participated in the University of Paris's condemnation of t w e n t y propositions from Hus's De Ecclesia. A t the Council of Constance, finally, Gerson served as a close advisor to Pierre d'Ailly, who presided over the commision which condemned Hus. For a detailed treatment of the deliberations w i t h H u s at Constance see P. de Vooght, L'hérésie de Jean Huss (Louvain 1960) 280-460, and Matthew Spinka, John Hus's Concept of the Church (Princeton 1966) 329-382.

GERSON AND THE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

479

of the church's values and contributed considerably towards its spiritual impoverishment.37 While he acknowledges the negative consequences of the Donation, Gerson does not regard the Donation itself as an essentially wrong action on the part of Sylvester and Constantine. Both the decisions of Constantine to endow the church and of Sylvester to accept that endowment were the result of divine inspiration, for it was God's plan that the endowment was to aid the church in the spread of the Gospel. The acceptance of the endowment by the church throughout so many centuries of its history is, moreover, for Gerson, a clear sign that the endowment was not an error. The recognition of the endowment on the part of so many illustrious fathers of the church, among whom he especially names Gregory the Great and Ambrose, is proof enough that the church has not acted against Christ's desires.38 On a more theoretical level, Gerson also argues that the endowment of the church with temporal possessions and jurisdiction, while not mandated by natural law, was certainly not contrary to that law.39 By his position on the Donation, therefore, Gerson strongly maintains the right of the church and its clergy to temporal possessions. Gerson argues, furthermore, that in the matter of temporalities Christ established no absolute norms for the church. While Christ himself did not exercise temporal dominion he expressed no prohibition against the acquisition and use of such dominion on the part of his successors. By so acting, Christ left the decision concerning the acceptance and use of temporalities up to the discretion of the church. The church, therefore, was free to make such a decision in accordance with its varying needs. Circumstances of person, place, and time, therefore, should serve the church as a guideline in determining its reaction to temporalities and their use. What was appropriate at one period of the church's history may well prove inappropriate at another and vice versa.40 The church, therefore, is governed not only by what it regards itself to be as an institution but also by paying close attention to the circumstances of person, place, and time in 37

De comparatione vitae contemplativae ad activam G.3.76. "Immo sicut alias memini declarasse, nimium studium in multiplicatione bonorum temporalium et jurisdictionum in Ecclesia non parva causa est suae desolationis, tam in spiritualibus quam temporalibus." 38 De concilio unius obedientiae G.6.54-55. "Sed pro tempore Silvestri et Constantini magni, placuit D o m i n o ad dilatationem Ecclesiae inspirare turn Constantino quod tales possessiones daret, turn Ecclesiae quod reciperet. E t duravit hujusmodi dotatio Ecclesiae usque ad tempora nostra, per successiones sanctissimorum patrum Gregorii et Ambrosii et aliorum, quos non est credibile in retentione talium errasse contra Christi jussionem." 39 Regulae morales P.3.106C. "Dotatio Ecclesiae in jurisdictionibus et dominiis proprietariis temporalibus, et exercitium in illis, neque esse de jure naturali, neque eidem repugnare videntur." 40 Ibid. "Nam Christus neque exercuit talia dominia, neque per expressum successoribus prohibuit, sed reliquit potestatem eorum discretioni (pro varietate temporum) et devotioni Christianorum, sic vel sic exercendi." Cf. De concilio unius obedientiae G.6.54.

480

LOUIS B. PASCOE,

S.J.

which it finds itself.41 Gerson's attention to personal, geographical, and chronological circumstances in determining the needs and actions of the church represents a constant element in his thought. As seen earlier, Gerson maintains that the primitive church did not have temporal possessions and jurisdiction because they would have impeded its mobility in spreading the Gospel. By the time of Constantine, however, he argues that circumstances within the church had so changed that temporal possessions and jurisdiction proved profitable for the advancement and growth of the church.42 While members of the primitive church were primarily recruited from the poor and unlettered, those of the Constantinian and postConstantinian periods included the rich and the learned. Nobles, philosophers, and rhetoricians now flocked to the newly endowed church. The endowment, therefore, made the church attractive to an increasing number and variety of persons.43 Gerson concludes, consequently, that the Holy Spirit guides the church in different ways at different times, now through adversity and poverty, now through prosperity and abundance, but at all times for the same purpose, namely, the conversion of all people to Christ, the universal pastor and bishop.44 With regard to wealth and temporal possessions, what is of most import ince to Gerson is the spirit in which they are used. Poverty in itself is not a sure guarantee of spiritual rectitude, nor does the possession of material wealth necessarily lead to moral decline. Both riches and poverty can be conducive to the growth of the church and the fulfillment of its mission. Both, moreover, can be used properly or improperly.45 Arguments over whether riches or poverty are more conducive to the well-being of the church are in the final analysis meaningless. To extol one form of life over the other is, for Gerson, Pharisaical. Such arguments produce only mere verbiage and do little to contribute to the growth of the church.46 What is important, according to

41

De nuptiis

Christi

et ecclesiae

G.6.205.

"Verum praeclare dictum est a q u o d a m : respu-

blica vel Ecclesia non regitur per se, sed nec solo dictamine speculativae vel imaginariae rationis gubernatur; e x e c u t i o requiritur in practicatione operis q u a n t u m res h u m a n a e pro locis, temporibus et personis patiuntur." 42

De comparatione

43

De nobilitate

44

Conversi

vitae contemplativae

ad activam

G.3.75.

P.3.215B.

estis nunc ad paslorem

G.5.173.

"Neque enim u n o m o d o semper agit Spiritus

Sanctus pro evocatione et conversione fidelium ad pastorem et episcopum animarum v e s trarum, sed n u n c adversitate n u n c prosperitate, n u n c paupertate nunc a b u n d a n t i a trahit, v o c a t et allicit quos esse suos agnoverit." Cf. Diligite 45

De Joannis

humilitate

G.3.105.

justitiam

G.7.608-609.

"Parum refert ad stabiliendum vel d e s t i t u e n d u m ali-

q u e m v i v e n d i m o d u m circa ista temporalia quae non s u n t nisi q u a e d a m instrumenta bene agendi et quibus fas est ad u t r u m l i b e t bene aut male uti, n u n c bene paupertate, nunc melius divitiis." Cf. Dilitige 46

De Joannis

justitiam

humititate

G.7.609.

G.3.105.

"Contendere vero super his et sibi blandiri de alterutro,

seque aliis extollendo praeferre, c o n t e n t i o est pharisaica et p u g n a verborum ad subversionem proficiens."

GERSON AND THE DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

481

Gerson, is the interior spirit with which either poverty or riches are accepted and used. As long as one's interior affections reflect the virtues of humility and spiritual poverty then riches or poverty can be used with equal effectiveness for the evangelical work of the church.47 The decisive factor in the acceptance of either, therefore, is the interior disposition of the user.48 As a member of the secular clergy, therefore, Gerson refuses to associate himself with the many movements within the church which advocated the adoption of evangelical poverty. He places himself in opposition, therefore, not only to Wyclif and Hus on this matter but also to the mendicant orders of his time, especially the Franciscans. When we turn to what Gerson regards as the second major consequence of the Donation, namely the proliferation of canon law and its subsequent confusion with divine law, especially at the time of the Schism, we find a similar accommodating spirit with regard to changing circumstances of person, place, and time. The emergence of canon law within the church does not constitute a distortion of the church's nature, for the church after the Donation is just as much the work of the Holy Spirit as was the ecclesia primitiva. As a result of the Constantinian Donation the church was faced with new problems which required the emergence and evolution of new means to solve those problems. Gerson succinctly describes this development by the phrase: "ea quae de novo emergunt novo egent auxilio."49 The divine law, he maintains, proved insufficient to solve the rising amount of litigation and the increasing problems engendered by the endowment. The result was the development of a new form of law and a new legal system to meet the evolving needs of the church.50 Just as the evolving needs of the post-Constantinian church postulated the formulation of new laws so too does the situation of the church at the time of the Schism require changes in the church's legal structure. The prolongation of the Schism proves daily the ineffectiveness of existing canonical legislation to achieve a solution. What the church especially needed at the time of the Schism was new legislation or the modification of existing laws so as to permit the convocation of a general council despite the opposition of the various

47

Ibid.

"Potest nempe aliquis secundum regulam et profectionem evangelicam uti divi-

tiis, potest et illas abjicere; tantummodo sit interius afiectio pauper et humilis." 48

De nuptiis

Christi et ecclesiae G.6.205.

"Meminerit tandem utraque juxta Comici sen-

tentiam quoniam haec omnia in mendicitate et proprietate talia sunt qualis est animus utentis." 49

Conversi estis nunc ad pastorem G.5.172. "Porro crebescentibus jurgiis, judicia frequentia

quaeruntur quae ea dirimant, quae pacem restituant. Hinc leges legibus, hinc constitutiones constitutionibus, hinc decretales decretalibus additae sunt, idcirco quod ea quae de novo emergunt novo egent auxilio." 50

Ibid.

"Quamobrem etsi lex evangelica sufficiens sit et perfecta pro vita animae et con-

versione ejus ad Deum, congruebat ut particulares decretorum et decretalium traditiones adderentur."

482

LOUIS B. PASCOE,

S.J.

papal contenders. To express this need, Gerson again has recourse to the principle: "ea quae de novo emergunt novo egent auxilio."51 The reasons that Gerson advances for the need of a constantly evolving legal structure within the church rest upon the fact that no human law is able to be so comprehensive as to take into consideration all the possible circumstances that might arise in its application. No matter how carefully legislation is formulated, the variety of human circumstances is so extensive that it cannot be anticipated by any human legislator.52 The developmental nature of canon law, therefore, should not cause one to lessen his esteem for that law since that very evolutionary quality allows law to accommodate itself to the changing pattern of circumstances to which it is applied. This quality of canon law permits the legal structure to adopt itself to what Gerson calls "urgens necessitas" and "evidens utilitas."53 When canon law cannot be sufficiently modified to meet the changing pattern of circumstances, then Gerson enjoins the use of epikeia, which he understands as the interpretation of law not according to its strictly literal sense but according to the intention of the lawgiver. Epikeia is especially applicable when the circumstances under which a law has been formulated have so changed that the strict application of the law would go contrary to the original intention of the legislator.54 Epikeia discerns the changing circumstances of person, place, and time and judges them to be such that the existing law is no longer applicable.55 At both the Council of Pisa and the Council of Constance, Gerson advocated the application of epikeia to the maze

51

Apparuit

gratia

G.5.85.

" E t quoniam hujus schismatis tam extrania videtur esse pestis

ut tale n u m q u a m visum fuerit minus habens provisionis humanae remedium, docente hoc sua in dies radicatione, expedit ad ejus expulsionem institutio novorum canonum cum ea quae de novo emergunt novo egeant auxilio vel j a m conditorum necessaria est moderatio." 52

De

imitate

ecclesiae

G.6.142.

"Quoniam nulla juris sanctio quantumcumque perpenso

digesta consilio ad humanae naturae varietatem et machinationes ejus inopinabiles sufficit, nec decisionem lucidam suae nodosae ambiguitatis attingit, eo praesertim quod nihil adeo certum clarumque statuitur quin ex causis emergentibus quibus jura j a m praedicta mederi non possunt, in dubium revocetur, etc." 53

Ibid.

143 " N o n debet reprehensibile judicari si secundum varietatem temporum statuta

quandoque variantur, humana praesertim, cum urgens necessitas vel evidens utilitas id exposcit; quoniam ipse Deus ex his quae i n V e t e r i Testamento statueratnonnulla mutavit in Novo." 54

Ibid.

143.

"Unitas Ecclesiae ad unum certum Christi vicarium nequit modo procurari

commode sine recursu ad epikeiam seu bonam aequitatem, quae interpretatur litteram jurium positivorum secundum intentionem legislatorum radicatam in regulis aeternis ac immutabilibus divinae legis; per q u a m legum conditores justa decernunt atque secundum dictamen legis naturalis." 55

Conversi

estis

nunc

ad

paslorem

G.5.177.

"Epikeiam q u a m latine

aequitatem juris

interpretatricem nominare possumus, commendat haec consideratio et hoc in illis et circa ilia quae solo jure positivo vel humano subsistunt, qualia variari et mutari pro varietate et qualitate temporum, locorum, personarum necesse est." Cf. De vita

spirituali

animaeG.3.189.

GERSON AND T H E DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

483

of canonical legislation which if applied strictly would prohibit the convocation of a council without the approval of the pope. 54 According to Gerson, it should be added, epikeia is an extraordinary means and is not to be applied to the normal operation of the church's legal structure. If the standard interpretation of the law is too frequently circumvented by the use of epikeia, all law will lose its stability and once the stability of law has been threatened institutions are soon reduced to a state of inner confusion. 67 Gerson, therefore, does not denigrate the role of canon law within the church but accepts it as a valid outgrowth of the situation created at the time of the Constantinian Donation. Although he often complains against the proliferation of canon law, its too frequent confusion with divine law, as well as the impasse it created for the church at the time of the Great Schism, Gerson still recognizes the importance of canon law for the ordinary governance of the church. He argues, moreover, against all who because of the legal confusion within the church criticize its endowment under Constantine. Such critics would have the church return to the legal simplicity of its early years before the Donation when prelates governed the church without the elaborate structure of canon law. Modern prelates, they maintain, should imitate the simplicity of the church's early leaders. Such an argument, Gerson asserts, is of little value, for it fails to take into consideration the complex growth of the church since the time of the endowment. The church's long history has, indeed, demonstrated both the necessity and the utility of canon law. 68 That law, however, will remain useful to the church only as long as it recognizes the circumstantial dimensions of its origin, operation, and growth. Gerson's awareness of the circumstantial dimensions of church life, especially as they relate to temporal possessions and canon law, reveals strong scriptural influences. For understanding the church's varying attitude towards temporal possessions as reflected in the primitive church and the church after the endowment, Gerson draws upon Ecclesiastes where it is stated: There is a season for everything, a time for every occupation under heaven. 59 There is, therefore, according to Gerson, a time for the poor, the lowly, the contemptible, the foolish. With the Donation, this period of church history is replaced by one represented by the rich, the noble, the illustrious and the wise. These

Cf. De unitate ecclesiae G.6.138, and Prosperum iter faciat G.5.478-479. De unitate ecclesiae G.6.145. 58 Conversi estis nunc ad paslorem G.5.173. " E s t igitur inefficax a r g u m e n t u m si generaliter a s s u m a t u r : praelati in Ecclesia primitiva conversi ad D e u m nullis decretalibus a u t decretis u t e b a n t u r ; igitur nec moderno tempore congruit eis uti. E c c e prostrati s u m u s ; et invenisse credimus turn necessitatem turn utilitatem scientiae canonicae." 56

67

69 De nobilitate P.3.215 C. Cf. Eccl. 3.1. Gerson's notion of varietas temporum was also supported b y several canonical p a s s a g e s with which he was undoubtedly familiar. Cf. Decretum, D. 1, c. 1-3, ed. E . Friedberg, Corpus iuris civilis 1 (Paris 1879) 106-107.

484

LOUIS B. PASCOE, S.J.

changing circumstances necessitated a modification in the church's legal structure as reflected in the evolution of canon law. In addition to scriptural sources, Gerson's ideas on the evolving nature of church legislation depend to an even greater degree upon canon and civil law. His arguments in favor of the mutability of positive law on the basis of "urgens necessitas" and "evidens utilitas" are taken verbatim from the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) and the Decretals of Gregory IX (1227-1241). His contention that no human law is sufficiently comprehensive to take into consideration the vast variety of circumstances to which it must be applied is drawn directly from John XXII's (1316-1334) preface to the Clementine decretals. Gerson also finds supporting arguments for his position in the civil law, especially the Digest, where it is stated that neither the laws nor the decrees of the Roman Senate can comprehensively take into consideration all the particular aspects of a case. Only when these aspects are understood can the person possessed of the proper jurisdiction determine how the law is to be interpreted. 60 Although he draws heavily upon Aristotle for his understanding of epikeia, Gerson is clearly aware that canon and civil law also justify the use of this principle.61 Citing from the Regulae juris of Boniface VIII, he maintains that a person acts wrongly who by a strict adherence to the literal sense of a law goes contrary to its direct intention. He finds a similar argument in the Digest where it is stated that a person acts fraudulently who, while preserving the literal sense of a law, circumvents its true meaning.62 Gerson also utilizes a passage in the Digest which states that the principle of aequitas does not permit laws which were intended to benefit man to be turned to his disadvantage as a result of an excessively strict interpretation. 63 60 De unitate ecclesiae G.6.142-143. This passage is especially significant in that it is one ol the few passages in Gerson's writings where he cites his legal sources. The entire passage is a series of annotations quoting verbatim the repective legal authorities used by him to establish his arguments on the evolving nature of ecclesiastical law. His citation from the Fourth Lateran Council was t a k e n directly from the council's fiftieth canon which restricted the impediments of consanguinity and affinity to the fourth degree. Cf. Alberigo(n. 32 above) 233-234. The same decree was incorporated in Gregory IX's Decretales, 4, 14, 8, ed. Friedberg (n. 59 above) 2.703-704. For John X X I I ' s preface to the Clementinae see Friedberg, 2.11291132. The passage from the civil law utilized by Gerson can be found in the Digesta 1.3.12, ed. T. Mommsen (Berlin 1902) 6. 61 Gerson's acknowledgment of Aristotle as one of his major sources for his understanding of epikeia can be found in De vita spirituali animae G.3.189 and Conversi estis nunc ad pastorem G.5.177. For Aristotle's use of the term see his Nicomachean Ethics, 5, 10, 1137a, 31-1138a, 3, and 6, 11, 1143a, 19-1143b, 17, ed. I. Bywater (Oxford 1894) 110-111, 125-126. 62 De unitate ecclesiae G.6.142. The passage from the Regulae juris of Boniface V I I I can be found in the Liber sextus, 5, 13, 88, ed. Friedberg (n. 59 above) 2.1124. Gerson's argument from the civil law is drawn from Digesta, 1.3.29 (n. 60 above) 6. 63 De unitate ecclesiae G.6.142. Cf. Digesta, 1.3.25 (n. 60 above) 6. Strictly speaking, aequitas in R o m a n Law differs from the notion of epikeia in that while the latter represents a correction of the law according to the intention of the legislator, the former refers more t o

GERSON AND T H E DONATION OF CONSTANTINE

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A review of his sources, consequently, reveals the strong debt that Gerson owed to the scriptural and especially the legal tradition of the Middle Ages in the formulation of his ideas on historical change and development. His historical consciousness was indeed primarily formed by the canon- and civillaw traditions. This dependence upon legal sources is especially noteworthy since as a conciliarist Gerson was, as has been seen, frequently critical of late medieval canon law. Yet while so many of his contemporaries had lost sight of the true dimensions of the church's legal tradition, Gerson found in it considerable support for the solution of the church's problems, especially as they related to the Great Schism. This study of Gerson's attitude toward the Donation, therefore, has revealed not only what he considers as the differences between the primitive church and the church after the Donation but also the fact that he does not regard the Donation as an error either on the part of the church or secular rulers. The postConstantinian church, consequently, is the true successor of the ecclesia primitive Furthermore, in his justification of the Donation, Gerson reveals a coherent theory of growth and development within the church. For Gerson, the church is not a static entity but an essentially historical institution subject to the influence of changing circumstances. The church, Gerson contends, governs itself not so much by abstract concepts of what it should be, but by careful attention to the evolving circumstances of person, place, and time. The church, therefore, matures and develops within the context of history. Finally, an analysis of his sources discloses that Gerson's views on the church and its history were highly unfluenced by the canon- and civil-law traditions of the Middle Ages. In the evolution of all the above aspects of Gerson's thought the Donation of Constantine indeed served as a major catalyst. Fordham University Bronx, N.Y. 10458, U.S.A.

the justness of a law itself. However, since aequitas also denotes the idea of a benign interpretation of a law, it has a close affinity with the notion of epikeia and was often used interchangeably, especially b y the Scholastics. Gerson so uses both terms. For an analysis of t h e differences and similarities between epikeia and aequitas see A. Van Hove, Commentarium lovaniense in codicem iuris canonici 1.2: De legibus ecclesiasticis (Malines 1930) 274-278. A n historical survey of the use and meaning of the terms epikeia and aequitas can be found in Charles Lefebvre, "Epikie," and "Equité," Dictionnaire de droit canonique 5.364-375, 394410. See also Lawrence J. Riley, The History, Nature, and Use of Epikeia in Moral Theology (Washington 1948) 9-18, and Guido Kisch, Erasmus und die Jurisprudenz seiner Zeit (Basel 1960) 1-54. For Gerson's identification of epikeia and aequitas see above nn. 54, 55.

VIATOR Style Sheet 1. All contributions must be typewritten in double space, with ample margins. This applies to text, quoted material, and footnotes. Please do not use corrasible paper. 2. Footnotes should be typed in double space on separate sheets-at the end of the article and numbered consecutively. 3. Bibliographical references ordinarily belong in the notes rather than in the text; the first reference to an item should contain the complete data: Book:

J. K. Brown,

Book Title, Title Title,

Title (City 1879) 234-236. 3 vols. (City 1870) 2.45ff. [Translation of title] (City 1877) 34. ed. John Doe and Jane Doe (City [etc.]). ed. 2 (City [etc.]). trans. John Doe (City 1876) fol. 15v.

Monograph:

John G. Black, Monograph Title, Title of Series (ABBRV) 21 (1786) 34. C. J. Smith, Monograph in Same Series, ABBRV 22 (1787) 345-346, esp. 345 n. 4.

Article:

John Doe, "Article,"

Manuscript:

Augustine, De música 3.4, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale lat. MS 9320, fols. 4, 5v, 6rv.

Journal 76 (1879) 1-22, 34ff., 50. Undated Journal 76.1-22.

4. Subsequent references may be shortened as follows, always with a view to brevity without ambiguity. a. Smith 24-25. (Only one Smith is cited, in a recent footnote, and there can be no possible ambiguity.) b. Jones (n. 2 above) 245-246. (Complete reference is in n. 2 above.) c. Jones, "The Blue Book" (n. (Jones has more than one reference in 2 above) 34. n. 2, so short title is necessary.) d. Augustine 3.6 (7v). 5. Sigla: Acta sanctorum: AS Apr. 3.420. Patrología graeca: PG 37.96A. Patrología latina: PL 129.432. Monumenta Germaniae histórica: MGH Auctores antiquiores 5.1 (Berlin 1882) 130. 6. Titles of foreign books and articles should be capitalized according to the usages of the respective languages. In Latin and the Romance languages, only the first word and proper nouns should be capitalized.