tru th and con ven tion in

the middle ages

r h e t o r i c , r e p r e s e n t a t io n ,
A N D REALITY

Ruth Morse
Fellow and Lecturer in English
Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge

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Morse, Ruth
Truth and convention in the Middle Ages: medieval rhetoric and
representation / Ruth Morse
p. cm.
ISBN 0 521 30211 0
1. Rhetoric, Medieval. 2. Narration (Rhetoric) I. Title.
PN185.M6 1991
808'.009' 02-dc 20 90-1752 CIP

ISBN-13 978-0-521-30211-1 hardback

ISBN-10 0-521-30211-0 hardback

ISBN-13 978-0-521 -31790-0 paperback

ISBN-10 0-521-31790-8 paperback
 T o Stefan C o llin i

P ar ce qu e c ’estoit lu y ; par ce que c ’estoit m o y

. and things only seems to be things
Henry Reed, ‘Lessons of the War’
 CONTENTS

List o f plates * * * X1
Preface and acknowledgements xln

Introduction 1
1 Meaning and means r5
The rhetorical approach to education 16
Learning through commented texts 24
Imitation p f speech, style, and action 45
The exercises o f rhetorical invention 63
2 The meaning o f the past 85
Historical fictions 92
Exercising historical invention 105
3 Let us now praise famous men 125
Encomiastic lives 125
Models o f sanctity 138
Exercising biographical invention 158
4 Traitor translator 179
Reference and representation 179
The conventional wisdom o f translators 185
Sacred wisdom j^,
Words and deeds 20(J
5 Texts and pre-texts 2, (
Invention and representation ^,
Convention and invention
Truth and convention
-44

Notes
249
Index
289

IX
 P L A T E S

r Ae tieid B o o k I w ith annotations co m p iled from Scrvius,

Donatus, and other C o m m en tato rs b y J. Asccnsius
(Paris, 1507), reproduced from C U L T a.54 .2 . Pag e 2 5
2 T he open ing o f the B o o k o f Genesis w ith the Glossa
O rdinaria, from C U L Ff.2.19 (tw elfth century). 28
1 T he open ing o f Psalm 23 from The Interpreter's Bible: The H oly
Scriptures in the King Janies and Revised Standard Version with
General Articles and Introductions, Exegesis, Exposition for each
book o f the Bible, ed. G . A . B u ttrick ct ah, vo l. iv ( N Y and
N ashville, T cn n ., 1955 )* P- I2 3 - 37
4 T h e final stanza o f and the beginn in g o f the N o tes to
‘Sep tem b er’ from E dm und Spenser, T he Shepheardes Calender
(London, 1579) rep roduced fro m C U L Syn .7.6 4 .6 1 (1586). 77
5 A divisio o f tropes and schem es fro m Johannes Susenbrotus,
Epitome troporum ac schematum et grammaticorum & Rhetorum, ad
Autores turn prophanos turn sacros intelligendos non minus utilis
quam necessaria (L ondon , 1562), rep ro d u ced b y C U L A a ^ .5 .3 1. 79
6 A page fro m the Summa Dictaminis o f L aurentius de C iv ita te
Austriae, fro m C U L A d d . 3312, a fo u rte en th -ce n tu ry
m anuscript. r {$
7 T h e divisio w h ich precedes T h o m a s S p e g h t’s L ife o f C h a u c e r in
his edition o f the Workes (L on don , 1598), re p ro d u ce d fro m
C U L S*2.29.
8 T h e o p en in g verses o f the T w e n ty -th ir d Psalm in R o l l e ’s
Translation and C o m m e n ta ry . R e p r o d u c e d fro m S id n e y
Sussex C o lle g e , C a m b rid g e , M S 89 (u n foliated). 208
9 A n extract fro m the In tro d u ctio n to D o u g la s ’s A etieid, w ith a
fragm ent o f his a cco m p a n y in g co m m e n ta ry . R e p r o d u c e d fro m
T rin ity C o lle g e , C a m b rid g e , M S Q .3.12. 224

xi
 PREFACE AND
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

T o paraphrase Pascal, if I had had more time, I w ould have written a shorter
book. It began in 1980 and was first sketched as undergraduate lectures at the
University o f Leeds, when I was trying to introduce students to the
assumptions o f rhetoric. It developed slow ly when I was a Sum mer Fellow at
the Humanities Research Centre o f the Australian National University,
where I was delayed by the enthusiasm and erudition o f Graeme Clarke, Ian
Donaldson, and R . St C . Johnson. I failed to complete it in the year I was a
Research Fellow at Clare Hall, Cam bridge, where m y editor, Michael
Black, gave me the courage o f his convictions, and, while never failing to
urge me to try new things, never forgot to nag me about old ones. Had he
not insisted I answer his questions and deal with his reservations, a quite
different book would have been finished much sooner; and it w ould have
been the worse without him. H ow much I ow e him he neither suspects nor,
perhaps, would acknowledge. The book was finally completed w hile I was
Leathersellers’ Fellow in English at Fitzwilliam College, Cam bridge. The
relief I express in reaching, i f not the finish, at least the laying aside, was well
put by Caxton at the end o f his translation o f the History o f Troy, ‘for as
moche as in the w rytyn g o f the same m y penne is w orn, m yn hande w ery
and not stedfast, myn eyen dimmed with overm oche lokying on the whit
paper, and m y corage not so prone and redy to laboure as hit hath ben, and
that age crepeth on me dayly and febleth all the bodye, and also because I
have promysid to dyverce gentilmen and to m y frendes to adresse to hem as
hastely as I m yght this sayd book’ . If the fulfilment o f that promise has an air
offestina lente about it, I can only hope to be excused by Patricia Williams,
who helped so much at the beginning, and Barry W indeatt, w ho, at the end,
cheerfully shouldered burdens w e had meant to share. R o g er R a y
encouraged me at an early stage o f m y research, and fifteen years later found
time to read what, without his acumen, might have been the final version.
Successive drafts were read and reread, as always, by Helen Cooper and

xiii
 Preface and acknowledgements

XlV f ,he rhetorical tropes in this book expreSSC!

■ rollini; a»J lbe f"S‘ °
Stefan Lojia-r - and hum our - it must be rtght that m y flr
gantude fortheir patience, care, ana u u .„ « - .
^ t td e of
example f « . ^ “ ^ trd o 'n should none the less be true. Writing, lik
rhetoricalconvention should none the less b e f r u i t y " l ‘" y H
the authors with whom this book is concerned, u n d er c o r r e c j ^ 8 ’ Ji* c
the auu.se- ^ as my nrsii 111V, „ , ---------o - w u1u;Vas
constantly aware o f them as m y first, m ost dem anding, and m ost ^
s,
constantly awar *' , -peripatetics, and peripeteia,
r in atetics, and peripeteia, ootf th
the last decade, their
e l.m
readers. Throug a d m e: for this relief, m uch thanks.
astnngent affectiott has sustain

- to the Syndics o f the U niversity L ibrary, C am b rid ge, f0r

' 3m grat\ “ Produce Plates i, 2, 4, 5 , 6 , 7 from books and manuscripts in
permission P ^ Master and Fellows o f Sidney Sussex College,

CambridgefnTplate *; and ,0 the Master and Fellow s o f T rin ity College.

Cambridge for Plate 9. Plate 3 is reproduced by kind permission of the

publishers, the Abingdon Press.

This last a ck n o w le d g e m e n t is the first sentence - in the course o f tw o books

and m any issues o f The Cambridge Review - to have escaped the vigilance o f

Susan B eer, C a p ita l Copy-Editor.

 INTRODUCTION

When the early-fifteenth-century Augustinian Friar, John Capgrave, wrote

that the corpse ofH enry I (who had died in 1 135) stank horribly, he expected
his readers to understand^ a moral criticism. Because it had long been an
agreed p ro o f o f sanctity that the deceased holy person’s body resisted
decomposition so far as to smell sweet rather than to putrefy, a corpse that
stank might be taken as evidence o f the opposite kind o f life. N o t John
Capgrave, but Nature herself, revealed the dead king’s character. Capgrave
was not in a position to know for certain what a particular twelfth-century
corpse smelled like; dependent upon what he himself had read, he
embellished his sources according to his knowledge (from oral and written
sources as well as from his own and common experience) and the picture he
wanted to draw. A question such as, ‘But did Henry’s corpse really smell?’,
might have seemed to him to miss the point o f his description. O ne or more
authorities said so. It might have done. He writes with a presumption o f
truth, for no one would deliberately write what he knew to he false O r at
least, true according to his lights and not false except under certain special
circumstances. His Lives o f Illustrious Henries were examples o f the large
genre, encomium, patterned on earlier accounts which his learned medieval
readers, familiar with the literary traditions o f praise and blame, could
recognize. Finding out whether or not something hadjiappened was a
difficult business, and the sources and authorities upon which he depended
varied in quality_and-reliability. He deferred to the authority o f his twelfth-
century predecessor, Henry o f Huntingdon (whom he quoted and acknow­
ledged). O ther twelfth-century historians, among them Orderic Vitalis and
William o f Malmesbury, make no mention o f any offensive putrefaction
(though Orderic tells a similar story about the corpse o f William the
Conqueror). Capgrave could defer to, choose among, question, or reinter­
pret earlier authorities. His attitudes to those authorities further complicates
his intention - one among many competing ambitions - to transmit his
interpretation o f earlier-interpretations o f the past. As soon as he began to
 Introduction

1
. ■nm-cption o f King Henry I into words, and into a shapCci n
tl,rnh P . . a* readers who enjoyed their prose in t e r s p e r- ^ W* ^
readers, 'vith
Latinate jvMmics came into play. By similar kind, of
tor
- , gamete.*. °<h« of, murdcred monarch (the Anglo-S»on
* f‘” „o«l>«“5,on'‘ ? U„ ,IV1V) in the guise o f a martyred sain, migk
rTutJ »> •« * ' FrC" f the monarch which claimed sanctity for him, ot
suggest „ interpret*000 01
whichrejected o* implicd claim, or a range ot possibilities
3satirical portrait
in between.
of long narratives, for m e d iev a l historians above all,
For medieval writers
^em bellishm ents’ of words bore a co m p lex relatio n sh ip to the ‘truths’
t e Cdepicted. This book explores som e aspects o f th e com plicated
relationship between the claim to be telling the tru th a b o u t the past, about
^ o o L ic t o r s and events, and the conventional represen tations in w hich
such truths were expressed. It considers w hat appear to be claim s to accurate
representation, both of word and o f deed. B u t to ask h o w m e d iev a l writers
represented the deeds which had taken place in the past is n o t to ask sim ply
how they shaped their narratives, it is to ask h o w th e y re-shaped them . An
inevitable mtertextuality pervades the study o f the ran ge o f texts w hich
.WmK/vt fhprruplvrs as hisrnriral M edieval w riters did n o t sudden ly create
their histoncal methods out o f nothing; they in herited a la rge and ever­
growing body of liistoricar narratives w hose co n ve n tio n a l patterns and
styles suggested a range o f meanings. T h e om ission o f part o f a narrative
which ought to have been included, the turning o f historical events to
recognizable narrative patterns, the insistence that agents did o r said things
w J C C O rded with ideas about their status, or reign, o r character - all these
possibilities could be manipulated in order to co n v e y rn rn p lex im p ressions
i ■ and its relevance to the present.(The rise o f em piricism in the
seventeenth century, that great watershed in w estern culture, has erected

ask wh tWCCn ^ ^ Ages^here as in so m any other ways. T o

invented’m ^ CVa' WntCrS c'a'mec^ that what appears to us obviously
ofouT^tureT~Ti"ViS~ ~ ' Sanot^er rem>nder of the incommensurability
Among the qucst °WCVer much ours owes to, and descends from, theirs,
scrutiny in the foHoS Un,t*n^ l^e
disparate texts which will come under
aPPcar not to m ^ °hapters are: What is it they mean when they
rcPr<^tations lreC„ l n.hat,,they say? Can we tell when that is? If
|JrrtllPs, in the lterally true, how are they true?
Plicated Post-empiriciSTTint,Cth ccnturY* our own self-consciously so-
pUts us at an advantage over some of our
 Introduction 3

scholarly predecessors because we expect to recognize a diversity o f non-

literal meanings. If medieval interpretations proceeded-by-re«©gmti©n_Q.f
context, o f suitability o f linguistic register and stylistic decorum, o f the
detailed description which exploited, adapted, and modified a complex
textual inheritance, then we must recapture context, especially the texts
which formed that context. T he descriptions both o f the decomposing
corpse and the martyred king depend upon audience ability to evaluate a
particular instance against habitual readings o f similar ones, but neither
description is automatic or necessitated by any Zeitgeist; rather, each is
learned and manipulated by authors within cultures. B oth examples assume
multiple reference: to the events th at the text represented and to the text as a
kind o f expression w hich im iratedather texts representing prior even is-J jo t
true/false only, but ‘authorized’ , ‘exem plary’ , and, inevitably, ‘persuasive’,
and these in relation to o th er beliefs-ancLpxactices o f their w ritin g culture. T o
put it another w ay, historical events could be w ritten about in_p.o.exus_which
themselves belonged to a tradition o f historical poetry^ often - and perhaps
m isleadingly -'catego rized as ‘epic’. Such poems-could-be read b y potential
authors w h o expected to be able to extract their ‘historical’ m atter for new
com positions. In turn, depending upon a subsequent author’s w ill and skill,
representations o f past events w hich also referred to past texts w ou ld
em erge, sometimes claim ing a direct relationship w ith the past w hich in
some unexplained w ay ju m p ed the intervening textual tradition. W e re there
not large scope for manipulation there could be no iro n y , n o parody, no
developm ent —only im itation and pastiche, or the repetitive reproduction o f
earlier authorities. A nd understanding these m anipulations im plies an
audience w ith different expectations about h o w texts represent and refer
from those w hich m any m odem readers w o u ld brin g to their reading.
T h e basic argum ent o f this bo o k thus stems from an observation already
familiar to m any modern scholars o f different disciplines: m edieval (and
m any renaissance) readers and writers seem to have th o u gh t they could read
through or across conventional styles, narrative types, and languages to a
kind o f prelingiiKtir rn rf o f trnrh char lay nnrlprn^nfh R h eto ric is thus a
prolegom enon to w hat follow s because it grounds the habits and assump­
tions w hich pervaded m edieval w ritin g in an even older intellectual milieu.
In the analyses w hich fo llo w , I hope that b y ju xtap o sin g texts o f different
kinds, it w ill becom e possible to find un derlying patterns w here before there
were separate insights. If som ething m ight be said to have united the m any
different kinds o f w ritin g in w hich m edieval authors engaged, that
 Introduction
4

something might be derived from a version o f the assumptions and practices

o f classical rhetoric. What words and pictures represented, w hat kinds o f
things or .deas they referred to, depended not only upon experience, but also
upon some familiarity with a complex system ot signs (or conventions)
whose content and methods were acquired initially as part o f a process o f
learning to read. Medieval writers were themselves o fte n jr o u b led b y the
contradictions between the principles enshrined in their prefaces and
included as a matter o f course in their texts and them habituaL .practice
(especially it must be said, other writers' habitual practice). W ithin a few
sentences o f a claim - or what appears to be a claim - to fo llo w the strictest
criteria o f accurate representation or transmission they launch themselves (or
catch others launched upon) an expansion, an elaboration, an insertion
which confounds their previous self-description.
Allegorical imagery is an extreme case o f habits w hich permeated
medieval representations o f many kinds. Aesopic Fable, w hich depicts lambs
as talking beasts, is similar, since the lambs have to be recognized as sharing
human as well as animal traits; but the limits o f interpretation are drawn
differently, controlled by assumptions that g ro w from the reading o f fables,
which seldom ask readers to think o f their lambs as G od. A t least in non-
verisimilar fictions, where readers can be certain that the things depicted
could not have happened, there is a predisposition to look for other
meanings. The punning representation o f ‘a’ lamb as ‘the’ Lam b o f God,
Christ as the sacrifice, is a central occurrence o f a com m on habit. It depends
not on knowledge o f sheep, but on familiarity w ith a textual tradition in
which they play an important part, and such interpretation assumes an
acceptance that what is represented also refers to a reality beyond w hat is
depicted. It also encompasses verbal style, so that an author’s use o f shepherds
(the low style o f life and art) signifies something about G o d ’s willingness to
humble himself. The words which em body the sym bol are chosen in order
to convey values. The tale is told for a purpose other than conveying
information. This is straightforward enough; more difficult to recognize is
the use o f this transforming kind o f representation w hen the narrative is or
claims to be a verisimilar account o f the past. Readers com ing to medieval
historians for the first time may be perplexed to find patent fictions presented
part o f a true account; readers o f medieval fictions m ay w onder w hy
ented stories are offered as ‘true’. Historians appear at least inconsistent;
f romances hypocritical. Beginning from the observation made
ut reading through narratives, I shall try to elucidate some o f the
 Introduction 5

complicated implicit patterns behind otherwise inexplicable inventions and

inconsistencies. Medieval authors depended upon shared habits o f reading in
order to convey their views and beliefs to their audiences. The implications
o f that initial observation are complex, and lead outward in many different
directions. T o castigate translators for failing to achieve a particular kind o f
close verbal correspondence, to demand a clear, dependable dividing line
between ‘history’ and ‘fiction’ is to begin with modem categories; useful as
they are, they need to be related to other ideas about composition in a
different culture.
H ow to interpret, and then how to express, core meanings, in order to
m ove and persuade an audience, were the central concerns o f rhetorical
education in antiquity. Medieval readers and writers did not have to inherit
the actual education in rhetorical declamation which had been the
achievement o f antiquity in order to inherit some o f the categories o f
thought and o f composition which underlay, for example, the depiction or
dramatization o f direct speech which appeared in histories and poems. They
inherited the literature which was written in those categories, and which
came accompanied by commentaries which emphasized the achievement o f
great writers in such identifiable terms as metaphoric language, dramatic and
persuasive speeches, and m oving descriptions o f many kinds. Christianizing
imitations o f the categories preserved them, how ever much they succeeded
in substituting newer, and morally more acceptable, texts for the dangerous
literature o f pagan antiquity. As long as classical compositions survived,
ambitious writers would return to them for models o f inspiration; classical
literature remained a challenge, problematic but undeniably there, suggest­
ing — but not compelling - varieties o f creation and interpretation.
Both the examples with which I began, the reprobate king and the saintly
one, presume knowledgeable audiences, since they depend upon a relation to
something assumed but not stated within the particular work. And the
relation o f a particular work to its genre, to the kinds o f books which it
resembles (from which assumptions about how to read it may primarily be
drawn) must be expanded to include at least potential comparison to quite
different works. Saintly kings or kingly saints are not the only innovating
mixtures that medieval writers created. Kings might become lions (or lions
kings). The kinds o f adventure that are usually found in the narratives classed
as ‘romances’ or even the low-life anecdotes found in ‘fabliaux’ could be -
and were - adapted for the apparently higher genres o f history and the saint’s
life. The interpenetration o f genres in the Middle Ages assumed that readers
 Introduction
6

were familiar with different styles o f expression, and that they Wou,d
recognize them for what they are. Y e t ‘gen re’ can itself raise as many
problems as it solves, because the definitions w hich the M iddle A gCs
inherited from antiquity scarcely fitted the kinds o f text which were

common.
‘History’ was the central secular category o f long verisim ilar narrative.
Though it appeared to be obvious w hat history meant, the breadth and
variety o f narratives, in verse and in prose, that described themselves (or
were described by readers) as histories suggests that co m p lex processes were
at work and that playing within the definitions o f history occupied many
writers. Calling a text ‘historical’ m ight have a legitim atin g function. It
might defend the embroidering o f a narrative based on another narrative
(which had been extracted from a text defined as ‘historical’), like so many o f
the expansions created in the course o f the tw elfth century and after to tell
the stories o f Thebes or T roy. K ing A rthur or C h arlem agne, or to celebrate a
saint, a relic, a religious house. ‘Historical’, though, m igh t be thought o f as
an exemplary narrative based upon events w hich had occurred at some point
in the past, told in order to m ove and persuade its audience to imitate the
good and eschew the evil, a ‘true tale about the past’ w hich included a vast
range o f what modem readers w ould regard as invented material and
inappropriate, if implicit, moralizing. W hat was the place o f anecdotal
material in history or biography? H o w did the need for certain kinds o f
illustration or expansion inspire - and control - the use o f invented, or
dubious, or even true, material? W hat is the relation o f the historical narrator
to his subject, and to the traditions o f historical narrators?
In the different conceptual space o f the M iddle A ges, ‘true’ m igh t mean ‘in
the main’ or ‘for the most part’ true, or even, ‘it could have happened like
this. The problems o f factuality were not resolved b y m edieval writers,
even late-medieval legal writers, and the constant elaboration towards
fiction created tensions between some recognizable, even extractable, central
claims and narrative methods o f conveying the author’s sense o f h o w the past
was to be interpreted. In this sense history was a broad church, teaching by
precept and example.

he corpus o f classical historical texts, preserved and imitated, could be read

hand, or through imitations and adaptations o f m any kinds. ‘H istory’
kcjn brcHa term for many different kinds o f narrative, united by their
P g as, verisimilar reports o f events w hich had happened in the
 Introduction 7

past. Different writers, creating different kinds o f works for different kinds o f
audiences in a climate ostensibly hostile to ambition, literary or otherwise,
were constrained by explicit commitments to the truth, w hole and
unadulterated, which coexisted with implicit expectations about how to
elaborate and embroider in order to write elegantly and m ove and persuade.
Medieval historians seldom explained that a section o f their w ork was
entirely their own invention, yet they seemed to approach other writers’
works know ing that such distinctions could be made, and assuming that they
could distinguish truth from embellishment when choosing what to
preserve and h ow to convey it. Internal consistency and verisimilitude
appeared to count among the highest criteria for subsequent readers and
writers, who only rarely had external validation to turn to. This in turn
meant that attitudes to the authors’ authority were crucial, in medieval
societies in which ‘authority’ itself posed another unresolvable problem .
The classical Latin expositions o f the idea o f ‘history’, the corpus o f
Ciceronian and pseudo-Ciceronian texts, the description o f an O ra to r’s
training by Quintilian, and the late-Latin commentators and expositors o f
their teaching, were not always available to medieval readers and writers,
nor always fully understood when they were available, nor even com pletely
approved by those w ho owned them, read them, analysed them, and made
use o f them (for their ow n purposes). Like so much o f the inheritance from
classical antiquity, rhetoric was a tw o-edged sword, less an education in
oratory than an incitement to the study o f potentially disturbing poets such
as Virgil and O vid and Statius, and a stimulus to emulate their secular tales o f
politics, war, family, reputation, human friendships and illicit love.
H ow ever much medieval readers thought they w ere studying classical texts
in order to learn the techniques o f w riting well (in order to apply those
techniques to holier purposes), they were still exposing themselves to the
extraordinary persuasive powers o f great poetry, which convinces - against
the odds - that this might have happened, in this way; that, had we been
there, we too would have acted as these characters acted. T he historian
M acaulay’s envy o f the novelist Scott’s ability to convey an immediate
impression o f the past is well worth carrying in mind. As long as Latin texts
survived, how ever sanitized by accompanying moral commentary, rhetori­
cally sophisticated works remained to tempt as well as to teach medieval
readers. The glosses, commentaries, and dialogues which explicated these
texts explicated them in terms o f the rhetorical skills, from the verbal
ornaments o f the ‘tropes’ and ‘schemes’ to the invention o f speeches and the
 Introduction

creation o f plots and characters. These in turn pointed back to a system o f

education whose basic assumptions about style and the ways styles could be
varied without affecting the assumed core meaning sutvived with the
classical texts which embodied them.
The model texts taught that writing should be metaphoric and figurative,
full o f the decorative additions which characterized Latin poetry and prose;
that it should embody the set pieces o f the model authors, and increase their
number and scope where possible. The creations o f recognizably intertextual
lopoi, the set pieces of medieval composition, which called attention to their
place in a long tradition o f creative imitation and cross-reference, were part
o f wnterly ambition whatever the type o f text being produced - where the
writers were educated enough to know what and how to imitate. T o be able
to recognize an epic simile or a high style description, to expatiate upon a
description of a city, storm at sea, praise o f a man s ancestors, to appreciate a
good death, or two friends vying to outdo each other in bravery; to
dramatize the arguments in defence o f a course taken or for and against love;
all these are part o f a literary inheritance that is also the w ay that medieval
writers expressed their understanding o f events and agents. It means that
different sections o f the same text may em ploy apparently inconsistent
standards o f veracity, and that quite different adaptations and translations
could claim to represent the same original text. This book attempts to restore
some large-scale (as well as small-scale) patterns which can be thought o f as
deriving from rhetorical attitudes to writing.
Rhetoric was itself a vexed category; at different times it was - in so far as
it was one thing - the subject o f debate about its content (even whether or
not it had one), its legitimacy, its status, its place in the educational syllabus.
In the late Middle Ages its relation to grammar and logic was often a
problem, and it probably only reassumed its classical pre-eminence with the
Renaissance. Rhetoric could be rejected (sometimes ostentatiously) by those
who fled to the cloister, or modifed for the use o f Christians, and
hagiography is one route o f that modification. The Psalter could replace
Virgil in the classroom. But one o f the things it replaced Virgil for was the
teaching o f just those rhetorical skills o f which V irgil had been the great
master. Changing the model did not change all the questions. The need to
move and persuade remained, even if biblical texts were supposed to
supersede pagan ones. But Virgil did not disappear, and the desire to study
the works that had meant so much to Church Fathers such as Augustine and
Jerome, themselves rhetoricians o f great skill, led generation after generation
 Introduction 9

back to the classics. R hetoric could be a scheme o f study, or it could be, more
pervasively but perhaps more intangibly, a habit o f mind, a set o f
assumptions about how words represent the world - or other words.
In antiquity, the process o f education which familiarized generations o f
students with these habits o f interpretation was organized as an education in
oratory. In the schools o f antiquity, boys who could already read and who
had already begun to study (and to learn by heart) their cultures’ great texts,
trained themselves to apply the lessons o f those texts to their own
compositions, especially to speeches o f persuasion, o f defence o f a course o f
action, o f praise and blame. It is common to call this a ‘literary’ education,
and that is correct. Indeed, I have already invoked ‘literary’ ambitions as if
they were commonplace among medieval writers. But ‘literary’ may now
imply ideas o f creative writing, o f free-standing independent fictions. It is
clear that in the Middle Ages the delineation o f such a category raised many
problems. ‘Poetry’ was the word often used to identify texts which
contained large proportions o f ‘invented’ material. Medieval resistance to
the free-standing fiction was frequently expressed, although its continued
existence is perpetual testimony to the human impulse to tell stories, to write
and sing about feelings not altogether consistent with the pursuit o f
salvation. ‘Literature’ was everywhere and nowhere, because learning to
write, whatever the style or content, was based on the acquisition o f certain
well-defined basic rhetorical skills. Ambitious historical writing was
rhetorically sophisticated; so was poetry. Historical poetry was possible, and
so was poetical history. In this sense ‘rhetoric’ might have meant the
concatenation o f skills which contributed to the analysis o f texts: o f what
they meant and how they moved their readers. Verisimilar literary creations
were problematic, and the longer and more ambitious they were the more
pressing became the question o f their legitimacy. What proportion o f a text
could be added by the poet, and how did that change the status o f his new
text? If he claimed higher truths for his additions what kind o f hierarchy was
he invoking? How were subsequent readers to know that his additions were
his? What is the relation between a re-telling, or adaptation, or translation,
and an original text or texts? What controlled these additions or embellish­
ments or decorations? Reconstructing rhetorical habits o f mind can go some
way to providing answers to these questions.
The desire among medieval authors for rhetorical training might appear
to be a dangerous impulse, at best a distraction from, and at worst a betrayal
of, any commitment to preserving the truth o f true tales about the past. Yet
 Introduction
!0
Bede, whose pedagogic reforms meant so much to
scholars ot the calibre ol
o f all kinds, absorbed both precept and
monastic educators and writers
example from rheroncal rex.s, and r u p p M ” " " ' " 6 » h' d ' ^ < V « M
,he terorr,ofrhcrorre for Chnar.n hiKoruns. cxcgc.cr, and p o m . I t » one „ f
rhe sinking resnmonres to the bold o f elarsreal antrqrrrry on the changing
erreums,antes o f the Middle Ages, that the more talented the more
ambitious, die more skilful the medieval venter, the more hkely he sva,
know something about rhetor,cal methods o f interpretation and expression
Whether this knowledge came from textbooks or from m odel authors may
not make, in the last analysis, much difference. 'Rhetoric’ m ight be a
cumculum o f study, the name o f the discipline w hich enabled students to
move and penuade. or the manipulations o f style they acquired from
handbooks, glossed or commented texts, and ambitious imitations o f great
classical works (which illustrated those manipulations at their best).
In dealing with what was similar, with what made variety o f expression
possible, it is difficult to avoid generalizations which may seem to suggest a
Middle Ages' in which no changes occurred for a thousand years. O ne
generalization of which I am - sometimes painfully - aware, is that although
I discuss individual wnters who w'erc women, by and large the educated,
Latinatc class who form the focus o f this book were men. When I write ‘he’, I
usually mean ‘he’; but the ‘he’ I describe is only a tiny subsection o f medieval
manhood, the curious group whose lives revolved around writing. That
changes occurred, and that they were spurred by, among other things, the
dramatized depictions o f character and motive created by great writers, is a
leitmotif of this book. Literature is profoundly a form o f knowledge. B ut in
the mental space o f the Middle Ages that was an argument medieval
interpreters could scarcely confront head on, because it glorified fiction.
Medieval resistance to fiction may have been well founded, and it may be
art, rather than science, which was the greatest threat to religion, because it is
multivalent and multivocal, because it celebrates (even while, even by,
kstcmibly condemning) experiences and behaviour anathema to religious
dicta and perhaps because, by its very existence, it creates a higher escapism
distract even the most reverent from contemplation o f the ineffable
<0 the particularities o f the great human desires; love, revenge, ambition.

' C / °f ‘hc,it1Udy of rhetoric ln ^e Middle Ages is still at an early

commaiury!nddebatltr ryfCnt,C’ WH° “ * unlockinB the traditions o f
m> debt to their work ° Und * amblva,cncc t0 classical leammg;
* " RrCat’ and »• 1hope, amply acknowledged in the
 Introduction ri

notes to the following chapters. Ifl have made what must seem to specialists
like wild generalizations across a millennium and for too many o f the
countries o f western Europe, I can only hope that by juxtaposing early and
late medieval writing, and the writing o f genres often studied separately,
within separate fields o f modern specialization, I have raised questions worth
discussing. She who concentrates on similarities must also apologize for
insufficient attention to difference: to how things changed, and w hy.
The scope o f this book is an exploration o f the variety o f imaginative
historical writing in western Europe in the high and late Middle Ages. B u t in
order to situate the discussion o f an eclectic range o f Latin and vernacular
texts, I begin in antiquity, and to illustrate the last gasps o f medieval (in
contrast to Gothic Revival) ways o f writing about the past, I make the
occasional foray into the seventeenth century. I have claimed that a lively
sympathy with rhetoric must underly the analysis o f what controlled
historical invention. Therefore, Chapter i is a heuristic description o f a
rhetorical education in learning to read, interpret, and write. In describing a
possible medieval education, I do not pretend for a moment that it ever
existed in quite this form. This long description attempts to establish patterns
o f transformation, to show the ways that the same things could be im agined
to be expressed by quite different styles o f expression, and to suggest
categories more complex than the yes/no, true/false patterns that m ight
seduce a reader who has never met medieval styles o f w riting before to think
that a narrative is either historical or not, according to m odem w ays o f
thinking and modern criteria o f assessment. It attempts to lay groundw ork
for the analysis o f latitudes o f invention and embellishment, to suggest the
larger patterns which support and generate the m ultiplicity o f topoi.
Thinking about literary habits o f expression and learning about the topoi,
the set-piece subjects such as descriptions o f towns or storms at sea or
atrocities during wars, that is, applying the techniques o f literary analysis to
medieval historical texts, informs Chapter 2. In a w ay, ‘history’ m ight be
thought o f as a particularly privileged kind o f plot, suggesting themes upon
which medieval writers created their own narrative variations. H istory’s
true tales about the past represented agents and events, but also referred to
other texts which had previously represented them, or agents and events
similar to them. The claim that historical narratives are susceptible to literary
analysis is not startling in itself; as in the first chapter, I attempt to give
examples which will help identify patterns o f literary manipulation, and
elucidate styles o f representation and reference, so that, to give another
 Introduction
12

sim ple exam ple, 'realism ' is not assumed to guarantee truth, but is pcrc
as a style. T o succeeding generations o f w riters, w h at once had claim C(j
revo lu tio n ary innovation, or root and branch eradication o f corruptj0t) '
accretion for the sake o f restoring a pristine state, rapidly assuni" '
appearance o f w eak variation, o f mere reaction w h ich succeeds only **
preserving w hat it pretended to o verco m e. C h ap ter 3 takes ‘biography- 'n
continuation o f historical w riting, but - in w h at m igh t be thought o f J 3
‘literary’ term - emphasizes the representation o f character rather m ore th,"
plot. C h ap ter 4 concentrates on linguistic transfer fro m one literary langUa
to another, but considers this as part of a pattern o f im itation and reference-1
look at translations as varieties o f ‘referring texts, and at their methods 0f
reference both to earlier texts and to the events represented in those texts. For
any medievalist, translation o f the B ible m ust be o f p aram o u n t importance
and T consider som ething o f the variety o f biblical transform ations, perhaps
beyond the boundary o f w hat is habitually classified as translation. Chapter 5
suggests h ow , in lo o kin g at m edieval w ritin g , w e m ig h t w ish to broaden our
ideas o f w hat constitutes literature, and h o w criteria o f elegance and
eloquence are supported b y the rhetorical traditions w h ic h h ave been the
subject o f the earlier chapters. W h ile this b o o k co n cen trates on the high and
late M iddle A ges in W estern Europe, its earliest exa m p les reach back beyond
Sulpicius Severus to C ice ro and Q u in tilia n ; its m o st m o d ern include
archaizing texts as late as Paradise Lost. O n e o f the ed u ca tio n al strains in this
story is the increasing distance betw een the so u rce-cu ltu re la n g u ag e, Latin,
and the literary languages o f the in creasin gly n a tio n a lly d efin ed European
vernaculars, especially English, French, and Italian. L o v e and a m b itio n can
also be focussed on books, and the desire to em u late the lite ra ry successes o f
the past is one o f the main m o tiv e forces fo r m e d iev a l and renaissance
writers.
In writing for an audience o f scholars as well as students coming to pre-
seventeenth-century writing for the first time, I have been conscious that
some o f the exposition is likely to seem tedious to the learned. In addressing
two disparate learned audiences, professional historians and literary critics, I
hope that while the former will tolerate the application o f the habits of
literary analysis, the latter will be intrigued by the breadth o f what passed as
history. Because my own intellectual formation is in a literature-based
discipline, and my experience o f reading is mainly in English and French,
readers with similar backgrounds may find many o f the examples in the first
and fourth chapters familiar. 1 hope that the section headings will facilitate
 Introduction 13
judicious selection, and that by restricting the bibliography and polemic to
the footnotes I have managed not to bore those for w hom the book was
originally intended, who

don't know much about the Middle Ages —

look at the pictures and turn the pages.

A llegory has been well served by students o f the M iddle Ages, and I
discuss it only in passing. For the opposite reason, I say little about one o f
the basic parts o f any training in oratory: delivery. There is very little on
what medieval texts must have sounded like. It is a profound lim itation o f
this book, as book, that w ords in the mind read faster than w ords
addressed to the ear, that paronomasia (sound effects) cannot easily be
discussed when w e habitually read silently, so that our experience appears
to negate generalizations about the norm al experience o f readers w hose
reading was not silent. T h e im portance o f repetition, o f rh yth m ,
assonance and alliteration, all the sound chimes, cannot be o verem ­
phasized as a pseudo-logical effect. A rgum ents are not ju st rein forced, they
are sometimes created — or at least the im pression o f an argu m en t is created
- h o w ev er m eretriciously, b y sound, and the sense o f an endin g m a y m o ve
p rofoun dly because o f shifts in rhythm w h ich brin g the h earing reader to a
halt. B y supplying quotations in the original languages as w ell as in
translation, I have tried to invite readers to think abou t these possibilities.
 I

M EANING AN D M EANS

Besides it w ould be absurd that, while incapacity for self-defence is a

reproach, incapacity for mental defence should be none; mental effort
being more distinctive o f man than bodily effort. If it is objected that an
abuser o f the rhetorical faculty can do great mischief, this, at any rate,
applies to all good things except virtue, and especially to the m ost useful
things, as strength, health, wealth, generalship. B y the right use o f these
things a man m ay do the greatest good, and by the unjust use, the
greatest mischief.

Style w ill have propriety, i f it is pathetic [emotional], characteristic, and

proportionate to the subject. This proportion means that im portant
subjects shall not be treated in a random w a y , nor trivial subjects in a
grand w ay; and that ornament shall not be heaped upon a co m m o n ­
place object . . . Passion is expressed, w hen an outrage is in question, b y
the language o f anger; w hen im pious or shameful deeds are in question,
by the language o f indignation and aversion; w hen praisew orthy things
are in question, b y adm iring language; w hen piteous things, b y lo w ly
language — and so in other cases. T h e appropriateness o f the language
helps to give probability to the fact; the hearer’s m ind draw s the
fallacious inference that the speaker is telling the truth, because, w h ere
such facts are present, men are thus affected; the hearer thinks, then, that
the case stands as the speaker says, w hether it does so stand o r n ot, and
invariably sympathises w ith the passionate speaker, even w h en he is an
imposter. A ristotle, Rhetoric, 1355b, 1408a (trans. Jebb)

T h e poet is ranked w ith the scientist as authority for a purely scientific

proposition. This astonishing failure to distinguish - in practice, though
not always in theory - betw een books o f different sorts must be borne
in m ind w hen ever w e are tryin g to gauge the total effect o f an ancient
text on its m edieval readers. T h e habit, like m any m edieval habits, long
o utlived the M iddle A ges. Burton is a notable offender. He illustrates
the physiological force o f im agination fro m the Aethiopica of
H eliodorus as i f that rom ance w ere a history . . .
C . S. Lew is, The Discarded Image (C am b rid ge, 1964), pp. 3 1-2 .

15
 the Middle Ages
Truth and convention in

the rhetori cal a p p r oa c h to e d u c a t i o n

i h,hits that were developed in classical antiquity

When the educationa medievaI Europe, they created standards and

Je” |, r i “f CT. t ! . T " h m d a n West. Classical education had established

. ,h , cultivated man knew (by heart) the bet. w riting o f hi,
^ tu r^ a n d it nominated the texts; trained him to analyse w ith detailed care;
“ speak well enough to move and petsnade his audience, and to w rite always
with the mind's ea, in his mind's eye. following the models ofexcehen ce that
he had studied and mutated a. school. Even ,f the Bible replaced H om er or
Virgil an education in rhetorical skills might still be a goal. W hen medieval
wri ters argued over the suitability o f such study for the godly, they defended
the use o f rhetorical skills on the grounds that Christians could not afford to
relinquish oratorical advantages o f persuasion to their adversaries. Som e­
times they pointed out the undeniable rhetorical achievements o f the Bible
or the Church Fathers. The schools and practice o f antiquity had set a
curriculum but they had equally enshrined an interlocking com plex o f ideas.
Medieval writers could refer to rhetoric, to rhetoric texts, to writers on
rhetoric, without ever defining exactly what they meant. T h e y continued to
convene with what they took to be Antiquity’s R hetoric as a standard, a
syllabus, or a discipline, without ever restricting the subject to a specific
course o f study. Today, when ‘rhetoric’ implies bombast, w ords w ithout
content, it is hard to recapture the all-encompassing richness o f the classical
rhetorical education, or the pervasiveness o f its assumptions. Rhetoricians
had trained the governing citizens o f Athens, despite the reservations about
their ostensible expertise which Plato expressed, and R om ans imitated and
adapted the schools o f their predecessors. When Christianity, w ith all its
complex and contradictory ambivalences about the value o f w orldly
achievement, became dominant in late antiquity, rhetorically trained writers
reinterpreted classical texts for Christian education and, despite their
ambivalent view o f their heritage, preserved it: Augustine, Jerom e, C yprian,
and many others were rhetoricians before they w ere churchm en - and they
were rhetoricians after, whatever they told themselves. I f an apparently
excessive dedication to their literary training sometimes led them to

T “ ‘ ,0° rauch w ith the culture, the literary

Standard o f their n e b ' * e y '*,“ tificd thal tri,n l"fb using it to raise the
surpass paean Cr ’ a CUtUrC ^ 0rder that “ mi8ht emulate and
eece an Rome. Medieval students o f eloquence would find
 Meaning and means 17

pagan writers at the base o f their study, maintaining the prestige which
accrued to ‘founders’ and ‘inventors’ o f any skill; the same models o f
excellence retained their supremacy across the whole o f Europe, in a
language increasingly remote from those registers o f spoken and written
Latin in which educated people communicated. Later still, but still across the
breadth o f the continent, writers aspired to achieve in their vernacular
languages poetry and prose that would stand comparison with the
monuments they had inherited and studied either through precept or,
implicitly, through example.1 Thus their habits o f argument, their delight in
display, the unstated assumptions that they shared about writing or speaking
well, informed their sermons, their historical and imaginative writing, and
their letters. In this chapter I shall consider how models o f reading became
models o f writing, and what kinds o f conventions the model texts
established as integral to composition and interpretation. Since textbooks
written by Greeks could be translated by Romans and still used by English
schoolboys, I make no apology for choosing m y examples eclectically. And
since texts analyse what great writers do, I use the analysis o f literature as an
indication o f ways o f reading or habits o f writing which could be learned
wherever commentary and interpretation were part o f private or group
study. Throughout this book it will be the typical (against which the unusual
shows its surprises) that will be m y concern, and the horizon to be plotted is a
horizon o f expectation.2
It is the argument o f this book that the habits o f reading and w riting that
were engendered by education according to a variety o f rhetorical
assumptions created a literary culture in which the meaning o f a passage or
even a whole w ork may ultimately depend on recognition o f its place in a
familiar scheme o f categories o f style, method, and organization. Acquain­
tance with the expectations, rules, and habits o f mind that m oved these
writers is an important preliminary which will help m odem readers begin to
appreciate w hy medieval authors wrote as they did, what they intended -
even i f (perhaps especially if) they did not actually do what they meant to do,
achieve what they intended to achieve. If medieval Europe was always a
collection o f bilingual cultures, it was at least in this w ay no different from
R om e. This experience o f a ‘referring’ culture, or o f ‘referring’ texts, will
continue to be an important theme. Greek texts defined the inherited
categories in which men wrote, as well as providing standards o f excellence.
So Hom er’s epics created standards o f writing about the past which included
models o f courage, beauty, ethics, arguments, behaviour - all the moral and
 18 ....
. r hooks provide. Emulating and surpassing Homer’s
aesthetic satisfactions t a fp (hc writcrs who succeeded him, first
achievement was a constan ^ (hen in Latin-speaking Italy. Greek
in Hellenistic Greece an . orations established the forms 0f
plays set the canons o Greek historians showed the w ays
forensic, or aPPa > #^ ^ ^ stages o t learning a Roman

V l b o v m i d th» animal fables a.rnbn.ed to a Greek slave. Aesop. f t *

schoolboy came wlth the erotic sequences o f Propertius,

C a m ^ " all, Ovid, and with the satires of J u ^ n a i and Persius,

and with this pride came a sense of cultural legitimation, o f satisfaction with
the achievements of the Lann language-culture, which we can watch being
repeated in the European vernaculars in the centuries which followed. The
idea of ‘referral’ is perhaps now so obvious that it is worth inserting a
reminder of the efficiency of a shared culture which allows authors to evoke,
extend, iromze, misunderstand, and legitimate both their own new work
and the old works to which they address themselves, even if one takes the
extreme view that whatever they think they are doing, they always
misinterpret. Writers never stopped looking over their shoulders. There is
somethingJan us-faced in the way they look back to situate their w ork, while
their additions look forward, transforming the inherited stock o f literature.
It is one of the paradoxes of Modernism that T. S. Eliot was much concerned
to remind his contemporaries of this process.
The aim of Greek education had been to create good citizens and good
government for the community.4 In theory, literary study was one o f the
ways that the ‘right’ values could be inculcated in young men; preparing
them to analyse and argue was a political education.5 Much o f the argument
over methods of education concerns the dangers of teaching the techniques
ol persuasion without ensuring that the speakers will use their power wisely;
it was never clear why a good orator would also be a good man, though
many asserted, with Quintilian, that there would o f necessity be no good
orator who was not.1 In the Platonic dialogues Socrates may outargue the
sophists, but it was the sophists, with their control o f the skills o f rhetoric and
he schools which taught them, who triumphed. Education increasingly
the techniques of good speaking and writing until, with the end of
Ren Kr u ^Lmnir'cy 'n Greece, and, similarly, the end o f the Rom an
once been 1 ° * tCChniques were divorced from the political life that had
remained. Educatl0n is conservative, and its methods
course, the study of literature, because it describes
 Meaning and means r9

and dramatizes the behaviour o f human beings in greater variety than moral
treatises do, continually provides material for questioning ‘right’ values. In
the Middle Ages the insistence that it was safe to study classical texts about
the Passions (e.g. anger, fear, sorrow, desire) because knowledge would
provide a prophylactic against them, was never entirely convincing; no
accent on allegory ensured that the allegorical reading superseded the literal
one, if only because medieval readers were alert to the multiplicity o f
interpretation which could be brought to bear on all kinds o f texts. Indeed, it
is often not clear where ‘Rhetoric’ comes in medieval educational schemes,
or even what it implies beyond an ambition to write as well as the model
authors o f Antiquity. A t times it appears to identify a classicizing (and
therefore archaizing) impulse in a medieval author. As components o f the
trivium, the first part o f medieval university study, ‘Grammar’, ‘R hetoric’,
and ‘Dialectic’ were never hard and fast categories. If, broadly speaking,
rhetoric appears to be a controversial label for the arts o f persuasion, that
may suffice as at least a place to start.
Excellence in Rom an school displays continued to be a route to success up
to the time o f Augustine and Jerome, if only to the prestige o f being famous
for those displays. Indeed, the less the declamations were grounded in the
possibilities o f real action, the more extravagant the speakers became: when
the subject was imaginary, with no consequences dependent on its outcome,
method and style became all. Excellence was a matter o f m oving and
persuading the audience, so that attention concentrated upon ways o f
manipulating their emotions.7 The audience was a listening audience, even
when the text is written to be read; and even the private reader read aloud to
himself, or listened as someone else read aloud for him.8Texts were studied
in order to understand how authors created moving scenes; the more
moving the text, the better it served as a model: Seneca’s melodrama or
O vid ’s w itty eroticism.9In principle, the study o f great literary texts was also
the study o f conduct, good and bad, so that the youthful imagination could
exercise itself upon the dangers experienced by heroes o f the past, and
scholarly commentary on Seneca or Statius or O vid encouraged moral
interpretation. Commentary must, simply by regularly calling attention to
certain aspects o f texts rather than others, emphasize those aspects o f the texts
at the expense o f different ways o f reading. Decorative language easily
became an end in itself rather than a means. If emphasis on preparation for
public life faded, concern for individual morality continued to occupy
generations o f pedagogues, pagan or Christian. At the same time, the texts
 in the Middle Ages
Truth and convention

„ , , pYrncted - at whatever cost to the

trom which moral tlK more treasured for themselves,
general interpretation of the b thc study o f style. Like the
The moral ends o f literature s 'i r ' . so there is a
about .be good orator bo.ng. a. ol nature, a good man. so there ts an
assumption that Latum , too. leads ns to destre the good, mdeed. teaches tts
tvha. the good is. What ts evtl ,s recogn,table and repugnant. Tins assumes a
trained reader. ,
The survival o f rhetoric-training was never uncontested, nor was u
unvaried Attempts to preserve, renew, improve, and m odify the classroom
texts and exercises concerned teachers, especially devout teachers, from
generation to generation, as historians o f both rhetoric and education have
emphasized. Textbook writers such as Donatus in the fourth century and
Priscian about the year 500 themselves became the subject o f extensive
annotation, supplying in writing perhaps what had long been oral
explication in the classroom. At the end o f the period, when econom ic
expansion, printing, and the need for more educated clerks for secular
society coincided to free more children to study, there were n ew textbooks
for young readers which ran into many editions and w ere adopted all over
western Europe. Rhetoric once more assumed a recognizable shape as a
curriculum o f study based on the exercises o f Aphthonius and Herm ogenes
and praised by Cicero and Quintilian. There is a famous bravura perfor­
mance by Erasmus o f two hundred ways to vary the simplest polite greeting;
in trying to show what can be done he never questions the idea that the tw o
hundred variations express one thing.10 Education was a leg up, a process to
be digested and transcended, but not forgotten. I f w e are unable to see the
attraction o f lists o f tropes and schemes it m ay be because w e fail to
understand the place o f such a list in the training o f potential orators and
writers. Tacitly, what was being conveyed was the belief that the m any
varieties o f expression represented the same reality. That is, there was a
reality to be expressed." Even the representation o f a text b y transfer into
another language also represented at one further rem ove the reality to w hich
that original text had referred.

If books on rhetoric described the three kinds of speeches and their

n T !T Z 5UfbdlViS,0n5’thcse same ki"ds could always have been found in
point 0f J V Cr5V nd PmSe' Again’ “ is imPortant to remember that the
his audience to fllJoTthe' C° nStrUCtl° n W3S t0 enable both the orator and
convent.cn made , ° r8amZatIOn of a lo"g *peech: the orality of this
dC " lmP° rtant t0 si8nP°st and to repeat, even by counting
 Meaning and means 2f

sections on their fingers, as one finds medieval preachers doing in manuscript

illustrations. As with the modern instruction to school children that essays
have introductions, bodies, and conclusions, if the pattern is approached
from the outside, artificially, the material may have to be tortured into the
right shape. Start with a fact; with a quotation from a dictionary; always
illustrate your point with three examples; end with a citation from a poem,
critic, historian, encyclopedia: we, too, learn our conventions and write
according to preconceived plans. Any sense that one kind o f essay structure is
natural and inevitable evaporates when juxtaposed with the intellectual
habits o f another culture: French schoolchildren, for example, learn that
essays come in two balanced sections. Such training leads to taking certain
habits o f mind for granted.
Before considering the basic examples available in this training, let me
begin by looking at a poet reading a poet using them. This is a famous, and
complex, example o f misinterpretation, a Christian example which illus­
trates both that great cultural change in which expectations o f depravity
replaced expectations of a natural desire for the good and also a striking
instance of literary old-fashionedness. When Blake reinterpreted M ilton’s
Paradise Lost in his own Marriage of Heaven and Hell he remarked that Milton
was ‘o f the Devil’s party without knowing it’. Blake’s reasons seem to have
had to do with the power and strength Satan exhibits, and especially the
moving quality of his language. Blake thought that the skill invested in Satan
implied sympathy with Satan, whether Milton knew it or not. The epigraph
to this chapter is a reminder that the pretence of sympathy, even imaginative
sympathy, is not the same as moral sympathy. Certainly, Milton goes out of
his way to make a brilliant rhetorician of the Devil, whose speeches can be
used to illustrate many of the orator’s tricks. But that it is tricks that the Devil
is up to is crucial to Milton’s poem: Satan’s arguments are consistently
specious, and they appeal to the basest desires of the already corrupted angels,
and to Eve. That is, characters in the poem interpret, and we, the readers,
interpret like them, what Satan says, and not like them, because we also
interpret their interpretation. The reader, who knows who is speaking,
(unlike Eve, who cannot, since she is inside the fiction, be alert as we can) will
be on his guard because he knows that Satan, father of lies, can be expected to
cheat and deceive. Indeed, we ‘heard’ him say he was going to do just that.
His ethos, his moral authority, is bad. It is also worth remembering that unless
Satan is an exceptionally powerful speaker no one who listens to him (on
whichever side o f the story) will succumb to his temptations. He must not
 Truth and convention in ihc Middle Ages

appear ,o be bad Thouph he purr .he be., care for evil '><■ he is Mil
w ro n g. W e are. and o „g h , ,o be. moved, m tee rh e.o n c .. d.rec.cd a, „ ur
c i tn hr moved by Satan is an experience w hich also
emotions. For readers to nc inovtu . j
concerns human memory, and implicates us all in the susceptibility o f the
individual, fallen, human will. It was m ankind’s fate once to be seduced by
that temptation, and no doubt Milton w ould agree that men are daily
seduced by similar arguments - but this does not and cannot mean that he
w ould subscribe to them. R ecognize their pow er, yes, but endorse them,
never. T o be convinced by Satan is to repeat Adam s fall. T o understand
courage in a bad cause, great rhetoric serving evil, is to m ake tem ptation
tempting, and to make a poem not a sermon. T he danger arises because
poems require interpretation, and they invite discussion.
It may be argued that this is a special case, not o n ly late in the period under
consideration, but an epic. First, as I hope the rest o f this b o o k w ill show ,
Milton's Satan exhibits one aspect o f standard rhetorical training: argum ents
to urge someone to a course o f action, a speech-type central to rhetorical
training. Second, that M ilton w rote epic poetry is not licence fro m the
methods o f good w riting that obtained across the range o f literary genres.
Third, M ilton’s imaginative recreation o f biblical events contains claims to
render a kind o f truth that his readers w ou ld have accepted as indeed
historical. His is a plausible account o f w hat m igh t have happened; it
therefore invites categorization as history. In his attem pt to w rite an English
epic that would, however, deal with the episodes w h ich determ ined all
subsequent human history M ilton was creating a cappin g w o r k in a line that
went back to Homer, in a competition in w hich national, linguistic, pride as
well as personal greatness were the prizes. His pedantry, like Ben Jon so n ’s,
was a claim about both literature and his place am o n g its great creators. He
u'as translating, adapting, and am plifying from earlier tex ts.12 F ourth , the
anachronisms o f M ilton’s cosm ology provide a rem in der that ‘ the re­
naissance did not open like a w indow ; literary p eriodization is a retrospec­
tive and problematic convenience. Paradise Lost was a b a c k w a rd -lo o k in g
archaism which commanded respect in part because o f the d ig n ity and
ambition o f its subject. Milton exploited a linguistically co n serv ativ e text -
the English Bible - to reassert a m orally conservative sto ry - the Fall - by
means o f a high prestige, but already apparently o u tm o d ed ge n re - Epic

dnmTr ■ C r SUlting Par3d0X’ that the Claim t0 tel1 the truth 15 expressed by
interprlhl em° t,VC fiCtIOn' remmds US n° £ ,cast of the complexities any
interpretable text invited. Questions about the plausibility o f the historical
 Meaning and means 23
account in Paradise Lost could be deferred either because or in spite o f its
sacred subject. Books which now seem to belong to the category ‘fiction’
once belonged to the category ‘history’ , even if modern readers no longer
care even to study works that were once treasures o f comfort and inspiration.
In generalizing about rhetorical training as a necessary preliminary, I am
aware that the ‘system I elucidate may never have existed in any single time
or place in exactly the forms I describe. Educational theory is always tidier
than the classroom. This book is not meant as a survey o f educational
practice from A ntiquity to the end o f the Renaissance, but an introduction
to the range o f expectations engendered by training along rhetorical lines.
A nd the training itself changed according to place and circumstance.
M edieval attempts to substitute Christian poems for Classical ones were a
tribute to the necessity to retain the techniques while finding m orally
suitable matter on w hich to refine them .13 Actual teachers no doubt fell far
short o f the aspirations that they shared, and in the early M iddle A ges books
and parchment w ere scarce. Y e t whenever men were able to organize
centres o f learning, they looked back to the schools o f A ntiquity for their
models, and studied the same texts, w ith accretions o f commentaries, the
same masters o f rhetoric. M edieval libraries contained hundreds o f copies o f
C ice ro ’s rhetorical w orks, often w ith the commentaries o f Victorious. T o be
articulate was to emulate the styles and methods o f classical Latin literature,
first in e vo lvin g Latin, then in the European vernaculars. This encouraged
the idea o f a standard o f correctness impossible to emulate. H andbooks,
rulebooks, even students’ exercise books exist in enough numbers to assure
us o f the continuity o f rhetorical aspirations and ideals. So do, more
im portantly, references - sometimes w itty, sometimes denigrating - to the
shared experience o f schools texts and techniques (see below for an example
from Francis Bacon). A lth ough there are questions about the attention paid
to classical rhetorical texts in the monasteries, recent scholarship confirms the
suspicion that a larger num ber o f ancient texts circulated than has hitherto
been th o u g h t.'4 Articulate men were not com m on; the education I describe
was, at its most sophisticated, relatively rare. A t any time m any o f its lessons
could be extracted by imitation o f model texts, where commentators
perpetually called attention to precisely those small-scale features which
w ere the heart o f detailed rhetorical instruction. A reassessment o f rhetorical
habits o f mind m ay make it possible to appreciate - not least to understand -
a range o f m edieval and renaissance texts which w ill otherwise remain at best
quaint, at w orst incomprehensible. A lth ough it can be argued that some arts
 ,|,c Middle Ages
Truth and convention in
*4
hjs book is being w ritten political sp cech w riters all
die and stay dead, even rhctorical analyses, and have p ut
over the world have re » ^ cspcciany the topics and sound
them to use for mo e . thc rc_cducated m o d ern o rato r a
patterns whicn innoccnt audiences, w h o se e m o tio n s m ay be

their appreciating w h y . T h e ancient h a b it o f analysing

“ L o u r e d appreciation, but alto treated a defence.
Wherever it is found, rhetorical education em phasizes p reservatio n and
like Donatus and Priscian, at the level o f most basic
imitation. Masters
Martianus Cappella (early fifth century) or Cassiodorus
grammarians, to
(early sixth century) at a more sophisticated level o f ed u catio n al theory,
insisted that the student learn to read and com m ent upon an a greed corp us o f
Lann texts so that he could proceed from the appreciation o f the m asters’
skills in rhetoric to the acquisition o f his o w n .'5 T his m eans qu ite a different
approach to the ‘set texts’ from that w e are accustom ed to. F o r o n e thing,
they looked different: the texts w ere mediated b y co m m en taries, either in
the margins, or as accom panying books. This created an im pression o f
dialogue, almost o f simultaneity: the p o et’s vo ice w ith con stant accom pan i­
ment. This dialogue was a constant discussion o f h o w to read. F o r a text to
acquire a commentary became a mark o f seriousness: n o t o n ly classical
poems, like the Aeneid, but classical rhetorical texts, like the A d Herrenium,
which was thought to be the w ork o f C icero , appeared w ith annotations.
Commenting upon the sacred texts o fju d aism o r C h ristia n ity fo llo w e d this
model, as, later, did Arabic commentaries on A ristotle o r the K o ran . So,
even later, did renowned secular texts, like D an te’s Commedia as e arly as the
thirteenth century, or Spenser’s Shepheardes Calender in 1579, w h ich was
acrually published with its com m entary already p ro vid ed . S o , to o , a quasi-
legal text like the sixteenth-century description o f the trial o f ‘M artin
Guerre could boast o f its iij annotations.16

l e a r n i n g t h r o u g h c o m m e n t e d t e x t s

Idate 1 illustrates an early printed text o f one o f the m ost w id e ly used

commentaries on V irg il’s Aeneid; this was a c o m p en d iu m o f earlier

l | UrieS’ 3nC* n0t so,ely t*lc worlc ° f Servius, the la te-fo u rth -cen tu ry

look d h k WH u W3S aSCnbcd-’7 T h 'S first s a m p l e o f w h a t such texts

Where com °W prescntation discouraged co n tin u o u s reading-
look from one booTtoTiT SCparately one w «uld h a ve co n stan tly to
C 0t er' ty p ica lly , Servius preserves g ra m m a tic a l
 Meaning and means
25

Ucneidos jliber. L f o-CC IX*

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Plate 1 A e n e i d Book I with annotations compiled (and labelled in the margins)

from Servius, Donatus, and other Commentators by J . Ascensius (Paris, 1507)-
 ihc Middle Ages
T ru th
and convention m
26

, , o f individual w ords and phrases, historical

and syntactic explanation. ^ . w hich the student m ig h t require,
elucidations ot people, P aces h w hich V irgil e m p lo y ed , and,

detailed analyses o f t c h ara cte riz atio n (often at the point at

.nfrequently.explanauo V r ^ cxpIaincd aw ay). ^

svh,ch an apparent to the exclusion o f the larger issues

commentary emphasizes the a u a
r f L a c y C . d c L which engage classical sc h o la r, w ee k n g on he same
todayYe, .here was ,m e,textual explica.,on o f V .r g . s ,n,.canons and
adaptations o f earlier vers.ons o f his s.ory as w ell as earl.ee epre m odels
Celling different srones) for his poem, ti is not enough to exp la.n this
approach to the model authors by the need to analyse and m aintain a literary
language. Latin, which became ever more alien to its readers. O f course they
went to their authors for style, to learn the techniques o f w ritin g w h ich w ere
agreed to be the best for m oving and persuading, but they also read epic for

love o f epic.
Even commentaries did more than one thing, and can illustrate the
penetrability o f genres. O ne o f the most famous, co n te m p o ra ry w ith
Scrvius. the Saturnalia o f Macrobius, detaches itself fro m its subject, V ir g il’s
Aeneid, and preserves, in its form, an exam ple o f a ‘D ia lo g u e ’, that is, a report
o f conversation among a group o f learned friends.18 T h e Dialogues o f Plato
were the model for Macrobius, but w ith the exception o f the Timaeus, these
were not available in the Latin-speaking W est until the fourteen th century,
which suggests that the philosophical dialogue was represented b y texts
which discussed other texts, and shows the w a y that a co m m e n ta ry could
begin to move towards becom ing a literary w o rk in its o w n right. T his is
also true o f another commentary by M acrobius, this tim e on o n ly a section
o f a Dialogue by Cicero in which a dream is reported. ‘M acro b iu s on the
Dream o f Scipio is the only w ay in w hich this w o rk survives, alth ou gh
survives does nothing to convey the w ay the em bedded dream appears,
3S IS weight o f information about the th eo ry o f d rea m s.”
irk in turn became a source for other authors, o f w h o m C h a u c e r is

read known ^'s ®

0 °f ^e Duchess begins w ith a narrator
in v .t a T “ dr C° mmcmary> th™ dream ing him self, w ith an im plied
invitation to the rearlor ___ ’ r
becomes a ‘t • l omment upon the new dream. The dream
‘ ,cx, which invites commentary
c-ommentaries attracted 7
Pentateuch, upon which th C° m"lentarics- Thc Talmud begins with the
focus for a later c o m 1S 3 l n t cornrncntary, which itself became the
commentary, thlt pnntcd h avc ^ fo r
 Meaning and means
27

study. In the H igh M iddle Ages the Sentences o f Peter Lombard, themselves
an exercise in biblical interpretation, attracted further commentary, for­
malized by the U niversity o f Paris as a subject which all students were
required to study and discuss.
T h e Bible is, o f course, the most com m ented text, because it is both the
most im portant and the most difficult to understand. It also became a source
o f stylistic examples for writers o f rhetoric books w ho wished to substitute
m orally unexceptionable rhetorical models for their students that w ould
keep them aw ay from the dangerous pagan texts that w ere the focus o f the
textbooks o f Donatus and Priscian and the like.20
T h e existence and continued prestige o f pagan literature posed a constant
challenge to m edieval and renaissance Christians. Emphasis upon classical
literary texts as sources for imitation preserved the texts, w hatever else it did,
and though they m ight be read as the com m entators wished, they m ight be
read in other w ays as w ell. T he im aginative arts are alw ays a threat, not only
because they encourage m ultiple interpretations o f cause and m otive (with a
concom itant urbanity w hich turns understanding to forgiveness), nor solely
because their dramatizations o f questionable behaviour m ay enshrine the
very values they are meant to castigate (forgiveness turns to en vy and
approval), but above all because the pleasures o f story-telling, o f going
som ew here else and becom ing, even for an hour, som eone else, com p licate-
b y their existence — our moral responses to experience. From Jerom e’s self­
accusation at the beginning o f the period that he was a Ciceronian rather
than a Christian there was no question but that fascination w ith content and
style carried undeniable risks to the devout. Flirtation has not always
culm inated in fastidious rejection. A ugustine’s argum ents in De Doctrina
Christiana opened the door to centuries o f classicizing Christians.21 As the
children o f Israel put the Egyptians’ gold to better use, so Christians w ould
reinterpret pagan culture. Augustine’s argum ent is, perhaps, vulnerable to
the rem inder that the Children o f Israel used their stolen gold to make the
G olden C alf, that sym bol o f w horin g after false gods, as soon as Moses
turned his back. A ugustine’s habit o f treating an analogy as a demonstration,
o f reading one thing and interpreting it as another, remained a staple o f
applied interpretation throughout the M iddle Ages. He and Jerome were, in
effect, introducing a fifth column; by building into education the assumption
that the ‘best’ models and techniques were those o f pagan R om e, they
authorized the argum ent that pagan w riting should be preserved as an
integral part o f a Christian w riter’s education. In 1513 Gavin Douglas was
 n in the M id d le A g e s

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-h « H u « r .i» , ’J c k |» rrcuf donum finV-.
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♦ ru-rt i^Z/i^blbatur. b<KVlL fu p e r fiI^f<0iK<-rrrU_y fa i en ctu fpn.'.
II m*j\nrrii>irrmmJiliil£ lin n a i
- tiii nii'w kJewajfyif Hi'
if ^ ' m u k . - jif a n u J d ;CV> tfuo^
•HT» 4}| *11 -i { f b f l. ■ w fit f'intmmm(. mmUtn. j ibrrtwr.Cr fpfd. f' f. A.Gtffei.f.iU
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mm 'uWa'ifxnA^l«> jmmwwtl ffrlf ^imunn
tvv« wHi’frfy tmu boimm^ppoinonc
qb'c.mcim imu honnnl^pqnwnt rru i
Im rO if.n: j I I * v i l M u ll* i l u i m vnirniir m(
(tmrailinifInf nwnmtheme m inj^nw tufiTT inluir
Ml di n»ifii <j -lf|»fc •nrninm ltc»B l-&
•nfannS yot pinnmtrait ijtm>(n'ACed uf^. iNn«
«»1\« • "<*n fiq*n •,t*( mnafn ien wneimemV. /.BiUiiiir <^Tiur^*dmIt^i intuitune
^ nmmt .tm^virr v 1L
( I n • M n n a m f dilu uu' r f t l t r c e f —

ite 2 The opening of the Book of Genesis with the Glossa

(twelfth century).
 M eaning and means
29

still referring to A u gu stin e’s w eepin g o ver D ido. T h e y built temptation into
their educational m ethods: o f the pagan party w ith ou t k n o w in g it. The
justification is o f particular im portance in a culture ostensibly uneasy w ith
fiction or p o etry (w hich is invented) that either fails to direct readers toward
G o d or actu ally celebrates w o rld ly experience. I f the study o f classical
‘m o d els’ did n oth in g else it preserved the ca tego ry and prestige o f ‘p o etry ’ .
A n d ‘p o e tr y ’, because it is th o u g h t-p ro vo k in g about hum an beings, remains
a source o f k n o w le d g e . A g re ein g a standard o f ‘g o o d style’ also elevates the
texts w h ich e m b o d y it, and it is im possible to read those texts sim ply for
‘g o o d style’ . T his has m an y im plications.
B y the tim e m edieval gram m arians cam e to w rite their o w n textbooks,
the in congruities o f training future churchm en on a diet o f V ir g il’s pietas or
O v id ’s lovers, o r the m artial ardour celebrated b y pagan R o m a n s, had
b eco m e an ineradicable argu m en t in the literary-p h ilo so p h ica l heritage o f
E urope. Pagan exam ples m ay have been held up to n ew readers as exam ples
o f beh av io u r to esch ew , but they w ere, necessarily, the exam p les discussed
w h e re v e r m eth o d and style w ere discussed. A u g u stin e ’s Confessions pre­
served - and legitim ated - a serious reaction to D id o and m ade readers’
reactions to her fate a pinnacle o f e m o tiv e expressiveness, both for them and
fo r aspiring w riters. It is alm ost a piece o f structural bad faith: it is all righ t to
w eep o v e r D id o as lo n g as y o u are aw are that it is n ot all rig h t to w eep o ver
D id o . T h e re w ere attem pts, o f course, to replace pagan texts w ith Christian
secular ones. B u t the co n te x t o f L atinity and o f b e lie f - as w e ll as the absence
o f genius - had chan ged too radically for this am bition to succeed for long; it
is part o f the p o w e r o f the Aeneid that it, to o , is a b a ck w a rd -lo o k in g text
w h ich preserves a kin d o f cultural arch a eolo g y. T h eo d u lu s w ro te an early
C h ristian pastoral in either the ninth o r the tenth cen tu ry, and John o f
G arlan d w as still try in g in the tw elfth ce n tu ry .22 N o t o n ly had the pagan
texts greater prestige, since they fo rm ed part o f the culture inherited from
the greatest civ iliza tio n the w estern w o rld had k n o w n , but they w ere better.
G re at literature escapes strictures abou t usefulness. T h is question o f quality
w ill d o g the fo llo w in g chapters.
C lassical Latin m aintained its appeal w h erev er there w ere readers capable
o f u n derstan din g (or m isunderstanding) it. Such readers, w h o had pro­
gressed b e y o n d the p o in t o f p ain fu lly deciph ering the difficult and various
styles to the lev el o f reading them and lo v in g them , w ere also the writers
w h o w o u ld em u late classical achievem ents in their o w n w riting. If, because
o f the chan ges in m ed ieval Latin, th ey co u ld no longer scan in quantitative
 the Middle Ages
3„d convention m
Truth
3° tc stressed a n d r h y m e d p o e t r y t h a t W o i l tllp
: 0u l d a n d d i d " rl
s, they con
M c d i e v a ] L a t i n w a s f l e x i b l e , r i c h j„
measures
admiration o f their ^ . ^ d y adequate to the w ritlng
philosophical and theolog on ^ m odels o f pagan a n tiq u ity, or as
o f epic, history, and s t y * „ j, easy t0 rem ark, th o u g h difficult t0
need and miaginanon devc writers w ere the likeliest to
explain, that the most a^ o f c,assicai rhetoric, to m ake som ething
understand and imitate t e hetoric’ is not the nam e o f an answ er; it js
successful o f it. Priority counts.

the problem. ensured that, w h ate ve r adaptations

Tht prestige of classical , t a t f ■ ^ (hey CQuld Iem ai„ ^

an agreed, generally k n o w n and ackn o w led ged

' o f masterpieces for s.u d , and im tad on . R ena.ssanc. sch o o lm aster, ln
England asked then students to do a ktnd o f double translation exercise, in
which a passage o f Latin verse was rewritten in prose, then transform ed back
mto verse to the best o f the student’s ability. This was m erely a case o f doing

twice what generations o f schoolboys had done once, and translating one’s
ow n translation. Translation was a method o fin te r p re ta tio n -a n d vice versa.
(I shall look at a serious example o f rewriting the same m aterial in different
styles in Chapter 3 and in more detail at translation as rhetorical
transformation in Chapter 4.) The habit o f transform ing a m o d el passage
was integral to rhetorical education from the beginning. P u ttin g a speech
into leonine hexameters or elegaic couplets concentrates the studen t’s mind
on style, on synonymy and rhythm, certainly on bravura expression. It
creates important and ineradicable habits and expectations in a reader’s
mind, too, since it encourages alertness to techniques that recom m en d
themselves as imitable. This runs from the small-scale phrase w h ic h w ill fit a
line o f verse in the right place, or, better still, establish a m o d el rh y th m upon
which other similar phrases can be generated (this cam e to be o f great
importance in the twelfth century when the cursus, or rh y th m ic sentence
ing, became fashionable in the art o f w riting letters), to the sen ten ce- or
paragraph-long structural unit. Rhetorical questions, as w e call them ,

cultum 3h T CXample this method o f organization and e xp a n sio n . In a

useful repetition wffic^helps t h e ^ '" WhCn rCad,ng’ ^ ^ ^

announcement of rb ■ ■ C ^ t0 recoSn' ze w hat is to c o m e b y a clear

adapt pagan structure to a C ^ ^ foUOW' Even i f o n e w e r e asked t0

preservation of the pagan mod SU^ eCt’ tEe residt w o u ld be the tw o fo ld
(because it continues to be rh *! ^rC^Crcncef ° r arbitration and em u latio n
C d for s i l e n c e ) but, m o re in sid io u sly, as
 Meaning and means
3i

a m odel o f a subject which counts, that is, which provides the mark o f what
has to be superseded.24 Churchm en w ho adapted in this w ay pagan or secular
subjects risked enshrining just those models o f behaviour and secular value
that they w ou ld perhaps most have wished to denigrate. H eroic action,
public debate, and the m any and com plex reactions to sexual passion,
threatened to becom e a staple diet for aspiring writers, for w hom one text
often referred to another, earlier, text.
T h e dangers inherent in the study o f pagan literature did not go
unrem arked; as the m odel o f w hat was to be superseded pagan poets inspired
Christian im itation until b y the early tw elfth century there was an abundant
corpus o f m edieval Latin literature w hich could be studied w ith ou t harm to
the soul, even i f it recapitulated pagan models. (That there was also an
abundant corpus o f m edieval Latin literature w hich was secular in
orientation and therefore reinforced those am bitions and experiences o f
most potential harm to the soul is another matter.) T h e argum ents about
h o w to use pagan gold, h o w to make pagan literature ‘safe’ for Christianity,
w ere continual. O n e m ethod already had deep roots in pagan culture itself:
allegory. A llego rical interpretations w hich turned Aeneas’s w anderings into
the w anderings o f the hum an soul, or O v id ’s Metamorphoses into a
Christianized struggle o f good against evil, h o w ev er extravagant, occupied
the fertile minds o f com m entators w h o wanted to preserve the culture o f
pagan antiquity w hile putting it to use. This approach can be illustrated by
this paragraph from a com m entary on the Aeneid once attributed to
Bem ardus Silvestris:

Some poets (such as the satirists) write for instruction; some (such as the comic
playwrights) write for delight; and some (such as the historians) write for both.
Horace speaks about this: ‘Poets aim either to benefit or to amuse or to utter words at
once both pleasing and helpful to life’ (Art o f Poetry, 333-4). The Aeneid gives
pleasure because o f verbal ornament, the figures o f speech, and the diverse adventures
and works o f the men which it describes. Indeed, anyone who imitates these matters
diligently will attain the greatest skill in the art o f writing, and he will also find in the
narrative the greatest examples o f and inspiration for pursuing virtue and avoiding
vice. Thus, there is a double gain for the reader: the first is skill in composition which
comes from imitation, and the second is the good sense to act properly which comes
from the stimulus o f examples. For instance, the labors o f Aeneas are an example of
patience; similarly, we are called to religion by Aeneas’s piety toward Anchises and
Ascanius, by this veneration o f the gods and the oracles which he consults, by the
sacrifices which he offers, and by the devotion and prayers which he utters. We are
recalled from appetite for unlawful things by his immoderate love for Dido.25
 thc Middle Ages
an(J convention i
TrUthan ■ rt0 understand i f one thinks cither
...a p p r o a c h ^ theeaS’C hc m0st disparate cultures in
The strength o ^ sjmilarities betw ^ or thc w itty p un nin g o f

°f JUnp' uncover mankind's *harcd^ It depends upon thc assumption

^ " " v fashionable ^ ^ e t h t n g it must be there, and that the
rhatif^com m cnam rcantm ag. ^ something about the untverse
wealth of verbal free assoc.atm ^ ^ association must assoaate real
because words refer to real rical approach, by w h ich any p 10us
things- The full-blown m e d .e ^ ^ ^ persons o f a narrative w ith ou t
equivalent can be inflicted on ^ ^ y thus distorted, can be seen at its
regard to consistency, to tone, w ^ from w hich) after a]1>

m° l' T ' “ '

many late-medi
2 Z CK ii™ le a rn ed their m ythology.” W h a t is striking
he way it subordinates them to the
about this approac to elevates scholiast, co m m en tator or

a„d,„ c e clothed his mte me.nmg in dark verb w htch o n ly learned

interpretation can remove. The shone to Difficulty m ay be the most

tenacious o f G o ld e n C a lv e s .
While allegorizing commentary defused the dangers o f the text, and
preserved the habit of reading the text for something else, it safeguarded
both thc text and the method o f interpretation. H ow ever m uch it becam e a
convenience for the discussion o f interpretations only tenuously related to
the origmal, the original survived, and survived as ‘essential reading’.
William Caxton’s version o f this argument appears in his preface to his
translation of a fifteenth-century Burgundian prose version o f the Ovide
.Moralist, which includes an interpretation o f the title o f O v id ’s poem :

And thenne emong the Latyn Poetes Ovyde of Salmonence is to be preysed and
honoured hyely . . . His werke is ryghte excellent and notable. O f whyche bycause
c perycye and subtike of the fables wherin is conteyned grete and prouffitable

MeLTn 1 thtm, tHat. kn° We and und™ d e theme, he imposed the name
interpreta a W ,h aumod>e t0 say as transmutation o f one fable into another
that had ben t o L / h T a u’ SCCn8 “ ^ ^ Poetes as the Poetes o f Grece
them passed supcrfycyelly wirh^ tYme’ ^ t0Uched ln wrytyng many fables and
The sayde Ovide hath opend u ^exPressYnge theyre knowledge or entendement.
ln oth«, and hath them t v u u T a the Wiy as we] ln the fables o f Grekes as
and sohcymde m such wyse that o T ^ S° grCt Su^fy*tee ° f engyne, charge,
Mh" ■ >». » myghc be sayde very
’ another and that by such ordre that frome che
 Meaning and means
33

crcacion o f the world unto hys tyme he had ordeyned hys saycngs, some by fable and
some by hystorye only. And otherwyse tyssued and medled with fable and hystorye
togidrc, which is a thyng right subtil. And his dittcs or sayengs ben not to be
rcpudyed ne rcproched ther as they ne conteyn but fable only.
For over and above theloquence whiche is right swete, under vcyle or shadowe
hyd, he compryseth thc scyencc and advertysement of grete partye o f thingis comen
or at lestc by possybylite ben for to com. And y f the cronyclers of hystoryes had
wryten by so cler and lyght style the gcstes and feates o f the noble and valyant men or
of thynges possible to come, thenne eche man might at the first sight have conceyved
and comprised theym, where they hade be holden thenne more for Phylosophers
than for Poetes . . .
For whoso can discovre and take away the veyle or shadowe fro the fables, he shal
see clerly sometyme poetrye and somtyme right hye phylosophye; under other
scyencc o f Ethique, under other yconomyque, under other polytique; under other he
shal fynde geste or hystorye comprysed, y f he wil entende and enploye hys tyme by
aspre diligence.27

This is a secular version o f the w ays that the Bible had been interpreted,
especially such aw kw ard books as the Song o f Songs, w hich collects a series o f
erotic poems, ensuring their place in the canon by attributing them to K ing
Solom on and by allegorizing the eroticism aw ay, into the ‘higher’ love o f
G od for his chosen people (Hebrew tradition) or Christ and his church
(Christian). Nevertheless, here, too, the literal m eaning survives and is
accessible to anyone w h o looks at it, despite structures from the com m en­
tators that the literal meaning is to be understood only in the context o f the
allegorical ones.
Long before ‘Bem ardus’, V irgil had becom e a storehouse o f ancient
w isdom for his readers, and past veneration for him only increased with
time: another w ay o f safeguarding, if not making safe. T h c extract quoted
emphasizes V irg il’s importance as a model for all the styles and all the figures
o f speech that the aspiring writer m ight need. In the early, widely used
D ialogue, the Saturnalia o f Macrobius, the fourth book celebrates while it
analyses V irg il’s skills in the art o f oratory. T w o long quotations will
illustrate the method:

Let us consider now how the pattern of a speech expresses and evokes emotion; and
first let us ask what are the rules o f rhetoric for such a speech. Being concerned with
emotion the speech should certainly seek to express and arouse either indignation or
pity . . and o f these two emotions the prosecution is necessarily concerned with one,
the defense with the other. To express and arouse indignation the opening o f the
 M iddle Age*
in the
T r u th . n d c o n v e n t
| co**v
Jd bc ,11 fitted to its purpose. And
34
quiet opening W0U a speech as follow s:
q :.. n ,r indignat,on' g , (AeneiA v
*«<* i A , " ,u t * * »
t h J t " 2 t thou compel me to ” lcharaCter’ into a le g a l m e ta p h o r.
* ' 1 the commentary subsum ■ jcal habits o f an alysis, as

» m o re d e ta ii- *«<*
I ilJSbe'ch'*1'^ " ben V ^^^niore examples, o f which four are rhetorical
Macrobius goes on to the next section he w rites;
questions like the one q foUoW the examples 1 have suggested,
Nor 1Su only the opening "ords that s o u ^ ^ to express and arouse
but. if possible- the speech as a ^ ^ by the frequent changes of the
emotion, both by the brev.ty that the speaker is, as it w ere, being
figures employed, thus giving ^ U t us take, then, a single speech in

Vergil as ar^example. It begins with an exclamanon.

0 hated race!
B en follow a number o f short quest.ons:

w * * fail on the Stgean p ta i? Could they, once captured, be held captive?

Did the flames of Troy consume the Trojans?

Then comes the figure ‘hyperbole’:

Through the midst of armies in battle array, and through the midst o f flames, they
have found a way.

T h en ‘ir o n y ’ :

But, methmks, my divine powers lie spent at last, and flag; or I have sated m y hatred,
and now desist."

Among the unstated assumptions which these extracts re v e a l is th e stress

on Virgil s skill as an orator (rather than a poet w ritin g fo r the p r iv a t e re a d er),
a master of the art o f moving and persuading an audience in o r d e r to praise
gustus. Macrobius points out the com m on assum ption th at to raise a n g e r

: : : : z : hmx,f-™s ~ - • “ "p *
■ I* P«m us exlm p|esofw a P" V“ 1''e‘ “ d ,h e W ° o c h to s p e e ch e s w .t h m

Macrobius was looking for The m° Ve 30 audlence as i f in c o u r t s h o w s w h a t

or pathos, encouraged writers aCCent° n stron8 e m o t i ° n s, lik e in d ig n a tio n
moments (Ovid’s Heroides, likeY ° ~ and c x a g g e ra te - ju s t such
more passages of characters in the ^ S re'n f ° rced this b y p r o v id in g
g p ° f o v e rp o w e rin g e m o tio n ). V i r g i l is
 M eaning and means
35

praised for e xe m p lify in g a senes o f rules, as if he had w ritten his poetry with
a checklist o f figures in hand, and ticked each o ff as he used it; the student is
encouraged in turn to read w ith his ow n mental checklist, m aking extracts as
he goes. T h is is perhaps a p edagogic necessity: figures o f speech happen
n aturally, but teaching them encourages an artificial feeling about ‘discover­
ing them w h en ever they occur. This in turn emphasizes an artificial kind o f
com p osition , in w hich the search for metaphors displaces their natural
occurrence. T h e decorative use o f ever-m ore-extended epic similes (com­
parisons using like to give analogies to the experiences described) are a
n otorious exam ple. Classical epic similes w ere often taken from the animal
w o rld , characterizing b y em blem atic likeness: fierce as a lion m ight stand as
shorthand, but there is a co m p lex relationship here to the w o rld o f fable
w h ich is seldom explored. Epic similes are ornamental and appropriate to
epic, and m edieval w riters im itated them in order to raise the register o f their
tales. In Statius’ Thebaid x he describes a character fightin g to protect the
b o d y o f his friend in a style typical o f this easily im itable author:

N o w he
stands his ground, making his drawn sword a barrier;
he turned to face all missiles, to kill or be killed.
Alert as a lioness who protects her young
when hunting Numidians trap her in her fierce lair,
whose mind is torn, growling savage and pitiful -
she could bite through missiles and sow confusion,
but love o f her cubs overwhelms her cruel feelings,
and in the midst o f her rage she looks around at
them. (ii- 414-19, my translation)

Either this o r som e sim ilar exam ple lies behind C h a u cer’s analogy for
A rc ite ’s pursuit o f his friend, Palam on, in the Knight's Tale, 11. 2626-9:

Ther nas no tygre in the vale o f Galgopheye,

Whan that hir whelp is stole whan it is lite,
So crueel on the hunte as is Arcite
For jelous herte upon this Palamon.

So m etim es the com parisons g r o w in congruously, distractingly. Y e t such

e xtra v ag an ce w as an achievem ent o f sorts, com p ellin g the reader to think
ab ou t the skill o f the presentation rather than the mimesis. Even if the
classroom exp erien ce d,sappears. as lo n g as the com m entators survive the
vorce o f the p ed a g o g u e is heard in the land, expoun d,n g, and,
 the Ages
ventin'1
T ru th
,d l-O'1
that these are the w a y s V irg i] atl(J
lWcrtully >” sistl,1g
t.xposinon. ta‘J shouId continue to ^ ^ ^ historical. For ‘Bernard,,,
StanUS " T thc Place where FoCtry " , try w ho presents the reader with
^ " • V . r J t s a w'ritcr oth,5t° rI P conslderation, contemplation,
MlVCX (both rhetoric-1 and m oj ^ appr0aches V ir g il in f a m i l y

1CS. He begins with the ^ or ins,ght in to ch a ra cter and

categories crural character
s not Ot strii Thc events o f the poems exemplify
es in term
situation, but of verbal orn«n«j _ Qr (h a r opposites. ‘Bernardus’
somethmg else, patience. pic . • ^ ^.hifh lt is the reader’s duty to break,
reads as if Virgil's poem were t ^ ^ £he .true’ meaning o f the poem ,
He uses the etymology ot na™ of thf developm ent o f the human soul,
which is an allegories <*P $ hardjy an A eneid w e Would
The Aeneid be makes sate for Cnnstia

“S t a i > • « - taw 'mcd,a,ed' thKe p; ivil' 8cd texts

„ „ ,]»•„■ > difficult .o recapture another h ab.t o f r e a d ,„ g . T he
illustration (Plate 3) of The Interpreter's Bible takes ‘ m ediated re a d in g ’ to
one modem extreme, lacking only a column o f the origin al la n g u a g e. This
book is meant to be used for detailed examination o f the te x t. U n like
medieval commentaries, from which it descends, the m o d e rn exp lication
assumes that the reader owns another, less heavily ann otated c o p y o f the
same text. This is a reference book, intended to accom pan y, n o t to replace,
thc reader’s usual Bible. (There will be detailed discussion o f these points,
especially the relations between ‘accompaniment’ and ‘su b stitu te ’ transl­
ations, in Chapter 4.; There is a tentativeness to this idea that th e w ords
indicate something beyond themselves that can be expressed in m a n y other
ways, which makes them counters, or symbols, into w h ich a p relin gu istic
it> has been temporarily coded. Since medieval and renaissance habits o f
1 m^ pre“ ded and informed habits o f w riting (not least becau se they

worth makmggr e f f o ! t endenCleS ^ ^ ^ ° f th e"" rCaderS)’ * 15

The

memorized what the read"” ” 1 ^ m ean t C^at stuc*entS

meant, as well, that they * W^3t heard read out to them. This
are aH‘hat can be absorbed ° n^ VCr^ s*owty> since a few lines a day
Psalter or Virgil |n t[je , method, whether one is memorizing the
exceptional dasHCizjng ce"tUry. John o f Salisbury, an early and
,0grapher of Beckct) describes his own
 ? iI • i
2 3 ,..'":

J.» fix (.M il ,.t

K )U« I .111,* '.I i

It.1114 * •?, Mil.I 111 ill! 11

(O llfull I'.U .Mi'i (MIM ill l|.r I '/p i . Sill 11 j,s , ;<u , 1, 1, 1, , (
ol n la m e w , u l u d i r«nlin.nj|-, ,,! .i si»r>»rt? (ir*r ,
nf (In: L ord. No Ittie tlx- pi.ihuL r J» , , f,r ,, n
McktU*** o r ilx trem lx i v of < iiranc t n m I • ,n,< ,,, j,, n /i.
.iik n m v lc d g m o n l o f il-, m v r r f u l u .^ i/o ra lm ss o f tli, 1 'x i!

a ^aui H f m u x r i m r on from 'In p,.i|ni i m om ent >f <!• WIi •

C .liriM . n r .n im ! iniM hmi tn v ; ’ . , , 1- '• , rr-m
Vv>. 2 7 -4 0 «v|irn-*s )n l|u f o r m n f .I ilx - f.,| , m tlo < Clf Vvil -. I , v \V’ . ,1 . . . . . . -i i , r,
hope lo r a u i m c n .i l kin^nlom um lt r ire ru!< of I,, f t ( , i( j 71 \ \ )
L o d . ’I hey m ay well rail to m im ! o „ r «,v.-:: 2 J 10- Shr pt t nH nn*l //-;*»__W h , •<
p ira tio m ; All flic fam ilies o f the n jlio r u *hall iluux. rl i- p%. im ji, ,t . k,-, *ln ;MW ^
w orship b efore him ( w 2 7 ). Yea, to him j ,.iu p ir in,;,* i - . x
all tile p ro u d of ilx* e a n h Ik. k dow n f1 •. j-.i .». -. , h !'
P osterity sh a ll m.tvc him (\-. Ml) would Ik
K'Kk ! slogan for th e religion-* r i h i u t : m tiro a t »n ■ \ t t . i i a . [. „• l u x ' • • (i: •
nients of ch u rch es. A lu lp lu l -.x[p»rs5?nM L • t. i
link v>. 22 u n l l \“i III) I will icl 1 of fhv n a r t ;
so will (here hr- x io n likelihood rli.it im.v . r u \
'h a ll v n e h im : "1" heir ,2 c -*[»( <t .!i.• a f >'! . i
o r a ji otlx i . P m trric s d n dd he p , ti. i !.
1 lie- tho u g h t of f.ir-oli in ..!•»*.-. l> , j a ‘N.r . -■ •' . .
to liit lioixx on «l,r- mi at, hn ia-r«.rxv i .
■».ir o\s it I h ih lle n . hi .,M ; J id d a n %a--.. . a- . . 1 i. , ' ! ... •
I;- Ip. I h it • h it In .:-., on
I" IpS |f. »■, . | ju»; , 'll - -/.I '
H O f I t. fill I f It ltltl.il- Im 1 In
PnstenU. «nu iiiiioi tli.il, j•*1- l*’
•n
\\

Plate 3 T he opening o f Psalm 23 trom T h e In t e r p r e t e r’ s B ib le : T h e H o ly

S c r ip t u r e s in th e K i n g J a m e s a n d R e v i s e d S ta n d a r d V e rs io n w ith G e n e r a l A r tic le s and
In t r o d u c tio n s , E x e g e s i s , E x p o s it io n f o r each b o o k o f the B ib le (1955)-
 iddlc Ages
the M
ciition
d f0" '
Truth reading and co m m en tin g
8 < : ^ ; - upon «*
fjrnous
teacher. the ,dv>n«° - » identified the g ram m atical atl(i
o b v io u sly ata fairly
: a .-> Bcrnard’s ^ d the hard w ords; historical
o bject o f e lu ^ “ ^ |angUagc and‘ ^ that m ythological allusions,
reo ttilC 1 & c^ge SO Inai '

inform ation
. , ,-t0rs. -mportant cvc,,“ . in 0f the texts. T he beauties o f the
^ T d m n m e ^ culture hom were identified to help the
rcm0'" labelled with theirrhetorlC cve£,its emotional effects. J o h n says

S » « » ^ 7 dh; ; ; ; hS ? w o u u c
t o a. the ™* otn in g for twelfth-century clones); this was
m
each other ( to « Chns dce the literary techniques th e y had
probably a meant of pnthng ^ ( m i y stua y t0 C hristian use by
t o studying duringJ • w], both justification o f literary

P” h ^ t o n L i k e an advanced group o f students w h o are

already able to m«t analysu and practice. The references to hard w o rd s and
mythological and histoncal information suggest that the text under
consideration may have been classical, perhaps Virgil. O bviously the young
John of Salisbury did not start there. Much preparation was required before
schoolboys could hope to understand the letter, let alone the spirit, o f this
greatest of poets. Similar difficulties attended the study o f the greatest o f
prose masters, Cicero.50If these two authors represented the su m m it o f Latin
literature, brooding over the curriculum, there were slopes and foothills to
be conquered along the way as students toiled up the m ountain o f eloquence
that they called Parnassus. The cultivation of an orator began early in
childhood with moral and literary training on texts more suitable to children
n the wanderings of Aeneas. From the beginning the goals w ere clear, and
, | hn came t0 write own rhetorical textbooks he m aintained them

wmer r thCm; tCaCh g00d Latln models- * * readers and

remembered r .eCme" tS ,°f ^ lnculcate virtue. It m ust alw ays be
ations o f s c h o o l b o y f : " ; ^ grammar\ and that these 6ener'
« school, SOthat even me •* 3 angUage which they had to acquire
rules they memorized were T addcd t0 their vocabulary, if the
They began with the distich^of p* LatU1 they Wcre N am in g .31
Latin
dyings for hundreds of years ^ ^ch°°lboys m em orized these
•'tun of Erasmus’s commitment to
 Meaning and means
39
e d u c t.c n was hts cd.tton o f a ,cxt of 'Can,' fot u!c in schools ^
are s,m plc phrases and couplets wh.ch were memonaed and analysed fc
thet, gram m ar, vocabulary, and wtsdont. Their level ofdtificult, at leas, a
the ear y stages, correspond, to the hornbook rhymes front which Engltsh
and colonial American children learned their alphabet:

In Adam ’s fall
We sinned all.

So young children learned by heart ‘Deo supplica’, ‘Parentes ama’, ‘Cum

bonis ambula . These injunctions to worship God, love one’s parents, and
keep good company were so much part of what everybody who had been to
school knew by heart that they could be referred to by medieval writers and
poets w ith the assurance o f instant recognition. In the collection of poems
know n as the Carmina Burana there is one that is a kind ofjoke sermon on the
virtue o f charity in which the author considers the importance of choosing a
recipient w orthy o f the gift and the donor, and ends with the suggestion that
he himself is the best choice for a patron’s generosity. This is the second verse,
where he is still building his case for careful selection:

Si legisse memoras
ethicam Catonis,
in qua scriptum legitur:
‘ambula cum bonis’,
cum ad dandi gloriam
animum disponis,
inter cetera
hoc primum considera,
quis sit dignus donis.

(If you remember reading C ato’s ethics, we find written there, ‘Keep good
com pany’ ; now if your mind is disposed towards the glory o f giving, above all
your first consideration should be that the recipient is worthy.)

The irony is perhaps obvious, but the point is that the humour depends on
the shared culture that some kind of shared rhetorical education created.33 In
a similar fashion one o f the distichs is recalled in Chaucer’s Nun’s Priest’s Tale
where Chanticleer the cock and his wife are arguing about the truth (or lac
o f it) revealed in dreams. 'Somnia ne cures', pay no at.en.ton to dreams
quotes the hen, trying to convince her husband that the nightmare laehasjust
had ha, nothtng to do with prognosttcatton. and everythtng to do wtth what
 Midd|c A gcs
in the
vc■ nci°n
and con
Trii'h
he
4° hid fordinnerthenightbefore.Here the little learning o fth c b ir d s ■
only funny in the way thatfables always are when anim als a p e tfoc ^ ,s f,0(
humans, but also funny as part o f a longer and m ore c o m p lex d js Of
^■'thonry asopposed to experience which appcars atJ(j CUss'° n 0f
" * ’c W com petition. Only a r e a d H ^ ^o
n.V - . d o t e adduces wiU
^ .gnoran. w,U tints the joke,
recognizes *’ (he refer***:■ re always quoted in order to
seriously <ot schoolboys looks
. ‘ ltA though certainly » l» a„d increased literary sophisti-
M e , e » . f u . i n * ' ^ ; netS L written on the Distichs, w hich called
cation. H « “ mm“ [y moral parallels in other authors, and also
attention to grammar, voca In the prologue to B ook n o f the
stylistic parallels in harder tex ^ and knowledge to com e when
D„n* d . e r e i s j « j “ ” ^ virgjl. There are other hills to be

‘1" S fo However and the simplicity of Cato was follow ed by longer -

quite short - poems d « continued ,0 press hom e important
ntord doctrines, this time through the simple allegory o f the beast fable (of
which, of course, the Nun’s Priest presents a superb example).
Avunus was responsible for one of the most popular versions o f what we
know as Aesop’s fables.34 These, like the Distichs, came accompanied by
commentary. Yet even had they been taught unadorned, they w ould still
have inculcated in their young readers the habit o f interpreting the literal
seme as an example of something else - in this case abstract moral precepts.
The manusenpts which preserve the collections o f fables, w hether they be
Avian sor Aesop s, are often quite dearly school anthologies. It is likely that
the schoolmaster would prepare one of the fables for study: m em orization
then imitation. Certainly in the Eastern Empire the fable was the first
pica of wmin. which Khooltoyspncmed, and there is no reason to think

“ pcnrace diffe™ - The o f this

still memonie La FoJ* ^ forward as wel1 ~ French schoolchildren
ver*. the schoolboy coulVbT"^ the m odel fable waS in
expand it by the addition <*! *° Summar'z*ng it in prose. H e could
examples, or expansion of the«, CscnPtion> dialogue, m ultiplication o f
C
hndfd This of summary moral^ with w hich m ost fables
^ to the kind of eduCitlj j l ^ ^ t i o n upon am plification was
“ with whlch these J cr^ drcn rcc«ved. O ne Measure o f the
ta^cn is the number o f versions
 Meaning and means
41

to m ean philosophy. N o w he w ondered if by ’the art’ poetry were not

m eant. W h at Plato w ould expect any reader to understand is that in
versifying a fable on the night before he was to die, Socrates demonstrated
the h u m ility o f starting at the beginning, like a schoolboy w ith all his life
before him .
In the M iddle Ages fables w ere often recom m ended by prominent
chu rch m en , w ho w ere probably directly involved in the education o f future
orators, so that there was every reason both to teach eloquence and to stock
the m inds o f preachers w ith fables that they w ould be able to use to instruct
their congregations. M odern readers perhaps tend to take fables much less
seriously, as stories only to be told to very young children, and then left
behind; the contrast w ith medieval esteem for the fable could not be more
m arked. A list o f the poets w ho w rote fables includes the late-tw elfth- or
early -th irteenth-century A nglo-N orm an M arie de France, better know n
today for a series o f exquisite lais, stories w hich celebrate the experience of
loving, b u t w hose Fables represent m ore than half o f her output (they are also
the earliest vernacular fable collection); the writers - from the tw elfth to the
fifteenth centuries - w ho exploited the saga o f R eynard the Fox; Chaucer,
w h o w ro te one perfect beast fable for his Canterbury Tales; the fifteenth-
century poet, R o b e rt H enryson, better know n for his sequel to Chaucer’s
Troilus ;35 and the sixteenth-century courtier-poet Thom as W yatt, that most
m oral and intellectual w riter am ong the glittering circle w ho surrounded
H enry VIII;36 and after our period one can add the names o f other satirists
and critics like John Gay, better know n for his Beggar’ s Opera; Lessing, and,
o f course, La Fontaine, a selection o f whose poems has recently been
translated in to English by James M ichie.37 As late as the eighteenth century
fables m ig h t still be used w ith com plete political seriousness: The Fable o f the
Bees is the title o f a treatise by Mandeville about the monarchical system o f
g o v ern m e n t, a governm ent apparently represented by the hive. N or would
anyone w ish to o m it O rw ell’s Animal Farm from such a list.
sake, not only as a means of
Fables w ere taken seriously for their ow n sa
a stock o f wisdom to which
alerting children to m oral virtues, but also as a
o f medieval and renaissance
adults could refer. T hey were a cornerstone o
 Middle Ages
the
■(’iii"111
,d e«,v
Til'd' ■
jes thc apt quotation o r r e f e r ^
icntur
. NVCVCr. and tot ........^ was nothing automatic 0f
moral argument. ^ ^ lts f o r a ^ |lQW fablcs arc ^
nhlc retain1
cell-know n ^ pI)C has ^
to a "< and one ^ fahlc 1S that within it the beast,
m e ch a m e a l a K ^ t pUys ,n his I" c ...
o f gn encom p assin g ficti
; o f . b e game t ^
rP " him*clfp>r
art 0 1 ^
* h.le the narrator. ^ js auth o n t y , at the sa m c
quote authom' views a bout t o "1t* t w hich is fram ed b y ti1c
tcIU his fable to i l b t ^ c o m p e titio n
v his UNC
fable <
is> rrart
-- ,. thc end, by Chaucer, m ost k n o w in g 0f

\ * I * * * « * - " ? Z wkW “ 'S ' o f s,ylistic cflfects' the

narrator.
’ ’ All ike e e " '" 'v,,h ,ht Talcs. Among the
• 1Snchandvar.ee ,cd as anyw here in
f moralities, so that the n u m b e r o f lessons
l i n p U P "*";eb e m u ltip lication o . o f thc self-conscious, am used, and
nany jokes ts t
v be derived from. the
, ' * « ° T o «k"what A t Nun; Priest’s Talc mean,
humane variety ot its ^ listener’.
entails the specification to " enenius tells the m o b the fable o f the
. o, A-nsneare's Cortclanus w hen Menem .
"\ m kne a*ne«. potac.1 P » « tat that is not all that l> going on.
— — * ■“ « *
,tid,n„„,ilv considered surubleto the level o f a m ob o f un ed ucated men -
* * „ * , content m .Inch the fable ts used is nicely ju d g ed , w ith the kind o f
double soph.sticaoon that demands a smile of recognition for M enenius’ skill
as a manipulator both from other characters within the play and from the
audience watching it This association of fable with the rude level o f learning
that can be expected of the uneducated or the rustic can be found in Spenser’s
Shrphtardei Calender. Interpretation involves wheels w ithin w heels.38 The
pretence of humility often masks ambition. These com plexities already
r.dicate the rangt of ways in which rhetorical types, models, o r habits could
bt- used First, the fables were the instruments by which young boys learned
Lam and, a the same time, learned those moral precepts that w ould make
c a., good men and good orators. If children were the prim ary audience for
tan other classes of audience who supposedly shared one or other
ignorance” n ° f ^ ^ chlldhood ~ its innocence o f co m p lex ity,
*ere also likely to ^ i^ " ^ 1 o f literarV sophistication -
might be, the tdlm , ^ ei in^' Whoever the audience o f the fable
world of moral belief ^ St° Ck ° fm o ral aphorism s, a shared
arguments about politic, 1 h ° Clt'0n w *1*ch could be used as part o f
jr'd individual action, This kind 5Cnse ° f agreem ent a b ou t social life
liable for potential fahi.i,,.. ComP^ex'ty in apparent sim p licity is also
Jl ljhulists. Fables
are ostensibly m odest exercises, but
 Meaning and means
43
s,„ c c they are H a g o g .c a l ly c r u e l o n e , the,, slmpl,clty „ „ 0 mc„ urc o f
, „ c „ im portance A , a primary excrete for y „ „ ng ch,ldtc„ kjrn
language,
L n guage. .here ,s a kind o f Kumihry the lcv d o f Jtyfc_^ 8 ”
be expected: fables must be simple, clear, and
concise. The most sophisticated
writers m ight try their hands at meeting this challenge,” both m' order
to
present yo u n g students with good models, and also to perform a kind o f
paradoxical condescension. That is, for a writer (even a philosopher) at the
height o f his powers to perform this lowliest o f exercises demonstrates the
hum ility o f the truly assured. It is, in its way, an indication o f modesty not to
try to w rite like V irgil, but to write like - but not too like - a child. In the
case o f som eone like M ane de France, conscious as she was o f being a woman
author in a period w hen that was not only a rare but also a suspect activity for
her to engage in, there is an added piquancy. For w hom was this learned and
innovative w om an w riting her fables? B y recreating (or perhaps inventing
in accordance w ith school experience o f writing fables) the familiar stones in
the A n g lo -N o rm a n vernacular o f the English nobility, was she providing
other w om en w ith a parallel education to the Latin learning that was the lot
o f yo u n g boys? Certainly Marie read Latin herself. Had she more literary
ambitions for her compositions? W hen she refers, in one o f her prologues, to
Priscian, basic textbook w riter that he was, is that part o f a sophisticated use
o f the hu m ility topos? If w e cannot answer any o f these questions, asking
them at least alerts us to the possibilities that are raised by an author’s choice
o f this form rather than that. W e open ourselves to the nuances o f her - or
another’s - perform ance by understanding the variety o f effects that the
author m ight create, and how these might be posited upon complex
assumptions about audience.
From our understanding w e can m ove to the perception o f new effects,
challenges to the conventions which the author may create. If Thomas
W y a tt’s earliest editor, Tottel, was right that the fable o f the city mouse and
the country mouse was addressed to W ya tt’s friend John Poyntz, the
apparent hum ility o f his subject, source, and setting exploits what might be
‘lo w style’ to create a higher moral com plexity and turn fable to court satire
by the expedient o f addressing, in a knowing way, his fable to an
understanding reader. Since the dangers o f life at Henry VIII s court had
m ore than once brought W yatt close to execution, his appeal to the store o f
com m on w isdom (he attributes the fable to his mother s maids, i.e.
group o f youn g w om en placed in his mother’s household to be brought up
under her guidance) is in his version underlined by the autobiographical
 J („»vcn»»i"
Truth and con ‘h' M'dal' A8e!
+4 his coiloquial dialogue, the specificity
, hnicc of the middle sty e. verty o f the country mouse

conte« * ! Z of thCCOntr3St bCtW„ butld to a climax in which the actual

6te of .he m ,« » "

«*• f“ r uch
g Ped creatures, and the g n p o f th e tale, and
svm p « h y « th,bcp0° f nIlon to the reasons for tellm g it. H ,s self,
redirecting them to atte beyond (he fabje to an in v ita tio n to
consciousness as narrator e t as itself an example o f the
, „ iifP to see ms
fabulize his own lire,
common stock ot w isdom- ^ bnd in the earliest rhetoric
If we look for a ^ of narr3tive that clearly could never

have^happe'ned, T non-verisimilar n arration T alk in g animals are the

s im p le s t Example o f the kmd. A fabulous narrative mvttes allegoncal or
symbolic mtetptetatton: mouse becomes man, the htve a w hole so cety . The
assumpnon that one reads for something other than the surface meaning o f
the story (i.e. that it cannot exist for its own sake, for the pleasure o f the
fantasy or the exercise o f the imagination) is thus inculcated from the earliest
lessons in reading and wnting, and becomes a habit o f mind. This self-
conscious alertness to a whole range o f possible effects was a source o f great
pleasure to readers who were able to appreciate the challenge o f making the
apparently simple into something witty, pithy, and forceful. Som etim es the
very distance of moral from fable, the unexpectedness or unpredictability o f
the allegory, was the source o f pleasure, as with a fable like Robert
Henryson s Cock andjasper, where the precious jewel (often set up to read as
something a wise man disdains, as betokening only w orldly value) is
moralized as something distinctively precious which the cock fails to
g ize. The effect of the moral is enhanced by surprise. The basic
mterpretative lesson is that the animals of fable are not just animals. They

* e m ™ r C,! ? T ' lnd 0fhun,“ exPer*ence, and they represent

'“ ties, then o f ^ t a g T i l d l T f c "y d “ eXperienCC o f heanng

meanings of a text l . t0 assume that the simultaneous

o n , y seem s to b e t h i n ^ as
Preparation for th e‘hard’ texts V 1 ^ ° f read in g a n a l o g i c a l l y w a s
children, Scripture, the code of G ^' ^ U^ matety’ ifthey were Christian
 M eaning and means
45

I M I T A T I O N OF S P E E C H , S TYLE, AND AC T I ON

M o re is k n o w n ab o u t the analysis o f great poets than o f the first ste

learning to read. T h e m aster-texts o f A ntiquity retained the p r e s t i g e ^
accrued to being the subject o f analysis by many o f the key writers o
rhetoric, b u t the value o f the study o f secular texts never went unqueT
io n ed .40 A rg u m en ts about ‘canons’ are familiar enough, as are questions of
w h at sho uld be studied at all. In Latin A ntiquity Virgil above all, but also
O v id and Statius, reigned suprem e am ong poets, Cicero and Seneca
exem plified the highest achievem ents o f prose style for the Latin-speaking
W est. T h e appreciation o f masters o f different genres meant that ‘creative
lite ra tu re ’, o rato ry , and m oral essays w ere grouped together in a looser, but
still reco g nizable category o f good w riting for the potential writer, preacher,
o r o rato r. T o g e th e r they form ed a com plete education, of a literariness
w h ich is to d a y h ard to recapture. It helps to rem em ber that this curriculum
was created fo r m en w hose ‘w o rk ’, if they had to do anything beyond
m an ag in g the fam ily estate, was public life. This is one o f the reasons why
train in g in th e classics w as th o u g h t to be sufficient qualification for running
em pires: ‘train in g in the classics’ is a m odem gloss on w hat appeared simply
to be training. W h ile that strong sense o f a curriculum disappeared in practice
in the M id d le Ages, its p rio r existence rem ained know n. Thus there was
alw ays likely to be som e kind o f conversation between w hat had been the best
ed u catio n and w h a t was n o w appropriate for Christian education.
T h e school cu rricu lu m ow ned w orks specially w ritten for allegorical
in te rp re tatio n , w h ere the ‘correct’ recognition of the author’s meaning
w o u ld reveal satisfying C hristian doctrine. I have already mentioned the
single Eclogue o f T heodulus. This ninth- or tenth- century imitation of
pastoral p o e try ta u g h t classical m ythology, metre, and mode while it
incu lcated acceptable m oral lessons: the ideal use of Egyptian gold, if not the
greatest p o etry . T h e setting is the literary, classical, pastoral landscape, there
is a d escrip tio n o f the sum m er countryside, in which there is a challenge
b etw een a shepherd and a goatherd to a debate, a judge is agreed upo ,
is a p ro m ise o f prizes, then the contest, and the poem closes with n^g
W h a t m akes th e c o n ten t distinctively Christian is that the debate
a k eep er o f sheep w hose nam e means ‘truth and a keeper o g
'lia r'. T h e shepherdess is o f the seed o f ” Christian

a Pa8 “ - T h c ,r d e b lK ’ ju d 8 ' bV * | N „t surprisingly, the

descrip tions o f biblical stories w ith pagan g
 L. M>^'c A &cs
/Cnnon>» thc
i fOl'V
Truth .111*1
Alithia, truth. The accent 0n thc
4^ to
.m a tch g OCS
1
■ prize m ..........
the song , mthe practice ofVirgil’s own eclogues, but
V,Ct° • Lrn-.s a departure fr° _ fo
J r subseqUCnt
sul ^ m
writers, for whom ^
•debate moth is conseqn here p a p " stories are still th e o „ « to
" '^ '^ r a t t r a c t i o n
debate had part'1■ uiar 2
„ defeated. ^m prion that students should read a
Snll thereremains aconun ^ for a,legorlcal interpretation.
literary genre - htforward as n o t to presen t any
J S Thcodulus the ofitsspedfidty. than the abstract
amb.gu.tviit n little rn0^ , , - ^ ^ a poem offer itself fo r stu d y and
injunctions of the tables. " jmitatlon in its turn. Because it cam e at
interpretation, it became a ^ {t further reinforced the idea o f the
a fairly elementary kve 0 s “ .' ^ ^ the single pastoral o f T h eo d u lu s,
scholars progression “>w ^ precede that Everest o f literary
waters imitated Theodulus’ exam ple in order
Vov.de illustrations of the rhetoncal rules they explained^ In J o h n o f
G arlands th.rteenth-century pastoral poem the nymph w h o is his h ero in e is
seduced away from her true lover; she is meant to be understood as th e Flesh,
seduced away from Reason by Sin, each personified by a S h ep h erd in the
verse. The point of writing such a poem, with classroom in te rp re ta tio n in
mind, is to help young men to learn to read, interpret, and, eventually , w rite;
all that is unusual aboutjohn is his ambition to demonstrate his o w n m astery
of the common lessons by providing illustrations o f his o w n com p o sitio n .
He is almost bound to point out his own felicities: choosing the a p p ro p riate
level of style, the nght amount of decoration in nicely chosen figures o f
speech. Pedagogues are easily parodied as pedants, and Jo h n o f G arla n d and
his ilk have suffered - with the scholastic method - at the hands o f R abelais
and Shakespeare, but their influence is too great to ignore. D an te , after all,
wrote for allegorical interpretation, and Petrarch w rote difficult, n o t to say
W . The, expected wha, they w ro te to be

"dable^l T, “mT ed ' “• UnlMracd - and understa-

did Spenser I c n i J T ' P" lupl “nlVwith the aid o f a commentary. So
r z r ofJ" ? b'i,w r o u K ’ »f ,1' ' writer’s career as
lnd M'h°n to imiutc th”5^ classicalIy educated writers like Spenser
VP'nrnrents m thc P«toral modi' of literary types: early
t j Even
W ork o f w r ih n „
Wntlng Epic, - “ "lodc
for thebef°re settling dow n to the important
student who did not aspire to writing
 M eaning and means
47
poetry o f his ow n, and we may assume that this defined the majority of
students, practice at im itating poetry was part o f the course of study stud"
that was thought to be vocational. The students who analysed, interpreted7
a„d imitated fables and eclogues were expected to go on to preich, to teach
and to w rite as servants o f either the church, the king’s government, or both’
The analysis and creation o f texts continued to be the focus of their work
R eading had becom e training for both writing and speaking. The
education o f an orator had concentrated on the latter, and the idea of oratory
had organized school practice. W hat had been categories of speeches made in
court, or in court-like situations, were interpreted, especially by commen­
tators for w hom the original circumstances had long since been lost, as
categories for w riting o f all kinds. The declamations o f the schools, in which
boys practiced controversiae and suasoriae, exercises o f persuasion or defence,
became types o f speech for writers to emulate and to fit into their histories.42
There w ere three categories o f speeches, which may be traced back to
Aristotle, but w hich w ere perhaps already traditional when he organized
them in his Rhetoric: deliberative, judicial, and laudatory. R hetoric as a
classroom discipline for the training o f orators existed for a long time under a
variety o f conditions, and the demands made upon the original classification
changed w ith the educational and political changes o f the societies in which
R hetoric was taught. T he classical texts which survived often appeared with
com mentaries, as V ictorinus on Cicero’s De Inventione.43 Still, theory
remained m ore conservative than practice, and the three categories were
retained by m odifying their definitions, or by redescribing new kinds of
w riting in order to force them to fit the pre-existing categories. The speeches
o f oratory w ere transferred to dialogue within texts. Deliberative speeches
concern decisions about a course o f future action. Thucydides gives many
examples o f political deliberations, as for example the debate over the
Sicilian expedition. Bede invented a dramatic representation ot churchmen
debating w hether England should follow Irish or Continental practice over
the dating o f Easter w hich he located at the Synod o f W hitby. In the Middle
Ages, Geoffrey o f M onm outh created one which many subsequent writers
expanded w hen he m ade one o f A rthur’s knights argue the case tor invading
Europe. This o pportunity for a deliberative debate, however brief, was
seized upon by G eoffrey’s translators.44 Looking at three versions o f this
scene will n o t only illustrate w hat a deliberative speech was, but will also
show ho w authors took advantage o f an occasion to amplify a g
 the Middle Ages
mention
d conv
Tri*ill
4* ivf have it lurks a tradition o f discussion o f Wf}
- •— - h m e d i e v a l historians k n ew fr C^ Cror
the debate '• which
0,11 % t
Behind soft writes:
not F«c'c "°i‘”r si * ' GMirrcy
,tldmp o f l » » and ' , Cador(to* Cornobic. ut crat leti ammi, in I,U|1C

Af dunl ? _ nsu rorani rege solnt ■ &ccrct famamque milidc qua cetcrn

Qu,ppc “bi usi”

f,Z< **"> ceteraque oblectamenta a d o *,
gentibu:
abesse et alee « mul. ru honoris, quod audacie, quod fame,
uidetur ,dq„ o d c , . . » « » M ^ ^ ann_ ex quo predictjs ddKfe
dubitandum non est ne
13 commaculet. Fere nanque transacti
ignauu ............. - Deus igltur ne nos debilitate! segnicia Romanos i„
Hfdin exerano mams
dediti exerano mam carum • ostram probitatem reducerent.
mduxit ut in pnstinum statum
hunc affectum
.. u ri,- crairs the light-hearted Cador, Duke o f Cornwall,
lAs thcv SUrtCd t° ' im . in .he king's presence: 1 have been afraid up till n ow that

t e a J L military fame until they lost what everyone had admired. Certainly,
when ,t become clear that men no longer use then weapons, but throw dice and
consume themselves wtth women and other indulgences, then w ithout doubt their
strength, honour, courage, and fame will be stained by cowardice. It is n ow about
five years that we have given ourselves over to these delights instead o f the exercises
of Mars. It is therefore to deliver us that God had led the Romans into this anger, in
order to return us to our former pristine state.).45

When Robert Wace, the twelfth-century A n g lo -N o rm an historian,

translated this passage into French verse he first expanded C a d o r’s defence of
war by adding more general sentiments on the relative dem erits o f peace -
not, it should be said, especially relevant to the particular circum stances of
Arthunan foreign policy, but inserted to give shape to the speech. T o be fair
to the issue, Wace added a few words on the benefits o f peace, w h ich he put
into the mouth of Gawain, who was not even present in the first version.
, £°°d rhetorician, and makes Gawain praise the peace which
succee s war, so that his implicit advice, too, is for A rth u r to fight.

Ja estoient sor les degrez

Baron et conte lez a lez,
Qant Cador dist an sozriant,
Oiant lc roi, qui ert avant:
An grant cricme ai, dist il, este,
Et maintc foiz i ai panse,
Quc par oidives et par pes
 Meaning and means

49
Devenissent Breton malves
, " ° 'Sd,VC atr« malvestie
Et maint home a aperescie.
o L d,Ve ^ h o m e an p ^ c e ,
O '^ .v e amenuise proesce,
O 'sd.ve esmuet les lechenes,
° lsdlve «Peant les druer.es
lone repos et par o.sd.ve
St Jovante tost antant.ve
A gas' a dcduiz et a fables,
Et a altres geus deportable’s.
Par lone sejor et par repos
Poons nos perdre nostre los.
Piece avons este andorm.,
Mes Damedeus, soe mere.,
N os a un petit resveilliez,
Qui Rom ains a ancorag.ez
D e chalongier nostre pais
Et les altres qu’avons conquis.
Se Rom ain an aus tant se fient
Que ce facent que par brief dier
Ancor avront Breton enor
De hardemant et de vigor.
Ja longue pes ne amerai
N e onques longue pes n'am a.’.
Sire cuens , dist Gauvains, ‘par I
D e neant estes an esfroi.
Bone est la pes anpres la guerre,
Plus bele et miaudre an est la tei
M olt sont bones les gabenes
Et bones sont les drueries.
Por amistiez et por amies
Font chevalier chevaleries.’46

en, on the steps, barons and counts side by side, Cador, hearing the king going
ahead o f him , said smiling, ‘ It has been a great worry to me, and I have often thought,
that through idleness and peace the Britons were weakening. For idleness attracts
weakness, and m any men have become lazy. Idleness makes a man lazy; idleness
w eakens prowess; idleness wakes lechery; idleness encourages flirtation. B y long rest
and idleness youth becomes too attentive to pleasure, to delights and stories and other
gam es. B y a long stay and rest we lose our renown. We have slept a long time, but
 in the Middle Ages
Tru
so okcn us a little by encouraging the Romans t0
„ ! „ , t c a t e n a . If.he Romans ate c „ „ fiHcnt

£ » * - i t ho. ' 8ain ! j "

cnougn
enough * • * » 1 „ er |
, loud • M l l« “ " * ' S i
audacity, and strength ! have

peace. r n 'fear nothing, by my faith. Peace is good after war: the

■ Lord count/ said Gass a. . are better, and so are flirtations. Knights
world is more beautiful and better, v
; ; ; , fo, t o » , r s n j f o , . h c , . f . - * )

, titfrrencc and the rhetorical figu re, a n a p h o ra , in w h ic h

Poetry makes a ^ same w o rd or phrase, e m p h a sizes ‘ o is d iv e ’ ,

kisure, sothaul^ repetition itself increases the force o f the criticism. So, too,
Cador's changes of tense emphasize what he doesn t love.
When Lajman translated this into English in the thirteenth cen tu ry, he
dramatized it as a fully fledged debate, and incidentally suppressed any hint
of humour. His version gives Gawain an angry riposte w h ich defends peace.

t>a stod per up Cador. pe eorl swide riche aer,

and pas word saeide bifore pan riche kinge:
'Ich ponkic mine Dnhte, pat scop pes dseies lihte,
pisses daeies ibiden, pa to hirede is ibojen,
and pissere tidinge, pe icumen is to ure kinge,
pat we ne puruen na mare aswunden liggen here,
for idelnesse is lufter on selchere peode;
for idelnesse makcS mon his monscipe leose;
vdelnesse makefl cnihte forleosen his irihte;
idelness graded feole uuele craften;
idelness makeS leosen feole pusend monnen;
purh e&ehche dede lute men wel spedeb
F». 3 ... we h.bbeud mil, u ™ - ure wu.Oseipe „ Sa lasse -
‘ “ 5'>[n|kl' D* " ' . I * «op |n dajes l.hee,
Pat Romamsce lcoden sunden swa m e

Wcheom ^ Ucn^ ; j e‘nt0 urel™den,

hc0re r*hscipe seal h 3C° mere Spelles;

b mne mine londe

 Meaning and means
5i

fo r t>urh g rid e w e b eo d ib u n d en and w e l neh al

asw unden.’
l>at ih e rd e W a lw a in be w es A rdu res mad,

an d bus an d sw acrede W a lw a in be sele.

C -ad or, bu * r t a r.eh e m o n b>ne raeddes ne b eo d noht idon
fo r g o d is g rid and g o d is frid be freoliche ber halded w i 6 '
a n d G o d d s u lf h it m a k ed c bu rh his G o d d -cu n d e.
fo r g rid m a k e d g o d n e m o n go d e w o rk es w u rch en .
fo r alle m o n n e n b id ba bet bat lo n d bid ba m u r g r e ."

(Then Cador, the noblest earl there, rose before the noble king and said these words
‘I thank my God, who made the daylight, that I have seen this day come, and the
news it has brought to our king, that we no longer lie here sleeping. Becau* idleness
is hateful for everyone; because idleness makes a man lose his manhood; idleness
makes a knight lose his rights; idleness encourages many wicked arts; idleness makes
the loss o f many thousand men; few men succeed through easy deeds. We have lain
still too long - our renown has diminished. Now I thank God who made the daylight
that Roman men are so brave that they plan to come to our cities to bind our king
and take him to Rome. If what men say is true, as they report, that the Romans are so
brave, so bold, and so hostile that they mean to come to our London, we shall prepare
an unpleasant tale for them; their bravery shall work their sorrow. For 1have never
loved a long peace in my country. For through peace we have been bound and well-
nigh asleep.
Gawain, Arthur’s kinsman, was angry when he heard what Cador said, and
answered, ‘Cador, you are a noble man, but your advice amounts to nothing. Peace is
good, and freely-held treaties are good, which God himself made through his
divinity. Peace makes a good man do good works; when the land is secure, everyone
is better.’

R h ym e and repetition are at work again to make the speeches sound

forceful. C a d o r’s passing joke has become a formal exercise in which the
kin g’s advisers perform their traditional duty o f advising their prince.
G aw ain, whose presence was Robert Wace s idea, has begun to acquire a
critical tongue, and what appeared in French to be a neutral statement of an
argum ent now annears to be characterized by the way he replies, in the early
 jn the M iddle A ges
,d convention
Truth
T h „esi nothing unique about th es
« * d » r ^ r i0” e l with a more serious outcome, o c c u r s a, thc
expansion** * °% J, where Charlemagne s peers dtsettss ,hc
b™,„n,ng o f T k »/ ^ F [jn cc, a„ d what ,s the best w a y to dci|
O
S
' vhether or not to r ^ ^ marshalled formally, b u t ch a ra cter js
pagan threat. _Arf Here literature a d v a n c e s psychological
involved, too, and motive is as^ ^ ^ m ore reasons th a n disinterested

exploration by suggesting ^ rather than a n o th e r, n o t least by

advice for urging one ^ [Q each o th e r a n d b y u s in g their
characters ascribing
II I K motives
* -- to
showing
ce the plot. W hen G u id o d e lle C o l o n n e adapted
misunderstanding to advance
Z ~ R m K * T m , o f Benoit dc Ste. M aure in the th irte e n th c e n tu r y , o t
l u e adapted Guido in the fifteenth, similar exp an s,o n s w e r e m a d e . T h e y
neednot have been named in formal debates, as Sallust w a s tra .n e d ; as lo n g a,
tlKV « old read mode] texts they w ould find the sam e lessons.
These examples are primarily instances o f po litical d e lib e ra tio n s . F o r the
ancient orator, concerned ultimately with g o v e rn m e n t, this w a s th e h eight
of achievement. He may have addressed fello w -citizen s, his p olis, senatorial
colleagues, or his pnnee. As long as his advice w as w a n te d - o r to le ra te d -
learning to make this kind o f speech was im portant to his p u b lic ca re er. B u t
not all courses o f action need be so closely in vo lve d in a c tu a lity , a n d other
subjects and circumstances were used in schools fo r p ra c tic e . W h en
democracy in Greece, or later the republic in R o m e , w e r e re p la c e d b y other
forms of government, more private deliberations b e c a m e n o t o n ly e x p e ­
dient, but also ends in themselves. The student m ig h t b e set a historical
subject: many schoolboys urged Julius Caesar to cross th e R u b ic o n .48
The subject might not be a public one at all, and o n e f a v o u r it e w a s the
question o f mamage. Tacitus tells us (Annals x ii . 1 - 2 ) th a t th e E m p e ro r

4 ‘, t I f 1 h'! h™ ,he ch » '“ o f“ e m p re s s , and

he true m7 °' ' ^ speecllcs- notin g thc a rg u m e n ts . T h

contained in Wilson’s Art of Rh ? ^ °f ^ lo n g m o d c l orat,onS

over a thousand years after Cl ‘ T ’ * EngHsh handbook written
subject, which is obviouslv n Mt tak’nS notes, rehearsed thc same
Shakespeare’s sonnets are a se^ ° fPCrennial interest’49 The first seventeen o f
ver* Wilson does somethine^h- ” 8Uments on this theme, but this time in
malions which orators had tn ; 'Scbaracteristic o f the specificity o f the
rnan Wh° “ thc °nly member of hi*8'"' *”*! dCal with: he describes 3 young
generation in a p o sitio n to m a r r y (he has
 Meaning and means
53
a Sjster, but she has becom e a nun), who is now presented u
suitable, and desirable bride. Like the young man o f Sh , W‘ H ' wealthy-

w il* ° „ 's h<f r - w ,lso n d i ; ms th»' -p - a h . rePr o d „ ? jr h ” t° ™ '!s;

■real speech. G enerations o f readers h a ,e assumed rhar the lr
addressed to a real young man. !„ „ , ither CJSe „ ,hcrc , of
nevertheless W dson s speech seems to be a translation o f a similar speech
w ritten by Erasmus for a Latin textbook which Wilson was pillaging
W ilson’s speech is long and rather ponderous; the measure of Shakespeare’s
success is that so m any people have been moved by what he wrote. Love and
death pro vide the alert orator with endless opportunities to deliberate.
R hetorical training o r exam ple suggest appropriate forms in which to weigh
the decision to be made. It is a literary skill to show - as in Epic poetry -
characters m isinterpreting each others’ words and deeds. Whenever one
character claims to know w hat another is thinking, or why the other
character did o r said som ething, we can begin to be sure that medieval
w riters are exploiting the breadth o f interpretation, leaving room for
argu m en t ab o u t w hat the ‘real’ motives were or w hat was ‘really m eant’: a
certain am o u n t o f narrative indeterminacy creates space for audience
discussion.
T h e second category o f formal speeches, judicial or forensic oratory,
w hich deals w ith past actions rather than future ones, is addressed more
clearly to one audience: the ju d g e or ju ry in a court o f law. Some o f the most
fam ous orators in R o m e —including Cicero and Quintilian - made their
names as ‘pleaders’. Judicial oratory received disproportionate emphasis in
ancient handbooks, but there were good reasons for the sustained treat­
ments. First, perform ances in court are highly susceptible to clear codific­
ation; second, even w hen political deliberation was possible the law courts
claim ed a large share o f attention, a share which only increased as the
g o vernm ental arena narrow ed; third, the law courts provided a road to
success for aspiring young men w ho wanted to attract public attention to
themselves. Som eone else’s law case gives the pleader a recognized distance
from thc cause he argues, and a brilliant attem pt which ends in defeat may
w o rk to thc credit o f thc losing speaker. It may be noted in passing that a
k now ledge o f the arts o f persuasion was what was emphasized, and no
g ro u n d in g in thc law. For inform ation, one went to a juris
T h at habits o f m ind w ere inculcated by reading these speec es,s attes *
by the n u m b e r o f co u rt scenes in medieval and renaissance itera
received a fu rth er im petus in the Renaissance theatre, which
 (he Middle Ages
etition
T ruth a n,d
a CP',VI

s< j literary F osc towllrds conc«oie,s

, thc "10*1"'";” bvious in speeches by Shyl„ck .

«*** s: ^ rs
H e * * tab* dim« in corn,, where the wtt and dcx,e,,t> „f
lonmn's I ' e l r ' * " ” . bsorb„,g as well as scanfymgly amustng, snd *
•„st , * " ' * 1 0f , c o u r t ease. Later in the seventeenth c c n t ^
Evuocnc has a wild send -u p what may be taken to be stylization, 0f
C o rn e ille and Rafl" ' b° o/ Hf inUrieur which developed in the hands 0f
rhetorical exercises, M ^ ^ many familiar examples and methods to
of romance gav<
medieval writers i drama, but also in all kinds o f narrative
the writers ofsol.loqu.es. Not only in <
where speeches could be written w ith all the passion
literature, a trial scene ’ • i • J - 1 _____
avided writers w ith ideal opportunities to
t " “ I n h c v could r ^ t h c techniques t h e , had been drilled in „

^ * * * ~
textbook extravagance: no, only are characters p lea d ,„g fo r th e ,, h v „
, „ m„ , mistaken accusation of murder, but fathers w h o also happen to be
rulers find themselves sitting in judgement upon defendants w h o are their
apparently guilty sons. Victor Hugo used a variant o f this situation (foster­
er spiritual- father sentences his beloved son to the gu illo tin e out o f a
misplaced sense of duty) in Quatrevinglreize, and D ickens, too, revelled in
melodrama of this kind.
This habit of thinking of speeches in terms o f arguments manifests itself
even when the scene is not a legal one. The illusion o f ‘co u rt’ w as maintained
by the pretence that the writer is deferring to the judgem ent o f his audience.
The so-called ‘courts of love’ took legal procedure as their m o del, as did the
‘pui‘, the bourgeois poetry contests, now best represented in W a g n e r’s Die
Meistersinger von Nurnberg. Courts include princely courts, w here the
presiding judge or prince may be someone playing a role. So obvio u s an
observation is this that it is easy to ignore what it implies: the possibility o f
organizing poetry and performance on the long-tested forensic m odel. The
amour asked its audience to adjudicate betw een tw o positions,
where the poem was meant to stimulate more arguments. T hese poem s have
multiple appeal, since the poet can describe his im aginary situation

eeT ™ ’ “ ' ' nE'h'

7 *he Of character and status .0
ate a pajrofnich ‘ 7 >jbnCed or sPec'ous or biassed argum ents. There

contemporary, X b he^o”? , ™ Mlduu‘' Cl,luc" 's 8rat Frcnch

»"e'i lover through death d e s e r d o n T j0” Wl’ " hCr " “ h ' " " “ T
• Judgement is requested from the
 Meaning and means
55
King o f Bohemia in one poem, from the King of Navarre ln the oth
one poem is set up to support the lad.es, the other the gentlemen Th
argum ent as play, as relaxation, but the same techniques of argum “ “
uscd for love as for any other subject. When Chaueer used a similar device’,
parliament, in his Parlement of Fowles he prov.ded a temptation for readers ’to
look for a real-life situation behind the playful judicial debate O f course it is
the process which is o f interest, and in Chaucer’s poem there is nojudgement
- ‘sentencing’ is deferred until the next St Valentine’s day. These examples
assume that literature stimulates conversation and emphasize the continuing
orality o f the cultures in which the texts were written. This social occurrence
could itself be imitated in writing, like Boccaccio’s frame of the ten young
people who tell the tales of the Decameron or Chaucer’s Canterbury Pilgrims,
who famously misinterpret each other’s tales.
In the course of R obert Greene’s sixteenth-century The Carde ofFancie the
young hero invents a dream in order to reveal his love to a lady to whom he
does not dare to speak plainly. The circumstances of the retelling are public:
he is with his beloved, but in the company of other young courtiers. He
describes how in his supposed dream he saw a beautiful woman standing on a
bare rock surrounded by a dangerous sea. He, the dreamer, found himself on
a cliffbefore a bridge so dangerous that to try to reach the Lady would mean
certain death. His question, addressed to his beloved, but equally to the
courtiers present, is

Whether it had beene better to have ventured upon the brickie bridge, and so either
desperately to have ended cares with death, or else valiandy to have injoyed desire
with renowne, or still like a fearfull dastard to have ended my dayes in lingering love
with miserie?50

For pages the arguments are canvassed, and each character in accordance
with his or her age, status, and position within the plot, weighs the possible
courses o f action and their consequences. Though Greene’s fictional court is
ducal, and the courtiers are playing, not trying , the character of the
speeches is formal, and their structure is that ot thejudicial oration. Knowing
how the formulae for such speeches are normally used is a prerequisite
recognizing the reasons why they appear in the forms that they do y
may not be revelations o f character at all, th ou g h o f course m uch y
revealed by the use o f the formulae, even by misuse or significant omissions-
I have sometimes referred to a ‘client’, as ifjudidal oratory were actually
legal occasion, where plaintiff and defendant were represented by pi •
 the Middle Ages
n tio n

This is the convention, the habit of

. me Of exordi»m-n>rratio-co„f,™ ltio .

r i . w . t t u “ Mt pracdcc' “ w a s -so ^
rcfutatio-peror3no " 3_ rhat lt is easy
rC,U,aL t0 other uses that « y s vvorth rem e m b erin g , to o ,
l ^ l n v e structure c ^ Q d ci ^ w h ic h s u r v iv c d fro m

manyins of the m05t, T L, rcounts

mints transcribed
tran>'-ii^v' by/ co u rt stenographers,>
v were not the verbatim 0f speeches th a t m ig h t have
antiquity\ .. anft revised CXpanSlO ■ _ _ . _ w -.
but carefully written and most famous, Cicero’s Pro M ilo n e, was
been, or were, delivered. ^ sQ put off by the sight o f arm ed
never made, since apparen ^ spcak G ne needs to im ag in e th a t the
thugs r i n g i n g thccourtthat^ eco ^ wcrf legal defences. So, to o , the

-------- , „ ... .11 but bv extension, an abstract idea, like

;Liberty
t : ' :or: CI » & ***> ^ » - *»*•
„ Milton’s A m pagilM , svhich even enshrines the
of a judicial oration; so
; title.51 It is one o f the curiosities o f literary
name of an Athenian court in its i
history that authors constantly extend old forms to n e w uses, so m etim es
almost without seeing what they are doing or w h y . In ten d in g to d o one
thing, authors create another. However deeply these ju d ic ia l habits
penetrated, they were no more determining o f w hat w as w ritte n than any
other genre. Quesuons of the unity, the style, the characterization o f a w o r k
may grow from the recognition that something unusual is (o r is not)
happening. The ‘oral’ could be extended to the w ritten , as th e w ritten
imitated an oral performance, so that there are n ot t w o in d ep en d e n t
categories. To remember that the so-called ‘Debate’ literature o f th e M id d le
Ages grew from this ostensibly forensic exercise thickens the te x tu r e o f our
understanding, by revealing how little expectation there w as o f ‘ a’ w in n in g
tcome, how much attention was devoted to the pleasure o f the process.
I have already mentioned the political threat in heren t in train in g

aud^na "Vw thC tCChniques of appealing to the em otio n s o f their

The only ^ y ^ 0™ "8 demag°guery has always been used to incite action.
1* ! “ * * . * ' — « o f .he listener’s en ro .to n s was an

successful from unsuccesshirT ^ good from bad arguments, but

might be persuasive, but the ^ ^ ^ ar8uments used in a bad cause
Bid arguments abound ln V n0t t0 succced with someone educated,
recognizable, as when ChaucT * nCTltUTi:' and they are intended to be
nCCeSS,ty ind beewill, ,n ldd" oC
nreited Tiofflus- misleading inner debate on
8 d readers should be able to recognize
 Meaning and means l
57
good argum ents based on faulty prem ises, such as the argument m
for the justification o f suicide in The Faerie Q ueene, or the s e d . J u "
o f M ilton’s Satan. I shall look in greater detail in the next c h a t
tendency o f historians to ascribe such specious arguments to the^llam f
the past, and to dram atize them as speeches. This is the point of Blake
m isreading o f M ilton. The interpretative culture, already in abeyance when
Paradise Lost was actually published, had changed so much that it would have
been difficult for Blake to recapture the rhetorical techniques with the full
w eight o f the irony w ith which Milton deployed them. Speech is not simply
- perhaps only very rarely - the spontaneous emotional outpounng of
character, a calculated speech may be a true representation of a character’s
inner life - b u t equally the creation of inner life may be contingent upon the
quality and style o f the arguments. If only because the ethos of Satan or
Despair was m orally repugnant, readers would be on their guard against the
skilful pathos aroused by their speeches. Because the other fallen angels or
even the R e d Crosse K night succumbs to good rhetoric used in a bad cause,
we should be the m ore alert, the more resistant. V ittona Accorambona’s
self-defence in W ebster’s The White Devil reminds us that beauty introduces
an extra force: how ever seductive she is, she exemplifies bad ethos/good
rhetorician. These literary examples also remind us of the complexities that
can be created, o f the ways that our sympathy is pulled simultaneously in
different directions: we may pity the speaker, or be seduced by her, but we
are m eant to think and to resist.52
In addition to speeches about actions, either arguing for future courses or
defending past ones, there were ‘demonstrative’ speeches, originally referred
to as speeches o f praise or blame, epideictic oratory.51 In the Middle Ages,
this becam e a catch-all category: what was neither deliberative nor judicial
had to be epideictic. Saving the appearances of rhetorical theory encouraged
m any m edieval thinkers to twist the categories rather than question the
w isdom o f ancient theoreticians. This helps to explain why lyric poetry was
categorized as epideictic: as it was clearly neither of the others, it had to be
dem onstrative. Traditionally, funerals and festivals had provided
occasions for displays o f demonstrative oratory. Pericles Funeral O
like L incoln’s G ettysburg Address, which commemorates both
dead and the values for which they died, are great examples
this kind o f oration no strict adherence to the facts wa, . e q ^ . ™
speaker have to lim it himself to the petson *d dig[e!„„„,
ostensible subject, because the form of t P
 Middle A ges
in,hc
Truth
,hat the speech was a celebration: ,hc
a
h
and celcM” ’ of , , c audic„ce listening to the praise, miglu

equally come * £
^ A,tidcus’ T ' ntlv *
„ „ t0 have been delivered, may have bee„
funeral o r a . » “ » ” * stlMdon, since Cicero could not be present
written as a k»d »f 1 in ,he emotional effect ts the goal, and ,hc
make an actual speech- tin 8 ^ might work as a kind o f solace,
speaker’s very heightening ^ Such speeches used styles which
emphasizing the signi iean« ^ language of praise or blame,
called attention to t c su JS a short> simplc, yet typical example.
Ector’s panegyric o been laid out so that the rhythms
Malory invented the following, wmen

vs ill be clear:

A Launcelot!’ he sayd,
■ thou were hede of al Crysten knyghtes! And now
1 dare say,’ sayd

syr Ector,
'thou sir Launcelot, there thou lyest,
that thou were never matched of erthely knyghtes hande.
And thou were the curtest knyght that ever bare shelde!
And thou were the truest frende to thy lovar that ever bestrade hors,
and thou were the newest lover, of a synful man
that ever loved w om an,
and thou were the kyndest man that ever strake w y th sw erde.
And thou were the godelyest person
that ever cam
emonge prees o f kygh tes,
and thou was the mekest man and the jentyllest

that ever ete in halle

emonge ladyes,
and thou were the sternest knyght to thy mortal foo

that ever put spere in the reeste’ .54

This is intense, and meant to We

to the style of mourni™ 5°’ U'SexPressed in the prose most suited
- the virtues ^ * both * * *
there is no reason to doubt that *n tbe WaY it celebrates them, and
habits of mind, might have sn k UCa^ S^ea^er’ 'nculcated with rhetorical
same time, Malory has invented rW l ^ Wa^ 0n tb‘ s occasion. At the
worrying about creating in his rMj S^eec^ could for Ector, without
tuvr. wood have, had * , ™ M y assurance ,ha, E C O , could
Aground or th e public e x p e rie n c e
 Meaning and means
59
to speak in this way. That is, particular character i
is less 1mportant than
appropriate circumstance.

N ot all dem onstrative speeches were pitched at a high level of,

emotion,
but they all derive coherence from an often unstated scheme of topics A
official speech ot welcome was an epideictic category Speeches to ”
royal visitors survive in large numbers, and it helps to understand w lv
mythical ancestors are hauled in, if one remembers that family, country and
teachers received praise according to known conventional patterns. Today
when school speech days are almost all that remains of such public events, it is
hard to recreate the combination of seriousness and pleasure with which
audiences responded to verbal displays. The formal, public style has almost
entirely disappeared from our experience. When speeches lasted three hours
there was scope for beginning with the ark. American Southern Baptist
preachers (Martin Luther King, Jr and Jesse Jackson are famous examples)
preserve this old-fashioned style, marked by organization in groups of three,
by a variety o f sound-play devices (paronomasia) including assonance and
alliteration and the coincidence of rhythm with rhyme. In Britain, Enoch
Powell was perhaps the last famous British politician to exploit the lessons of
Cicero as a result o f his own classical training.
Speeches w ere divided into identifiable sections, which graded the
emotional stages o f audience reaction. The number varies somewhat from
handbook to handbook, though the outline is agreed. First comes, naturally
enough, the introduction, called by the Greeks the proemium and by the
Rom ans the exordium . Here the orator tries to capture the goodwill of his
audience so that they will be well-disposed to the rest of the speech. If one
remembers the oldest chestnut in advice to after-dinner speakers, begin with
a jo k e’, this may not seem strange. The idea, then, that a funny thing
happened to me on the way to the forum is actually part of a recognized skill.
So is ‘unaccustomed as I am to public speaking , which is a ploy to make the
audience sympathize with a nervous speaker. When Shakespeare s Anthony
begins, ‘Friends, Rom ans, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury
Caesar, not to praise him ’, his exordium cleverly claims that he is not going
to do what his audience assume he must be (and in tact is) about to
an epideictic funeral oration. His denial is a means of en ®
attention. Plutarch says only that Anthony m a d e^ a^ p e ec^ ^ n ^
Shakespeare’s, an amplification of Plutarch s i e . inteerity of the
play on their ‘ethos’ in their speeches, that is, t e m ^ one 0f the
speaker. And o f course assuming an air of moral integ
 Middle A g e s
the
, fonvcntion in
„d e°n'
Truth •’ l,d
tatj„n w hich w o u ld b e in c u lc a te d t|)(
or tricks' 0,‘"' pr” ‘ and o f deliv ery (as re f e r re d to ,n th;
" Cl”' T A m the »»dv 01 comP, wh„ relies on th e fo rc e o f h ,s a r g „ m et-nts
j ; thhcl”
Ih„ c h p"
. Hr)'- ' are’s version
Shakespeare's version oo ff th
th ee A
A ttic
ttic ,, oo rr ppUi
,ai„
,; ;** hh he therethre
t h e r e *t h £r e£“ ^ e x cc ixtaiti„g,
n g , '’A siad
sia u c’-
V -sty
s ty le a p p e a ls *(
- J Us- AntnOIl) . _ k\r i n c i n m h A i s 1.
U , , i d e 1« te d b v ''" 'h“n e mob 1S earned aw ay b y in s in u a tio n , h elvy
emotions W the < t * ^
l JV-r*1v of evidence: n o t ju s t C a e s a r ’s c o rp se , bu,
, and w h at appears to
ironv
also his putative will. ^ by a narratl0n. In ju d ic ia l o r a to r y this
The '.ntrodutnon * ^ ^ ^ of the case. H ere arises o n e o f the
involved an « P os," on 0f carcful codification, b e c a u se so m etim es
curiosities oft « » ^ ^ aU but skilfully c a lc u lated fic tio n s, like

Caesar^ putative will. Rhetoricians repeatedly stress th a t th e n arratio n

should be brief, dear, and that it should sound like th e t r u th e v e n w h e n it
,sn t. The problem stems from the contradiction in h e re n t in th e te x tb o o k -
writers' desire to stress the virtue ot the orator, and to c re a te an ideal
handbook, while also taking account of the necessities o f a c tu a l practice.
Winning cases is the pleader's ambition. So the n arration, n a r r a tio , m ig h t be a
circumstantial account o f what had happened, or an a c c o u n t w h ic h c o u ld be
expected to move the audience to favour the client’s cause. In effect, this
loophole through which fictions crept permitted, even e n c o u ra g e d , a certain
elasticity in descriptions o f ‘true’ events. It m ight help to th in k o f th e m as ‘in
the main true events. This embroidery or em bellishm ent o f th e t r u th will
K dm again and again „ ...cue m suosequent chapters. In o r d e r to m o v e
, tJUdg^ (°r Udy’ or Duke) t0 sympathize with o n e ’s case, th e facts m ig h t
m il T T * ’%htly The P“ ‘ a gloss’ o n th e facts. T his
rhoohe £ » » called ’c o lo u r’: th e c o lo u rs o f
the events. In the late first 3S^eCt 01 lnterPretat' on w hich th e p le a d e r p u t on
should be suppressed and th ^ f ^ ^ U*nt'^ an w r’tes th at d a m a g in g ev id en ce
'ooks bad.” He reminds th k 'd j0™ arc sometimes necessary w h e n a case
g0od memory, ln(j advises h ^ ^*Cader tbat 3 successful lia r n eed s ”
7 “ ' frai»"'. they ih o a 'l'" .1 ‘he best methods.**“ '[ff it
« -is necessary
necessary to
possible fit closely with what p ausible and circumstantial, and sh o u ld

Sc cht'k!d'l'mp0""'‘t o f r t u t l ' 101,1,1 they cannot be disentangled

^ * T r r yo n r to th,ngs w h,ch cannot

interests will b e * * attr'bution r Utln8 Words to the dead is 3
someone living whose
ase at hand, who will therefore have
 M ea n in g and means
61

every reason to refrain fro m d en y in g the invented speech. A risky but

successful te c h n iq u e is to claim th at o n e ’s o p p o n en t said something w h ic h T
d id n ’t say - th in k , says Q u in tilian , h o w suspicious his vociferous0 and
affronted denials w ill look. B u t d o n ’t, he goes on, refer to com monly hdd
superstitions - those have really lost their force. Finally, he warns against
su ccu m b in g to the te m p ta tio n to over-dramatize an account, because
histrionics at an ea rly stage m a y b rin g the w hole perform ance into disrepute6
A t this p o in t in the speech a b rie f digression (iv.3) m ight be introduced on
one o f th e topics a p p ro p ria te to the case. B y this is m eant reflections on
g en erally ag reed subjects, like lu x u ry o r avarice o r duty, so that the audience
w o u ld relax in to sy m p a th y w ith the pleader and agreem ent w ith his point of
v ie w .57 T h is is a d irec tio n to d o the opposite o f w hat m odern analyses of
g o o d sp eak in g an d w ritin g recom m end; it is a reinforcem ent o f ‘stock
responses’ in o rd e r to lull th in k in g .58
I f th e n a rra tio n w as a claim to be a version o f events, it needed the support
o f p r o o f o r c o n firm a tio n , th e n ex t section o f a w ell-ordered speech. Some
h an d b o o k s say th a t this section should begin w ith one or m ore propositions
(statem ents o f w h a t w as done) follow ed by a list o f propositions to be made
and d efen d ed, in an o u tlin e o f the topics to be treated in the rest o f the speech.
Im p o rta n t co n sid eratio n s in this section, though, include such unexpected
topics as c h a racter assassination o f the o p ponent (underm ining his ethos),
appealing to th e u n reliab ility o f a w itness’s testim ony, im pugning its value
because it w as p erh ap s hearsay o r obtained under torture or through self-
interest. T h e v itu p e ra tio n expressed b y controversialists like M ore and
T y n d all co m es u n d e r this heading. W h a t may appear a lapse o f taste
reassum es its rh e to ric a l place w h en one is able to supply the idea o f attacking
the o p p o n e n t’s ethos. A t this p o in t, too, it was appropriate to refer to any
useful ideas o f ju stic e w h ich transcended the som etim es irritating legal
restrictions. T h e m ain m e th o d , how ever, was to argue by rhetorical
syllogism s, fro m th e k n o w n to the probable, by the enthymeme. It
different fro m th e logical syllogism in several ways, o f which the m
obv io u s is its com p ressio n : ‘Socrates m ust die replaces the tradi
syllogistic p r o o f (A ll m e n are m ortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore S ^
m o rtal.). O r an e n th y m e m e m ig h t be based o n shared opinion, o
d u b io u s p rem ise. W h e n an irate parent berates a child for st*ymg °d ^ a
m g h t th e sh ared o p in io n ‘up to n o g o o d is lurking in the g^ ^ ^
so rt o f d u b io u s m a jo r prem ise: People w ho stay out al are degrees
good; this ch ild stayed o u t all n ight; therefore . • ■<-lea *
 ., thc Middle Ages
mention m thc
and cor"’
Truth
needed to be aware o f them to m akc
62
a,| *«. «* bc aWarc enough to recognise ,hcm
obability cd them.59 There is a strong Sensc
ofpr' He also
Ks “A w h ile strict logic is a virtue in forc„ sic
""J tht handbuelts >h“ ca!e confuse thc jury. A WtlL
i t i s n o t a ^ ^ r . i a b l e . especially gtven thc case w ith
1 : : ',;
- - a g re e w,th we,ghty nroral w ridom . These
which anaudience could be le > ^ ^ jn thcir fav0ur. F.rst, puhy
a, they « « c*
■ the audience and are remembered. Second,
savings - i*1 moderation * ^ ^ gfave and yet penetrating moral
they impress upon tnc . Third> they can be e x te n d e d in to
chmete, of the speaker: ^ e ^ doom e(J d ie (in ^

enthymemes w n a sk,|ful orator can go on to suggest that

S L * no. * * * « * " > * • ThiS ki"d ? f eXC™ ' is

lea,I, open to abuse. Milton's Satan, that model orator, uses these sections
indtrick, when posnadmg Eve to eat the apple: ,x. 549 ff. (Proem), 57,-612
(Namriol. 684-736 (Confutatio), 727-32 (Peroratio), w u h m isu sed S e n te n -
tiae at 654,709-10 and descriptions of the orator s delivery at 665 7 6 a n d an
epic simile at 631-42. Other arguments include parallel cases, o fte n taken
fromhistory, or even fables (like Aesop’s) if they lend themselves to the case
at issue. And for those who find they lack a store o f co n v e n ie n t ex am p les,
Valerius Maximus collected a large number, carefully ca te g o riz ed in o r d e r to
provide an early example of the speaker’s com panion.60
If one had spoken thus far in support o f the case, it w o u ld n o w b e tim e to
turn to specific refutations of the accusations. If this seems to c o m e fairly late
, reaSOn U C^e necessitYt0 create an unquestionable ethos, the
among his m By now the audience is assumed to be enlisted

r might need to argue fr° m drcum -

character, of the defendant ^ CexPanc^upon the character, or presumed
that this person would do th ^ ^ ^ **Wou^ ^ave been unlikely
Sowhenthee„diSln,iKht1atr^ ed-
o asatisfactory emotional state Per° rat‘on would bring the auditors

fmd him seif acqu,t,cdf

fact to get at tL c lent nukes a marked e stress on rousing feelings o f

this arousal o f e ^ ' ^ P U s a pose i!°ntraSt t0 3ny Careful siftUlg thC

^ a u d u o r * * ' ^ The technical nam e for
^ 1 o s , to be distinguished from
 M eaning and means
63
the moral ‘ethos’ o f the speaker. No ‘unreliable narrators’
rhetorical schem e; n o t to be convincing would be d i s a s t r o u s ' ^ ^ **
trainee o rato rs - later preachers - had to learn not o 1 Therefore’

»r*Umen“ ' b"' alS° ^ 7 . *° th£m convincing

their audiences w o u ld think they were. S

T H E E X E R C I S E S OF R H E T O R I C A L I N V E N T I O N

T he p ro b lem s o f w ritin g are different from those o f analysis. Teachers (or

handbooks) divided their discipline into five parts: invention, or the finding
o u t o f a subject; disposition, its arrangem ent; diction, its style; and then
m em o ry and delivery, w hich belong to the days w hen oral recitation was the
goal. I shall be concerned w ith the first three, and prim arily with the first,
inventio. Even those m edieval teachers w ho most suspected classical rhetoric
nevertheless recognized that ingenium, a knack for thinking up arguments,
was a universal art o f discovery.
A t the sm allest scale, the unit o f variation m ight be a single w ord. Cicero
w ro te o f th e necessity for copia verborum, and in the sixteenth century
Erasmus used this phrase as part o f the title o f his best-selling textbook, De
Copia Verborum: on the copiousness or m ultiplicity o f w ords and things. This
contrasts w ith m o d e m educational instruction in w riting, which does so
m uch to foster originality o f thought and expression. Even m odem forms of
translation tend to be exercises like the precis, a brief sum m ary o f a model
passage in o u r o w n w ords, rather than anything which expands. W hile the
ancients recognized that abbreviation was im portant, they stressed even
m o re the ability to take advantage o f opportunities to expand, to amplify, to
correct and nuance an expression, to fill out by the use o f synonyms and
parallel phrases, w hatever was implied —as I have just illustrated in this series
o f clauses. T his amplificatio is one o f the most characteristic features o f
m edieval literature, if not the one that gives us most pleasure. In the
successive versions o f Geoffrey o f M onm outh’s Arthurian passage quoted
above, amplificatio has been used to dramatize particular attitudes. It can be
argued th at w h at C haucer did to his model poem, Boccaccio s II Filostrato,
was to am plify it. Amplificatio could be an end in itself; one reason for saying
the same th in g in m any different ways is to make oneself aware o f Y
different w ays there are for saying things. As a technique o rep
still used m polem ical w riting, w here a senes o f examples appears to give
 in the Middle Ages
ention
and conv­
Truth
64 ument. Am phfictU ton can b e t h i e v e d in any nu er
force to an a fg - - ', cascs, or
o> inserting
**“ ------ «\dialogue,
~ Qr arlj ''
•• dcK
f bv ch»npn8 S « ” t 1 1 .nven‘r f . w t h o u t p re su m in g to
S T * . * * * * * r * elegant expansion. T h e p ro b le m s th is raises

J “ L c ..." > a ’ '" ? n' 0rc; ; - n„ g which appeared to rep resen t s o m e ,h mg

the truth content of « " » ^ ^ ^ subject „ f the n e x , t w o chap ter,.
«h,ch had actually h . p F * f„ c o u g h to say that th e sp eeches o f
Here „ may be « > " h J l o f C ador and G a w a in a lre a d y cited ) d
historical acton (such as tn had been said; rather, lik e so m u c h o f
not carry a claim to r*Pr“ * \ tcxts rep resen ted a rgu m en ts th at m igh t
historical and biographic vs ^ ^ w ords their w riters c o u ld create.

^ " t X r . it retnfotced the assum ption th a t A , same

being said tn mnty tMferem ways, that is. that styhsttc v a n a tto n w as a

mere covering for the meaning.

It was the early Greek rhetoncian Isocrates w hose p e d a g o g ic effo rts first
formalized in the progym nasm ata, the exercises o f in ven tio n , the w a y s these
habits could be taught, in the Middle Ages, o f course, his w o r k w a s not
known directly, though handbooks o f rhetoric repeated so m e o f his ideas.
The dozen graded exercises which follow may never h ave b een ta u g h t in this
sequence in any school even in Antiquity, but som ething a lo n g these lines
will have been. The use of moral apophthegms and fables as the first exercise
was traditional, as apparently were the habits o f the m o st soph isticated
wnters who often returned to use them. Nevertheless, habits o f w r it in g and
speaking cannot be isolated from reading and interpreting, a n n o ta tin g for
present understanding and future imitation, and co m m e n te d te x ts often
called attention to good examples o f one or another o f the exercises.

difficulties sin CXCraSe Was c l^ na rra t>o. T his n am e can m a k e fo r

in the context o flm d in T ^ mCim narratl0n’ in the m odern sense, b u t m ay

statement of the facts of a case'0" ^ 01630 SOmet^ n B w ^ich cla im s to be a
recognized three kinds of^ ^eea^0ve’ P- 6o)- Basic sc h o o lro o m p ractice
students practised historical arrat*°n- E d itio n to ju d ic ia l n arratio n ,
Pag»n or Christian historian at*0ns ta^en from even ts c h r o n ic le d b y

t0plcs t0 be treated were * narrati° ns w h ic h w e r e pUrC

summarized as a list „ f . . : e Same *n each k in d o f n arratio n ,
and can of circumstances’ sharedby
_ list oi
Cicero to KipVing, whose mnemoruc ver'1* *—
VerSe aPPears in the Just S o S to r ie s :
 Meaning and means
65
I keep six honest serving men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
and How and Where and Who.61

1 shaH look at some narrations in the next two chapters. The conjunction of
history and am plification which appears almost accidental was to have maior
consequences on the choice o f subjects for long compositions throughout the
Middle Ages.
T hird can the chria, a brief exposition of a wise saying attributed to a
particular historical figure. The chria often appears as a brief appeal to
authority. T he form ula for handling it was to begin by praising its author, to
expound his wise saying and explain its circumstances. To amplify further a
contrary exam ple and a similar example might be added, with references to
other opinions on the same subject. Examples were collected, and (once
paper was cheap) kept in commonplace books. Bacon’s essay, ‘O f Boldness’,
begins w ith a chria:

It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man’s consideration.

Question was asked o f Demosthenes, what was the chiefpart of an orator? he answered,
action: what next? action: what next again? action. He said it that knew it best, and had
by nature himself no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that part
o f an orator which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player, should be
placed so high above those other noble parts o f invention, elocution, and the rest;
nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all.

Bacon calls the reader’s attention to what he is doing with a gesture as

collusive as it is gracious which creates (by assuming it) a sense of a shared
experience in w hich ‘w e’ can all be reminded how basic his matter is. No
orator had a higher reputation than the Greek Demosthenes, so his word
w ould carry authority. Psychologically, this use of a ‘reserve of shared
reference to school experience, to the texts everyone knows, something so
universal and so simple as no longer to require analysis, has a strong
confirm ing effect. Because we assent to the memory we are carried to
assent to the argum ent. The rest of the essay can build on a foundat
agreem ent because o f the strength o f the chria opening. Like the fore
speeches w hich built upon appeals to the audience s sym pathy,
and the chria function by a kind of collusion with their e ^
judgem ent. W hat ‘w e’ knowledgeable readers share puts us on ^
or the n arrato r’s side as soon as we sit back to enjoy t e p
 in the Middle Ages
version

66
of ,hctW « » ic in d o f topic sen ,e„ Ce av
think < fables, one means ot a m p lif y ,ion '
u m a y b '^ F '" 1
• u many tanit>> r ;
Ig a
meroduerng 3 ,nai soliloquy- -■ k'”d
- °“. d ° ” W W d > »Pe„
-h-e-ns
H ere i s 3 ” the same kind o f argum ent which js

" ' ‘- d0CT t e CU‘ ° f f h“

6 m ib -«»>B j * r c h i e f t a PromiKS? T h' V" V qUCSt,° n r e e b ° f 1* «
can cause any ot t h e m -
schoolroom .
, ,e by experience, the saying o f Sophocles to be true, that the
Now (quoth he) I P*5' ■ ncvcr ,jve without SOme m irth, n or die without
awhich hath many^ ^
man' ^ ^ hav£ cause w h ere o f to rejoyce, if
f _ if theV DC VCUUuw-j —- -
" T l f o . c to h sad, which saying I ttye P S * * - ™ * ™ ■ »» s' lfc . « * » I haw
: : , 1 * h * * . « * wish he, venue, so I have another ,h a , mee
W,th his vanine as the one by dutie brings mejoye, so the other b y disobedience
breeds my my: yea. as the one is a comfort to my mynde, so the o th er is a fretting
corasive to my heart: for what griefe is there more grip in g, w h a t paine more
pinching, what crosse more combersome, what plague more pernitious, yea, what
trouble can torment me worse, then to see my sonne, mine heire, the inheritour of
my Dukedom, which should be the piller of my parentage, to consum e his time in
roystmg and ryot, in spending and spoiling, in swearing and sw ash in g, and in
following wilfullye the fiirie of his owne frantike fancie. Alasse, m ost miserable and
lamentable case, would to God the destinies had decreed his death in the swadling
clouts, or that the fates had prescribed his end in his infancy. O h that the date o f his
birth had bene the day of his burial, or that by some sinister storm e o f fortune he had
bene stifled on his mothers knees, so that his untimely death m ight have prevented
' mS.U.1"8 sorrowes’ and hls future calamities: for I see that the youngfrie will alwaies

hcwhichiscarelcsse^ ' ^ b<me wil1 no1 easiIY out ° f thef l esh’ that

“ re, why doest thou not ap 1 i t rma‘nel^' Why Clerophontcs, i f thou seest the
wby doest not prevent it v lu ,.U*Ve’ lnd '^t*10us dost perceive the mischiefe,
cause and the effect faileth: if
: : * : ; CUthlm least he b rrn gfh ee to ruine:
^ 2 ? * * * t e ? W - P . * o « w ik suffer him so

bt thr°ugh h u t jll''fth0UprcvcntnothCn hC WlU n0t ° nely Seke th y landS and

Dukedome, 'vfe the ovcrth * PUrP° Se: yCa' atld after th V death he ^
stateofMeielyncr^ °fthycommonWct W ° fth y house- the consum er o f thy
SOrrow«.'nwho^llf^ Ch'cf' and mi ae’ anud the verre man that shall bring the
' ldiloathsomem U tben *hy sonne is such a sinke of
° f wretched mishaps, cut him o f f aS
 Meaning and means
67

» 8” “ '“ ” eraft' U7 0r,hie ‘ ° gruOW ’><'■ »<* ■ “ «*■ Alasse C l „ „ ph „ „ « , sh>„

th„ „ be so unnatural as ,0 seeke ,he spoile o f thine owne ^ ^ ^ ^
savage then the brute beastes in committing such crueltie: no, alasse 62

N o one w o u ld assume that this form al cogitation is meant to represent to

enact experience; it is n o t very m uch like thought. But, then, it is not meant
to represent a process o f pondering (like M olly B loom ’s soliloquy) or even
the idiosyncrasies o f this father. It is, how ever, m eant to convey emotion,
and C le ro p h o n te s’ anguish and self-reproaches once m oved readers who
w ere used to this kin d o f stylization. It is also m eant to be read aloud, or at
least read so th at the inner ear hears the balanced clauses, even the rhyme.
Som e o f the sound effects are m arked by changes to bold type. Greene
am plifies p artly by variation and partly by interior m onologue, where the
father takes b o th sides o f the argum ent. M odem readers w ho find this a
distraction fro m the em otional experience w hich D uke Clerophontes is
u n d erg o in g , used as w e are to a different kind o f econom y, need to consider
that for th e d u ratio n o f this set piece speech the elapsing tim e o f the story
halts.63
B o th these exam ples use attributed sayings; m ankind’s store o f proverbial
w isdom also includes a vast stock o f anonym ous ones. In the fourth exercise,
called Sententia, or, perhaps confusingly, in English, a ‘sentence’, o f course
one could n o t praise the author, but the other directions were similar to the
chria. B o th exercises represent appeals to the authority o f collective moral
guidance. G reene’s sententiae are italicized. This kind o f appeal is often
suspect to d ay , so that it is as well to rem em ber that an apt quotation or
proverb co uld have overw helm ing force in a medieval or renaissance
arg u m en t. O n the other hand, there was a widely held view that the
m isapplication o f such w isdom , or overdependence on proverbial lore was a
fault, co m m o n , like sim ilar over-use o f fable, to simple people, but also to
old m en .64
A u th o rs could exploit a range o f reactions to the serious and satirical uses
o f sentences by creating levels o f irony, and sometimes an author s
apparently straightforw ard use o f them may suggest ambiguities not about
the sentences themselves, but about the character w ho speaks them. Being
‘sick o f the F ath er’ is a bitter pun on the lesser illness, hysteria, which was
called ‘being sick o f the M o th er’. In Chaucer’s Troilus and Cnseyde
P andarus’ fondness for proverbs which support his view o event
characterize him as an alm ost pedagogic type, aware o an not o
 d c o n v e n t ,n
Truth that he uses so many proverbs alS0
68
blcn«> vll|garity about him. Overuse is
e chat'Pea 1,,v*ell“ss° a a l , “ ’,",, or refinem ent o f T ro ilu s
mov,-edbyth l.tcrarv as ^ flf (hc status or or
Cha""'" polomus poses a more difficult

" i , n * C ^ p l » r' i* b , ”0“ T u SCh i " H m H T h e p r ° b le m s be

C,l' ' y<" 1o f tinterpre
, (rpr«>”»" ' bke ” , , individually u n o b je ctio n ab le , but
pro to UCand ihere arc too many o f th e m , ty p ify in g ln
example'

z z z * * ,n
' UV which com *” ' 0 " *
* icast polohutstr nstam
' m i erh,ps also suggestin g th a t th e o n c e -
distraction from ^ doUge. T he context created b y th e w h o le

pirn or play counts, too. ^ ^ general than the sen ten ce, the
There is a fifth category $0 universai as to b e instan tly

C°mm° t r i . k c hthe E r f thieves or the value o f co u ra g e. ‘Locus

recognizable, is one 0f those spatial m e ta p h o rs w h ich
^ r l 'l h a l T e d i e v a l people diough. of the w orld as in te rp re ta b le in
ways that were analogous to reading." The com m on places w e re th o u g h t o f
as concretely Acre in the mind, locations o f w isdom , o f p o te n tia l in v e n tio n
•finding ‘in’ 'a place’). There is an implication of fam iliarity. T h is k in d o f
appeal to ‘what everybody knows is characteristic, and p articu la rly
important when one is trying to come to terms w ith the ap p a ren t cre d u lity
of earlier times. To us, if a story too closely resembles a story w e h a v e h eard
before, it is likely to be classed immediately as ‘apocryphal’, a folktale,
untrue To audiences of medieval and renaissance Europe, rep e titio n w as, on
the contrary, likely to be taken as a sign of confirmation, because o f a b e lie f in
lifts knovsn and recognizable underlying patterns. T h a t ev e n ts had
ppe ed before might be adduced as a proof that they w ere h ap p e n in g

Z L V t r £VentS might be new and uniTue was a h o r r o r to a

beginnings ^ ^ ^ Christian esch ato lo g y ) its
one com es to the
to have seemed, and even - *>CnenCe’ more co n vin cin g a s to r y is lik e ly
deliberate hand of God Thi eSPcc' a" y ~ co in ciden ce re v e a le d the
chapters. ' Wl11 be of particular im portance in th e n e x t t w o
Here is a historical speech

H“ 'V W l»h»w beCTi)”^ T h o m a s G a i n s f o r d i n , 6 , 8 for K ing

- f . pin, ,o o v e rth ro w h im :
1 there is no ttusi, ho«me frlend>mv
' n‘nor» the P5a|mj VCounccUor? my Chamberlaine? then
tb confidence in Princes: For as we
 M eaning and means
69

sbal not want instruments to goe forward with what enm™

had his leak so shall we not lack enemies let them be neuer s o T a r e llu T n “ ^
fauour the least deseruer, but I may well now cry out Heu c a d i, ^ dCS'r° US *°
scelus! and w ith the kingly Prophet exclaime, It was not'mine eneniLs abroad”but my
companions, and such as eate at my table betra.ed me: What Sir William S'anleV> Z
hath the gouernment o f my Chamber, the charge and controlment o f all that are next
my person, the lone and fauour o f our Court, and the very keyes o f our treasune He
made me a conqucrour in the field, and by his hand I scourged tyranme out of his
Throne, therefore it is impossible, and 1 cannot belieue it.66

T he same k in d o f rhetorical organization obtains here as in the outburst of

G reene’s p urely fictional king. The m ixture o f chria, sentence, and
com m onplace stylizes the em otions w hich King Henry feels. Modern
readers m ay be inclined to feel that eloquence sits ill w ith strong emotion:
w hat really happens is that people splutter, unable to say w hat they feel.
Eloquence m ig h t be th o u g h t to signal lack o f sincerity. But these are criteria
o f realism, n o t the kind o f stylization w hich medieval literature offers. King
H enry speaks as a king should. He is also w rong: unlikely as it seems, Stanley
has betrayed h im .67
T h e confirmatio and destructio, tw o linked exercises, encouraged practice at
p ro o f and refutation, and these sixth and seventh exercises depend upon the
use o f the earlier ones. Sim ilar form ulae apply: the student begins by praising
or m aligning his source or opponent, then tells his story showing it to be
credible o r incredible, possible or impossible, like or unlike other known
events, seemly o r unseem ly to be spoken of, profitable or unprofitable to
have been done. O nce again the speech is based upon arguing from
likelihood, and the habit o f thinking o f w riting as organizing an argument,
the effects o f w hich depend in part on the ethos o f the speaker.
D em o n strativ e o rato ry was the goal towards which another pair of
exercises was aim ed: encomium or panegyric, that is, speeches of praise, or their
opposite, dispraise or vituperation.68 For these eighth and ninth exercises,
speeches o f blam e w ere in fact m uch rarer than speeches of praise, tor which
rhetoric h an d b o o k s abound in possible subjects. A sample includes men, fish,
birds, beasts, trees, stones, rivers, cities; arts and sciences, virtues like wisdom,
courage, liberality. A ppropriate topics for the praise o f a man might begin
w ith his nation, locality, ancestors, parents, and teachers before comi g
his physical attributes, his acts, his wise sayings. 1 shall look at this
detail in Chapter 3. The sophistication o f such speeches can be s

the great w orks o f Erasmus, The Praise o f Folly. This is the exercise w
 Middle Ages
the
,cntion in
and conv
Troth
70
. S t a r r e d a ll-s.o p s-p u lle d -o u t b r a VUtl

. ,w oi.»"Wforn° ,' h there w « lea!t obllgat,on to rcstrict

P,0';,J"% the exetehe ■" would excite admiration m ight be

a” F If to the " “th Anyll”n8 help to explain th e a p p a r e n tly odd

insertion Ucati„ „ it that the reader addressed - o , „

astonishing * P * i„ the pleasures o f ex erasin g style,
least the‘best’ reader addres ^ ^ ^ a simultaneous p le asu re w hich

recognizes technique. “ “ ^ c o n te n t o f the text, th o u g h p a rt o f th e te x t’s

coexists (as it coincides) wi ‘unc|ersto o d ’ stylistic e x p re ssio n w ill be
undentoodcontent.sitsmood.rn ^ look * attem tQ
of particular .mportance in Chapter 4,

^More subtle, pethaps. is the tenth exercise, e m p a r a tio , w h ic h w e tg h s the

merits of two to p s , Milton’s patted poems, ’L’A llegro’ a n d ’ll P en se ro so ’
are a famous example of fine poetry transcending the triv ia o f th e g ra m m a r
school. The fashion for ‘debate’ poems, in which S pring a rg u e s th a t it is
better than Winter, the Soul than the Body, W ine than W a te r, W in n e r
(earning) than Waster (spending), sprang no d o u b t fro m th is k in d o f
exerase. Comparison may also extend to som ething m o re lik e w h a t w e
might think of as simply com p a rin g . Here is the beginning o f a se ctio n o f Sir
Thomas Malory’s M o r te D a rth u r:

And thus hit passed on frome Candylmas untyll [after] Ester, that the m oneth o f M ay
was com, whan every lusty harte begynnyth to blossom and to burgyn e. For, ly k e as

yS p!*rgenyt^ Sn<^fl0rySshYth ’n May. m lyke wyse every lusty harte that

For hit ewvth ° VCr '’PrynBlth>burgenyth, buddyth, and florysshy th in lusty dedis.

menohe, J * * * * ,no,' ,n ,hat moneth than in o n y other

woman, and in ly k wyje lover ^i^ ^ treys renew yth a m an and
5ervy*c>and many kynde j . , * ^ t0 t^e‘r mynde olde jantylnes and olde

^ fo,8° ,vnby
1 Yumuble love i„ ,nd V “ d * 6 ce grene summer, so faryth
“K b » ™"V petsonesthere ys no stabyli*

Therefore lvkr J k“ ta T h yorshyp.

nature and grete disw s y; n°

^ oin lykew vl *ymone'bflowrv,K

 Meaning and means
71
Som e readers have assum ed that the author (whoever he
speaking in his o w n voice to condem n his contemporaries E v e llfl
he speaks in a con v en t.o n al gesture called ‘com plaint’; in any case it w h’
forem ost im p o rta n c e th at readers be aw are that the form in which th
com plaint is co u c h ed is the result o f careful study o f exercises such as the
com parison. It is an a rg u m e n t by analogy, as the ‘fors’ and ‘therefores’ alert
us. It m oves fro m praise o f a season to praise o f the lovers o f past times and
then specifically to the lovers at K ing A rth u r’s court. The stylishness o f the
prose m ay distract us fro m a certain speciousness both of analogy and
application. Steadiness is no m ore dem onstrated then than now. When, in
addition, on e rem e m b ers th at G uinevere was not the sort o f lover ever to be
free o f th e b o d y ’s dem ands, the inconsistency, even incongruity, o f this
in tro d u ctio n to th e p lo t becom es apparent. O f course, some readers may
argue th at it w as the stren g th o f M alo ry ’s ow n feeling that welled up, and
that the in c o n g ru ity testifies to that strength. This w ould be to make the kind
o f psychological ju d g e m e n t about M alory that convinced Blake that the true
poet, M ilto n , w as o f th e d ev il’s p arty. B u t given the regular inconsistency o f
m edieval and renaissance narrative, and the emphasis upon local effects
rather than su b o rd in atio n o f all the details o f a w ork to its plan, it is more
likely th at this address to the reader appears w here it does for technical rather
than personal em o tio n a l reasons. T he desire to use a comparison, the
perception th at co m parison m akes a good section opening, may be the
motives fo r its appearance here. Interpreting its content, what is compared
and h ow , does n o t — at least in this case —reveal any more. Recognition o f
rhetorical gam es m u st n o t be taken as a form ula for automatic interpretation,
but a con stant re m in d e r o f oth er cultures’ different attitudes to the ways
w ritten expression could be stylized.
R e co g n itio n is a pleasure in itself, to the reader as well as to the writer who
put things in th e w ay th a t he did hoping for an understanding interpreter. To
recur again to B acon, O f Marriage and the Single Life is as graceful and
know ing a co m p ariso n as the chria I have already considered. The intention,
in M alory o r B acon, is to refer w ith o u t really having to argue.
An elev enth exercise is in theory a description, sometimes ca
ecphrasis. Since description played an integral part in so ma ^
exercises, som e rhetoricians denied it a place o f its own. Descrip ^
did easily in to eith er praise o r blam e o f a city. It is not clea matters of
description could be. B u t m any descriptions were not ess pieces at
Praise, blam e, o r com parison, and they afforded import
 the Middle Ages
dconve■ ntion
Tru ih a'11
IIhhave
3Ve
already* mentioned Virgil’, storm
~**n
hands
! their a Latin handbook to which Sir Phi,i
rs cou Id trV Pot' i i:tr— t__
at sea Ini debted, “ MidC" ^
t , -V « * moth ” Tcnl pests, ° thcr disa,tcrs' as w c " as less

,FP„ , « » b j« « I fc l^
*— “ ■ m\ r i
WesP.t= .o .h e « e c h n iq u « M 7 ' f ' ' » . a<lvi!m8
bi„ d b ^ * ' » ,' d “ ; 2 „ person with hrs head, and then work
students to begin to escri
. , f a , (rating the middle w ith d u e ctrcum spec-
systematically dow n to ' appealing to the eye o f the im a g in a tio n , ,akK
non). This visual sense, o f view into account. A description of a
precedence as well as pny»« P ^ w trees t0 birds, n ot o n ly because o f
parden should ,vork “p™"’|j0because, in this list o f three, birds come

, „ nks o f ereanon. In the twelfth cen tu ry, M a tth e w o f

highest in
Vaidome provided generations o f medreval students w ith seven model
Vendor
of different persons: a church prelate, a prince, a cle v e r orator, a
descriptions
cvnic and three types o f women, virtuous, beautiful, and o l d . - T h is, too,
Instills and legitimates known character types, and w h ile it emphasizes
variation tends toward the restnction o f variety, in clu d in g A ristotle’s
category of consistent inconsistency. There was am ple preceden t fo r this
restriction: Anstotle puts some ‘types’ in his Rhetoric (B o o k Ii). N o t only
were there standard ways of describing; there w ere standard types to be
described. Human nature was known. Individual idiosyncrasies hardly
appear. The description of a person is a word painting, first o f the outw ard
physical appearance, then of the inner qualities. T h e topos w h ic h this
established turned attention of a sort to what people lo o k e d like, to their
stature, colouring, and clothes. But anyone w ho has tried this has recognized
its limitations, as when one attempts to describe one friend to another
(unacquainted with each other) accurately enough to facilitate a recognition
a crowded public place, We still rely upon the same bro ad outlines that

esoeciall 1 t™dit’ona* descriptio: sex, age, height, w eig h t, clo th in g , and

to those facial T '^ ^ ^ fr°m C°lour of hair and eyes and skin-type
or large £ £ h° < ^ d - snub nose, small

we have to perform^ h” ™ ^ ^ M iU' ° n those occasions when

specify the colour of a coat"” ^ 6 tyP'C3^ trV t0 Pr o v ide a Pro P : we
carnation to our left ,ape] »’ 3 Pardcular newspaper, o r pin a green
require of a written narrative
and ••"“UdiiVC Cfim 1
° f h° W llttle description w e actually
------
ch We dlsc°ver, watching the f 1 WC See 3 ^dm m ad e a b00^’
greatl ^ ° r t3^ ‘n^ t0 our friends about
y °ur mental pictures h a ve differed.
 Meaning and means
73
N evertheless, h o w e v e r lim ited such descriptions may seem
they could c o n v e y aspects o f the inner person, the second p ^ o f t h ^ ' f '
description. B o d ily externals and choices about clothes may be co ^
tional, but th e y are still fraught w ith meaning. Hair is a case m
western E u ro pe red has alw ays been a colour to arouse suspicion OnTstill
hears the association o f red hair and hot temper, which was originally duem
view s about the hu m ours and excess o f heat (where red is not just a metaphor
for dam e, but identifies the same quality). In medieval and renaissance'
w ritin g red hair was an attribute o f untrustw orthy men; Judas was believed
to have been a redhead - though w hich w ay around the association arose is
n ow im possible to say. T h e high forehead o f the medieval blonde beauty is
w ell k n o w n . H air co u ld easily com e to sym bolize moral values, and in a
culture in w h ich cross-dressing was looked upon with horror, the Bible was
in voked as the ultim ate authority for hair-styles: men short, women long. A
description o f a m ale fashion for lo n g hair often constitutes implicit moral
criticism, an insinuation o f effem inacy, w ith hints o f vice and degeneracy.
C riticism o f n e w fashions m a y lo o k as i f the author thought them ridiculous,
but the fo rce o f disapproval m ay am ount to an accusation o f immorality.
T h e p articularizin g tendencies w hich are such a marked feature o f the
narrative p o e try o f exceptional tw elfth-century authors like Chretien de
T ro yes in d ivid u ate the characters w h o speak them, but the characters remain
types. A s I shall sh o w in Chapter 3, even biographers did not attempt to
represent the gratuitous idiosyncrasies.
W h en sch o o lbo ys put speeches into the mouths o f historical characters,
they concentrated upon the arguments appropriate to a character o f a known
age and social status, in a particular situation. Contrary to our usual
impression o f am plification, there is something economical about this. By
turning attention to the contents, sequence, and style o f arguments, all we
kn o w about inner character comes in the specific category o f the set speech.
‘Personality’ (in the eighteenth-century sense now normal) is subordinate to
the character’s creation o f ethos. T h e ethopoiea or mimesis was meant to teach
the creation o f appropriate em otion. Hecuba on the fall o f Troy was one of
the co m m o n topics — once again w e may think immediately 0{Hamlet and
Shakespeare’s gam es there w ith theatre rhetoric. When Hamlet asks the
player to repeat the scene w hich so moves both player and p >
Shakespeare has m any reasons for m aking it Hecuba s sense o f lo s ,
them is the v e ry banality o f the subject.73 Such speeches nee ^
restricted to hum an beings: they could be attributed to citie , j ox
w hich case the exercise was called a prosopopeia. There is an pp
 the Middle Ages
cntion i
and conv
Truth
ech reveals character (in the same
we think that aCtUa‘ modem idea o f personality), and

here< hT l t u r v SenSCthatgr H do the same. W hen w e l.stcn to w hat

2 2 5 . **£ £ ** we :ea"“ h° wt far ,hcv

reveal their innenn«t con«

»y * * cEvery0ne
hMCC of has
f jet ypc!. of
characteristic
preterence tor ^ ^ ^
c o m p a r is o n , ^ about argummts, had n o need
phrases. Literary speech, base ^ ^ ^ important to beware o f assum ing that
t0 imitate these .diosyncras.es waiting for a b rea k th ro u gh w h ich
« was theretore interior, ^ ^ ^ steady, laudable m arch tow ards
represented progress, as . literary discourse. As Auerbach
Pettonius differentiated character by sp e e c h .- In the
J^M iddk Ages « sometimes fad d.alogue whtch e x p lo its persons,]
,d,os>mmnc speech markers But this is extraordinarily rare. C hau cer’s
Wife of Bath has a favourite adjecrive, ‘jolly’, and Hamlet repeats himself.
Speech, literary dialogue, was - indeed still is - highly stylized, and for
hundreds of years represented positions or arguments m ore than gratuitous
characterization, though certainly character emerged, how ever contin­
gently, as I shall show in the next two chapters.
It is a sign of the orientation towards argument that the m ost sophisticated
exercises were those which considered abstractions. Twelfth and alm ost last,
thesis is like the comparison, but considers issues which cannot be resolved,
like a consideration of whether or not riches are the highest good, or the
conflicting claims of the active versus the contemplative lives, o r even -
theme the arguments for or against marriage. O ne extra exercise,

opposingTlat.'P°PUkr m PnnCdy SUteS’ W3S thC le* islati0' supportin g or

special situations. WhUe p ^ cticeT T h ^ aSSUmed sPeakers in

to turn their comoositin " C ^raded Zeroises encouraged w riters
th«r training, the exe"” " ^ 5 Whlch alIowcd them to take a d va n ta ge o f
comprehensive preparation f * CmSelveS Were never intended to be a
imitation, and might be e n m k ^ j5'1'011' T ^ey arc small-scale schem es
iflerent ways or styles. T0 ]ea , & ’ Parodied, or m anipulated in m any
ppopnate difFcen, „yies ^ ° J t0 c^l00ie words and con structions
S ^ ^ ^ ^ - o t l l d u ran c e

,hc - , x , s r z :°f
 Meaning and means
75

In order to practice orato ry or com position the student had to think abou
the ‘clo th in g ’ o f his speech, and from the beginning he w ould study the styles
suitable for m akin g the best impressions. In general, three levels o f style were
posited: high, m iddle, and lo w . In the abstract educational scheme there was
no room to consider h o w oversim plified this is, how little attention it pays to
the effects o f variety, or h o w appropriate it m ight be to vernacular styles. It
assumes a n a lo gy betw een a certain style and a certain social level o f character
and a particular type o f plot, it takes it for granted that this concatenation is
natural. Each w as considered appropriate to different speakers and occasions,
and once again the authority o f V irg il’s practice was invoked as the example
and legitim ation ot h o w this was to be done. Description o f what did happen
became prescription o f w hat ought to happen reinforced by analogies with
other aspects o f a w rite r’s achievem ent. T he aspiring poet was expected -
and expected h im s e lf- to fo llo w the course o f V irg il’s w riting career and
w ork his w a y up th rou gh the styles, from humble to grand. This could, o f
course, m ake the hum blest w o rk the sign o f great ambition, staking a claim
for the greater w o rk s to com e. V irg il had begun w ith pastoral poetry, whose
subject is ostensibly the life o f shepherds. This associated the ‘lo w style’ with
labouring m en, w h erev er found, country, city, or at sea. T h ey w ould use a
vocabulary strikin g in its inform ality, simplicity, and restraint. There is a risk
in this kind o f p o etry that the reader w ill think that the w riter uses simple
words and phrases because that is all he know s h ow to do, but it is important
to rem em ber that the ‘lo w style’ is a dow nw ard modulation, and may be just
as artificial as any other register. A fter V irgil w rote his pastorals, the Eclogues,
he produced his Georgies, w h ich exem plified the ‘middle style’. This was the
means for describing the everyd ay activities o f men o f the middle ranks, and
included the affairs o f merchants, lawyers, or gentlemen. Com edy,
interludes, and m ost lo ve poetry used the ‘ middle style’. When the subject
was the m ost notable deeds o f the most important kings, princes, or gods, the
appropriate form s w o u ld be hymns, epics, and tragedies, expressed in
elevated or ‘h igh style’ . T h e Virgilian example is, o f course, the Aeneid.
This kind o f analysis assumes that there are ‘pure examples o f the various
styles, but o f course there arc not. A w ork o f any length written all in one
style w o u ld be borin g. Theorists knew that, but beyond insisting that
language at each level should be clear, exact, and appropriate, they foun
hard to legislate. Som e o f their problem s will recur in Chapter 4.
the end, the handbooks provided was a codification, with app P
technical vo ca b u la ry , o f the kinds o f things w e all do with wor s.
 Tru th an c U 0n V cn t' O n m
-6 tcXtbook-w riters to c o d ify fig u ra tiv e
the attempt ‘>f ' " * ; ; " e . w 1th .h e .t lo n g tots o f k in d s o f tro ^

b * * » „ • * " * £ , lt l three styles, each w .th ,ts a p p ro p n a te

„ d schemes, lust as the sllbject w in c h seem ed

genres, restricted the ^ textbooks 0n fig u r a tiv e la n g u ag e

legitimate, so the concentra ^ thcir m astery o f th e trick s o f
encouraged w ou ld -b e * nters ^ ^ decorum d isap p ea red under
the trade, so that the exhortation. Spenser*s o w n p astorals con tain
mountainous amplification. The notes to p
, tht ,cxt 0fjust this t o d . because ‘E .K .\ the a n n o ta to r, is keen
comments on i
Ctoirurfc Calender like a dignified classical text worthy of
» .tea. T V ------------ ---; rhetoncI| fjgUres, like 'S to o p in g P h aebn s) is a
commentary. He points out i
periphrasis of the sunne setting' in the course ox ms «» — - F -s
of an oration, as in Apnl he identifies the beginning o f a so n g as as it w e r e an
Exordium ad preparandos ammos’, expecting an audience learn ed e n o u g h to
understand the range o f his reference.
E. K.'s annotations o f the small-scale analysis o f w ords and phrases explain
why the vocabulary and register should call attention to them selves. By
mixing intertextual reference to great Latin authors w ith lo w register
composition, Spenser makes an ambitious bid for com pariso n w ith his
classical predecessors. His creation o f a literary dialect was co n ten tio u s even
at the time. This illustration o f the end of the text o f ‘S ep te m b er’ and the
beginning of the explanatory gloss, indicates by its type face so m e th in g o f
Spenser s pretensions. The use o f archaizing type for the speeches o f the
Shepherds indicates their rusticity, while the use o f hum anist ro m a n ty p e for
the explanatory notes demand the kind of attention from the read er th at is

from h7 t0 learned’ commented texts. Tw o kinds o f translatio n appear:

“ tT ” " <la,d En6“ih <“ f“ “ can speak o f 'stan d ard

recognize, allusions to earlier w ’ ’ W" ° aPPreciate- if not alwayS

which isolates examDl« 1 ° ^ 3nd W^ ° 's usec* to the habit o f reading

schemes, no satisfactory definir '^ Urat' ve *anguage w ere th e tro p es and

to have been agreed by m edievi^ distinctions betw een th e m e v e r seem
ges Bede was among those who ^ V renaiSSance theorists. In the M iddle
author r'ate H'eh Style, the view that these w ere only

r°pes are words Burative d ecoratio n was to be

3nd phrases used in u nusual ways.
 M eaning and means

September.
39
tJKljaf tyatt 3 doci toljat h w ffjall 3 tonro,
pitcoim pUftljt rttaj lady ta amino i
#f) goon Hobbinoi! .mcugijt 3 t&ec pwp,
rt^oe o) counfrll tn ms Decade,
Hob bi noli,
j^otoeb^/ApCaale ^fggon,3 lament
jLtj* faptette mildKefe,tfjat j)a* l^te tjenC,
^a«ttjcl!CCrett)cti Ceea i»-g
E^jat frohmtti ca«r anmle.
iBut ftscre Hobbinoi], as OoC utcugltf pleatr,
Diggon OjoulD(none fmoe fauour ana cafe.
JButif to mptotag£tt>ouioUtrefo’t,
as 3 tail,3 Imlltbce coi^fcjt:
IDtiere maytt ttjau lignetnt netch? t to,
Still fasjet i f ojtonc t tatjsali.
: • D iggon.
2fyHobbinoll,©oamou§htit tfctt requite,
Diggon on fetoe futh f cunces cio eutc life

D ig g o n s Embleme.
f a o fiw .m e te p u t f a t .

GLOSSE,
The D foleft and phrafe o f fpceeli ir.this'Dislogne, k e ^ e ih fomiwhar ro Ji^cr from i'.\-
com m on , t h e caute v*htreof isfupp ofcdto bc,b\ occafion of the pi; tie herein •v.cnc.-v >
being very fiier.rf to the Author h e ico f.lu d be ie]ongm foTT.uriccoum ju>lat,t]ihc.o ice. :
niaDy difbrderr,whiclvhce h c ic tccoi ncr.h co FLcebTioll,
%’uiJt her, Biddc « e o d m o io w . For t o b : r. pra-, c w here i-i ccm.-ret.A b<^kj
p n y e r j,a n d fo th c y lay, ro b id d e h i, b ta d c iJ .to U r h s p r iy tr .
W igklfc quirkly or fotU hi/v. r ■> f *de m vr.o
ail fpecchej b at rrnch vlurpcd o f L idgne,and foraeMV'eof Chaucer.
d e a lt, i'.ib t, c a fe . Tvr.f three Ms-. net, n it* monei he*,
fure.j, for xrauei!ed.
w ee,N orth ern)v . FrlrtJ, enerea'cd, <«:rr.
know . / hi-'.v, neck. State, ftourjv, . « < i ;t cr
ftyr.rc.
hec applycth it to tl.c time o f iheyeric vr!,j<h ii irthe endof lurucft, wimh
ikey call the fall oi the leak • at which time the W d lc m e winJebcateth rood Iwjvc,
^ n u l ^ e , Jm,tiling Hor*i.c tD:ktf i*4 jl},u \i'v tn t*r
h /H :-,left. Syo/r, fisecre. /■* •U9utbt ycknov*nr» I/erttr,ih rt,herein*!there.
tra n lla ltd c u c i I hULUiP# Extfrife, forCDtCTprik, Tci.‘ yncepCP
Cn/u^, Hiilc, L

he final stanza o f and the beginning o f the Notes to ‘September’

dmund Spenser, The Shepheardes Calender (London, 1579)-
 the M iddle Ages

-s • others are e m p lo y e d ornamental^

,-olvc chjnPf ° r !a'| arrangements o f th o u g h ts, /
Some uses inv<
t o amplttoti*- S d w ® " '^ The distinction between tlK
concepts or emotions e^ n * ^ a„d impossible to maintain, as tht
two types is very d'tt,cU1 ^ Different authors reclassified lo n g lists o f
handbooks indicates
contusion in cs and schemes in a constant a tte m p t to get
up t0 two hundred named tropes|" tijf ing ordcr, an a m b itio n d o o m e d to
them mto some kind of structur - , .
u n0 sjngle conclusive organic structure fo r th eir variety,
There was no single con
failure. There was 6 towards dem onstrating o n e ’s m astery 0f
nstantly directed attention
This constantly ire manner rather than the m atter. As C h a p te r 4 will
these figures of speech, the manner
arpuc the desire to imitate the grandeur o f Latin led to the creatio n o f ‘high-
X o f vocabulary in order to make up the defects o f th e vernaculars, and
encouraged the style called ’aureation or the effects o f th e grands
rhetonqueurs’ o f sixteenth-century France. There w ere o th e r reasons, too,
for these manoeuvres, which included both stylistic and historical ambitions
to make English like Latin, as supple, as subtle, and as - as it appeared to
mediev al readers and writers ~ as free of mutability th ro u g h tim e.
Most o f the rhetoncal exercises I have described in this ch ap ter were
concerned to teach what kinds o f compositions w ere to be created, what
might, with reservations, be called the genres o f oratory, and w ith th e styles
to be used to create them. W hile these genres do n o t really encom pass the
variety of genres o f written expression, there was a theoretical inv estm en t in
claiming that they did. Since most kinds of writing w ere n eith er to persuade
someone to do something nor to defend them once they h ad d o n e it, the
third category, epideictic speeches, those o f praise or blam e, w as stretched to
- 'ct everything else. Lyric poetry, to take an apparently ex tre m e example,

m l k 6:l0rced mt0 thlS CateSorV ln seventeenth cen tu ry . Th.s

At the sIm°nSI rCL ^ lnStrumenul categorization: w h at are th e texts for?
of the foment o l e ^ m l * !* !* * !* Whlch consldcred th e relation
done m the past fwhich ? 7* ^ Utona’ which recounts deeds actually
“tgummum, the hvDoth $i * consider >n detail in the n e x t chapter),
court, but not necessarily so ^ ^ WCre historical, as *n a
verisimilar fiction which had ^ W^ 'C^ ^ad happened, and fabula, non-
'*'K narratcd ln ways that cm u r ^aPPenedt could n o t have h ap p en ed , and

different manu»h ' n t° th in k in & th c V C° uld

som e cateBories; manuals f(,r ^ instruct students in how to use these
' "'h" ' r,„ m'oZtle *y ' " ' " * would d e l with these and
Prcferment might need to empl°y
 M eaning and means
79

* t y v v s w v i v s e p i t o m e .

("DtflioHum, r j
fT r o p o s , j fu n t n o tu m .
j qu oru m <
\ a h j f u n t | O r a t io n u m t( f
■ f u n t Secern.

fO r t h o g r a p h ic a T

flg U T A ^ f G r a m m a t i- | C fu n t . i $.
d td u c i- | c r t , a /« « {
1 d u p licia t | S y n t 4 ( h c * ,< j
t u r in
\ {fu n t. 11.
' S chem a j
j ta .q u o - j
rD iclionm , ( j
| rum alia ^
funt .14..

R h e to r ic a , j O r a tio n u m y ( f
1 ( j j u n i t u ^ fu n t x n d eu m ,

Lfkw, i r w t r a .iy .

i m p lific a tio -
^ w*f,Cr f * m a u

S u m m a T r o p o r u m ac S ch em a ta *

in h a c Ef i f owe . i j * *

.1

. k nnes Susenbrotus, Ep'wme

Plate s A divisio o f tropes and schemes from Jo ^ ^ utotes turn proph“" os <ltm

,roPorum ac schemalum e l grammaticorum & R/k IOT"' (London, i562)-

sacros inlelligendos non minus u t ilis quam tie
 (hc Middle Ages
r-pnvcntion
Truth
8o . R fa ding '» rili" 6 - t h e r c fo r c ’ W c,c
, * * •“* 0(rhetoric, in which
a pa*” 1 Uf ,„ d imitated, and in which the g r c ,„ extsof

s> '
literature rc art both the » bl“ m d ,l,cw°,b
jr„ o f rhetoric jT ‘students w e r eT thtayt, „,s'g
h ich
the great exemplar ot ^ ^ n ^ rhetorlcal skill c o n tr ib u te s to the
Virgil is
,0 acquire, and
anu their
...... apprec
*• These criteria were also a p p lied to C h ristian
pleasures of reading V irgi. ^ ^ Christians could claim that their
texts, first to elevate them to ^ ^ stylish achievements o f the Pagans
inherited l . t e r a t u m ^ o n n ^ ^ ^ ^ o f their literature in the

:t ; : g: ': hce e l * *
noi anse n is obvious that demonstrative oratory uses fables, an d th a t fables
may contain arguments between charaeters. A certain in te rp re ta tiv e
lantudc. even uncertainty, is a necessity - as w ell as a pleasure. It is w h en
demonstrative oranons are invented for historical characters th a t re c o g n itio n
of the categories becomes important, and sometimes c o n tr a d ic to r y . S y n ­
onyms was a more complex business than m ight at first a p p ea r, because
word of phrase might expand to scene, story, or h isto ry w it h o u t raising
questions of the essential meaning o f the thing transform ed. T h a t is, w ith
certain crucial exceptions, forms o f expression m ight be th o u g h t o f as ‘ trials’,
tentative! which 'clothed something which could be exp ressed in o th er
ways It is as if the language o f expression were a c o m p le x k in d o f sign to
some inner reality.

Then much depends upon the status o f the sign. C e r ta in tex ts had
t tular claims to be the single best form o f expression, w h e r e ‘b e s t’ can
class! about Perfection in terms o f beauty (as w ith th e great
r r : v,,g,i'i)» * « « * ^ P-ecis,o „ „ f ^ 1 v „ c ab u . „ ,

* * 1 t r d ofGod'
are or great
not static, phuosoph,cai
lik e m a th e m a tica l
symbols, they have
interpretations which may be0™ r ^ refercnccs’ and thus recl uire
readers learned to understand b” 10 e an^ COmP*e x - R h e t o r ic a lly trained
kinds o f text. y reco8n'zing just h o w to in te rp re t p a rtic u la r

Wh,ie u n clear that certain sn, r

tk LSS3y dld n0t yet ex'st. the v C m°^ern htcrary ca te g o ries lik e ‘n o v e l’
PurT WaV hC,° nCal or8Jn'zat.onT ?C? g0ry ‘l,terature’ raises d ifficu lties.
o f w r it in g fo r d ifferen t
0 rhetoricai tran sfo rm atio n s, ‘h is to r y ’
 M ean ing and means
81

w as as lite r a r y a c a t e g o r y as ‘e p ic ’ o r ‘tr a g e d y ’; as fo r ‘b io g ra p h y ’ lt does

c o rre s p o n d to th e w r i t i n g o f a life. T h e p a rlo u s re la tio n sh ip of com position
to so m e k in d o f t r u t h , s o m e re p re s e n ta tio n o f re ality , w as fu rth e r confused
b y th e n e e d to d e f e n d a n y th i n g w h ic h d id n o t re d o u n d to the teaching o f
m o ra l w is d o m . E v e n l ite r a tu r e as th e h ig h e r escapism needed p rotection
T h e c la im t h a t in s o m e w a y se rio u s w r itin g sig n ifie d w isd o m and instruction
to th e e x p e r ie n c e d i n te r p r e t e r w a s its b e st ju s tific a tio n th ro u g h the C hristian
c e n tu rie s, b e tt e r a n d s t r o n g e r th a n th e in s tru m e n ta l a rg u m e n t th at V irgil o r
O v id w o u l d b e t r e a te d as E g y p tia n g o ld . It isn ’t th a t fictio n ceased to exist:
p e o p le w ill tell s to rie s , w r ite p o e m s , sin g so n g s, w h a te v e r th e legislation. It is
th a t w r i t i n g n e e d e d l e g itim a tio n , a n d th e h a b it o f re a d in g fo r a tru th , o r
tru th s , t h a t la y b e y o n d th e te x t, p r o v id e d it. B u t it is n o t clear th a t th ere w as a
f re e -s ta n d in g c a t e g o r y , ‘lit e r a t u r e ’; a n d ‘p o e tr y ’, w h ic h w as so m e th in g
r h e to ric ia n s d isc u sse d , m a in ta in e d uneasy re la tio n s w ith its associate,
‘fic tio n ’.77T h e re s t o f th e b o o k w ill c o n s id e r th e w a y s th a t readers learn ed to
m a n ip u la te a n d to i n t e r p r e t th e c o n v e n tio n s in o rd e r to express an d
a p p re c ia te t h e i r tr u th s . I t m a y h e lp to th in k o f these h y p o th e tic a l read ers b y
a n a lo g y , as s tu d e n ts w h o — in m o d e m te rm s — h a v e h a d a so p h isticated
m u sic a l e d u c a ti o n a t s c h o o l. N o t o n ly c an th e y s ig h t-re a d m usic, b u t they
h a v e a n a d v a n c e d t h e o r e tic a l tr a in in g in h a r m o n y , e x p e rie n c e o f c o m p o ­
sitio n , in c l u d i n g i m i t a t i o n o f e a rlie r styles, a n d a w id e a c q u a in ta n c e w ith
o th e r p e o p le ’s m u s ic . T h a t is, t h e y a re lite ra te in L atin , k n o w th e categories
a n d fig u re s o f s p e e c h o f r h e to r ic , h a v e b a se d th e ir o w n efforts at c o m p o sin g
u p o n a p p r o v e d m o d e ls o f sty le , a n d h a v e m e m o riz e d a g re a t deal. N o w , ju s t
as m u s ic ia n s w ill h e a r d iffe re n tly f r o m th e re st o f us, so o u r rh e to ric ia n w ill
re a d d if f e r e n tly . W h e t h e r o r n o t th e y h a v e a tte n d e d classes in theories o f
c o m p o s itio n , t h e i r a t t e n ti o n to e a rlie r m a ste rp iec es w ill h av e e n co u ra g ed
th e m to t h in k in th e t e r m s set b y th o se m aste rp iec es. M usicians asked a b o u t
so m e f a m ilia r p ie c e o f classical m u sic , say th e first m o v e m e n t o t B e eth o v en s
fifth s y m p h o n y , m a y ta lk a b o u t its e m o tio n a l p o w e r o r its historical
c o n n e c tio n w i t h W in s t o n C h u r c h ill a n d V fo r v ic to ry , b u t th ey are at least as
lik e ly to d e s c rib e th e te c h n ic a litie s o f its c o m p o s itio n , fro m to n ality to sonata
fo rm to th e m e s a n d v a ria tio n s . T h a t is, a p p re c ia tio n includes a great dea
w h a t m ig h t b e c a lle d te c h n ic a l re c o g n itio n . (T h e tech n iq u es o f sport, ba ,
° r p a in t i n g i n v it e th e s a m e k in d s o f d isc rim in a tio n , and particip ^
a u d ie n c e s e n jo y th e a b ility to v e rb a liz e in technical language.
R o m a n t i c h a b its , w h i c h h a v e b e c o m e n o rm a l reactions in th eir un
lead to a d ism is sa l o f th is a p p a r e n tly c e re b ra l analysis o f a J B
 ...... h' M"
S2 BCCthoven s stormy em otional self

„ dv 4 * . » COmt i e ’n ® ™ " ' b,,t 11 reVCalS * PrCJUd’ “ - ” * >

NO. only » 1 * ” . on our port. There is no reason to think ,hlt
foolishly a n n u o * ® * „„r ought we to assume that our elevation „ f
know more rs to !«' ' Jny masic. Beethoven intended to move
feeling is the best way to app hoW hc dld it. Rhetoric, as a disciplinc
certainly, but this is no bar moving and persuading. It Was a
was intended to teach t c ^ ^ forms which could be taught.
ahea
codification ot a y ex»
lready exis y currkulum,
c{jTnculum, its habits remained,
re m a in e d , and at

Even with thc' d'SiPPl m itselfcould

could be
be rediscovered,
rediscovered, iiff oonnly ly toto bbee aargued
r g Ued
any time the t.umc
" ,hV “ T m d I n a h L c_
e_scholar,. It m
m igh
igh tt bhe
e aa rg
rg u
u ee d
d th
rhaat, nationc
nations
deserve, o , even tha. tgnorance o f h is to r y c o n d e m n ,

, „ inability to repea, «. j« » . as it can be a rgu ed th a t w .th o u c som e

knowledge o f earl,er symphonies and more private fo rm s o f m u sie lik e the
<mng quartet, we will have neither the genre b a ck g ro u n d n o r th e contrasts
we need to understand Beethoven’s language, so it can b e a rg u e d that
without some leammg we may fail to understand w h a t m e d ie v a l and
renaissance writers were trying to tell us.
Rhetoncally alert readers are in a position similar to the m u s ic ia n ’s. W h e n
they pick up a piece o f writing or listen to a speech, serm o n , o r p la y , their
eyes and ears are attuned to agreed expectations and te ch n ica l r e c o g n itio n .
This does not rule out transformation and surprise; on the c o n tr a r y , it m akes
them possible. We, too, employ certain tacit general k n o w le d g e w h e n w e
read, and our expectations o f a novel are not those o f a h is to r y b o o k o r a
description of scientific method. Before the m id d le o f th e sev en teen th
century, when genre boundaries were still looser than th e y c a m e la te r to be,
other expectations, based upon the habits o f m ind I h a ve b e e n d e sc rib in g in
t is chapter, were applied. What kind o f w ritin g is this?’ m ig h t e lic it the
answer ‘encomium’ before ‘exciting’ or even ‘p o o r ’ . I f ‘e n c o m iu m ’ , the

w T Z h T ;° “ f0" M n»W i f 'b l a m e ’ b e g a n , o fin d its

" d W° uld
conventions are‘ hen
k n onwee
n d, “d ep” artu
k i fres
iK
from them evoke i
know what he ought to ^ a" d eX” tement: ls the w rite r ig n o r a n t, d o es he

'nsertion which looks like ^ ^3S ^°St c o n tr o ^ *s t^>s 3 d ever

M e , is he deliberately break ntr*d’Ct*on ^ut w iN soon b e r e s o lv e d , is it 3
1-en newr The recognition of ° rder t0 d° something unexpected,
musicun 'knowledge0fvariatio cx°rdium is no different from the
n 3 theme, and the p leasures are s im ilar
 M ean ing and means
83

ones T o be able to r e c o g n iz e and analyse is to listen better T hep 0

° ork to m ove addresses the heart; the recognition o f the m e a n ^ n '
addition to the m ind.

Rhetoric is n o t an answ er; it is a label for a series of questions Even in

Antiquity there was arg u m e n t as to w hether or not Rhetoric constituted an
art or craft, w h eth e r it had any content at all. As the collection of insights
which enabled o rato rs to learn to m ove and persuade audiences, it was
defined against ‘p h ilo so p h y ’, and the hostility o f philosophers to teachers
whose first c o m m itm e n t was to technique rather than to content informs the
Platonic dialogues, and lies at the ro o t o f reservations about teaching ‘tricks’
W riters like C ice ro o r Q u in tilian could insist that the good orator would be
a good m an, this w as n o t an answ er to the com m only observed tendency of
persuaders h idden o r o p en to use w hatever techniques are available to get
people to do w h a t th e y w a n t them to do. R hetoric named a curriculum, a set
of handbooks, tendencies o f style w hich concentrated on the means of
m oving and persu ad in g (that is, speaking to the emotions of the reader or
audience as m u c h as, even instead of, the audience’s reason), and even secular
w riting itself. R h e to ric m ean t m any things, and many o f its implications
were pejorative. It im p lied b o th higher education, and a kind of specious
attitude to the m o ral responsibility o f governors o f states who would
habitually sacrifice tru th to plausible persuasion. In so far as it was valued, it
was som ething m edieval w riters sought; in so far as it was suspected, it
remained so m e th in g C hristians should eschew. Both attitudes assume that
there is so m eth in g th e re inside, som ething prelinguistic or linguistic, which
can be k n o w n , w h ich w o rd s can advance or distort. This idea that words
have a relation to a real th in g (w hich m ay include words) which can be truly
represented o r ig n o m in io u sly distorted encourages a view that there are true
things w h ich lang u ag e describes, and that there are a variety ot ways of
making descriptions. T hese w ays w ere taught in Antiquity, when schools of
rhetoric w ere th e avenue o f h igher education. But because so much classical
w riting assumes rh eto rical techniques, because so much interpretation points
out the techniques w h ich students can recycle tor their own writing o
speaking, even w h en the educational system ot the Greco-Roman w
was lost, the texts and co m m entaries w hich conveyed much of it rema ^
R hetorical habits o f reading and w ritin g assume a latitude of inve
verbal v ariation, w h ich is incom m ensurable not only with modem ^ ^
representation o f historical and biographical events, but als
 ,n the Middle Ages
rnnhind convention
'4
another text. The exercises o rhe.or.ca! m vcmi
can claim 'o « « * * . l k f i r i n g writer could w o rk , and b e c , ^
offered a platform t-om * they cou|d be used w ith o u t being labcllcd
the exercises were w i d e l y ^ routcs by w hich these habits o f mind
for the inventions they « ^ ^ complex. Schools texts, co m niCn.
reached .he M,ddle Ag“ * c rhctorical achievements o f their authors, and
tanes " h.ch pomte ou ^ ^ mpted (0 emulatc the techniques in those
original c o m p o sitio n s* ^ ^ ^ ^ active instructors. In isolating texts
"”T J l thaw “ e " ^ ,nK|llglb|e by writing ab o u t e v e n t, and ,hcit
which jn j ]]vcs | brl]CVC , hjve chosen exam ples w h .eh w ill be
T n r tl for readers of several different modem discipline,. T h ere is nothing
revolutionary about the introduction ot scepticism in interpretation;
revisionism is often a matter of seeing patterns.
Three areas of praise might be taken as exam ples o f the in co m m en su ra­
bility that makes the interpretation of medieval texts p ro b le m a tic. M edieval
wnters are often complimented when they appear to b e classical, and
reliable, and when they impress readers w ith their sincere and critical
narrative voice. In the next three chapters I shall co n sider th e w a y s that
'classical' implies an archaizing style interpreted and im itate d fr o m survivin g
model texts, sometimes with the help o f handbooks o f rh e to ric, a lw a y s with
the mediation o f commentaries; how ‘reliable’ m a y be a re a ctio n to the
creation o f a literary style which convinces because it is p lau sible and
consistent with known or accepted representations; and h o w th e o ra to r’s
ethos, or concentration on self-representation, impresses as trustw orthiness
because the analysis it speaks’ o f the w orld and its texts e n co u rag es an
attitude of trust, medieval authors w ho appear to be critica l are often
cellent textual critics. The truths they tell, expressed in th e term s o f
, mvention, require interpretation in terms o f th at style —o r those
5ty‘« - of invention.

a t0 7 ^ n0thin8 m0re comPlcx than the g o o d lia r’s need for

” rT ,s ,ht ~ < " r T P * -. *

telling true tales about the ^ aPPear to claim to be
other texts, I am aware *j*St’ or conveying true equivalents to earlier or
hterary', |t ^ a (^ ^ ^ risk calling everything ‘rhetorical’ and
 C
n

t h e m e a n i n g of the PAST

‘Yes, I am fond o f history.’

‘I wish I were too. i read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that
does not vex or weary me. The quarrels o f popes and kings, with wars
or pestilences, in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and
hardly any wom en at all - it is very tiresome: and yet I often think it
odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal o f it must be invention. The
speeches that are put into the heroes’ mouths, their thoughts and designs
- the chief o f all this must be invention, and invention is what delights
me in other books.’
‘Historians, you think,’ said Miss Tilney, ‘are not happy in their
flights o f fancy. They display imagination without raising interest. 1am
fond o f history - and am very well contented to take the false with the
true. In the principal facts they have sources of intelligence in former
histories and records, which may be as much depended on, 1 conclude,
as any thing that does not actually pass under one’s own observation;
and as for the little embellishments you speak of, they are embellish­
ments, and I read them as such. If a speech be well drawn up, 1 read it
with pleasure, by whomsoever it may be made - and probably with
much greater, if the production o f Mr Hume or Mr Robertson, than it
the genuine words o f Caractacus, Agricola, or Alfred the Great.
Catherine Morland and Eleanor Tilney discuss history in Northanger
Abbey, Chapter 25.

Rhetoric and rhetorical education might have died - actively suppresse

and been replaced by some more narrowly religious educati
Christianity became a power in Rome. But in the long yea
Christians lived with and finally converted their pagan e°" J G C^
education, like other aspects o f civilization, retained its ho . t(ie
formed many, if not most, o f those early Church Fathe" ^ hristian writers
great corpus o f Christian dogma and doctrinal texts, an ^ wjth a
responded to their rhetorical training with ambiva ence,

85
 '‘ ' U * A I8
8f>
The unlearned, or those w ho rejected
desire to abandon it altoge literary le g a c y ; th at w a s the
left no
learning for complete self-abnegation. . ^ both Qf w hom classical
gift o f scholars like j " . thcir ’im ag in a tive g rip . In e rtia an d
literature and classical techniques kept
, • . ind commentaries held a place
, dap,anon guaranteed that the,one.l text and
ideal standard o f models
and were am ong the means o, preserm ng a , < » »
and a reservoir o f m ethod, for o ver a ,h — , •^ ^ ^

While ,t ts therCt° ^ U h£cause where there was formal education it was

rhetoric, it is also tnv
based upon literary models. Attention to conventions, and to the topoi, the
conventional segments, o f history was encouraged by reading ^ d m e r p r e t -
,ng texts about the past. This does not imply a uni vocal M iddle Ages
writing, automaton-1,ke, a single kind of ‘history’; it helps ask w hat
controlled the latitude o f invention manifested by the books identified as
'historical . It traces habits and expectations of reference, and, w ith them ,
considerations o f genre and style. T o put it sympathetically, historials w ere
praised for their ability to reduce the flux of the past to an ordered, patterned
account which had a satisfactory overall shape. To Cicero (De legibus i.i.5),
Herodotus was both the father of history and the father o f lies, and no one
seems to have found this contradictory until Petrarch.1 T h ough countless
prefaces warn o f the dangers and difficulties inherent in verisimilar
presentation, no consequent texts avoid or solve them. Even to speak o f
history’ as a genre is to introduce large-scale problems o f definition. Like
Rhetoric itself, history meant, and still means, a subject; it im plied a style,
the verisimilar, which might be carried over into other types o f w riting,
fiction (pure or mixed), for example.2 Plausibility or inconsistency offer no
obvious means o f verification or falsification; the reader w ho w an ted or
needed to make judgements about the truth or falsehood o f a historical
account had to rely in large part on literary grounds. It was alm ost
impossible for untrue history to be falsified where there was no exterior

T ? k"Ty b' V° n<l ' hC n," n0ry antl j uttgem ent, even the taste,
of writing whKh claim's ,Th SChlPte' “ mider how the m edieval range
the past employs the h f e m v T T " ' ^ aCtUally h aPPened in
were encouraged b ^ ^ ni<^ues ^ o rg a n iz a tio n and expression that
lo«king at ideas o f h iM o rv ^ T i/0 rhet0ncal categories and habits. After
a numk
number of °,opoi 7
th,St0rV‘and
'' their Closeness
Lluseness to poetry or fiction, I shall look
Historical examples form ed'Ln T T hiSt° riCal inventlons-
t e thesaurus o f rhetorical exercises in
 T h e m ean in g o f the past
87

„ lar6« . « » « • * ThC Pa5' V3S ' hC “ nt; al ^ one raost wo„ h

* C g about i f o n e w as .0 ta k e a secular them e - or evCT if m WJ, '
lar them e to d e m o n stra te G o d s hand in hi story. While there was an

’ m pdon that o n e: uo ,f th e th in g s th a t distinguished

......-------------- historical trotn
~ ...6 -™ .cu ...sioncal from fictional
fictional
’ ampies was th a t th e y referre d to events th at had really happened, there was
T o recognition th a t, since th e ‘histo rical’ and ‘fictional’ styles overlapped
Then the events th e y n a rra te d w e re verisim ilar, no foolproof method of
distinguishing the o n e fro m th e o th e r could be established. Where historical
events were ad d u ced as exam ples o f g o o d or bad conduct this was less
important than it m ig h t seem . H istorical exam ples w ritten in historical style
Were read as e lo q u e n t an d eleg an t b efore they w ere judged to be true or false;
historical ‘c o n ten t (in so far as th a t was separable from historical
presentation) referre d to a c o m p le x com bination o f past events and the
interpretation o f those events w h ic h could be recognized and interpreted in
accordance w ith rh e to ric a lly related habits o f understanding. It might be as
well to think o f this as, ‘O n th e assum ption that something very like this
might be th o u g h t to h a v e h a p p e n ed , h o w are w e to understand the events?’
Particularly w h en ‘ev e n ts’ cam e to be th o u g h t o f as a m ethod o f interpreting
God’s purpose in g u id in g h u m a n h isto ry tow ard its eschatological conclu­
sion, w hat th e ev en ts signified w e n t w ell beyond w hat they were.
Admixtures o f in v e n tio n , ela b o ra tio n , and em bellishm ent were a method of
stylization in order to m a k e th e past com prehensible. The past is plotted, and
histories are w h a t lo o k lik e histories. In so far as history represented the past it
made dram atized ex am p les o f so m e th in g for som ebody; as soon as it showed
any literary’ a m b itio n it w as im plicated in styles and methods of
interpretation w h ic h w e re th e p ro v in ce o f rhetoric. N o doubt the good
historian, like th e g o o d o ra to r, w as by definition a good man. But like the
orator, the historian h ad reasons to m o v e and persuade his audience, and the
dea o f the disinterested p rese rv a tio n o f the past is part ot the claim to a
trustworthy ethos. C re a tin g o r av o id in g a particular narrative voice is one of
historian s m a n y choices; th e use o f annotation or commentary allowed
j^ultiple tones. T h e re are m a n y w ays to trace this claim about medieval
0riography: o n e m e th o d w o u ld exem plify it by its ow n chronologically
pl°t» a n o th e r b y selecting significant examples ot the recogniza
n terpretablc topoi o f historical invention.
^ ls chapter a tte m p ts a preliminary gaze in b o th d irection s, the M

WCre n o t u n iv o cal, and m edieval historians were not automata, so that

" 8 SOme o f th e w ay s th e y m anip u lated and modified their inheritance
 the Middle Ages
ntion
Truth and convci
8S
pMinples will be taken fro m the latc
While most
has explanatory force. th suggesting that although renaissance
be w
Midcue ^
Middle Ages, - niav
it arcaT o f ostensible reform - intended to return to
h,stenography - hkc other ^ ,t was long in divesting itself
the qualities demonstrated > - which lt read its m odel authors. T 0
of those medieval accretions * ^ means looking at the m odels they
consider how they rea an ^ af t|,c,r senses o f genre and style,
imitated with a rhctonca ) a cr Qf the im itation o f story: w hat
F“ * ' " i n n o c t a distinction between the core o f tru th and
1(,JS ,m,tab , ..., ments which turned perception into language, there

•. r
, nj resumption have sometimes lured m odern
differences in intention and assum ption . . .
readers into dismissing individual medieval and renaissance historians as
'primarily' writers of romance, as if there were two hard and fast c ateg o ries/
Froissart springs at once to mind, and the men w ho follow ed his exam ple
throughout the late Middle Ages, like Olivier de la M arche and Georges
Chistellun. Modem histonans disapprove their em bellished histories
because they are unreliable on too many specific points, bu t w e need to take
their intentions and styles seriously. It would be foolish to belab o u r the
difference in mentalhcs, but present-mindedness is always w ith us, and the
desire to save the appearances, to rescue some m edieval historians for
empiricism, may tempt readers, who desperately w ant w hat a historian says
to be 'true' in modem terms, to assume that he alone is an exception to the
medieval rule. There are undoubtedly medieval historians w hose attitudes to
truth and accuracy overlap modern truth conditions, b u t th at is n o t all
the) do. This dilemma already existed for medieval historians themselves.
Sometimes they can be found writing as if they could recognize and extract
certain fundamental truths from earlier accounts. B ut the idea th at they
distinguish (in order to reject) embellishment is belied b y their
to m ultm l/ * beCaUSe whatever they say - they discrim inate according

. n „ i z r r “r ," e ind c° m ri< fc M y v a iu * .

take them over before bo * Unwarranted expansions w ill silently
well, that ii, to create rcco ^ ^ ^ mVCnt o w n- W here the desire to w rite
of previous historians confli^V ^ narratives according to the canons
literary ambition overrrvt l W' d ld le 'imitations o f pre-existing witness,

analyses, from assumptions ab m')OS*t' on 8rew from rhetorical models

t topoi and how to m an ip u late them .
 T h e m eaning o f the past
89

linted as h isto ry em b raced a m uch w ider spectrum of nr

c a - to be acceptable. It m ay be convenient to t h ^
tba ieVal h istory as a k in d o f co m m en tary on what was believed to hav
r ip e n e d , w here the w rite r is alw ays expressing his own or someone else’s
ws about the past, ra th e r than attem p tin g an objective record. Geoffrey 0f
Monmouth, m o c k ed b y som e o f his contem poraries for his fictions, could be
aken seriously by later w riters like R a lp h D iceto, R obert of Gloucester
peter o f L angtoft, G ervase o f C a n te rb u ry , and the Abingdon Chronicler
exactly because th e ir assum ptions about the style and content of true tales
about the past w ere d ifferent fro m ours, m ore elastic in presentation and
interpretation. T h e y w ere n eith er stupid n o r credulous, but considered that
the historian’s rig h t o f in v e n tio n did n o t invalidate the truth of what he
wrote. A fter the tw e lfth -c e n tu ry renaissance re-established contact with
classical m odels o f h istorical w ritin g , and generally improved the training in
rhetoric available in schools, historians becam e even more ambitious to
emulate their m odels. S om e historians show so much literary pretension that
their narrative m a y b e u nusable to d a y as prim ary sources for specific events.
Some exam ples w o u ld be A ilred o f R iev a u lx ’s Relatio de Standard*), Jordan
Fantosme’s rh y m e d Chronique, o r A m broise’s Estoire. When Robert Wace
turned from the p re -h isto ry o f B ritain to celebrate the Normans in his
Roman de R ou, he reta in ed his m e th o d and style.3 But even these highly
fictionalized histories w e re used as histories by their successors, who were less
well inform ed th a n w e are, w h o had less access to other kinds of evidence
than we do, and w h o se expectations o f w hat historical narratives should be
like varied so dram atically . P ete r o f L angtoft w rote in a highly embellished
style, w hich w as n o b a r to R o b e rt M anning o f Bourne, when he based his
own history on P e te r’s. In tu rn M an n in g ’s history was one of the bases for
the first English prose Brut —an account o f Britain since its foundation by a
^gendary refugee fro m th e fall o f T ro y . Even in annals or chronicles, bare
and brie f recitations o f ‘w h a t h ap p e n ed ’, classical references and rhetorical
methods o f presen tatio n call atten tio n to the deeply literary organization of
much early historical w ritin g . T h e im plications o f rhetorical organization
m odern historians w h o w a n t to use these texts as evidence are manifold.
P’ricism is a sev en te en th -c en tu ry coinage which began with n
Pproaches to m edicine an d old attitudes to the law . W hen new standar
d fr°r^ arose’ ' n different places at different times, they often inv
T'h^rent m isreadm gs o f classical m odels, w hich attributed to Hero otus or
ydides view s fo u n d a m o n g m odern contemporaries.
 Truth 3nd convention in the Middle Ages
9o
• to be disappearing over a literary horiz0n. .1
-
• " J and —
‘Facts' may appear to n j - r r ^ wel,_dcscnbcd J 1 event
moving hCy are
may
least becoming more pro thc difficulty for the modern historian
indeed represent a p o « js no guarantee o f tru th fu ln ess, it is no
lies in assessing it. 3
^ ^ ^ faken too far, and n o t ev e ry w rite r Was
bar to it cither. Suspioo ^ ^ historians th o u g h t at th e ttm e to bc
trying to deceive. I histoncal entcrpnse, like B ede o r W illia m 0f

Malmesburv were indeed brilliant writers w ho also rec o rd e d at least som e of

I nme the events o f the past in ways that seem analog o u s to o u r ,deas of
accuracy. Perhaps this gives w eight to the otherw ise p e rp le x in g v ie w that
the good orator will be a good man. Perhaps it is an instance o t th e w ays that
incommensurable cultures can nevertheless coincide, so th a t a n y m edieval
view of what seems to accord w ith ‘accuracy m ust be ta k e n in its ow n
context: what kind o f representation, w ith w h a t referrals? B ed e and
William, like John o f Salisbury, were learned b o th in th e classical traditions
of rhetoric and in the model texts upon w hich classical rh e to ric ia n s drew ;
perhaps it is no more than that, needing historiographical p rec ed en ts, they
sought, and found, rhetorical texts that gave them w h a t th e y re q u ire d . Bede
is the most ambivalent o f the three, as well as the one p ro n e to im p u te (in his
exegetical writing, when trying to explain discrepancies b e tw e e n w hat
Apostles ought to know and what they say in public) th e k in d s o f forensic
ploys to biblical actors which we also find h im e x p lo itin g in his ow n
historical writing. For m odem historians there is as m u c h n ee d as th e re ever
was for corroborating evidence: itineraries, accounts, arc h eo lo g ic al rem ains,
witnesses of different kinds where literary am bition w as u n lik e ly to o b trude.
On the other hand, o f course, literary analysis m ay be e x tre m e ly revealing
about contemporary attitudes. There are gains as w ell as losses. N o sim ple
distinction between writers o f history and w riters o f ro m a n c e is sufficient to
I with the range of licensed invention w hich occurs th r o u g h o u t m edieval
“ rena,s“ " ce w nting- N or can chroniclers be safely ex c lu d e d fro m the
short to h lna*ysis becau*e their entries w ere sh o rt. N o th in g is too
Z d l T ^ d' ” “ ■ * * “ - em Sellishm ent.
ancient hittory WMbtL d^T v"' llk' ly ‘° l00m aS the modcls uPon who1"
succeeded them The k ** n0t’ ^owcver>the view o f writers who
Herodotus attempted seemed Ct^no^raph‘c and other research which
“cable * in this thcy t0 later historians m ethodologically imprac-
traditions of hearsay seemed h ^ CS w ’t*10ut documents, reliance on
e the only memory o f the past, and history
 T he m eaning o f the past

som etim es a p p e a r e d to b e the re co rd o f w h at people believed had

w h e n d o c u m e n ts d id b e g in to app ear, they brou ght with th ° CCUncd-
p roblem s o f f o r g e r y . T h e n o to r io u s ‘D o n atio n o f Constantin -
case m P ° m t-7 T o o ls su ch as n u m ism a tics, archaeology 0r th ' ' 3 famous
period sty le u p o n w h ic h m o d e rn historians depend had °f
* 1 Z-1 " . f ol i o n t"tr- lm n n T. ^ V6t UPpM
jtiven ted. G iv en this relian ce u p o n hearsay it is no wonder that Herod.
founded n o sch o o l, th o u g h later historians, like Herodotus, f o u n d X T
had to rep eat, if n o t rely u p o n , c o m m o n rep o rt.8 N or was Thucydides mu'h
m ore successful in establishing a standard model. His attempt to soh/e
H ero d o tu s’ p r o b le m o f evidence had been to write about his own t j
about ev ents w h ic h h e h a d w itnessed himself, or events about which othei
living w itnesses c o u ld be consulted. B ut if The Peloponnesian Wars
established th e m o d e l o f h o w a historical subject should be selected, it did not
regulate th e p ra c tic e o f succeeding generations. Thucydides’ idea of
‘scientific’ h is to ry d id n o t ‘ta k e’, th o u g h he made war (political history) the
p ara m o u n t su b je ct a n d th e re p o rto ria l m iddle style paramount. It is for style
that Q u in tilia n re c o m m e n d s b o th G reek masters whom he matches with
Livy and S allust resp e ctiv ely in a certain indication that his eye is not on strict
veracity o f c o n te n t.9 T h a t the training o f an orator should include the
reading o f h is to ry is its e lf indicative o f the literary culture which dominated
education. I f th e k n o w le d g e o f history did nothing else, it established a
reservoir o f ex a m p le s w h ic h orators w ere condemned to repeat; it is
k n o w led g e o f a lite ra tu re , n o t k n o w led g e o f the past. Pliny, too, discussed
these q u estions in his le tters to T itin iu s C apito (replying to a suggestion that
he w rite h isto ry ) a n d to C o rn eliu s Tacitus. He put the historical style
betw een th e styles o f o ra to ry and po etry , and though he agreed that history
o u g h t to be tru e , h e rec o g n ize d th a t it is often distinguished by the ease and
grace w ith w h ic h it trea ted them es larger than the particularities ot its
n arrativ e.10 B u t it w as n o t the shape o f the overall composition that inspired
Q u in tilia n ’s praise: ra th e r, it w as for specific local effects.
These local effects insp ired the same kinds o f emotional reactions
w ere co n sid ered in C h a p te r i. F ro m the point o f view of the d evelo p m en t^
history as a discip lin e - and historians were self conscious ^
d ram a tiz atio n suggests a failure o f in ten t here. T hat is, strict a , sjs
o f w h a , h a p p e n e d w as sacrificed to 'pathos’." This * ft -
to w ard m o v in g a n d p ersu a d in g th e audience turned hist y ^ ^ which
, mds o f w ritin g : tra g e d y and epic w ere the hlShes‘ g kind n0w
historians asp ired , b u t fiction, ‘p o e try ’, especial y
 ............................... the MitMlc Ages

also played a part in (jiviug ahapo to a p lo t and

t a . e g o .M . C ™ ” ' * ”
speculating about character

At FI CT IONS
HI STORI C

that a long narrative is meant as ‘history’

The forms by whichever ^ announces a subject w hich is
arc readily idcntit.ab c. past He begins at the beginning,
taken from the past. ° C .. dccds 0fthose men (occasionally, though
recounts the p o ,n c a ^ n ^ en) ^ thc course o f events which

to tbt a.y o, state. * « * » anecdotal m aterial w hich

Z n a . e s the effects o f .hose men and events upon .he c r y or state, and
draws from this narrative lessons of individual or corporate b e h a v io u r-
-Those writers who concentrate on individuals rather than corporations may
be dist.ngu.shed as b.ographers, and will be dealt with in the n ex t chapter.)
The histonans's style is for the most part the middle style, recognizably
serious and verisimilar. In speeches it could rise to the heights o f tragic
declamation.
Yet verisimilitude is not the same as true reporting, n o r need true
reporting always be verisimilar. The right of invention is an im portant
point, and this chapter will concern itself with w hat controlled invention,
embellishment, and manipulation. The first justification is th at historical
representation - of a plausible situation, of likely as well as m ovin g speeches,
of exemplary characters of great and wicked men — both delights and
instructs. Unspecified invention was not limited to speeches, perhaps the
most obvious place where it is to be found. The situation in w hich the
p* hes were made, with all its circumstantial detail, was equally open to
itcrary modification according to the skill of thc writer. Indeed, skill was in
part measured by manipulation.

- tomes t h m u g h ^ T l ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ th° Ught C° be nee(kd

---- - w 1C^ present
which Pre*ent themselves ; m oral. Since
themselves as
f” ‘'e “xS'"
poetry. Since true am *'V* ...
! . .true, history may
' - ‘•ll,story may be sa.d to
be said , be superior to

commou-pbtTlf 1 r Plr ”!° " f0,CCM lhln PrcccPB “lonc <likc thC

“ P ™ . » « w l P h .l o Z y CW h i i r “ 0h>' hif 7
unchallenged, the pocts a / " e ncither of thesemlV bC !aid “ bC
claims was to g o
themselves, they remained ^ 0S0P^crs having rather a lot to say f°r
'aw that truth is morally SUper'nm° n^ accs arguments. This covering
t0 ^lct'0n and, concomitantly, the fear that
 T h e m eaning o f thc past
93
nfl m ig ht be by its very nature corrupting, had appeared and
‘u aica l th o u g h t. P lato a t t e n d the moral force of , f,ction„
hich was W . W » be true B ook m o f his R e p , * , where hi, concJ
ontradicts the basic prem tse. H e w anted certain , Crsi„„s „ f ,hc °"
L „o citizen ever quarrelled w ith another citizen) to be presented as, , *
report in o rd er to influence behavtour. T he intplicatton of this kind of
instrumental use o f the past is that the report may be manipulated on moral
grounds, and this rem ained acceptable practice. It makes the past something
analogous to a tex t w hich can be represented, interpreted, and translated.
The inclusion o t legendary pream bles to the main matter of a history
became an accepted con v en tio n because they were the place to introduce the
themes o f the stories to com e. H erodotus recounts in his Histories numerous
stories that w ere, in effect, w h at people told him they believed. That is, in his
view the h isto ria n ’s task included the report o f those beliefs about the past
which influenced present behaviour. His Histories open with a generational
plot: a series o f le g en d ary rapes and counter-rapes which (like the mythic
cycles explored b y G reek tragedians) explain by the very familiarity of their
patterns the e n m ity b etw e en G reeks and Persians which led in his own time
to the battles o f M a ra th o n and Salamis. T he abduction of the young girl, lo,
from the G reek city o f A rgos was follow ed by Greek raids first on Tyre
whence they k id n ap p ed the K in g ’s daughter, Europa, then on Colchis,
whence Jason carried o ff M edea. These Greek outrages provoked Paris, son
of King P riam o f T ro y , to abduct Helen from Greece to Troy, and that
provoked the T ro ja n W a r. H erodotus reports these legends as the Persian
view o f h o w East—W est enm ity first began; he deliberately refrains from
judging the tru th o r falsehood o f the legends, or even commenting upon the
ubiquity o f revenge as a m otive. If they were, in any case, too remote tor his
reach, they at least function as a literary introduction and focus themes to
come.
Livy, w hose history o f R o m e was a pre-eminent model tor European
writers from the late M iddle Ages onw ards, began with the fall of Troy,
because one legend said that R o m e had originally been founded by Aeneas,
bat aristocratic T ro jan refugee. Like his great Greek predecessor, Y
reflects on the legends and their place in his book, employing them
enying any responsibility for them , calling attention to what he
arm’s length.

) h' " U n i o n s o f w h at happen ed p o o r to the foundation o f the C itf ot ”

b" " e t a l t . ate naote fitted to adorn the cteattont o f the p o « ”* n“
 jn the Middle Ages
cntion
Truth and co'1'
94
, o f establishing either their truth ,
o intention ot ........"
m o t * o f .he h i,..™ " - >"d 1 may be formed or e r i r . c i ™ paased „ p„ „
,ho„ fakehood B», * h‘ " J cl a. o f ...rail im portance. T h e subject,
these and similar traditions. ** ^ dcvote his attention are these - the life and
which I would ask each ol my te» ^ by w hich through do m estic policy
morals o f the community; the m e ^ ^ m a ld c d . . . There is this exception ally
and foreign wars dominion was from thc study o f the past, that you
beneficial and fruitful jdvan" ^ ^ , ^ cxamples o f every possible typ e. From
sec. set in the clear light o b o w hat to im itate, and also what

s s s r- -— - ■“ - - - - « “•"
O v e n rha, .he poin. o f h.s.or> „ .o celebrate .he parr (w nh all th at ,ha,
implies aboo. the ladmde of foe ep.de,ene mode) and to p rov.de exam ples o f
behaviour for the present, the details of trad.tional beliefs w eighed lightly
upon Herodotus o f Livy or other classical historians. T hey w ere certainly
weighed on a different scale from those events which had happened w ithin
living memory, where the historian's version might have to com p ete w ith
several others. Despite Livy’s strong assertion, poetry and h istory w ere npt
easily separable - perhaps the reason for the attem pted firm distinction.
Poetry had its own special prestige. What is initially m ore puzzling is w hy
historical writing survived at all through ages when C hristian education
might have been thought to have eradicated anything but the exam ple of
aspiring to a heavenly future kmgdom. Ambition is always w ith us, if n o t for
ourselves or our families, then for the institutions w ith w hich w e are
associated, even for our gods. That Judaism was a historically oriented
religion, in which an interpretation of the past was a p ro o f o f God
manifesting Himself in time, provides part of the answer. B ut it is im p o rtan t
recall the high status of the historical accounts w hich survived as the
-,1 ** ^ u 8e °f poetry, and which formed the basis o f classical
I , nCVer erac*lcated the problems raised by the existence o f
be a hi“ ° " anS evince discomfort (w hich m ay in Itself
Livy’, retentin f ^ * * COmpetln& sY«ems o f values,
call thc fictions of n ^ legendary stories (what hostile critics m ight
hi»onans who followed him°HdC(!lb0th 3 PrCCcdent and a justification for
an outpost of the Emnir b redso^years later, in w hat had once been
Should the rcidtr ^ ' tUn hlSt0rUn’ Bedc*def- e d this m ethod:
[”! ' WlU ltnPute them m ^ * a kUraC'C‘ m w h a t,h a v e w ritten, I h u m b ly beg that
a oured hon„,|y t0 t « the laws o f history requ ire, I have
instruction of poItcrity > could ascertain from co m m o n report for
 T h e m eanin g o f the past
95
,c o m nion r e p o r t . essen rally ru m o u r has never been thooght
I r e source o r a seep.,cal w ..ness and hrs.orians havealw aysk„„wn tll
’C ,he to lose any re m n a n t o t evrdence, loathe reli„qulsh a “f
L° rung n o n -au th o r,z ed o p in io n s w h .ch could be attributed to anon. '
’nSe Ces m edieval historians them selves argued about ‘common report’ and
T w it m ight be used. E ven sceptical historians m ight accept that if oral
aditions offered n o th in g else, they gave im portant testimony to what
"eople had trad itio n ally believed (w hich itself presented a topic for
discussion, because such beliefs could be w eighed and compared, where
c o m p a r in g m ight offer an o p p o rtu n ity to the rhetorically alert). An allegiance
to truth never preclu d ed the use o f suspect material; nor did history exclude
certain em bellishm ents o f th a t m aterial. O n e embellishment might be an
ostensible rejection o f suspect m aterial w hich, by its very existence, retained
precisely w hat it p rete n d ed to discard. W h a t kind o f representation of what
understanding for w h ic h audience are essential questions to ask when
evaluating m edieval an d renaissance history. H ow far it is either any more
than testim ony to c u rre n t o p in io n , o r w hether it can be trusted as a reliable
account are questions w h ic h raise o th e r issues. M ost m odem historians of the
Middle Ages develop w h a t th e y characterize as a ‘feel’ for when medieval
historians can be trusted. Since th e encouragem ent o f some kind of intuitive
sympathy was itself one o f th e rh eto ric ian ’s goals, early warnings about ethos
may help readers c o m in g to m edieval historians for the first time. The
seductive experience o f w a n tin g w h a t a favourite medieval historian says to
be true som etim es to th e d e trim e n t o f o n e’s better judgem ent continues to be
part of the experience o f m a n y case-hardened researchers. By analysing
individual topoi and situating th em w ithin a system ot rhetorically
manipulated reference, I h o p e to dem onstrate how pervasive ‘literary habits
°f embellishment w ere, th a t ‘realism ’ is a constantly shifting style which is
constantly rem ade, n o t a g u aran tee o f a true depiction, and that however
convincing, ch a rm in g , fresh, o r intelligent an account, it may be no more
( ut no less) than a plausible co n stru ctio n w hich refers to known patterns of
111311 character, b eh a v io u r, and event. T he styles chosen by historia
°lve m ultiple reference: to the particular past narrated; to earlier mod
writing history; to o th e r, early literary models (like epics or fiction ,
,mS m an Y kinds); an d to o v er-arching (or perhaps un d erp in g
'a!ological ideas o f h u m a n h istory. T h e next chapter will discuss t e way
hnstianity e x p a n d ed deeds d one to include deeds suffer* , an
the m eanm g Qf h e ro ism . T h e rest 0 f this chapter looks at
"“ cations o f this freed o m .
 thc Middle Ages
ention
Truth and c°n'
96
treat latitude of invention, and went
Rhetorical hll.onam assume > Textbooks taught schoolboy, to
domg so at least'»»•» " As Erasmus put it, describing the ,cl,00|
write speeches for historical age"
exercise he called 'e fc tio n c s ■
h longs the figure ...............................the
To this class especially e ^ m harmony with his age, birth, country, lifc
attribution to an mdividua o ^ ^ ^ ngh( t0 conlpose speeches o f this sort in
purpose. sp*nt. and s0 mJny of the speeches of Thucydides, Sallust, and
lustory. for e»mp <:‘ j$ ^ and apophthegms, and indeed, thoughts, as of

lumselt « * “ n' ° " COmm° n " "

This combination of direcnon plus reference to model texts wtll seem
familiar from the progymosmato desenbed in the previous chapter, as will his
remark that histonans and poets use certain techniques in common. The
description or dramatization of ‘what happened’ may represent ‘what
happened’, but it may also be a sign of common report, o f opinions about
‘what happened’, o f ‘what ought to have happened’, or o f what ought to
have happened ought to have meant. The system of apparent referral refers
also to systems of signs. The convention of unspecified invention, as Erasmus
points out, was not limited to speeches, nor even to letters, apothegms, and
thoughts. In this the historian was bound to be close to the poet (whichever
of diem was writing in verse), a conjunction which was repeatedly noticed.
There is little comment on methods of interpretation that would distinguish
the one from the other. ’*What truth was was not merely a jest for Pilate. It
might be an understanding to which history pointed. Even when an author
had no intention of slanting or distorting the past his plausible inventions
might be the best way he could find to make his conception o f it convincing.
nds of a man who was trying to justify the present this could, and
fororrv T SOmedl*n8 which has for us the most unpleasant connotations:

accounts of d L T a ^ r f ^ namCS ^ Wh‘Ch We denote Partisan

‘Pcaker who ,s defending a chenn t T emberS ^ ° rat° r’S inStrUCt,° nS t0 ^
thejudicious use of fictio ^ suPPression o f damaging evidence and
on hearsay was suspect b ^ ei^°*ned UPon h*tn. In a court o f law reliance
evidence there was ” Wh 'j * k‘st0I7 hearsay might be all the
w«h them intractable probt™0^ ' ™ 5 ^ bcgin to appear they brou ght
Jar from having been wnttenT T " ^ ‘letters’ mcluded *n any history, so
e the inventions of the historia CiUtb° rs to whom they attributed, could
 T h e m eaning o f the past

97
T he progymnamaia, the rhetorical exercises of Chapter i
suggest a r.
th e k in d s o f s c e n e s lik e lie s t to tu rn
ide w
gU
speeches, e s p e c ia lly e x h o r t a t i o n s b e fo re b a ttles, arg u m en ts defen
ces of
courses ta k e n ; d e s c r i p t i o n s o t to w n s ; a n d ‘c h a ra c te rs’ o f great m en h
be b e tte r to t h in k o f th is th e o t h e r w a y a ro u n d : stu d e n ts o f ‘histories’ w u
find sp e c ific i n s t r u c t i o n s i f t h e y h a d access to rh e to ric books. Since scho 1
exercises h a d o f t e n b e e n d e r iv e d f r o m o ste n sib ly h istorical texts, w hether m
prose o r v e rs e , h is to r ie s m a d e e x c e lle n t m o d e ls fo r o ra to rs - o r historians If
the d e fin itio n s o f ‘h i s t o r y ’ w h i c h A n t i q u it y b e q u e a th e d to the M iddle Ages
seem to ra ise m o r e p r o b l e m s t h a n t h e y re so lv e, th a t accurately reflects the
u n c e rta in tie s m a n y w r i t e r s fe lt - a n d e x p lo ite d . M o st rhetoricians use a
phrase t h a t c a n b e t r a c e d b a c k a t le a st to C ic e ro : h isto ry is the record o f deeds
actu ally d o n e in t h e p a s t r e m o t e f r o m o u r m e m o ry .20 C icero himself
believ ed t h a t t h e p a s t c o u ld b e - a n d sh o u ld be - m anipulated and
e m b ro id e re d in o r d e r t o b r i n g o u t i m p o r t a n t m o ral o r exem plary points,
and so d id t h e w r i t e r s w h o f o l lo w e d h im .
It thus becom es im p o rta n t to k n o w n o t only w hat classical texts were used
as models by m edieval an d renaissance writers, but also to try to understand
how those texts w ere read, or misread. An adequate assessment would
require a large-scale historiographical study, but some indications can be
made. O n e m ust alw ays re m e m b e r the im portance of reconciling the pagan
and C hristian inheritan ce, and the long-lived belief that the Hebrew
patriarchs and heroes had anticipated m ost pagan discoveries and adventures.
There is a c o m b in atio n here o f com petitive emulation and sheer envious
rivalry. Influential w riters like Isidore o f Seville, whose Etymologiae provided
a basic au th o ritativ e encyclopedic guide to knowledge, continued to claim
Moses as the first historian, follow ed by ‘Dares’ (the supposed author of a
supposed h istory o f th e T ro jan W ar), and only later Herodotus; sacred
history preceded, b u t n ev er finally displaced, secular models.2' Roman
writers Lucan, Livy, Sallust, and Suetonius joined the ranks of major
authors, and after th e m such ostensible ‘epitomizers’ as the historian known
as Justin ,22 Im p o rta n t L atin histories w ere translated in the Middle Ag
L,F et h s Rom ains, th e deeds o f the R om ans, and bound together with ot cr,
original French w o rk s in verse w hich created the impression ° f a c°
historical n arrativ e fro m a beginning like the Foundation of Rome,
reation, to c o n te m p o ra ry tim es.23 , out iS
If one thinks fo r a m o m e n t about this list, one author w ° * n
3res ■ His b o o k , p u rp o rtin g to be an eye-witness accoun
 Truth and convention in the Middle Ages
98

War from the Trojan point o f view (unlike, th a t». H om er), s onctse to the
point o f crudity. It isn’t a history at all in any modern sense, but ,t wasn t until
the seventeenth-century edrtion of the text by Penzom us that there was a
serious scholarly claim that it was less (or more) than it claim ed to be.2«
Modem scholarship classifies the book as a late historical rom ance, a
historical fiction which it occurred to someone to create, and to attrib u te to a
character who appears in Homer as having been at T roy.25 It was an
influential book, and the various possible interpretations o f its status led to
other, apparently historical, books being based on it. It introduced a latitude,
even an uncertainty, in its alternative version, which was fruitful for later
authors, if only because it presupposes another point o f view. If a historian’s
uncertainty principle might be suggested, conflicting evidence m akes space
for new interpretations. Whatever they say to the contrary, m any historians
love a vacuum. For the past was by no means exclusively the prero g ativ e o f
the histonan, however he interpreted his task. The epic po et and the
tragedian had both extracted their subjects from ‘deeds done in the past
remote from our memories’. The poets’ accounts o f the past served as
something very similar to history; for the Greeks before H erod o tu s H o m er
was history, but the kind of history w ritten by poets. So, in m edieval and
renaissance Europe, were Lucan or numerous other verse-accounts. Poetic
versions of the past might be assumed to convey a version, h o w ev er partisan
{like Homer, who was on the ‘w rong’ side), o f w hat had happened. The
Trojan’ Dares provided a necessary corrective to the G reek H o m e r’s
version. Neither form nor style were necessarily dependable guides to truth;
bad writing might be accurate, but so m ight the m ost elegant p o etry be.
Lucan s Pharsalia, which was intended as an epic poem to rival V irgil’s
neid, benefitted from the dignity o f its form , w hich gave a spurious
ty to its content. Once it had been translated into French prose and
I W' tb ^a**ust t0 forni Li Fet des Romains, its au th o rity could
1
of J r ClmpUened’ but 11 was an authority with limits. T he in terp retatio n
r l Z Z r * UnrCl,ab'C t0 bC 3n CX P ° St fact° — b o u g h t in to
of prose had lnterPretative conclusions. The ostensibly superior accuracy

from * h“ h — ■»*»“
grounds. The subjects of ° m P° Ct' C manner w as defensible on several
similar. The poet was allow d "^ b*St° r*ans bac^ always been recognizably
historian especially when writ m° re *at' tu^e o f em bellishm ent than the
writers embellishment stemm oPthe distant past; but for both kinds of
r°m the same basis o f reading and writing,
 T h e m eaning o f the
past

a took advantage o f the sam e techniques; latitude is a distinction ofH

an \ nA T he historian o f the distant past (sometimes difficult, " degree

n° t k l the poet) had m ° re l3tltUde tHan the historian of the° 1StmgUish

(t° ? toh as la te as D r a y t o n ’s a t t e m p t to v e rsify h isto ry in hie d Past
- — — >•- * -
” Prce, so I g f c * h'S'° ran ' » " « * e his,orica! basis
Let's fictional account. T h e assoc,a„„„ •pr„sc,acclmcy
Doet s nt' L . . accuracy versus
P a n i o n ’ is often
verse/fiction’ o ften unstated but
b u t present. The
T he use of vers, • , .
verse may ,„deed,
expression o f ambit,on; but so, in a different ambition. may bc the ^

0f prose.
The authors o f the A n g lo -S a x o n C hronicle inserted verses that are usually
classed as epic p o e try in to th e ir historical narrative. In their eyes ‘The Battle
of B runaburgh’, w h a te v e r its shortcom ings or problems as a source, was
acceptable h isto ry .28 R o b e r t W ace am plified Latin sources for his history of
the Dukes o f N o rm a n d y . A t the end o f the Middle Ages we find a poem
about A gincourt inserted in to a history o f the reign of Henry V; the writer
began by transferring the p o em into prose, but seems to have given that up,
so that the verses are rec o g n iza b ly poetry .29

The know n p attern s o f h u m a n character and behaviour referred to above are

a particularly v exed issue, o n e w h ich this chapter and the next will explore.
Histories have actors, an d the characters o f great men were an area, like their
speeches, w hich gave h istorians pause, both for thought and creation. Where
they make their actors speak, they m ay bc preparing a moral case against
them, w hich they w ill su m m arize at som e later point, or the speaking actors
may be co n tin g en t to som e abstract m oral point. Each example may raise
questions o f m a n y differen t kinds. Som etim es a preliminary decoding can
take place. C o n sid er th e fo llo w in g sim ple sentence as an example ot the
complexities o f rep rese n tatio n and referral which may arise at any tin
Matthew o f W e stm in ste r, a thirteen th -cen tu ry English chronicler, descri
at 0ne point a m a n ’s a n g ry reaction to the news that his enemy has escap
ftom his pow er:

nd when all this became know n to the lord the emperor, he gnashed Qf
and said, ‘The wicked flees when no one pursues, and he w ^^ ^
1
ls afraid, though no one accuses him; I see plainly why he M
V "W t the Freud, a„ d Eng|,shi who , « .bout to «>«< I™ m“ 1 ^

S not accidental that this passage reads like scveral .vpressionsof

The reeth-gnashing is one o f the c o n v e n tio n a l expre
 the Middle Ages
ntion
Truth and conve

anger, like biting the Bp or shaking a fist, and signals the strength o f ,hc
anger: he didn'tjust gnash his teeth, but he gnashed them like some frenzied
succumbing to irrational passion. Medieval
inhuman creature, a man —
historians didn’t sex;
see many cgoat-men;
> the ‘satyr’, like G eoffrey o f
Monmouth’s use o f ‘Mars’ quoted above, is a stylistic pretension.
pi It is n o t a
1
i negative description. The em peror is represented as a man
compliment, but a ----- - l - J -T U ;. ,.

susceptible to irrational passion when crossed, bad ethos. T his therefore

provides a context for what he says. We1T7----
may- ^,11
call «,rh
such scenes ‘9rfprl
acted ^,,^1
o u t or
even ‘dramatized’ without introducing generic difficulties for ourselves
because the legacy o f ‘tragic history’ exploited the presentation o f gesture
and expression in texts of different kinds. This m ight be an entirely fictional
emperor and it might be any man angry to the point o f irrationality. W hen
then Matthew attnbutes a generalization from the Bible, itself elegantly
expressed in balanced sententiae which provide a com m o n ly accepted
analysis of human motive, there is not much difference betw een his angry
emperor and the depiction of Henry VII’s grief over Stanley q u o ted in the
previous chapter.31 The Bible dramatizes, too. Here the e m p ero r’s anger and
suspicion are the point of Matthew’s invention, a point w hich he can use
both as characterization and explanation, because the behaviour —w hat we
might call the paranoia - of angry and suspicious m en is k n o w n and
predictable. But so also is our recognition o f the unm arked quotation,
which, while it assimilates this instance to ‘universal’ perceptions o f anger,
simultaneously raises its importance without lim iting our interpretation: in
Matthew s scheme of styles the Emperor Frederick, though no h ero, speaks
in the high register appropnate to his status, even if, perhaps especially
because, he misappropriates its resonance. That it is w ildly im plausible that a
man in the heat of passion would quote such a long observation, even from
ble, is neither here nor there. Matthew’s presentation is dram atic and
stylized, not realistic.

,f° r thc year 1244 raises im portant, if smaller-scale,

.LISt0nCa ,BCnre’that ,s’ of types ofhistorical w riting. T here is an
assumption that so-called ‘chronicl
es may contain less em bellishm ent than
~ year, is rshorterly- °«rganiZed
uie if a . booties’
• if only because the u n it o f entry,
collects events of im ort ratlon werc a kind o f static. M a tth e w ’s book
long enough to be ex r • ** ^ yCar’ ^ut m any the entries are long,
relinquishing of jny d W'*b consci°us artifice. T here is an apparent
not an event, shap« t h e a^’n^ *n the large, architectonic sense: a year,
Nevertheless, there is a sem blance o f plot,
 T h e m eaning o f the past
101

, pngland as its hero, on the largest scale, while at the small scale of
wi
,*L \ effects are cunningly shaped. Chronicle,, p „de themi[|ves s“ »‘

' , brevity with which they record the past, and Matthew is ,ypical, , '
" I c n c e on these qualities when, a, the end o f his repo,, on the ^ “
Lewes (1^4) he m,errupK hls ^tief lament for the slain, which ha, been foil
0f apostro p h es:

a poet enumerate all the various occurrence of the day with more 1,cense or at
reater length, and dwell upon the different kinds of death by which men fell, but
brevity keeps us in by a much stricter law, and does not allow us to say how each
thing happened, but only w hat took place.32

This occupatio dem o n strates M a tth e w ’s awareness o f other genres, and the
decorum o f the one in w h ich he is w ritin g . Even here, though, one is led to
wonder about the elasticity o f b re v ity ’s strict law. His final distinction, too,
leaves considerable latitu d e. In som e w ays w hat distinguishes him is a matter
of scale, o f the size o f th e u n it m anipulated. M ore ambitious writers, who
took reigns o r crusades (i.e. delineated or boundaried events, with
recognizable begin n in g s and ends) as their subjects, were much more
expansive, and, if G ervase o f C a n te rb u ry is to be believed, they distinguished
themselves fro m chro n iclers like M atthew , mere jotters down of un­
connected events.33 H istorians aspired to literary unity. Yet, whether these
writers about the past th o u g h t o f them selves as historians or chroniclers, they
used rhetorical em bellishm ents.
The apparently o b v io u s trap is the difficulty posed by plausible fictions,
how could the histo rian be sure w hich parts o f an epic were historical,
which the inventions o f th e poet? T h e sim ple answer is that while plausibility
ar*d verisimilitude seem ed to p rovide a basis for discrimination, in fact
historians could seldom be sure. Y et there is a less obvious but no less
Problem atic t r a p , w h i c h is h o w fa r t h e ir tru e /fa lse distinction accords with
s. th ey say t h e y a d h e r e t o th e t r u th , b u t defin e the tru th with
tUde th a n w e d o , t o i n c l u d e e m b e llis h m e n t. W h e re legal claims depen
p0n an i n t e r p r e t a ti o n o f p a s t e v e n ts , th e precise natu re o f those events
eiti *ere^ ’ th ° u g h e v e n t h e r e in te r p r e t a ti o n in te rv e n e d , as the dispute
tra. er Slde o f IQ6 6 r e m i n d us. W h e r e h is to ry represented a them atic sto

tnadIl8re X e m p la ry d c e d s ’ it: is n o t c le a r h o w m u c h difference differen

Criteria' ker t h e g ° ° d o r a t o r ’s- t h e S o o d h l s t o r ia n se,hoS^ H o w e v e r much

Writp ° P la u s ib ility a n d v e ris im ilitu d e c h an g e, too.
about th e problem. K r e n a m e d in.rac.able -
 the M iddle Ages
ntioii
id convc
Truth'
10 : j historical from those earlier accounts .
. fxtrat* what sttin Not only might a historian Usc j "

1V. he also used, af.onalize.

^ rationalize. This u,“
may help oto 6 ^ ^
k meXDla;„
eXplain
ay to
he eo»M knowing the difficulty o f V0Uch
constant y )t fast, or perhaps at most, vouch fot S
for the 'truth', a * * ^ Pctrarch jokes in his famous letter to

other. Ifnot true. * of thc Grisclda story, which he took not from
Boccacoo about h's ^ ^ f ) . The importance o f jokes on the subject

7
hr ,,r>,hbr r” h ^ v s u r e * ‘hcr dj SCUS!ed«
0 r A ifamhomed, 'truth' ought be secondary. A n a u th o r m ight be
; ,o introduce uncertatnty. There is an in escapab le bur h,ghl,
exploited.arapmahvedrculanty here wh.ch depends u p o n th e varie,,a o f
authority whidi authorities had.
Methods of interpreting plausible reports by ex p lain in g th e m in rational
or realistic terms were already habitual in A ntiquity. O n e m a y th in k of it as
reversing the direction of allegory: instead o f m aking a sy m b o l o u t o f events,
the historian would try to understand what events had en c o u ra g e d poets to
create a symbol. It is a process akin to translation.34 O n e o f the oldest
examples is the assumption that many gods w ere in fact h ero es o r kings
whose elevation was the result of stones told about th e m . F in d the basis for
their fame, explain it, and god returns to man once m o re. T h is analysis was
traditionally asenbed to a Greek interpreter called E u h em eru s - b u t there is
not a lot of evidence for his actual existence, either. T h e im plications are
jld Not only does the idea of a ‘euhem erized’ H ercu les enable the
' j employ the hero in his history of, say, B u rg u n d y , b u t events,
seemed h A ^ ^realizatio n .3' If Jason’s quest fo r a g olden fleece

the fleCCe C0Uld be - and - - ratio n alized away,

from whom Jason st ° rePrcscnt golden treasure o f th e Colchians
technological brcakthi u ^ odlers’ cruder perhaps, th e fleece was a
zoning *rejnii wh r° U.6 m P in in g for gold. O n e held a sheepskin in a
absurdities 0f thls mel UP 8 ° ^ dust, ra th e r like a sieve. The
seriously. Whatever the C ° bv'ous’ but the im p u lse m u st be taken
" h; ~ thtrn were
wcremrava8anc«
rr o f the '-A^idiiduuns,
explanations, th c ***-
historians
crst>nd whllInusth yin8. on meagre and misleading evidence, to
sely
1 ^ ; ; , ^ Robe,, Graves exemplifies p r e " -
,|UI " h hls historical fictions and his studies
.....al .C l " 1,* ' Could prune away ,h , P»«'‘
r y'ng truth was both widespread an
 The meaning of the past
,03

long .liv ed . O n e m a n ’s poetical extravagance may seem another

cl. A n y in c id en t o r small-scale unit m ight be man’s
gosp' questioned without
denying the validity o f the w hole. It seems clear that just as orators rethought
their speeches for different audiences, so the audience to whom a work was
addressed also m ade a difference to the latitude a historian might allow
himself. A historical w o rk w ritte n in the language o f scholars for an audience
0f scholars m ig h t find itself subm itted to stricter enteria than a rhymed
vernacular n arrativ e m ean t to am use and instruct a comparatively ignorant
nobility, for w h o m elegant Sallustian parallels would convey nothing.
‘Stricter’ itself in tro d u ces potentially anachronistic values, and one cannot
draw lines sim ply accordin g to language. By contrast to the attacks on
Geoffrey o f M o n m o u th ’s B ritish history, Guido delle Colonne’s thirteenth-
century fabulous n arrativ e o f the history o f T roy was widely accepted.36
Both accounts are in L atin, full o f rhetorical embellishments, inventions, and
impossibilities; b o th w ere successful and often translated and adapted by
vernacular h istorians.37 N o one know s Geoffrey’s main sources, but Guido’s
are clear en o u g h : in ad d itio n to the spurious historian, Dares, Guido used
w ithout a c k n o w led g e m e n t the French Roman de Troie of the previous
century, a versified expansion o f Dares by Benoit de Ste.-Maure, a
contem porary —perhaps a m o re successful one - o f R obert Wace. Both these
histories are accounts o f the very long ago and far away, that other variable of
perm itted e m bellishm ent. O f necessity, there w ould be great gaps which the
historian w o u ld en d e av o u r to fill in. This w ould be the less true the more
m odern th e events narrated.
For m o d e rn readers w h o wish to use these medieval and renaissance texts
as prim ary sources this poses num erous problems. O ne needs not only to be
able to recognize a variety o f historical conventions in order to measure the
extent and d ep th o f authorial invention, but also to understand how the
conventions are being used. W ith M atth ew ’s angry em peror quoted above it
•s clear en o u g h th a t the description tells us something that has to do, in
literary term s, w ith character and m otive. But did the pope flee because he
w as afraid o f the em peror? W as he in the pay o f the French and English. Did
any ° f this happen? T hese questions are hard to answer, they require
corroborative evidence itself untainted by influence, bias, or the
rhetorically conceived m ethod o f presentation. Money talks, and though
accounts can be padded, they m ay well provide that useful corrob
^ c h a p s w e can o n ly say that there was discord between the temp
sP>ntual pow ers. T h e tem p tatio n to realize the potential of any ra™
SCenc Proved practically irresistible to most medieval an rena
 104 Truth and convention in the Middle Ages

writers; the more learned, the more widely read in h.storical writing, the
likelier they were to embellish the bare bones of historical report. Their
schooling and their reading had encouraged just this. N or should we blame
medieval and renaissance historians for dramatizing or embellishing their
accounts o f the past. In terms o f their understanding o f the organization o f
good writing, the clear light o f historical truth meant a rhetorical
presentation of what was believed to have happened. O r. a plausible
narration of what was likely to have happened - which could mean the
attribution o f speeches or deeds to ‘villains of the whole story or period who
were perhaps not actually present at the scene or scenes described. This
implies, too. that characterization may precede events. That is, the
assignment of roles may be due to a prior judgem ent about w ho was or
might have been or might later have become an evil figure, a corrupt
servant, an untrustworthy councillor. Richard III s hum p, the outw ard
manifestation of his inward evil, is an invention now too w ell-know n to
belabour, but that it is one example of a widespread habit is w orth
remarking. This offers, along the way, an explanation o f the use o f invented
letters and even forged documents; in presenting the truth, historians
understood themselves to be obliged not only to repair the gaps in the record
due to the mischance of fortune, but to embody their conception o f the past.
Perhaps one should refer to a hierarchy o f pasts. For authors dealing in
‘ancient’ history gaps were inevitable, and eye-witnesses impossible. The
question of European origins and o f moral example provided by the glorious
deeds of forebears justified what they were doing. The same rhetorically
inspired conventions supplied them with ideas, models, and examples not
only of how to write, but of what to write - that discipline o f finding the
places which the schoolboy’s habit was to expand. W e can schematize the
kinds of criteria that I have been suggesting are part o f a rhetorical m ode o f
writing history. In order to understand how much em bellishm ent a reader is
likely to find in a historical work one needs first to ask a lim ited question
about what kind of history it is; e.g. annal, chronicle, or unitary history
dealing with precisely defined events, then to match it both to sim ilar and to
related works to consider possible literary affiliations - though this smacks o f
el of perfection. As this may appear to contradict som ething
Htggested above, I shall develop this in a m om ent. W hat audience is the

embriiriT" C f°? and What C3n WC CXpCCt from this about style, extent of
their source ^ * CCt’° n material? Latin-writing historians often reveal
5^ m0dcls by thcir style, imitation, and actual quotation of
 T h e m eaning oF the past
io5

m o m m - G u,do dclle CoJo„„5 js one

„pl,cit reference to , range o f classic, te “l * * ™ >athors
[ranslation are dependent upon scholarly ' 1 of os w ,0 "«k,
often still possible to recognize a set theme when', ' ,e " in “
hear allusion or quotation. Each new worl[ app« n . even if “ is
tissue o f ‘prior’ writings. Each m ight offer remm ’ P0" n,'al Edition
representations, m odifying the co„ve„,i0„s sub , r ' “ “° M ° f “ "vend
excess o f scepticism can on ly increase a read • “ 'he>' ■'worked 1
jeeide whether things reported were actuaiiy Z £ T "

e x e r c i s i n g h i s t o r i c a l i n v e n t i o n

In a writing society in w h ich h u m ility was (at least ostensibly) a paramount

virtue, historians w ere u n lik e ly to push themselves forward. They tended to
justify their u n d erta k in g s in several w ays: in a general sense they agreed that
it is im portant to av o id idleness (and w ritin g is an acceptable action) and that
they were ob ey in g a c o m m a n d (so that personal am bition has nothing to do
with w hat m o v ed th e m ), o r even - th o u g h this came late - that they were
interested in the stu d y o f th e past o r the establishment of institutions,
interests, given th e o th e rw o rld ly em phasis o f a great part of medieval
culture, w hich n ee d ed so m e defending. R eference to earlier secular texts
which do ju st this act as o n e k in d o f defence via appeal to precedent. It may
be also that they claim ed to h av e w itnessed events, or to have had access to
witnesses, o r to have possessed im p o rta n t sources. D uring the Middle Ages,
when there was a te n sio n -p ro d u c in g divide between the great actors of
political deeds and m e n w h o co u ld w rite, historians were almost without
exception in religious orders and defenders o f religion sjns ^^
value of ambition m ight w ell depend upon the write p ^ _ pm(j praised
local saint, monastic house, generous magnate or g ^ ^ unacceptable.38
what in rival saint, monastic house, or hostile aristocr ^ p ante did not
Interest in secular writing was a marked curiosity complex, more
choose to write the prose h isto r y o f his tim es, but so 0 use the histoncal
ambitious, and more precious, which does not scrup
«yle for revenge. and from the assured
The double distance o f historian from his su J ^ ^ inSjst that they
generic ambition o f literary accomplishment led w themselves up 3S
Wrote under correction, that is, that they did readers a tentative
charities, but submitted to the judgement of t eir
 io6 T ru th and convention in the M iddle Ages

acco u n t, w ritte n in p o o r style because they w ere —w h e th e r th e y w ere o r n o t

—rude, u n ta u g h t fellow s entirely lacking in eloqu en ce. T h is is, o f course, the
h u m ility topos, b u t it is w o rth rem ark in g th a t th e aspiration on w h ich it
focusses is h ig h rhetorical style. C o n c o m ita n tly , th e y did n o t claim th e high
te x tu al status for their prose that accrued to, say, L iv y ’s. Even w h en they
were eyew itnesses they seldom seem to have expected close textual atten tio n .
An a u th o r like P hilippe dc C o m m y n cs m ay claim ey e-w itn ess status, and
that he tells the tru th and n o th in g but the tru th , b u t he em bellishes w h at he
saw in o rd e r to p oint his m oral lessons, as his descrip tio n o f the d eath o f Louis
X I sh o w s.39 H is claim s to innovate by avo id in g p an e g y ric resem ble
A n th o n y 's denial in Julius Caesar that he w ill praise th e dead; C o m m y n e s is
led to internal inconsistency w hen faced w ith the d ra m a o f th e d eath b ed
scene, and alth o u g h his dying king can barely speak he is n evertheless full o f
w ise discourses up o n g o v ern m e n t and the d u ty o f th e p rin ce. As to th e m o st
g eneral ju stificatio n o f w ritin g ab o u t the past —im p o rta n t in a society w h ich
p rete n d ed to be above am bition, to despise the w o rld an d th e flesh —th ere are
a series o f m o ral defences, w hich cam e slow ly to be c o m m o n co in . First, it is
rig h t to rem e m b er the deeds o f o n e’s forebears; th e y p resen t th e c u rren t
g en eratio n w ith m odels o f h o w to act, o r o f h o w not to act; an d th e y rem in d
th e ir readers o f the vicissitudes o f fortune and the stoicism an d faith necessary
to deal w ith the turnings o f F ortu n e’s W heel. It is this idea o f th e past as a
moral exam ple w hich constantly legitim ated the em b ellish in g o r m o u ld in g
o f earlier accounts, and encouraged the conceptio n o f th e p ast as a so u rce o f
actual m oral exem pla w hich ultim ately justified the stu d y o f secular history.
T h a t is, w riters tended to say that there w ere certain accep tab le w ay s o f
in terp retin g w ritten history w hich justified w ritin g it. T h e shock created by
M acchiavelli cam e partly from his refusal to follow this tra d itio n a l p reten ce.
Y et even he could no t bring the reign o f poetic ju stice to an en d .
In its w ay, history asserted continuity, n o t least as a re p o sito ry o f rights
and privileges, very like the law w hose servant it m ig h t be, since the
precedent of ancestral deeds (in both senses) m ig h t be used to a rg u e fo r or
justify current claims to rank, land, liberty, o r, th a t g re a t in ta n g ib le ,
prestige.90 This is not the same as recording, o r fin d in g o u t, e x a c tly w h at
happened in the past. W hile its ex trem e form m ig h t be d escrib ed as
developing plot as argum ent, there is alm ost alw ays an e le m e n t o f the
cent y g i” r eXp,lcatlve story about historical n a rra tiv e . In th e fifteenth

B u i.J d V .V T " " ° f W° rk in 8 H ' rcules ln to th c D u k ' ° f

Y m,ly " " WS! “ >o elevate the integrity o f h,S family
 T h e m e a n in g o f the
past
1 07

nj their n o i^ —e - t-h r o u g h a c la im to supra-princely antiquity; this

3stcp in an hargument
° ld l" ge n t w h ic h might
which m ig h t bbe
e thnn®v,t
t h o u g h-t ^*"- ^ "" was a

* - * " > i,S StaIU.S , r A P K r T lity r a ,h w * » aCd ' r d ( t h u 's' * ' m b:

i!C fam o u s m e n h a d b tb lrc a l as w ell as classical Z l 'l " » »ow
pukes o f B u r g u n d y a s sim ila te d G id e o n , to o , to their h ^ K’ a*d the
author’s alleg ian c e m a y b e a re fe re n c e to those carr 0 nesiS " o f 3n
footsteps h e c h i m e d to b e f o llo w in g . N ich o las T revet 7? Uth° rS in * W e
the m a n ip u la tio n s o f sty le a n d h isto ric a l fiction) b ^ CXpJicitabout
reference to S allu st; J o h n o f S a lisb u ry a]]uded ^ h’ S ‘A n ^ s ’ with a

Chronicles *1T h e s e a r e n o t o n ly ju stific a tio n s fo r an blb,'Cal b° ° ks of

we m ay e x p e c t to f in d , cu es to lite ra ry e x p e ctatio n s'a n d ?5? 1" CUC*t0 what
the history is p re s e n te d . T h e m o r e learn ed and h ° theSty,ein which
likelier h e is to o r g a n iz e h is w r itin g a c co rd in g to c T
* * Writer> the
conventions is in c u m b e n t u p o n his readers and a C° " VentI0n- KnowinS the
author’s a ttitu d e . ’ ee o r style may reveal the

To his well-beloved lord R o b e rt, son o f King Henry and Earl of Gloucester, William
the librarian o f M alm esbury sends the wish that he may triumph in heaven when he
has ended his victories on earth. M ost o f the achievements of your father ofillustrious
memory I have n o t failed to set dow n, both in the fifth book of the deeds of the kings
and in the three little books to w hich I have given the name of Chronicles.
Now Y our H ighness’s m ind desires the transmission to posterity of those things
that by a very w onderful dispensation o f God, have befallen in England in recent
times: indeed a very noble desire and like everything in you. For what is more to the
advantage o f virtue o r m ore conducive to justice than learning the divine gentleness
to the good and vengeance upon traitors? Further, what is pleasanter than consigning
to historical records [m onim entis tradere litterarum] the deeds of brave men, that
following their examples the others may cast ofT cowardice and arm themselves to
defend their country?42

This in tro d u c tio n tells us o f an a lm o st p ang o jn thc end. That

God m anifests h im s e lf in h is to ry , an d g o o q0cundius) suggests
W illiam sees his w o r k as ‘p leasan t (the o r g ^ ^ story. And indeed hi
literary stylishness, w ith an e y e to th e fo r111 . prologue-
attributions o f m o tiv e c o n firm th e suggesti wcre eminently use u
O f th e exercises discussed in C h a p te r 1. c point- These top0'
t a o m m , a n d m ig h t tu r n u p a t an y -lopies'
ca<egory o f r h e to ric a l o r g a n iz a tio n The style o f ^ ^
re<-ognized as b e in g d isc re te subjects ^ being used
could v ary, d e p e n d in g o n th e register ot
 Truth and convention in the Middle Ages
108

slvW * , place o f the . 1 - g c r w ork, .h e kind o f w e e k in w h ic h i. w . s

Zu
sed 1. » repetition wh,ch m ake, i.p e, as to o n a , w n t c r , b e co m e
aware tha, thev are repeating a uni. w hteh hat appeared b e fo re, th e ,,
interpretation becom e. self-consctous. beeaute ,t e x p e c t read er, co m p a re
,, to another Such o n ,., can be recogn.red a e ro ., gen re b o n n d a n c ., and it i,
important to remember that th.s recognit.on and co m p ar.so n w a s part o f the
pleasure o f readmg. There is som ething inescapably in te rte xtu a l in this kind
o f reading, when the alert interpreter is constantly on the lo o k o u t fo r w h a t it
,s he is supposed to be reminded of, and m w h ich texts he has seen it before.
This intertextual recognition distracts from a n y c o n cen tra tio n u p o n the
distinct truth or falsehood o f an account and en courages a tte n tio n to the style
o f the dramatization. Spotting the scheme, trop e, o r topos c o u ld b e an end in
itself, but need not be. It does, h o w ev er, in tro d u ce an e x tra m im esis: o f o th er
books, other representations, as w ell as o f a p ossible past. It is a k in d o f

deferral.43
Set pieces, units, topoi, w hatever one calls th em , th e y m a y even have
begun with a new description o f som ething w h ich h a d h ap p e n ed . The
dangers o f crossing a river are real dangers; w ritin g a b o u t th o se dangers
becomes a literary topos w hen the w riter has one eye o n th e w ay s o th e r men
have dealt with them. The better educated, th e m o re steep ed in Latin
literature an author was, the m ore certain it w o u ld be th a t rh e to ric a l w ays of
reading and writing had been inculcated in h im f ro m an ea rly age, and the
likelier he would be to w rite w ith an am b itio n to e m u la te his Latin
predecessors. The implications o f this, if d raw n to th e ir lo g ic al conclusion,
suggest that the more sophisticated the h isto ria n in te rm s o f his literary
education and the breadth o f his reading, the less reliab le —in m o d e rn term s -
his narrative might be. H e w ould constantly tra n s fo rm th e m aterial at his
disposal according to the habits o f rhetorical r e w o rk in g h e h ad learned. This
does not mean that because an account is w e ll-w r itte n it lies, distorts, or
misrepresents the past, but it w arns against th in k in g sty listic o r architectonic
5 111 ^°r lack skdl) guarantees tru th . N a rra tiv e s m u s t b e tested against
CUrCCS ° ther kmds’ w hich p o in t at least to th e h is to ria n ’s a ttitu d e to past
events. It is time to turn from p rec ep t to e x a m p le , b y lo o k in g at some set

t h « r / ^ 3re typ' Cally found in historical w o rk s . T h e p o in t o f identifying

empirZn ^ 1° thCm’ f° r that would be to rcturn C° 3

J S b li' d u ts to suggest thc beginnings o f »

m h t r th“ exhaustive. W h ile th e y m a y d e r tv e fro m a s P « 'fiC

 T h e m eaning o f the past
10 9

ugsical source, they undergo interm,rten, mod,f,cat,on, especi* m the

hand* of talented writers.
The set piece descr.pt,on o f a place was one o f the category of J,scrip,io
*hich all schoolboys practised. Fort,f,cations, forests, or rivets constantly
appear, though they seem to have been lower in descriptive status than say
descriptions o f cities. The Angevin historian ‘William FitzStephen’, spent
several pages on London, its buildings, cookhouse, countryside, inhabitants,
schools (one can almost feel his teacher’s list o f topics cranking away) before
getting down to the business o f describing the events which led to the death
of Thomas Becket.44 W illiam quoted Horace, Virgil, Ovid, Persius, and
Geoffrey o f M onm outh in the course o f his description, which involves his
ambition for his subject and his book. The more o f a metropolis London is,
the more important its events. R alph Diceto expatiates upon the beauties of
the ancient city o f Angers as part o f his annal entry for a . d . 1 1 5 0 . 45 He
attends to the city walls, its buildings, inhabitants, its wealth of saints and
religious houses; he calls attention to the rivers which run through it, the
Loire and the Mayenne, and to its famous bridges, on which small
workshops had been erected. As William mentioned London’s cookhouse,
so Ralph emphasizes the cookery o f beef and ducks in Aquitaine. Both
authors are including the customs o f the inhabitants as part of the description
of a city, and there is no need to posit local patriotism as the main reason for
lts existence. Such descriptions could be turned to satire, as in Richard of
Devizes criticism o f London, which he puts into the mouth of a French Jew
(thus, given the anti-Semitism o f the age, creating an equivocal speaker,
whose ethos, moral trustworthiness, is questionable):

her>you reach England, if you come to London, pass through it quickly, for I do
u nd^ ^ t'la t C*ty ' sorts men crow<l together there from every country
r the heavens. Each race brings its ow n vices and its own customs to thc city. No-
lives in it w ithout falling into some sort o f crime. Every quarter of it abounds in
obscenities. T he greater a rascal a man is, the better a man is he accounted
pln . tCVer ev*l or malicious thing that can be found in any part of the world, you wi
tjje , ^lat one c'ty. D o no t associate with the crowds of pimps, do not ming
ongs jn eating-houses; avoid dice and gambling, the theatre and the
infm' ^ meet m ore braggarts there than in all France; the number ot par
AC,°" ' * ■ « " . smooth-skinned lads, m oo,, ^ ^
C " tinging and dancing girl,, quack,, M r * *
”M * .-w ,„ d L !, magicians, mime, buffoon,: all * > ® - *
 Truth and convention in the M id d le A g e s
I !O

T his is d e a rly a con glo m erate d escriptio n , w h ic h o w e s s o m e th in g to Horace

on R o m e a cits w in ch ts lik e ly to h av e been m u ch b etter su p p lie d w it h the
iniquities R ic h a rd l.sts than w as m e d .e v a l L o n d o n T in s ts no, e v id e n c e fo r
the existence o f theatres, fo r ex a m p le ; th ey are p a r. and p arcel of the list o f
vices T h at m an y historical description s co n tain sim ila r lists is o n e sig n al that
the author has his eve on a m o d el, here a m o ra l w a r n in g a g a in st bad

com panions. .
T h e p o sin o n . as w e ll as the ton e, o f a d esc rip tio n o f a p la c e , w it h its n o r m a l
adjuncts o f praise o r blam e, m a y tell us so m e th in g . Sometimes it fo r m s part
o f the geo grap h ical b a c k g ro u n d to ev en ts (o fte n an e a r ly section in a
h isto rv).4' It m as be s o m e w h e re visited , e v e n a k e y scene of action, thus
there to tell us som eth in g ab o u t w h a t k in d o f p e rso n moved in what ways for
w hat reasons. In L u can 's P h a r s a l i a the d e sc rip tio n of a place sometimes led to
another insertion, a sto ry e x p la in in g h o w th e place acquired its name.48 This
kind o f learned digression c o n tin u ed to be popular: ‘Nennius’ included
legends about place nam es, sometimes legends which contradicted each
other.44 So did Geoffrey of Monmouth, and after him Orderic Vitalis.50 It is
difficult, often impossible, to tell whether the historian is reporting focal
belief (Bede's true law of history) wuth or without his own embellishments,
or when he is making a story up altogether. Yet we must ask, because, in a
society which thought of words as real indicators o f real realities, and of the
physical world as being interpretable in the way that a book is interpretable,
names of places, legends associated with places, might be a guide to events
and the way those events were meant to be understood. In addition, there
was another k in d of encouragement to digressive descriptions (one more
purely literary): they gave pleasure to the reader for themselves, and for the
change of pace they provided. While a description may offer a true report of
what something looked like, it is as well not to assume that it does without
corroboration, like archeological remains, even a map to confirm that hills
or rivers really are where the author says they are should always be sought.51
The rhetorical exercises of suasoria, the throes o f a difficult decision, and
controversia, the defence o f a course already taken, were adapted for
innumerable speeches. Since arguments require speakers, the historian may
also find himself choosing whose mouth to put them into, whether or not a
historical speaker was present, and the choice o f speaker may be a key to the
n s view of events and their actors. The more vexed the issue, the
emphatic the accounts, as the histories o f the Norm an Conquest or the
eposition of Richard II exemplify. « Where the exploitation o f traditional
 The meaning of the past

rCjses reaches its apogee is in the pages o f Froissart, who as m u

Hieval historian, illustrates the distance from our concent H**any
T o u t the past. H e habitually took advantage of the lic e n c e ^ ^
One scene, justly fam ous, concerns an incident when the Duke 0f T * *
tricked O liv ier de Clisson, Constable o f France, into his power h a T h ^
im prisoned, and prepared to have him executed against all the laws of
hospitality, and custom o f his tim e. T he Duke finally spared Clisson’s ]if
after a long n ig h t o f indecision during which the Lord de la Vale dissuad d
him from
rom this illegal and dishonourable
dishonourable act. Here is one exchange uoted
from the translation o f L ord Berners
Lord Berners.

when this lo rd e dc la V ale herde the dukes strayte commaundement to put hym to
dethe, he kneled d o w n e b efo re h y m , ly fty n g e up his handes sore wepynge, and sayd
‘ S y r, fo r G o d d e s sake take m ercy: ad vyse you, shewe not your cruelte agaynst the
constable; he hath deserved no dethe; syr, o f you r grace that it may please you to
shewe m e the cause o f y o u r dyspleasure agaynst hym . And, Syr, I swere unto you ony
trespace that he hath done, he shall m ake you such amendes with his body and
goodes, or elles 1 fo r h y m , as ye you rselfe shall demande or judge; syr, remembre you
how e in y o u r y o n g th y e li. w e re com panyons togyder, and brought up bothe in one
house w ith the d u k e o f Lancastre, w h o w as soo gentyll a prynce that there was none
lyke h y m ; also, syr, rem em b re h o w e before his peas was made with the Frensshe
k yn ge alw ay e s he tru e ly served y o u ; he ayded yo u to recover your herytage; ye have
alw ayes fo u n d e in h y m g o o d com forte and counsayle: y f ye be now moved or
en fourm ed agayn ste h y m o th erw yse then reason sholde requyre, yet he hathe not
deserved d eth e.’
‘ S y r de la V a le ,’ sayd the du ke, ‘ Let me have m y w yll: for O lyver o f Clysson hath
soo often ty m es dyspleased m e, and n o w e is the houre come that 1 maye shewe hym
m y dyspleasure: w h e rfo re departe yo u hens and let me shewe m y cruelte, for I wyll
he shall d y e .’
‘ A , s y r ,’ sayd the lo rd e de la V ale, ‘ refrayne your evyll w yll, and moderate your
courage, and re g ard e to reason: fo r y f ye put hym to deth there was never prynce soo
d yshon ou red as ye shall be; there shall not be in Bretayne knyght nor squyer, cyte nor
castell, n o r g o o d to w n e, n o r noo man but he shall hate you to the dethe, and do that
they can to d y sy n h e ry te yo u ; nor the k yn g ot England, nor hys counsayle, shall gyve
you no thanke th erfore. S y r, w y l you lese yourselfe for the dethe o f one man; syr,
tourne y o u r y m a g y n a c y o n , fo r this thought is noo thynge worth but dyshonourab
that ye shou lde cause suche an honourable knyght as Sir Olyvcre o f Clys
dye, c o m y n g e u n to y o u at yo u r o w n e desyre.

This is typical o f Froissart’s technique: the dramatic opening is

can be, the L ord de la Vale physically in the position of a pet
 2
I1
Truth and convention in the Middle Ages

Froissirr Presents a series o f arguments: Clysson u innocent; .f he is not

innocent compensation is better than execution; you have know n each other
sinCe boyhood and he has always served you well, so that even if he has done
something evil he does not deserve to die (i.e. it is a com m onplace that w e do
not murder the friends o f our childhood); because you are very angry (‘evil
w df and 'courage' have to do with passion and w hat is happening in the
heart) it is hard to be reasonable; it would be dishonourable to break the laws
of hospitality, and the dishonour will set everyone against you. These
arguments in turn tacitly refer to the rhetorician’s list in C h ap ter i, w hich
contains directives to argue that something m ight be w ro n g to speak o f or
wrong to do. Dramatized as the arguments are, it is easy to think o f them as
speeches conceived to reveal the psychology o f the speakers. If w e think o f
'characterization’ this way around, that is, argum ents stem m ing fro m the
personality o f the speaker, we will have difficulties w ith the inconsistency o f
Froissart's presentation. If, however, we think o f character as som ething
which mav emerge contingently from a series o f arg u m en ts presented as
consistent with the age and status o f the speaker, w e will be b etter able to
interpret Froissart’s historical strategy, w hich lead h im to use convenient
speakers. Froissart is here dramatizing, rhetorically, and w ith all his skill, the
events o f a night in which argum ents m ay - b u t m ay n o t - hav e been
canvassed.54 We do not know who was present, o r w h o spoke in w h at ways-
these arc the inventions o f a good w riter. O th e r sources, such as itineraries,
would have to be compared to Froissart to check. In this sto ry , the D u k e o f
Brittany was dissuaded from m urder. W h en h isto rian s in n o v ate, by
adapting the methods o f one m ode o f w ritin g to w h a t w e th in k o f as
another, the search for influences m ay resem ble a h u n t fo r cu lp rits. Froissart
exploited the techniques o f poetry as he und ersto o d th e m ; this has been held
against him. But it is equally the case that the co n v e n tio n s o fpsychom achia, o f
inner debate and the exploration o f the em o tio n al life th a t w e re appropriate
to invented fictions were well appropriated to th e stu d y o f h isto rical actors,
and encouraged the analyses o f m o tiv e as w ell as a c tio n . In all this it is
important to remember that ‘success’ is literary , an d sty le is a h ig h priority;
w at we might call accuracy’ is a c o n tin g e n t q u a lity o f Froissart’s
presentation.

into £ I SUCCCSS was unPrccedented. H is h is to ry w as tran slate d n o t only

subsem g L-’ kUt lnt0 un' versaJ la n g u a g e o f L atin , accepted by
o f how to 1St° rianS alJ 0ver £ u r° p e n o t o n ly as tr u e r e p o r t, b u t as a model
history, w ithin the b o u n d s o f r h e to r ic , fo r vernacular
 The meaning o f the past
i >3
im ita to rs . H e r e is a ease o f su ccessfu l in n o v a t.o n affecting a genre T h e re
in v e n tio n , o r r e d is c o v e r y , o f d ra m a tic , ev en tragic, h .sto ry invigo rated
F ro is s a rt’ s im ita t o r s . It h e a c c o m p l.s h e d n o th in g else, he con firm ed a fashion
fo r s e c u la r h is t o r y .
[ have already m entioned the way com m entary could be used to create the
impression o f dialogue from outside the narrative. Froissart extended the use
o f dialogue w ithin it beyond the dram atic presentation of arguments and
defences. H e used conversation as an alternative to the narrator’s voice, to
carry events forw ard. C onsider the following four examples. He used
dialogue, attrib u ted n o t to a single speaker, but to a group, to dramatize
current opinions.55 So, ju st before the arguments o f the Lord de la Vale, he
tells his readers that m any knights in the vicinity blamed the Duke of
B rittany, and ‘quo tes’ (that is, creates) their phrases o f condemnation. He is
particularly pro n e to attrib u te group dialogue to citizens o f towns where
discussions o f policy and alliance take place: Ghent, Vigo, and Portugal are
all places w h ere an o nym ous m en give dramatized utterance to what
Froissart w ishes to establish as w idely held opinions. This is a way of
providing h im self w ith au th o rity for w hat he wants to w rite without having
to take it u p o n h im self as his ow n judgem ent or opinion o f what people
thought. B ede h ad recorded co m m o n report; Froissart dramatized it. There
is an unspoken social snobbery, too, about his creation o f the opinions held
by citizens, th a t is, n o n -n o b lem en . T w o o f his well-known mob scenes
contrast a g ro u p speaker w ith som eone bravely confronting them: Jan van
Artevelde stands u p to a m o b w hich is accusing him o f crimes against them,
and the y o u n g K in g R ic h a rd II confronts a m ob o f peasants outside London
and persuades th e m to re tu rn hom e, breaking the revolt o f 1381. Obviously
oratory could and did affect events. Froissart used dialogue to anticipate
future policy; som etim es it is m o re speculative. His characters articulate their
intentions, w h e th e r o r n o t it seems likely that they would have told people
who could, in tu rn , hav e told the historian, w hat their ideas were. There are
none o f the hedges used b y m odern writers, w ho label speculation, it is
believed th a t th e C o u n t o f F oix th o u g h t . . .’ or ‘the Duke of Brittany must
have w o n d ered . . ,’56 S om etim es Froissart used speeches to summarize a
narrative which w as to co m e, so that the reader could keep the plan of act
clear before F roissart beg an the confusing details of, for example, a batt e
^ Ven *f som e readers cam e to believe that they were reading transc p
what historical speakers had said on any occasion - and it is hard g
that rnany such n aiv e readers existed in a culture informed by r e o
 .,nd convention in the M id d le Age:
Truth
11 4
■ould havc mattered little as long as the m oral points
habits of mind - )C " cou]d be createc) backw ards - as when
, Characters, aircr an,
were made. v. • ^ been a traitor at the end provided a convenient
someone know n ^^ ^ specchcs at the beginning o f a narrative. Students
mouthpiece tor '■ ^ ^ (, uahties o f men o f different kinds, and historians
had described persons ^ expanding thc thesaurus o f types. Physical
capitalized on t ^ ^ sf)anng in detail; some m ay be true, m ost are
descriptions ten ^ ^ ^ c f the manuals. W hen Bede gives a short
organize at cor ^ Paulinus, he m ay be giving the first English

Ull Slightly stooped, hair black, face thin, nose slender aquiline; at the same time his
appearance was both venerable and awe-inspiring.57

But this is so unspecific we must w onder if m odels o f venerable and awe­

inspiring men did not help to m ould this description. Paulinus m ay well
have had an aquiline nose, but how m any dignified w o rd s fo r nose shapes
had Bede at his disposal for use in this context? T h e slight stoop looks
suspiciously as though it belongs to the description o f an aged counsellor
who goes right back to A ristotle.58 In terp retatio n m a y dep en d upon
recognizing the ‘m oral’ qualities implied by the physical description. This, in
turn, implies a method o f characterization to w h ich w e n eed to be alert;
character is representative by its reference to a trad itio n o f ex em p lary types.
The insertion o f invented letters, o f w hich B ede also p ro v id es examples,
may owe something to training in rhetoric, and specifically to th e training in
wnting letters, the ars dictaminis that was p a rt o f th e cou rse o f stu d y which
prepared boys to serve their rulers as a nascent civil service. A n d once letters
had found their way into as im portant a h isto ry as B e d e ’s, th e y w ere safe as
models for other historians. T hat m any letters an d d o c u m e n ts copied into
histories represent correspondence actually sent o r ch a rters actually issued is
no bar to many o f them being em bellishm ents o f th e orig in als, imaginative
reconstructions o f w hat the originals m ust h av e said, o r w h o lly invented
forgeries representing w hat som eone th o u g h t o u g h t to h av e been written.
Students who were exposed to ‘fo rm le tte rs’ as p a rt o f th eir training
internalized strict conventions that could be s u m m a riz e d , as in Plate 6, and
distributed as models for all occasions. T h e c o m m e n te d lists, w h ich look like
something between a flow -chart and a m e n u (tak e o n e fro m colum n a and
one rom column b), insist upon a basic m e th o d o f com position. It 1S
es imony t0 the im portance historians a c c o rd e d to m aintaining the
 The meaning o f the past
115

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C am b rid ge.
 Truth and convention in the Middle Ages
! 16
■ i __ju ra tio n - o f t h e i r w o r k s th at so m e o f
narrative flo w - a pu rely literary consideration
them relegated docum entary and ep.sto lary evid en ce to ap pen d ,co s F o rm a l,
literary, generic cons,derations shaped the fo rm , style an d c o n ten t o f h isto ry
and w ere shaped in turn by histories that fo u nd fa v o u r, ju s t as an in d ic atio n
o f the w a y m which an y study o f m ed ieval w r itin g leads o n e across m o d e rn
genre lines it is w ell w o rth recalling the existen ce o f letters w h .c h w e re
themselves h isto ry: the correspon den ce b etw een the tw e lfth -c e n tu ry c o u p le ,
Abelard and Hcloise. In the thirteenth cen tu ry Je a n d c M c u n , m o st fa m o u s
for his original continuarion o t L c R o m a n d c la R o s e , to o k the tu n e to tran slate
the Latin letters into French prose. W h at m ade these letters can d id a te s fo r
translation? ‘Letters’ w ere certain ly a c a te g o ry o f lite r a r y p r o d u c t io n :
Seneca's E ssays take the form o f letters to a n am ed , b u t p e rh a p s h y p o th e t ic a l,
correspondent. The m ystical treatise. The Cloud o f Unknowing, is also cast as
letters. Letters w ritten b y the C h u rch Fathers w e re fa m ilia r e n o u g h a n d g o
back to the N e w Testam ent. C e rta in ly the letters w e re w r itt e n w it h lite r a r y
self-consciousness, full o f references both c o rre sp o n d e n ts w o u ld re c o g n iz e .
‘Letters' are a fairly discrete c a te g o ry , since their form alone, w ith its
opening salutation and ep isto lary conventions, makes them recognizable.
T he contribution o f epic p o e try to historical w riting is harder to see at a
glance. It encouraged the dram atized presentation ofevents. T h e im portance
hardly to need m entioning; because everyone
o f V irgil is so w ell k n o w n as
knew so much o f his w o rk b y heart, allusions could be, and w ere, made
constantly, an alogously to the way modern English speakers have absorbed
Shakespeare as part o f our common system o f reference. I have already
mentioned Lucan, whose Pharsalia took as its subject the struggles betw een
Julius Caesar and Pompey the Great which convulsed and finally destroyed
the Roman Republic. Because Lucan took for his subject events o f the recent
rather than the remote past his poem had m ore claim than V irgil had to
reliability as a historical record. The Pharsalia is a h ig h ly rhetorical
confection which includes along the w ay several set pieces o f epic tradition
which Lucan helped to transfer to other kinds o f historical w ritin g . I have
already mentioned his inset stories to explain place nam es. In ad dition, to
name only three, Lucan provided models for the catalo g u e o f participants in
(ultimately this can be traced right back to H o m e r ’s en u m eratio n of
eve ^ i C3me t0 ^'roY)' tcrrors of a sto rm at sea, and th e detailed,
someth -description o f the horrors o f death in b attle (this, too, is
never f a ile d H° mCr fiUed the Iliad)- T h e p restig e o f L atin models
er the view o fh o w they w ere to be in te rp re te d c h a n g e d .
 The meaning of the past
1 17

[t should be clear that I am not arguing that every medieval historian who
used these topoi derived them from close study of Lucan, though in fact many
did. Lucan’s use and developm ent o f these topoi was part of the long process
by which the dram atized style o f writing Epic and the dramatized style of
w riting H istory m erged in late A ntiquity, so that certain scenes could be, and
were, used by w riters o f either genre. Their imitations and manipulations
m ight take into account any recent success, the way Froissart’s dramatized
history set the fashion for the vernacular histories which followed.
O ne set piece o f w hich Lucan was fond is the lurid description of atrocities
com m itted by enemies not only on soldiers but also on non-combatant
populations. W hile everyone w ould accept that men do terrible things to
each other, and to w om en and children, w hen war releases civilization’s
norm al inhibitions, literary convention took a hand in determining the
reports o f exactly w hat was done. In part, speaking in terms o f moral lessons
to be extracted from literature, one measure o f precisely how vile the wicked
are is the atrocities w hich can be attributed to them. If classical precedents
suggest that m utilation is the w orst thing, then mutilation will become a
m atter o f course. T hen, ju st as a wise man had to be wiser than Solon or
Solom on (depending on your tradition), so atrocities had to be more
horrible than those com m itted by the malefactors described by the author
before last. H ere w e need to recognize not only the use o f models, and the
need to avoid m ere repetition by going one better - in this case, of course,
one w orse —than the m odel, but also the tendency o f a culture to use what it
considers the m ost unthinkable (paradoxical as that is) horrors as character­
istic deeds o f its enemies. O ne consistently finds that the ultimate mark of
savagery is cannibalism , follow ed closely by incest (and the extension of
these vices to, for exam ple, witches, should not go unremarked). In wartime
the violation o f w o m en is a norm al accusation; thus the rape of nuns is worse
because they are a special category, higher because vowed to God and more
helpless because o f their vow s o f stability. O ne sometimes finds soldiers
accused o f c u ttin g open p regnant w om en (as in the anarchy during the reign
of Stephen). T hese atrocities are not signs of mental imbalance in the
historian, b u t his m a rk o f the wickedness ot those who perpetrated such
deeds - a d ram a tiz atio n o f their ethos. The Peterborough Chronicle describes
tortures inflicted by ‘evil m en ’ to emphasize the breakdown of order in
37
England d u rin g the reign o f K ing Stephen (in the entry for 11 )• W
°ne discovers sim ilar descriptions in the Liber Eliensis, the HistoriaEcc
D “ nheln,ensis, W illiam o f M alm esbury’s Historic Novella , and t c esta
 1 ruth and ro n v cn tio n in [hr M id d le A g e s
I IS

Stepham. it is rime to wonder whether the horrors described really w ere

widespread, or if perhaps historians were enum erating exam ples o f w hat
could he assumed to happen in a period o f anarchy. That is, the reports m ay
indicate a literary convention about w hat constitutes utter lawlessness rather
than an accurate report of what happened. A tro city reports and allusions to
tortures are. in fact, tw o related topoi which share com m on features. R elated
to these accounts is the topes of the mutilated corpse w hich can o n ly be
recognized by a know n mark, especially a scar. W h ile the Odyssey
immediately leaps to mind, reality m ay have had a hand to p lay as w e ll.60
Torture (enduring it or inflicting it on Christian m artyrs) is often a
constitutive feature o f hagiography. T h e attribution o f vice to a k in g and his
court is often expressed in terms of fashion: Jong hair o r excessive concern
with clothing may signal degeneracy, effem inacy, o r h o m o sex u a lity . T h e
court o f William Rufus is a traditional site o f such offen ces.61 W h e r e reality
intersects with topos interpretation becom es a difficult m a tter indeed:
Richard Ill’s putative murder o f his nephews.
Deaths in general were a favoured occasion fo r a m p lifica tio n . T h e deaths
o f monarchs were a natural o p portu nity fo r historians to e xp a tia te upon
common experience, as w ell as to reflect upon reigns, e v e n characters (o f
which more in the next chapter). I h ave alread y m e n tio n e d in passing the
kinds oflaments which battles (especially defeats) stim u lated in , fo r exam p le,
O ld English, where it is o n ly n o w b egin n in g to b e c o m e cle a r h o w m uch
'bardic’ poetry is also learned, and learned in classical rh e to ric . W h en
Suetonius made Augustus m eet death stan din g up , o r a ttr ib u te d to N e r o the
last words, ‘W hat an artist perishes’, he w as in d ic a tin g s o m e th in g a b o u t their
(different) ideas o f themselves as rulers. T h e deaths a ttr ib u te d to B e d e, to
Ailred (which W alter D aniel m o d elled o n the d e a th o f B e d e ), o r o f W illia m
the Marshal are all exem pla o f co rrect p a ssin g .62 T h e y m a k e a p lace for
prophecy, which is also a n arrative d e v ice , a n tic ip a tin g th e p lo t. T o d o this
authors have to keep their d y in g characters co n sc io u s: it is r e m a r k a b le h o w
infrequent coma, o r d y in g in o n e ’s sleep, seem t o h a v e b e e n . T h e C r o y la n d
Chronicler uses b rie f references to R o m a n h is to r y to c o n t e x t u a liz e his d y in g
King Richard III (s.v. O ld S ty le 14 8 4 ). P h ilip p e d e C o m m y n e s ’ d y in g Louis
XI, who has needed C o m m y n e s n ear h im b e c a u s e C o m m y n e s is the only
person who can understand w h at h e is t r y in g to s a y , b e c o m e s a le rt e n o u g h to
kc wise speeches at the h is to ria n ’s n e e d . T h e in te r n a l co n trad ictio n s

7 7 C; St0ry which C o m m y n e s m a y h a v e f o u n d in S u e t o n iu s ’ description

ath o f Tiberius. In the E n g lis h t r a d it io n , t h e d e a t h o f H e n r y IV
 T he meaning o f the past II9

assumes a special status because Shakespeare dramatized it. Y e t there cannot

have been eyew itnesses to the scene; indeed, the story originates w ith
M on strclct, fo r w h o m it is a w ay o f indicating the guilt felt by the usurping
kin g, and thus o f criticizin g the English m on archy.63 From Monstrelet it
foun d its w a y into H a ll’s C h ro n icle, from w h ich H olinshed adapted it before
Shakespeare g a ve a m o re sym patheic rendering in 2 Henry IV.
T h e deaths co u ld be fo llo w e d b y lam ents, the planctus w hich was a part o f
m edieval p o e try (an exam p le o f w h ich was discussed in Chapter 1, above,
after the death o f K in g A rthur). T h e Commendatio L amentabilis o f John o f
L o n d o n m o u rn s the death o f E d w ard I, com p aring him to Brutus the
T ro ja n , A le x a n d e r the G reat, and his fam ous English predecessors. John
celebrates the values he th o u g h t E d w ard em bo d ied , and puts his celebration
o f those values in to p a n eg y ric.64 It w as E d w ard ’s status as a conqueror w hich
m ost m o v e d Joh n.
A la rge p ro p o rtio n o f m ost m ed ieval and renaissance histories was
d e v o te d to w a rfa re - the sport o f kin gs - and especially to the deeds o f great
m en d u rin g b a ttle. W a r is a repetitious business, and it is scarcely surprising
to fin d sim ilarities b e tw e e n battles. T h e succession o f lances broken, o f
sw o rd s th ru st, o f g a lla n try and suffering, offered traditional rhetorical
o p p o rtu n ities to the historians w h o w ish ed to g lo rify particular men. Even
H o m e r’ s Iliad so m etim e s seems to o w e ll p ro vid ed w ith descriptions o f
e x a c tly h o w m e n died; m e d iev al and renaissance historians added to the
ca ta lo gu e. O c c a s io n a lly reality m ust h a ve len t a hand, as w hen the blind
K in g o f B o h e m ia in sisted u p o n a ctiv ely p articipating in a battle: Froissart
giv es a sp le n d id d e sc rip tio n o f the k in g ’ s m en ty in g his reins to theirs, riding
o u t to ce rtain d e a th to g e th e r, and o f the bo d ies b e in g fo un d after the battle,
w ith the d e ad k in g ’ s lo y a l m en dead aro u n d h im , w ith the horses’ harnesses
still k n o tte d to g e th e r .65
M o r e c o m m o n ly fo u n d b a ttle -o rien ted set pieces m ay be distinguished:
one e x e m p lifie s o ra to ric a l b ra v u ra d isp lay, the other is a further case o f
n arra tiv e used to in d ica te m o ra l p o sitio n . T h ese are the speech before the
b a ttle, w h ic h I re fe rre d to in C h a p te r 1, and the behaviour o f opposing
arm ies o n th e n ig h t b e fo r e a m a jo r b attle. It is clear enough that generals did
address th e ir tr o o p s b e fo r e e n g a g e m e n ts, th o u g h one must w onder just how
far the u n a m p lifie d s o u n d o f th eir v o ice s carried, or h o w often records were
k e p t o f w h a t t h e y said. F o r the h isto rian this speech was a special invitation to
d isp lay his tale n ts. T h e le a d e r’ s o ra to ry co u ld e xem p lify his relation to his
m cn an d to h is ca u se, his c o u r a g e , his reasons fo r figh tin g. T h is extract
 Truth and convention in the M id d le A ges
120
classicizing speech to Harold before
m uch longer poem gives th e fo llo w in g
Hastings.
Aduorat ipse duces, conntcs, terreque porentes;
Verbis, tit ferfur. talibus alloquitur:
Milieie pars surnma nice, magnatihns orta,
Solus non hello uinccrc eui pudor cst.
Nothica quos misir per tc superauimus hostes,
Er per tc nostrum strauimus equiuocuni . . .
Nutriuit proprio matris quem lactc papilla.
Tu mihi presidium, murus, ct auxilium,
Audisti nostrum quod gens Normannica regnum
Intrauit. predans. pauperat. exspoliat.
Hoc Willemus [agitj, qui te sibi subdere querit.
Nomen habet magnum; cor tamen est pauidum;
Est uafer et cupidus nimiuinque superciliosus;
Nee nouit pacem nee retinere fidem.
Si possir icuiter, molitur tollere nostra,
Set Deus omnipotens non erit hoc paciens.
Quantus ent Juctus, quantus dolor et pudor ingens,
Regni quanta lues, quam tenebrosa dies,
Si quod querit habet, si regni sceptra tenebit!
H oc omnes fugiant uiuere qui cupiu nt.’

He himself summoned to him the captain, the lords and great men o f the land, and is
said to have addressed them in such words as these: ‘Leaders o f m y army, sprung from
great forebears, to whom the only shame is not to conquer in war; Through you we
have overthrown the enemies that N orw ay sent, and through you w e have laid low
our namesake . . . [and] him whom four] mother’s breast nourished with its own
milk. M y guard, m y help, and my defence, you have heard that the Normans have
entered our kingdom, plundering, robbing, and despoiling! William does this,
because he seeks to subject you to himself. He has a great name, but a queasy stomach!
He is cunning and avaricious and arrogant beyond measure; he knows neither peace
nor how to keep faith. He is striving to seize what is ours, i f he can do it easily. But this
Almighty God will not suffer! H ow great will be the grief, h o w great the anguish and
how mighty the shame, what ruin for the kingdom , h o w dark a day, i f William gain
what he seeks - if h e shall wield the sceptre o f the realm! M a y all shun this who wish
to livc!'“

1 have already m entioned H e n r y V b e fo r e A g in c o u r t . Here is 3

anonymous chronicler in ven tin g a speech o f e n c o u r a g e m e n t fo r the Eng
 T h e m eaning o f the past

Syres and (Tclowes, the 3°ndere mayne thenke to lett us o f owre way and the, w,l nat
come to us, Icte every man preve hym s.lfe a good man this day, and avant baneres in
the best tyme o f the yerc, for as I am trew kynge and knyght, for me this day sehalle
never [nglond rawnsomc pay; erste many a wyght man schall leve is weddes, for here
erste to deth I wil be dyght, and therfore, lordynges, for the love ofswetejesu, helpe
mayntcnc Inglondcs ryght this day. Aliso archers, to yow I praye, no fote that 3e fle
away, erste be we alle beten in this felde. And thenke be Englysshemen that never
wold fle at no batelle, for a3enste one o f us thowthe there be tene, thenke Criste wil
help us in ow re ryght.67

It is perhaps more obvious in this clumsy and self-contradictory speech

than in a better-written one that this is a conventional concoction - after all,
one o f the skills rhetoricians sought was to make things not only moving but
freshly so. T h e large number o f rhyme-words suggests that some o f the
clumsiness m ay result from an attempt to adapt prose from poetry. One
m ight dare to extract from this only the circumstance that the English forces
w ere outnum bered, and that they depended upon their bowmen. These are
the basis o f speeches in several accounts o f the battle. In the Gesta Henrici
Quinti the kin g is made to say

B y the G od in Heaven upon whose grace I have relied and in whom is my firm hope
o f victory, I w o u ld not, even if I could, have a single man more than I do. For these I
have w ith me are G o d ’s people, whom He deigns to let me have at this time. Do you
not believe . . . that the Alm ighty, with these His humble few, is able to overcome
the opposing arrogance o f the French who boast o f their great number and their own
strength?68

H olinshed com bines this remark about numbers with the same concerns
as the anon ym ous chronicler, making his Henry say

I w ould not wish a man more here than I have, we are indeed in comparison to the
enemies but a few , but if G od o f his clemencie doo tavour us, and our just cause, as I
trust he w ill, w e shall speed w ell inough. But let no man ascribe victorie to our owne
strength and m ight, but onelie to Gods assistance to whome 1 have no doubt we shall
worthilie have cause to give thanks therefore. And if so be that tor our offenses sake
we shall be delivered into the hands ot our enimies, the lesse number we do,
damage shall the realme o f England susteine . . .6

Shakespeare co m bin ed the thoughts expressed in the different ve™

his lo n g speech at the beginning o f Henry V iv.iii in a master y r

presentation:
22
T ru th a n d c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A g e s

If we arc m ark’d to die, w e arc en o w

T o do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share ot honour.
God's will! 1 pray thee, wish not one man m ore.
B y [ovc, I am not covetous for gold,
N o r care I w ho doth feed upon m y cost;
It earns me not if men m y garm ents w ear,
Such outw ard things dw ell not in m y desires;
B ut if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
N o, faith, m y coz, wish not a man from England:
G od’s peace! I would not lose so great an h o n o u r
As one man more, methinks, w o u ld share from m e,
For the best hope I have. O do n ot w ish on e m o re!
R ath er proclaim it, W estm oreland, th ro u gh m y host,
That he which hath no stom ach to this figh t,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crow ns for convoy put into his purse:
W e w ould not die in that m an ’s company
That fears his fellow ship to die w ith us.
This day is call'd the feast o f Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe hom e,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name o f Crispian.
He that shall see this day, and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, ‘Tom orrow is Saint C rispian ’:
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, ‘These wounds I had on C risp in ’s d a y .’
O ld men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall o u r nam es,
Familiar in his mouth as household w ords,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and G lo u cester,
Be rn their flowing cups freshly re m e m b e r’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall n e ’er g o b y,
From this day to the ending o f the w o rld ,

Ut WC ln u shaJI be rem em bered;

C CW’ WC baPPy fe w • band o f bro th ers;

 T h e meaning o f the past
123
For he to -d ay that sheds his blood with me
Shall be m y brother; be he ne'er so vile
T h is day shall gentle his condition:
A n d gen tlem en in England n o w a-bed
Shall think them selves accurs’d they were not here
A n d hold their m anhoods cheap whiles any speak
T h a t fo u g h t w ith us upon Saint C rispin’s day.

(iv.iii. 20-67)

A s a sp eech that rouses the p ride o f the arm y b y emphasizing the fact that they
are o u tn u m b e r e d , this is hard to better. Its sources have been traced right
b a ck to T a c itu s ’ Germania, and to X e n o p h o n ’s Anabasis before that, so old is
this set p iece . In effect, historians w h o w ro te about the A g in co u rt cam paign
b u ilt u p a p ic tu re o f H e n r y s p iety , co u rag e, and g o o d m anagem ent that
S h a k esp ea re w a s a m o n g m a n y to celebrate. Shakespeare is also exceptionally
fin e o n H e n r y ’ s c a lcu la tin g ruthlessness. T h e K in g ’s actual w ord s at any
m o m e n t are in v e n te d to illustrate the argu m en ts necessary to the situation; in
S h a k e sp e a re ’s han ds th e y also illu m in ate his ethos, part o f w h ich is his
rh e to rica l skill. Q u e e n E liza b e th ’s fam o u s speech at T ilb u ry is another
e x a m p le , an d an e x a m p le o f the necessary adaptation o f a topos, since a
w o m a n c o u ld n o t lead tro o p s. She m a y indeed h ave said that she o n ly had
the b o d y o f a w e a k and feeb le w o m a n , b u t that she had the heart o f a king,
b u t th e re is n o e v id e n c e b e y o n d the letter w h ic h reports it that the speech was
a c tu a lly m a d e.
N o t o n ly can such an e x e m p la r y dem on stration be m ade o f one man, it
can also b e m a d e fo r a g r o u p . T h is ten d e n cy to choose topoi for exem plary
p u rp o ses ra th e r than strict representation can be seen in historians’
d e sc rip tio n s o f o p p o s in g arm ies on the n ig h t before a m ajor engagem ent.
T h e r e is a fa m ilia r e x a m p le in Sh akespeare’s Henry V. W h ile the French are
d r in k in g an d e n d u r in g th e boasts o f the D a u p h in , the English king makes the
ro u n d s o f his a r m y , d eep in serious reflection upon his responsibilities for
th e m . T h is g iv e s th e v ic to r io u s side a k in d o f m oral superiority to the
v a n q u is h e d . R e a d e r s o f the F ren ch historian Enguerrand de Monstrelet will
fin d this sam e topos used fo r the n ig h t b e fo re A gin co u rt — but w ith the mora
b a la n ce re v e rs e d . In M o n s tr e le t’ s version the French spent the night in p y
w h ile th e E n g lis h p la y e d tru m p e ts.70 (T h e French are none the le
in M o n s tr e le t - th e re w e r e lim its to w h a t a historian coul P
F ro issart uses this c o n v e n tio n in his n arrative o f the night etor
C r e 9 y . H is c o n tr a s t is s lig h tly m o re balanced and certainly m ore subtle
 124 Truth .itid convention in the M iddle A ges

Shakespeare’s popular and exaggerated dramatization for Agmeourt: the

English king kept his men well-ordered at Creyy. while

The lordes and knvghtes o f France came nat to the assemble togyder in good order,
for some came before and some came after, in such hast and yvcll order, that one o f
them dyd trouble another.

The literary manipulation that these historians are using is a kind o f moral
commentary; responsibility for what happens in a battle is in part due to the
spiritual preparedness as well as the outward behaviour o f the combatants -
at least in books. For Shakespeare and Froissart the English deserve their
victories; for Monstrelet English behaviour is just one m ore sign o f the
perfidy o f those sometime conquerors whose sins made it just that they
should, in the end. have been expelled from France. France, o f course, was
being tried by a patient deity.
The ‘historical’ becomes a mode o f w riting w hich covers a broad
spectrum o f attitudes to recording the past. An extrem e v ie w w o u ld take the
incommensurability o f the rhetorical organization o f history w ith the
modern expectations o f how history is to be w ritten as a claim that it is
impossible to use early histories in the w ays that m o d em historians wish to
use them. It would reduce m odem historians to figures like their medieval
predecessors, trying to disentangle what was ‘historical’ fro m basically
poetic, fictional creations. It would turn m edieval h istory into an extended
plot. It is probably unnecessary to go this far, but constant scepticism remains
crucial. Making an account convincing is a literary art; it m a y coincide with
what happened, but it may not. An underlying assum ption m a y rem ain that
the extremely fictionalized history, like the tw e lfth -ce n tu ry French romans
antique, can be recognized as different in kind as w e ll as in degree from
reports closer to the time o f w riting. I shall return to the idea o f historical
fiction in Chapter 5.72 Let the reader beware. It has been the a rgu m en t o f this
chapter that a knowledge o f rhetorical w ays o f read in g and w ritin g enable
modem readers to think o f a range o f m edieval m e th o d s o f presentation as
part ofa coherent system o f reference; it has been the p o le m ic o f the chapter
that approaching history in this literary w a y is n o t ju s t an aid to, it is a
necessity of, interpretation. The n ext chap ter w ill co n tin u e this analysis,
looking at the writing o f lives.
 3
let us n o w praise famous
MEN

Our passions are therefore more strongly moved, in proportion as we

can more readily adopt the pains or pleasure proposed to our minds, by
recognizing them as our own, or considering them as naturally incident
to our state o f life. For, not only every man has, in the mighty mass of
the world, great numbers in the same condition with himself, to whom
his mistakes and miscarriages, escapes and expedients, would be of
immediate and apparent use; but there is such a uniformity in the state
o f man, considered apart from adventitious and separable decorations
and disguises, that there is scarce any possibility o f good or ill, but is
comm on to human kind. A great part o f the time o f those who are
placed at the greatest distance by fortune, or by temper, must
unavoidably pass in the same manner, and though, when the claims of
nature are satisfied, caprice, and vanity, and accident, begin to produce
discriminations and peculiarities, yet the eye is not very heedful or
quick, which cannot discover the same causes still terminating their
influence in the same effects, though sometimes accelerated, sometimes
retarded, or perplexed by multiplied combinations. We are all
prompted by the same motives, all deceived by the same fallacies, all
animated by hope, obstructed by danger, entangled by desire, and
seduced by pleasure.
Samuel Johnson, R a m b le r , Saturday, 13 October 1750

E N C O M I A S T I C LI VES

D r Johnson rested his argument for the superior moral appeal o f biography
as against history on the reader’s emotional and imaginative identification
with the protagonist. For Johnson, the biographer s art was to reproducet e
sense o f the unique individual striving with the general circumstances o
The failure o f most previous biographers to convey the parti
man and the texture o f his life was his chief charge aga^ J J ™ ajnted
biography has often been allotted to writers who seem Y

125
 the M id d le A g e s
T ruth and co n v en tio n in
126
. ■ , . ralk o r very n egligen t about the
w „h the t r a m * " ^ 'J y ’ affo rtfan yo th er account than ,n igh t be co llected
C T I e h papers, bn, imag.ntr themselves w ritin g a life w hen t h e ,
exhibit a chronological sene, o f actions, o r preferments; and so httle regard
for the manner, o , b e h .v io n , o f the., heroes, tha, m ore k n o w le d g e m a y be
gained o f . man's real character, by a short eonversa.ton w tth one o f In,
L v a n ts . than from a formal and studied narrative, begun wtththis pedtgtee,
and ended with his funeral’. This stress on em pathy, as w c w o u ld n o w call it,
on feeling with the character w e read about (or see represented on the stage:
this same theory is central to Johnson’s view s about w h y Shakespeare m o ve s
us), however different his superficial circumstances m ay be fro m o u r o w n , is
at the heart ofjohnson’s analysis o f ‘affect’ or, as it was called b y rhetoricians,
pathos. What Johnson’s considered prose entirely fails to c o n v e y is h o w far
this - now widely held - view o f the biographer’s task rests on J o h n so n ’s
own innovations as a biographer. It was Johnson’s Lives o f the English Poets
which established biography as w e n ow k n o w it. M o d e m a rgu m en ts abou t
biography ultimately stem from Johnson’s v ie w that the p u rp o se o f th e Life
is to convey a strong sense o f the hum anity o f the subject; w h e th e r o r n o t that
is possible within the strict confines o f historical tru th has o c c u p ie d e v e ry
biographer whose task has been to co n vey his u n d erstan d in g o f character
and motive, to capture the unique idiosyncrasies w h ic h m a d e his subject this
person and no other. Johnson’s im patience w ith earlier live s is th e m easure o f
his own intense curiosity about the thoughts, reflections, an d reaction s o f
other men to the vagaries ofhum an experience. H is b e lie f th a t h u m a n nature
is everywhere the same issues in the apparent p a r a d o x th at the very
multiplicity which the biographer records w ill be grist to th e in dividual
reader s recognition, and to his m editations on his o w n sin g u la r e x p e rie n ce - a
moral exemplary view not far rem oved fro m that w h ic h p rescrib ed the
study o f past societies in order to avoid their m istakes th a t is th e ‘ im m ediate
nd apparent use . I f one starts from a Johnsonian v ie w o f b io g r a p h y , earlier
periods must seem deficient in the extrem e. T h o u g h m o r a lly u sefu l, perhaps
they contain no biography w o rth y the n a m e .1

med I n° S^°rta£e texts ab ou t in d iv id u a l h isto rica l actors in

Great d a rena'ssance w riting. G re a t m en illu m in a te th e s tu d y o f history.
includes so ^0ers’ an<^ ^ e re p o rt o f th e ir a ctio n s usually
organized n ^ ^ Was 3 P articu lar m an w h o b u ilt o r b u rn e d , w ho
men aroundV ^estroyeiJ. w hose holiness o r w h o s e w ic k e d n e s s im pressed the
,m 3S WOrthy o f record, fo r g o o d o r ill. Y e t h o w e v e r much
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men 127

particular m en, and, o cca sio n a lly , ra rely, particular w o m e n , o ccu p ie d the
m inds and pens o f historians, histories did n o t p ro v id e readers eith er e n o u g h
o f the deeds o f th eir lives o r analyses o f their characters. In fact, a lth o u g h the
‘ ch aracter’ o f the great m an w as a topos o f historical w ritin g , v e r y fe w
m e d ieval o r renaissance w o r k s a b o u t the past can be said to con cern
them selves w ith ch aracter fo r its o w n sake, w ith that detailed exp lo ra tio n o f
gratu ito u s idiosyncrasies w h ic h d e v e lo p s the sense o f h u m an uniqueness.
Such w o r k s are a lm ost n o n -e x iste n t, and ch aracter, in the m o d e m sense,
em erges o n ly c o n tin g e n tly and a lm o st b y a ccid en t in the course o f other
kinds o f w r itin g than the d ir e c tly h isto rica l o r b io g ra p h ica l.2 It w as part o f
the a rg u m en t o f C h a p te r 2 that o ften w h a t looks lik e m aterial inserted in
o rd er to illu m in ate ch a ra cter turns o u t to b e o rg a n ize d a cco rd in g to ideas o f
a rg u m en t and illu stra tio n , and that fe w w rite rs w o r rie d ab ou t the
inconsistencies to w h ic h a rb itra ry assig n m en t o f those speeches m ig h t lead.
T h e sam e te n d e n c y to w r ite a b o u t c o n v e n tio n a l, to p ica l, episodes w h en
re p o rtin g even ts e n c o u r a g e d w riters to su bsu m e h isto rical actors into
re co g n iza b le c h a ra cte r-ty p e s w h o e x p e rie n ce w e ll- k n o w n stages o f life.
W h e th e r o n e is re a d in g a h is to ry o f th e life and reign o f so m eo n e so
im p o rtan t that his status and action s serve to o rg a n ize a n arra tiv e o f large-
scale even ts, o r a fre e -sta n d in g c o m m e m o ra tio n o f an ex ce p tio n a l m an,
sim ilar c o n v e n tio n s d e te rm in e d w h a t w as w o r th re co rd in g and h o w the
record w as to b e p re se rv e d fo r p o ste rity . C h a p te r 2 e x p lo re d som e o f the
topoi o f h isto rical w r it in g . In this ch a p te r a m o re c h ro n o lo g ic a l approach is
app rop riate, b o th b ecau se the d e v e lo p m e n t o f w r itin g ab ou t lives and
characters is less w e ll k n o w n , and because an analysis o f that d evelop m en t
w ill c o u n tera ct a n y sense that th e topoi and catego ries described w ere
necessarily static. T h e p attern s o n w h ic h life -w rite rs m o d elled their w o rk
co m e n o t o n ly fr o m rh eto rica l p ra ctice th r o u g h the w o r k s o f classical
w riters, b u t also th a t p ra ctice as m o d ifie d b y the early C h u rc h Fathers w hose
h a gio gra p h ers a tte m p te d to re p lace p ag an h eroes w ith the glo rio u s witness
o f the saints. T h e a d a p ta tio n s o f encomium b y re lig io u s w riters m ay g o some
w a y to a n s w e rin g th e q u e stio n o f th e o sten sible h o stility to rhetoric in the
cloister, fo r the live s o f saints w e r e an im p o rta n t ro u te for transm itting the
M odels o f w r it in g w e ll, i.e ., a c c o r d in g to trad ition al, rhetorical, m odels,
w ith in the p u ta tiv e re je c tio n o f th e w o r ld . T h e idea o f encomium, w hose
o n v en tio n s w e r e c o n sid e re d in C h a p t e r 1, lies b eh in d both the secular and
e sacred tra d itio n s, a n d rh e to ric a l tra n sfo rm a tio n s o f the encom iastic topoi
m f° r m the c o m p o s itio n o f L iv e s.
 I2 g T ru th and c o n v en tio n in the M id d le A g e s

A n y expectation that writers were interested in the study o f ‘ person ality’

must he discarded at once. W hen medieval writers narrated the lives o f
famous men they purported to record their deeds and sayings, som etim es
including a physical description, even more rarely an analysis o f mores, o f
which more below . N ot only did the com position o f lives fo llo w patterns,
but the lives themselves were often, in hagiography alm ost e xclu siv ely , signs
o f something. The life o fa person through time, like history, or the natural
world, could be interpreted like a book. That is, incidents w ere in clu d ed (or
invented) because they belonged to a pattern, because th ey sign ified
something quite specific about the status, the sy m b o lic b ein g, o f their
subject. As with many o f the topoi m entioned in the p re vio u s chap ter,
circumstantial narratives m ay be included because they fu lfil exp ecta tio n s
rather than because they are true. ‘B io g ra p h y ’ m ay be taken to in clu d e the
story o f a m an’s life from ancestors and antenatal porten ts to his d eath and
posthumous miracles, or a m ore strait and n arro w d escrip tio n o f the deeds o f
his reign, where regnal years provide a u n ifyin g p rin cip le. T h e re are oth er
texts which can tell us som ething about the p ossibility o f this k in d o f analysis
in medieval society, which I shall consider briefly at the en d o f this chapter.
O ne question which lurks in w ait for us is the p ro b lem a b o u t w h e th e r o r n ot
earlier societies ‘saw ’ w hat w e see, interpreted hu m an e x p e r ie n c e in term s w e
would understand, suffered and enjoyed w h at w e d o , i f n o t a lw a y s in the
same ways. Im porting our o w n m otives in to past societies can b r in g serious
misinterpretation in its wake. C astigatin g those societies f o r n o t fe e lin g w h a t
we feel, not w riting as w e w rite, im ports a ‘d e v e lo p m e n ta l’ v ie w o f the
history o f w riting which judges in term s o f leaps o f re a lism , a n d elevates a
few unusual texts as the o n ly ‘true’ biograp hies in an a g e d o m in a te d b y stale
and stifling conventions. R h eto rica lly adep t w rite rs s t r iv in g to e m b o d y
moral qualities in human experience created and su stain ed ‘ an e th ic a l p o e tic ’
which exemplified the values to w h ich th e y s u b s c rib e d .3 T h e y w e r e not
failing’ to write w hat w e m igh t have p referred th e m to h a v e w r itte n . I f the
o f their achievem ent has n o w to be r e c o v e r e d b y c a r e fu l scholarship
m support o f the historical im agin atio n , that is n o t a c o n d e m n a tio n .

■ , ^ . escn'hed the rh etorical e x e rcise e n c o m iu m as a co m p o sitio n

o fa ^faiS^ 3 ^CrS° n’ ^ ace’ ^ h ig , o r q u a lity . H e r e e n c o m iu m is th e praise

where rhp 9
nt' uh y such speeches w e r e o fte n m a d e as p a r t o f a funeral,

Caesar, as I D ^ ^ m an Was c e le b r a te d . A n t h o n y ’s sp eech o ver

out earlier, is e x a c tly th e o r a t io n in p ra ise o f the dead
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men 12 9

m an w h ich A n th o n y b egin s b y d iscla im in g , and it is addressed to the

e m otio n s o f its a udien ce, the m o b , n o t to their carefu l ju d g e m e n t.
So m etim es the fun eral p a n e g y ric w as re co rd ed ; it seem s lik e ly that T acitu s
w ro te o n e fo r his fa th e r-in -la w , A g r ic o la , because he had been unable to
m ake the trad ition al o ra tio n at the a p p ro p ria te tim e .4 Agricola takes the fo rm
o f an encomium, b u t its le n g th exceed s a n y th in g that m ig h t a ctu ally h ave been
d e live red - a case w h e re the p reten ce o f o ral d e liv e ry to an assum ed audience
enabled the w r ite r to e xp a n d w h a t had h ith e rto been restricted, m o v in g
oral to w ritte n creatio n . S u ch o ra to rica l p reten ce has appeared before:
C ic e r o ’ s Pro M ilon e lo o k s lik e the speech o f d efen ce that w as g iv e n , b u t other
e v id e n ce tells us that it w as n e v e r d e liv e re d .3 F un eral o ration s w e re un like
ju d ic ia l o r d e lib e ra tiv e o ra to ry , because th ere w as n o ele m e n t o f persuasion
to a co urse o f a ctio n , n o decision to b e tak en o r defen d ed ; fu n eral orations
b e lo n g e d to the epideictic b ra n ch o f rh e to ric, speeches m ad e to celebrate. T h e
listeners w e r e m e an t to re ce iv e pleasure fr o m o ra to rica l d isp lay, the speaker
app ealed d ir e c tly to th eir e m o tio n s. H e w a s n o t o n o ath , and his d u ty to the
m e m o ry o f th e d ead m a n e n co u ra g ed d e co ra tio n and in v e n tio n fo r the sake
o f the o cca sio n .
A p h th o n iu s g iv e s a sch em e w h ic h the stu d en t c o u ld use to o rg a n ize an
encomium o f a person :

i. P r o lo g u e

11. R a c e
A. N a tio n a lity
b. N a tiv e C i t y
C. A n ce sto rs
D. Paren ts

h i. E d u ca tio n
A. Pu rsuits
b. A rt
C. L a w s

iv . A c h ie v e m e n ts
a. O f Soul
1. M an lin ess
2. J u d g e m e n t
b. O f Body
 130 T r u th a n d c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A g e s

1. B eau ty
2. Speed
y Stren gth
c. O f Fortune
1. P o w e r
2. W ealth
j. Friends

v. C o m p a riso n

vi. E p ilo g u e 6

This schem e, o r a varian t o f it, co n tin u e d to be used fo r g e n e ra tio n s , and

co u ld be exten ded o r adapted fo r o th er uses. In e a rly e d itio n s o f C h a u c e r the
ap p aren tly b io grap h ica l in tro d u ctio n f o llo w e d ju s t su ch an o r g a n iz a tio n .

A n d later the speeches o f w e lc o m e p e r fo r m e d so o fte n b e fo r e Q u e e n

E lizabeth fo llo w e d sim ilar patterns. W h e n o n c e o n e has g r a s p e d th a t the
ru ler was greeted b y an o ra to rica l d is p la y w h ic h h o n o u red her (the
rep resen tative o f the m o n a rch y ) b y h o n o u r in g h e r (th e p a r tic u la r m o n a rch ),
the app arent gross flattery o f the e n c o m iu m rea ssu m es its p r o p e r p r o p o r tio n ,
because the disp lay can be u n d e rsto o d as a c e le b r a t io n o f v ir tu e ; th o u g h
directed to a p a rticu la r w o m a n , it is m e a n t as an e x a m p le o f p ra ise to ru ler
and co u n try . F ro m tim e to tim e o ra to rs, c a rr ie d a w a y b y th e f o r m o f the
e n c o m iu m , d isregard ed the tact re q u ir e d in t a ilo r in g th e c o n te n t, a n d fo u n d
them selves c o n fr o n tin g a displeased m o n a r c h . In t h e o r y th e q u e e n w a s less
the subject than the o cca sio n fo r d isp la y ; in p r a c t ic e o r a t o r s w e r e o fte n w e ll-
advised to stick to g e n e ra l to p ics ra th e r th a n t o r is k c le a r a n d sp ecific
app lication to their s o v e r e ig n ’s life. T h a t e n c o m iu m is c l o s e l y r e la te d to - and
could be easily c o n fo u n d e d w ith - h is to r ic a l m o d e s o f w r i t i n g , is clear
en o u g h . A n c ie n t h isto ria n s w e r e a w a r e o f th e d a n g e r , a n d P o l y b iu s a m o n g
others o ften contrasts his o w n h is t o r y w it h less s c r u p u lo u s e x a m p le s by
insisting that it is im p a r tia l, u n b ia sse d , a n d fr e e o f t h a t c o n c e r n w it h praise
and blam e w h ich m a rk s o r a to r ic a l d is p la y .8 W h e n P h i l i p p e d e C o m m y n e s

insists w ith sim ilar v e h e m e n c e th a t h is a c c o u n t o f h is k i n g ’s r e ig n w ill be free

o f the blem ishes w h ic h c o n c e r n w it h p a n e g y r i c a l h i s t o r y b r in g s w it h it one

m a y w o n d e r w h a t h e has b e en s t u d y in g . In e n c o m iu m t h e c e le b r a tio n o f

virtu e co m es first, so th at th e fa c ts o f a m a n ’ s lif e a r e m e n t io n e d o n ly to

ustrate the p oin ts at issue. Y e t it is c le a r n e v e r t h e l e s s t h a t an e n c o m tn tn m ight

 Let us n ow pralse famous men
13 I

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7 T h e divisio w h ic h precedes T hom as Speght s Life o f Chaucer in his

e d itio n o f the Workes (London, 159®)-7
 T ru ih and co n v en tio n in the M id d le A g e s
U-2

function as a free-standing story o f a life, or m ight appear as a b.ographieal

essay inset in a longer historical w ork. It m ight be organized b y ch ro n o lo gy
or by rhetorical disposino, topics. Therefore a modern reader needs to be on
guard when som ething seems to be recounted as a true report o f a life:
apparent facts may not be facts at all. and the overall narrative m ay fo llo w
the exposition o f virtue (or vice) that is the auth or’s expressed or tacit

purpose.
A late and som ewhat unusual exam ple, B occaccio » encomium o f Dante,
invites consideration o f w hat such com positions m igh t include. B o c c a c c io ’s
Life o f Dante is less a biography in m odem terms than a stick w ith w h ich to
beat fourteenth-century readers, an encomium deliberately co n ceived to
advance its subject’s fame and the prestige o f poets.9 T h a t it is o rg an ized on a
rhetoncal model is apparent from the first chapter, in w h ich B o ccaccio
outlines his plan. He begins w ith a chria fro m S o lo n , the ancient G reek
lawgiver, w hich stresses that his subject is virtue. T h e n there is an exclamatio,
an address from the text to the reader, outside its n arrative scope, against
Florence, the city from w hich both poets cam e, fo r banishin g D an tej this
leads to a reason for w riting, since the creation o f the L ife can g o som e w a y to
making amends. This is a n ew reason in an o ld p o sitio n . O f course,
Boccaccio apologizes for his weakness as an a u th o r and fo r the h u m ility o f
his style, as every good rhetorician did. H e p roposes to treat first o f D an te’s
life and habits before discussing his w o rk s (here b o o k s take the place o f
deeds). This is recognizably a dispositio, in ten d ed as an o r g a n iz in g preface.
Chapter 2 also begins w ith the city o f F lo re n ce , first - b rie fly - with
Dante’s remote ancestors before co m in g to his p aren ts. B o c c a c c io tells us
that Dante's m other had the traditional p ro p h e tic d re a m w h ile pregnant
with him. B occaccio uses an occupatio, an e x p lic it re feren ce to a topos he
intends to om it, to inform us that he w ill spare us a n y recital o f the infant
poet’s promise o f future greatness. C h ap ters 3 and 4 r e c o u n t D a n te ’s private
and public lives, first the m eetin g w ith B e a tric e a n d his m a rriag e to and
separation from his w ife, and then his sed u ctio n in to p u b lic affairs despite
what he knew o f the vagaries o f Fo rtu n e. E ach o f these ch ap ters concludes
with general reflections, co m m o n p la ces w h ic h situ ate the particularities o f
this life within general exp erien ce. F o r readers in te re ste d o n ly in those
particularities these chapters are m o st fru s tr a tin g , b ecau se they tell us
practically nothing. B ut once on e has r e m e m b e r e d th a t in encomium events
e subservient to the dem onstration o f v ir tu e , B o c c a c c i o ’s m e th o d becomes
So two more ch ro n o lo g ica l n a r r a tiv e ’ c h a p te rs are succeeded by
 Let us now praise famous men
133

another general diatribe against the ingratitude o f the Florentines, w ho sent

D ante into exile. T h ere is no detailed analysis o f the civil disorders, the
rivalry betw een G uelphs and Ghibellines w hich were the cause o f that exile-
not here. B u t there are balanced reflections on timeless abstractions: W om en,
A m b itio n , Ingratitude. C h ap ter 8 gives a sum m ary account o f Dante’s
physical appearance and habits (mores), but again Boccaccio is schematic
enough that one can hardly tell if w hat he says bore any relation to what
D ante w as like. T h ree o f his topoi are so suspiciously standard that one might
find them in any hagiograph y: there are paragraphs on Dante’s height and
co lo u rin g (w hich tell us som ething about his ‘hu m our’), his moderation in
fo o d and drink (w hich tells us that he kept his passions under control), and his
lo v e o f study. T h ree o f them are unusual, and have to do w ith Boccaccio’s
claim s fo r the d ig n ity o f his subject and the status o f the poet: Dante’s
dedication to lo v e (as a subject fo r poetry), his intelligence and memory, and
his desire fo r Fam e. T hese are all secular virtues, and required defending.
A fte r three m o re chapters o f general interest (on Poetry, T h eolo gy, and the
L aureation o f Poets, i.e. the public recognition o f their fame, and thus the
p u blic acceptance that poets co n vey honour upon the city in which they
live), B o c c a c c io tells us som ething o f D an te’s shortcomings: he was haughty.
His subject is a secular m an, n ot a saint, and therefore shortcomings are to be
exp ected. T h a t the particular shortcom ing is the reverse o f the saintly virtue,
h u m ility , m a y n o t be accidental. For the first time, in this section, something
that D a n te said is quoted (or invented). T hen fo llo w four chapters on
D a n te ’ s w o rk s , th o u g h w ith little attention to their content (which, o f
course, com m en taries supplied) before Boccaccio concludes with his
peroratio: it has been b riefly show n, besides certain other matters by way o f
digression, w h a t w ere the origins, studies, the life, habits and works o f that
gloriou s m an and illustrious poet. B riefly indeed, and after seventy pages (in
the m o d ern edition ) w e are n ot m uch better inform ed about Dante the man
than w e w e r e w h e n w e started. T h o se individual traits which have seemed,
since D r J oh nson so elegan tly espoused their cause, o f the essence in
captu rin g the in d efin ab le uniqueness o f a man, m ay have appeared to pre­
m odern w riters (if th e y th o u g h t o f such things at all) as engaging anecdotal
m aterial w h ic h w o u ld , i f in cluded, lo w e r the register o f their w ork as well as
distract the reader fro m its purpose. T h a t Dante exemplified virtues wh
m attered to B o c c a c c io — also, after all, a learned poet keen to raise th ^
o f his a m b itio n - m anifests itself th rou gh o u t his ‘ oration in praise o f Dan
T his o rg a n iza tio n o n the m o d el o f an oral form , an oration, is a classicizing
 T ruth and ro n vctition in the M id d le A pes
1.14

claim But by Boccaccio's day such a claim occurs m a Christ,an context, and
the tope, evoke the prestige o f saintly achievement. For tins a retrospect is
necessary, a backward view which never forgets that with societal change, as
well as the mult,pi,cat,on o f texts, medieval readers regarded classical w orks
through accretions which reinterpreted them. Tins is not to canonize Dante,
but to suggest that there arc secular aspirations which may teach as w ell as the
religious life. The idea o f a life as an example ot som ething is crucial to any
understanding o f the ways men w rote a b ou t other men. T h e literary
representation o f a life represents the life's meaning; it, too, can be read and
interpreted.
Lives exemplified abstract virtues and vices: men and women embodied
qualities. We may think of them as being like Im lac’s d e f i n i t i o n o f poetry in
R a s s c h s , chapter to: ‘The business o f a poet, said Imlac, i s t o e x a m i n e , not the

individual, but the species: . . . he does not number the streaks o f the tulip,
or describe the different shades o f verdure o f the forest. ’ T h i s i s , o f course, not
Joh n son him self speaking, but h is s o b e r p h il o s o p h e r , w h o r e p r e se n ts n o n e

the le s s a v e n e r a b le tr a d itio n of c r it ic a l thought, which can be found

g r o w i n g in f o u r t e e n t h - c e n t u r y F lo r e n c e . W h a t is s t r i k i n g in B o c c a c c i o ’s

g e n e r a liz in g a p p r o a c h t o h is w r itin g a b o u t D a n t e is not the approach alone,

which / s h a l l c o n s i d e r i n g r e a t e r d e t a i l below, but that he should have made
t h e c l a i m c h a t a v e r n a c u l a r I t a li a n poet is worthy o f extended treatment.

B o c c a c c i o w a s a n enthusiastic a n d e n e r g e t i c w r i t e r o f l i v e s ; two volumes o f

h i s L a t in e x e m p l a survive (and will b e d i s c u s s e d b e l o w ) . T h i s free-standing

e n c o m iu m has a s p e c i a l p l a c e i n h i s w o r k . I t i s n o t o n l y c l a s s i c i z i n g i n its form

a n d s ty le , but in i t s c l a i m f o r its p r o t a g o n is t . B o c c a c c i o ’s p r a i s e elevates

D a n te in to th e c o m p a n y o f sa m ts a n d k in g s . Yet one c o u ld n o t k n o w this

were one u n fa m ilia r with th e c o n v e n tio n s o f life w r itin g w ith which

B o c c a c c io g r e w up.

The m o d e ls fo r w r itin g liv e s m ig h t be p u r e ly r h e to r ic a l, as fo r any

e n c o m iu m . B ut m a n u a l s o f r h e to r ic d id n o t p r o v id e t h e sam e e x e m p la r y fo r c e

as those texts w h i c h p r e s e n te d a c t u a l l i v e s to e m u la tin g w r ite r s . T h a t is, it is

II very w ell to lo o k at b o o k s w h ic h p r e s c r i b e ru les, b u t th e real f o r c e is in the
nalysis o f earlier e x a m p le s , w h ic h g iv e m u ch r ic h e r a n d m u c h m ore

P x models fo r im it a t io n , b e c a u s e t h e y a re p a r t i c u l a r a n d serious,

tr renaissance a u [h o r s l e a r n e d e q u a lly fr o m c la s s ic a l and

th e v d d CXtS' secu^ar 3 n d s a c r e d ; t h e i r h a b its o f r e a d i n g m e a n t that

th e nrarr n0thC° T ^ f° 3ny texts>but th a t tbeY i n t e r p r e t e d a c c o r d i n g to
,ce t <7 ad acquired w h en y o u n g . T h e s a m e R o m a n w rite r s who
 L e t us n o w praise fa m o u s m en
135

represented the height o f achievem ent as historians also provided models o f

h o w to w rite about the lives o f famous men. Sallust used Jugurtha and
C atilin e as the pegs on w hich to hang his histories o f the events in w hich they
w ere m ajor figu res.10 Suetonius show ed h o w one m ight deal w ith both a
reign and a life in his sequence o f biographies o f the Caesars." His so-called
‘anecdotal m e th o d ’ established the illustrative story as w orth y o f the dignity
o f serious genres but did n oth ing to establish that the story should be vero as
w ell as ben trovato. If these tw o authors cam e to be as im portant to medieval
life w riters as they w ere to m edieval historians, it was in part because o f the
success o f their earliest, late-classical, im itators. B y a process o f adaptation,
C hristian w riters legitim ated the use o f classical patterns (the sort o f directive
one co u ld extra ct fro m a rh etoric manual) for their o w n heroes; like
A u g u stin e ’s argum ents fo r E gyptian gold. In the late fourth century
Sulpicius Severus used Sallust a m o n g his ch ie f m odels w hen w ritin g his life
o f St M a rtin o f T o u rs (Tacitus, too, was a m o n g his favoured authors) and St
Jerom e has S u eto n iu s’ e xa m p le in m in d for his o w n D e Viris Illustribus .'2
The
prestige o f these t w o early Christian w riters established the legitim acy o f
classical rh eto rica l m odels: o n e co u ld co p y the Christian adaptation, or, w ith
earlier adaptation s in m in d, g o to the pagan w o rk s direct. W h en ever there
w as a ‘r e v iv a l’ o f lea rn in g this latter m eth od becam e popular, not only for
the astringen t v ie w that g e ttin g o n e ’s classicism direct w as a superior w a y o f
g o in g a b o u t th in gs, b u t also because unassailably virtuous and pious
C h ristian w riters had a lread y sh o w n that this w as the w a y . T his w ill be o f
im p o rtan ce later in this chap ter in the m o ve m e n t fro m sacred to secular life
w ritin g .
C h ristian re lig io u s co m m u n ities w ere bo o kish . Freestanding biography
received its greatest im p etu s fro m the m onastic habit o f reading the lives o f
saints at m ealtim e s. T h e discip line w h ich insisted that the religious listen
instead o f talk e n c o u r a g e d , h o w e v e r co n tin g e n tly , the ordinary impulse to
take pleasure fr o m stories: m ealtim es w ere n o t times for listening to
serm ons, o r a n y o th e r k in d o f ‘ d ifficu lt’ tex t, but for the relaxing, and yet
in structive, k in d o f r e a d in g w h ic h is re m a rk a b ly close to fiction enjoyed tor
its o w n sake. T h e n ee d fo r la rg e n u m b ers o f these exem p lary narratives for
cloister a u d ien ces e n c o u r a g e d b o th the constant updating and adaptation o f
existing o n es an d o r ig in a l co m p o sitio n s. A n d w h at was sauce for the
m onastic g o o s e w a s e q u a lly stim u la tin g to the lay gander. Biography
becam e a h a b it b e fo r e it b e c a m e a discip lin e, and its conventions spilled over

t0 o tber k in d s o f w r it in g . It b e g a n in serious Saints Lives.

 j^ 6 T ruth and con ven tion in the M id d le A g e s

In Antiquity the subjects w ho inspired biographical w riting w ere usually

men o f exceptional political importance. Stories o f a m ore or less apocryphal
kind about heroes, which are familiar from folklore collections, w ere
succeeded by tales o f great deeds and anecdotes illustrating the strength and
wisdom o f leaders. Sometimes folklore and historical report becom e
indistinguishable, as with the variety o f Lives o f A lexander, w h o , already the
subject o f romantic imaginings even w hile lie was still alive, rem ained an
absorbing biographical subject for centuries.'3 O th er fam ous exam ples o f
extravagant fictional biographies go right back to fifth -cen tury A thens,
where Xenophon was not above concocting a kind o f p ed a go g ical thriller
which pretended to be the story o f the Persian, C y r u s .14 B o th X e n o p h o n and
Plato invented versions o f a wise man to celebrate their friend Socrates,
though as their Greek compositions were little k n o w n in the W e st un til late
in the Renaissance I shall not pursue their influence excep t to rem ark that the
example o f Socrates - neither hero nor king - legitim ated o th er biographies
o f writers and sages, many o f w hich w ere con cocted fro m hints extracted
from these early w ritings.15 The idea that a wise m an w as as w o r t h y a m odel
o f imitation as an active politician or w arrior w as clearly o n e that w as o f
paramount importance to Christian writers, w h o se subjects o fte n d em o n ­
strated their special status by rejecting the v e ry w o r ld w h ic h so absorbed
their pagan rivals. Nevertheless, since the topoi rem ained co n v e n tio n a l, i f not
static, the change in content shows a reactionary in te rp re tatio n , ta k in g the
same values or ideas but asserting their opposite to be the tru e case. M a k in g
heroes o f saints was a special challenge to the earliest C h ristia n hagi-
ographers, w ho adapted R om an political virtus to a k in d o f supernatural
strength. From this early point, virtus was on the w a y to b e c o m in g virtue.
Secular and religious lives share m any them es - n o t ju s t th o se, such as the
moments o f passage in any hum an life — o f w h ic h b e g in n in g s and ends are
among the most obvious. A lth o u gh the ‘b irth ’ topos m a y n o t b e g in the Life,
its inclusion in one o f a num ber o f form s w as to be e x p e c te d ; th e h e r o ’s birth
was typically preceded b y difficulties: a p ro h ib itio n o f m a rr ia g e , a secret
love, long years o f barrenness before the a rriv a l o f a sp ecia l c h ild .'6 The
mother often experienced a th reaten in g o r p r o m is in g d re a m o r vision
uring her pregnancy: D an te’s m o th e r co m e s in a lo n g lin e w h ic h includes

moth° Um^an S m° ther dream in& o f a risin 8 s u n . C h r is t in a o f M a rk y a tc ’s

cjV'n^ 3 V'S' f ^r0m a w ^ 'te d o v e w h ic h c a m e fr o m a nearby

vireins d d ^ ^ 3S *ove' anc* w ^ite is the colour worn by

c lcate to Christ, so that the bird is an analogue o f her daughter),
 L e t us n o w p raise fa m o u s m en
137

St T ho m as o f C a n te rb u ry ’s m other dream ing that all the water from the

T ham es ran through her, as H ecuba once anticipated Paris as fire or V irg il’s
m other dream t o f laurels; the labour itself m ight be specially marked by
d ifficu lty.17 M an y heroes have to survive dire threats upon arrival: their
m others die alone in the forest and they are suckled by w ild animals (fierce
carnivores seem to be preferred to gentle herbivores) w icked relatives or
p o w e rfu l rulers seek their lives. Exposure to water or wilderness is not
unusual. B u t despite all these initial setbacks the hero demonstrates
unm istakeable prom ise o f his future greatness and grow s up to become
excep tio n ally w ise, or p o w erfu l, or even w icked. Like the preface to a
history, the un it w h ich describes the birth m ay function as a thematic
in troduction. Its style m ay be high, but it m ay also be lo w , as in many
folktales. It is fo lk lo re tradition w h ich lies behind m any o f the inventions o f
the A p o c r y p h a l G ospels, those enorm ou sly popular tales w hich supply the
narrative o f the ch ild h o o d o f Jesus w h ich escaped M ark, M atthew , Luke, and
J oh n .18
A s the G o sp e l n arratives repeated m otifs found elsewhere in the w orld’s
h o ly stories, so th e y also fu lfilled prophecies and promises from older sacred
texts. In their turn th e y p ro vid ed m odels for h o ly livin g and holy dying. In a
secular co n te x t o n e speaks o f life m irro rin g art. B ede’s St Cuthbert behaves
in w a y s that are illu m in ated b y reference to the Bible; Christina o f
M a rk y a te ’s b io g ra p h e r m akes her speak in biblical quotations and allusions;
St Francis w as o n e o f m an y to seek to im itate the life o f Christ.19
Interpretation b egin s w ith reco gn itio n , and recognition is a matter o f
k n o w in g texts.
T h e m ix tu re o f styles, o f types o f narrative, is a reminder that rhetorically
w e ll-fo rm e d , serio u sly w ritte n lives w ere n ot the only m odel for medieval
biograp hers — and that it is a lw a y s im p o rtan t to lo o k outside the genre one is
studying in th e search fo r im p o rted m aterial and styles. Some traditional
stories that fo u n d th eir w a y in to the con ventions ot w riting lives include the
special d istin ctio n o f th e h e ro ’s parents: the father is often a king, sometimes a
god, fre q u e n tly d isgu ised o r absent, lea v in g the son m axim um room for
g ro w th w ith o u t th e th reat o f the older p o w erfu l male. Rum ours that
A lexan d er w as n o t th e son o f P h ilip o f M acedon but o f the Egyptian deity
A m m on began e a r ly ; o b v io u s ly the need to provide a superhuma
exp lan ation fo r su p e r-h u m a n deeds is part o f the m om entum behind this.
G reat m en are n o t lik e us, fo r the p erfe ctly g o o d reason that they are not us,

but to u ch e d b y th e d iv in e .
 the M id d le A g e s
T ruth and co n v en tio n in
13s

e l s o f s a n c t i t y
M O n

There is no typical same’s l.fe any more than there is a typical history, and in
this case the manuals are silent. As 1 did in C hapter a. 1 shall proceed by
looking at conventions in the hope o f being ab e to provid e en o u g h key
exam ples to enable readers to re co gn ize \th e kinds of intentions,
references, and unspoken assumptions that m ay he behind a biographical
narrative/ and which are the first step before one can begin to ask h o w these
conventions are being used. There are no strict genre boundaries, and use o f
one style in a narrative ostensibly o f another kind m ay constitute a claim to
sanctity. Here again the problem o f am bition arises fo r the narrator. W h at
might be called the conventions ot holiness ate also x cco g n iza bieianarrati y es
which are not concerned with saints as their subjects: K in g C h arles I 0f
England is one o f a long line o f monarchs w hose biograp hers canonized
them by stealth. ‘Stealth’ depends upon the idea o f a n o rm a tiv e sequence o f
events through which holiness manifested itself, and so m e generalizations
can safely be made about biographies o f h o ly m en; as th e y w e r e related to
encomium their authors w ere not on oath, and as th e y dealt n o t w ith doctrine
but with example, their authors had great freed o m to m a k e th eir narratives
emotionally satisfying stimulants to im itation . As a lw a y s, the most
ambitious writers, trained or aspiring rhetoricians, w e n t b a ck to famous
classical texts for direct inspiration. W h ere the n e w te x t attem p ts to claim
sanctity a slightly different attitude is required o f the n arra to r fro m texts
about known saints. I f sanctity is to be re c o g n ize d b y certain human
characteristics (resistance to n orm al h u m an e x p erien ce s lik e sexuality,
hunger and thirst, and secular am bition) as w e ll as certain events (bodily
manifestations such as stigm ata, acts o f en d u ra n ce - p a r tic u la r ly fasting or
resistance to pain) apparently b eyo n d n o rm a l h u m a n c a p a c ity , healing the
sick, pow er over natural forces, p ro p h e cy , o r e v e n u n u su al influence over
other people, then these are the ‘o b v io u s ’ c o m p o n e n ts o f a n arra tive whose
hero or heroine is m eant to be re co g n iza b le - w it h o u t q u e stio n o r d o ubt - as
one o f the elect o f G od. T h at is, the s to r y it s e lf c o m p e ls this re co gn itio n by a
kind o f matter-of-factness abou t w o n d e rfu l, e v e n a w e s o m e , events, about
which the narrator must m aintain a p o se o f a p p a re n t n e u tr a lity before the
idence. The addition o f n e w m iracles o r th e re h e arsal o f a w ell-know n

, 0,y ,l f c P ut narrator in a s lig h tly m o r e c o m f o r t a b le p o sitio n , because

ority for the life was alread y e sta b lish ed . T h e n a rra to r addresses a

who can be m o ved and p ersu ad ed b y th e s t o r y o f sain tly lift to avvC

 L e t us n o w praise fa m o u s m en
139

and imitation; that is, there is an expectation that the reception of the Life
will be a reaction to a ‘biography as praise’. And the encomiast is in the
malleable position, for a writer, o f not being on oath about what he claims is
true. If this seems paradoxical, even confused, it is because it is both, but it is a
position about which medieval writers argued; it is not something they
reconciled. At different points they say opposing things.
The anonymous author who wrote the partisan account now known as
the Encomium Emmae Reginae began his work with an acknowledgement that
‘when in writing the deeds o f any one man one inserts a fictitious element,
either in error, or, as is often the case, for the sake of ornament, the hearer
assuredly regards facts as fictions when he has ascertained the introduction of
so much as one lie’ - in effect an enthymeme arguing that no one who knows
the risk o f losing credibility would insert a fiction.20 This functions as a
rhetorical ploy: having attempted to establish an ethos of veracity, the author
inserts elaborate imitations o f and explicit references to the usual figures:
Virgil, Lucan, and Sallust. A general allegiance to the truth is no bar to good
writing; as w e saw in the previous chapter, the ambitious writer embodied
his vision o f events and persons in his narrative with all the skill at his
command: not embellishment, but false embellishment, was to be condem­
ned. The successful writer achieved an art that hid art, that subordinated his
style to the effects he meant to convey. For most writers, elaboration,
‘fictitious elements’, were only clearly wrong when they became a
distraction; if they broke the reader’s (or listener’s) concentration on the
narrative they were a certain sign o f failure. If the generalizations in prefaces
seldom give more than an indication o f the theoretical goals to which writers
thought they ought to be seen to be subscribing, occasionally they give some
evidence for the ways historians and biographers discriminated among the
authors and texts they used, as the genres in which they wrote. Usually,
however, imitations are tacit, inviting readers to recognize (and appreciate)
manipulations stylish or daring — or slavish — reproductions. In multiplying
examples, to enlarge the field through which hypotheses can be tested, the
more imitated, the more canonical, a particular text, the more useful it
becomes. Bede is one author whose work acquired unquestioned authority
for his successors; am ong the most famous, influential, and intelligent of
these is W illiam o f Malmesbury, whose own position likewise became
authoritative. And here once more the coincidence of stylish writing and
some kind o f com m itm ent to a recognizable (if not modern) accuracy raises
lts head, like the belief that the good orator will be a good man.
 [ 4o T ru th an d c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A p e s

That the outline o f events through which could be expressed the sanctity
o f the subject, as well as models o f character and, sometimes, physical
description have much in common with the familiar formulae o f e n c o m i u m
may now seem startling only in its obviousness. Concomitantly, o f course, it
means that no particular description, debate, or action need be true; it may be
included to symbolize the status o f the subject, or indicate by its sense o f
appropriateness, how the text is to be interpreted. The sum o f deeds was not
always enough to convey a sense o f the character o f the subject, although they
manifested his virtue, so that they created a sense o f the ways in which he
exemplified certain abstract values, like constancy, holiness, courage, etc.
‘Savings', also to be found in classical panegyrics, cater more to a sense o f a
possible unique individual —nevertheless they, too, may be invented, copied
or adapted in order to indicate what type o f person the subject was. Modern
readers, used to ‘matching’ their experience o f actual living persons to
literary descriptions in order to hypothesize about what the literary character
was like, as if the text were a guide to a possible person, are most likely to
overinterpret when dealing with speech, which, as we have seen, m ay not be
meant as a psychologically mimetic stylization at all, but as the statement o f a
case, or an argument. The style o f the case or argument m ay be uppermost
on the writer’s mind, not only for the sake o f his ow n am bition as a writer
but as a way o f celebrating in the most m oving and persuasive language the
saintly achievements, the deeds, o f his hero. M ajor changes o f order or o f
style, so far from creating an original contribution to a developing literary
genre, threatened to discredit the text at issue, by distracting attention from
the claim being made onto the apparent illegitim acy o f the narrative, or the
ignorance o f the writers. Yet careful assimilation o f other exercises might
contribute successfully to the new Life; the fam iliar units o f description,
comparison, the chria, c o m m o n p la c e and sentence. These habits o f formal
rhetorical organization, and their em p h asis o f ‘finished’ and dignified style o f
reported speech, m ilitate a gain st th e r e c o r d in g o f th e informal, the
spontaneous, the characteristic u ttera n ce , th e unique.
From the earliest days o f C h ristia n h a g io g r a p h ic a l w r i t i n g , a u th o rs w ere
effect com p etin g w ith the classical lite r a tu r e w h ic h h a d p re c e d e d theirs,

cd to the establishm ent o f th e ir o w n set o f ‘c a n o n ic a l ’ lite r a r y texts,

am ong the most influential is the L ife o f S t M a r t in b y S u lp ic iu s S e v e ru s , w ho

. f ntemPorary A u g u s tin e a n d J e r o m e , a n d , lik e t h e m , p a rt o f that

Chri * T tUfy attem P t t0 use p a g a n lit e r a r y f o r m s in th e service o

cation T ty LThC ' m p 0 rtan ce o f Vita Martini j u s t i f i e s d e ta ile d exp >'
n 0 ,ts s ape and co n te n t. L ik e A u g u s t i n e , S u lp ic iu s c a m e fro m an
 L e t us n o w p raise fa m o u s m en
14

outp ost o f the E m pire, and, like both A ugustine and Jerom e, he had received
a traditional education and was a trained rhetorician. He was an ambitious
im itato r o f classical texts and styles, though w ith ou t the talent o f either o f his
greater con tem p oraries. H e filled his Vita Martini w ith allusions to pagan
w riters, c h ie f a m o n g w hom was Sallust. If the choice for classical
bio grap h ers had been that betw een hero and sage, Sulpicius tried to
a m alg am ate those categories b y creating a figure w hose sanctity would
s h o w him to be bo th . T h e R o m a n ‘virtues’ - concerned w ith the exercise o f
p o litical p o w e r - w ere transform ed in his pages into a demonstration o f
supernatural p o w e r m anifested in the saint’s ability to perform miracles.
M a rtin is o p p o sed on the one hand to Socrates, that supreme figure o f earthly
w isd o m , and on the o th er to H ector, greatest o f the defenders o f T roy.
M a rtin ’s ‘ch a ra cter’ is a dem onstration o f an un w averin g ethos manifested
fro m earliest in fa n cy as con stancy in the service o f G od. T hat w hich is true
and p erm an en t in the saint is o n ly s lo w ly revealed as his life passes and can be
read, re co g n ize d , and in terpreted. C h aracter is absolute and unchanging.
R e v e la tio n o f th at character as tim e passes is w h at history provides. T he inset
narration s w h ic h e x e m p lify M a rtin ’s saintliness all illustrate this perfectly
e m b o d ie d holiness. It is n o t som ethin g M artin leam s, acquires, or perfects; it
is a g ift o f G o d ’s grace dem onstrating itself as a spur to ordinary men and
w o m e n . M a rtin cam e, n o t fro m the class w h ich controlled politics in R om e,
b u t fr o m a fa m ily b o u n d b y Im perial la w to supply the em peror w ith
soldiers, th e re fo re a h u m b le r social status than the usual secular hero. This, o f
course, re in fo rces the em phasis on h u m ility that was so im portant in the
early years o f C h ris tia n ity ; the u p w a rd m o b ility, as it m ight be described,
w h ic h M a rtin e n jo y e d cam e as a result o f the recognition o f his personal
qualities, and n o t a part o f his inheritance. T h e im plicit lessons o f the text
in clude e x h o rta tio n s to aspire a lth ou gh they also include the contradictory
m essage th at G o d ’ s g ra c e alon e is the source o f the strength which called
atten tion to his sain t.22 T h e re is a p lot in w h ich the true self is revealed by
m eans o f th e vicissitu d es w h ic h the tex t narrates. V irtue may not be
re w a rd ed u n til a fte r terrib le m a rty rd o m , but in happier cases (and the
co n tra d ic tio n this im p lies sh o u ld n o t g o unrem arked) recognition and status
m ay be s h o w e r e d u p o n the tru ly h o ly . T h is schema thus enshrines precisely
those valu es it p re te n d s to d e n y . T h e n arrator’s point o f view may also cause
difficulties w h e n th e re is a sh o rtage o f witnesses (either because
su rvive d m a r t y r d o m o r because the rew ard has to be assumed as su q

t0 the martyrdom).
T h e stru ctu re o f th e Vita M artini adapts the encomium while encompassing
 the M id d le A g e s
T ruth and co n v en tio n
142
,„l Cnarticularly the A cts o f the A postles) and
biography- A lth o u g h it is .h e w o r k o f the
you„ g e , con.enrporary. one w h o me, h l. .o b je ct (or a U e a .t claim ed
i, ’ ,,v l„ e d according to Sulpiciu,' literary a m b it,o n . W h .lc it, ton e
, arrie,. n m p h e it y .c o n s tr u c t io n reveal, a carefu l m in d a. w o r k ,
a n d there are nun,cron, reminiscence, o f classical a u th o r,. Indeed, ,„ h i,
second chapter Sulpiciu, g o e s u , clue, to h i, intent,on. A fte r a p re lim in a ry
justification o f his own in volvem en t in the act o f w ritin g , despite the
(formulaic) rudeness o fh .s style, he argues that the m e m o ry o f g rea t m en and
their deeds is not intrinsically w o rth y o f preservation. O n l y i f the reader is
incited to fo llo w the w ay o f true w isdom , to b ecom e a so ld ier o f C h rist, is
literary activity justified. This is a rep ly to the topos w h ic h a rg u e d that
remembering the deeds o f the great was w o r th w h ile in itself, ju s t ify in g bo th
the exercise o f m em ory and the fam e o f grea t m en . S u lp iciu s’ self-
justification is that essential rhetorical am bition to m o v e and p ersu ad e, in this
case to capture the im agination o f the reader and turn h im o r h e r to G o d .
This, after all, is the first carriere ouverte aux talents. S o m e o f th e s trik in g force
o f this story comes precisely from M a rtin ’s rise. H is s to r y w ill in clu d e acts
typical o f the saint, but w ith o u t any p reten sion to co m p le te n e ss, both
because Martin him self was too m odest to m a k e e v e r y t h in g k n o w n and
because Sulpicius hesitates to o v e rw h e lm his readers - th e k in d o f address
which creates a m odest collusion b etw een a u th o r an d a u d ie n ce . N o w this
preface, by stressing the in adequacy and in co m p le te n e ss o f th e n a rra tiv e , and
especially by its assumptions o f pattern and t y p ic a lit y , accep ts and
encourages additions and d eco ra tiv e e xp a n sio n s b y s u b s e q u e n t w riters, for
whom the Vita Martini was both m atter and m a tte r -fo r - tr a n s fo r m a tio n , like
those endless Caesars crossing their R u b ic o n s in g e n e r a tio n s o f classroom s.
Sulpicius uses a tripartite plan through which M artin ’s constancy and
supernatural powers appear. W hile the different sections are unequal in
length, they are nevertheless balanced against each other. A fter the preface
the first section describes M artin’s early life, in w h ich his future promise
comesclear (chapters 2—1 1). First, M artin’s birthplace and parentage are
ymentioned,ashisfatherwasa soldier, oflowstatus, and a pagan,
dlybe asubjectforextendedpraise, but ‘ancestors’ has appeared
artinsearlydesiretoserveGodwasfrustratedby the edict that made
arm u S°^'erSSons' Though hefoundhimselfservingin the Imperial
* 1 1 r d God“ fir a! h ' could, and stood a m odel o f
°" esPItehlscircumstances(chapter2). Note that there is n o anal/51
 L e t u s n o w p r a is e fa m o u s m en
143

o f the o rg a n iza tio n o r duties o f the a rm y , that is, no backgroun d. O n ly one

e xa m p le o f M a rtin ’ s e a rly p ie ty is g iv en : the fam ous incident o f the division
o f his clo ak w ith a b e g g a r. In o rd er to resign from the arm y Martin had to
m ake a p u b lic p rofession o f his faith, and in o rder to show that it was faith
and n ot co w a rd ic e that im p elle d h im , he offered to g o into battle unarmed.
T h is m o v e m e n t fro m p riv ate to p u b lic creates a kind o f literary clim ax
w h ich Sulp icius then repeats. W it h M a rtin ’s profession accepted, he
graduates to o p p o sin g pagans, heretics, and Satan him self. He preaches,
cures, and casts o u t devils; n o t o n ly are these gifts tacit references to C h rist’s
prom ises o f p o w e r to his fo llo w e r s , b u t th e y are e x p licitly recogn ized within
the n arrative b y M a rtin ’s p atro n , H ila ry o f Poitiers, w h o acts w ithin the
story as a c o m m e n ta to r o f h ig h status w h o tells us h o w to interpret w hat w e
read ab ou t the h e ro . P u b lic re c o g n itio n o f M a rtin ’ s holiness culm inates in his
election to a b ish o p ric. In effect, the first third o f the Vita Martini is a
curriculum vitae, fu ll o f e x c itin g actions, and e m p ty o f any explanation o f
M a rtin ’s rise b e y o n d the g ra c e o f G o d . T h e h e ro ’s ethos w h ich has emerged
and been su itab ly re c o g n iz e d (and rew ard ed ) is furth er illustrated in the
second p art b y the n a rra to r’s ethos.
W h ile the first sectio n w as m o re o r less ch ro n o lo g ica l, the second deals
w ith the tw e n ty -s ix years o f M a rtin ’ s episcop ate as one unit. O n e m ight
think o f this sectio n as c o rre s p o n d in g to the Sallustian or Suetonian divisio
w h ich d em o n strates virtu es u n d er successive to p ic headings. Like the
divisions o f M a r tin ’ s e a rly life, there is a ca m p aign against pagan w orship in
Gaul, g e n e ro u sly illu stra ted w ith m iracles that dem onstrate M artin ’s special
pow er. S e c o n d ly , th e re is M a r tin ’s g ift to cure and exorcise. T h ird ly , there is
direct c o n fro n ta tio n w ith Satan (chapters 20-24). O n c e again, the miracu­
lous o ccu rren ces are far fr o m b e in g an a rb itrary collection o f events: they
progress, n eith e r c h r o n o lo g ic a lly n o r in term s o f M a rtin ’s pow er, but
according to the ra n k o f th e virtu es them selves. T h e tem ptations to false
w orship are first C a e sa r, then a false im a g e o f C h rist; so also Satan begins by
tem pting M a rtin to desp air b e fo r e ta x in g h im w ith m ore interior mystical
assaults. T h e idea o f tests o f in cre asin g d ifficu lty is as old as the first fairy
tory, n o o n e w o u ld cla im th a t S u lp iciu s in ve n ted either the challenges or the
trn *n w h ich th e y w e r e exp ressed . H is cru cial im p ortan ce is that he helped
s- stahhsh a C h ris tia n g e n re , in w h ic h the saint and his actions exem plify his
co '^'Cance as a m a n ife sta tio n o f d iv in e p o w e r on earth. A lo n g the w ay, o f
Ce \ th ey establish a sp ecial k in d o f adventure story, acceptable to
*CS p iou s readers o th e r w is e n ervo u s o f the lure o f fiction.
 T ru th and co n v en tio n in the M id d le A g e s
144

-n rm lcs o f organization enables readers to u n d cr-

R ecognizing the tacit p control their in terp retation . O n c e
stand and interpret, though > does no

again, literal truth is not' * Y ‘virtus’ is fo llo w e d b y a th ird , but

^ °th reefin al chapters w h ich describe his ‘ch a ra cter’ and m ores,

Dante. any exp ectation that S u .p iciu s has

Martin ( b e n r » w ill be disappom .ed. H e bar selected e x a m p le , eha,
" l Martin the brshop. .b e ascetic. tbe sam e Sulprc.ua cxp lau rs rha,
Z n t heard o f M arttn's fa.rh, life, and sp in .u al p o w e r (tnrrur), h e w trh e d to
eet him » « to w rite h.s life, as i f he w ere a w a re o f the in creased status
etven to the eye-witness h.stonan. It a llo w s h im to m a k e his te x t, an d to
make claims for its truth and e xem p la ry value. It m o v e d e v e n G ib b o n to
praise. M uch o f w hat Sulpicius included in his life o f M a rtin m u st h a v e co n ie
from what other people told him , that is, fro m c o m m o n re p o rt. H e d o e s n o t
present hisjo u rn ey to see the saint as a un ique o p p o r tu n ity f o r re sea rch , and it
seems to have resulted in ve ry little addition al m aterial fo r th e L ife . T h e first­
hand experience o f M a rtin ’s holiness does p r o v id e the re a d e r w it h an added
legitimation, and makes Sulpicius h im s e lf an a u th o r ity f o r w h a t h e reports.
Martin’s spiritual p o w e r struck Sulpicius w ith g r e a t fo r c e ; h e r e c o g n iz e d the
saint’s e th o s . M artin ’s graciousness to his v isito r, his h u m ilit y , is e x e m p lifie d
in his invitation to Sulpicius to eat w ith h im . In a c u lt u r e w h ic h sh o w ed
marks ofstatus and respect b y s eg re g a tin g p e o p le at ta b le S u lp ic iu s w o u ld
have expected to eat a m o n g o th e r visito rs ra th e r th a n w i t h th e B ishop.
M artin’s invitation is m eant to su gg est th at a lth o u g h th e s o ld ie r ’s son n o w
found him self enthroned, he had n o t lo st his h u m ilit y , a n d ca re d only
enough for the ou tw ard m arks o f respect. T h e c o n v e r s a t io n o n th is occasion
was o f the obligation to leave the w o r ld an d f o l l o w G o d ( w h ic h is th e point
o f the w hole narrative, and w h ic h m a y t h e r e fo r e b e th e p o in t o f in c lu d in g or
inventing this conversation); S u lp iciu s re p o r ts M a r t i n ’s s e rio u s n e s s, learning,
understanding ofScripture, b u t h e n e ith e r d e s c r ib e s t h e e x a c t to p ic s that the
saintexpoundedn or a n y ofthe w o r d s th a t w e r e s o a f f e c t in g (ch a p te r 25).
Thisisadoubleopportunitylost;wehearneitherthewisdomofthesaint nor
mhiswisdomtherhetoricalskilloftheauthor. Hislasttwoc h a p te rs (26-7)
area straightforwardpaeantotheholyman’sspiritual qualities. T h e r e is no
descriptionofhisphysical appearance.
SucceedingChristianwriterswerethussuppliedwitha m o d e l 0 com p

noninwhichthe ofsanctitywasa m o r a l e x a m p l e a p p r ° P rl3te;t 0

en com iu m

needsofthecommunity.Therecordoftheholym a n ’s f was
v i t a e t v i r t u * 5 '"
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
145

also a success s to ry . T h e im p o rta n t th in g to re m e m b er is perhaps that this

co m p o sitio n p ro v id e d a u th o rity fo r the b io g ra p h ica l enterprise itself: life,
deeds, and ch a ra cter c o u ld be celeb rated b y fo llo w in g the m odel. O r, using
this m o d e l’s o w n adap tation s o f classical historians and biographers, a
co m b in a tio n co u ld be created a c c o rd in g to the needs - and am bitions - o f
the in d iv id u a l w rite r . S u lp iciu s’ tacit attitudes to evid e n ce o f different kinds
also p ro v id e d his im ita to rs w ith the sam e kin d s o f distinctions they w o u ld
find in historians o f all kinds: the a u th o rity fig u re , the eye-w itn ess, the
satisfactions o f p a ttern , and the co n cern s w ith style.
T h is L ife w a s o fte n c o p ie d and illustrated. It w as also exp an d ed , translated
in to p rose an d ve rse , and used as p iou s tea ch in g m o d el. Paulinus o f
P e rig u e u x tu rn e d S u lp iciu s S e ve ru s’ prose in to L atin verse in the fifth
ce n tu ry , as d id F o rtu n atu s in the sixth and M a rb o d o f R e n n e s in the
tw e lfth .23 G r e g o r y o f T o u r s w r o te a b o u t M a rtin ’s m iracles (because o f
course th e y c o n tin u e d , as te s tim o n y to the p o w e r o f the saint’ s relics and the
p restige o f th e p la ce w h ic h h o u se d them ) and th e y w e re co llected in four
b o o k s .24 O n e fin d s M a r tin ’ s s to r y , in o n e fo r m o r an o th er, in all the
E u ro pean v e rn a cu la rs: o n e o f the B lic k lin g H o m ilie s adapts Sulpicius fo r its
A n g lo - S a x o n a u d ie n ce , a n d in the th irte en th c e n tu ry a can on o f St M artin de
T o u rs tran slated S u lp ic iu s ’ p ro se in to F rench o c to sy lla b ic co u p lets.25 Just as
the d estru ctio n o f T r o y p r o v id e d its o w n in ex h a u stib le subject fo r practising
L am ents, fr o m th e p o e m s o f m e d ie v a l students to the self-co n sciou sly o ld -
fashion ed sp ee ch w h ic h H a m le t c o u ld still fin d fu ll o f e m o tio n a l p o w e r, so
the life o f S t M a r tin ap p ears w h e r e v e r p ie ty s tro v e to p ro v e - o r im p ro v e -
its rh e to rica l a c c o m p lis h m e n ts .
W h ile S u lp ic iu s S e v e ru s p r o v id e d b o th a m o d e l o f h o w to structure a V ita

as w e ll as w h a t to p ic s to tre at w ith in it, o th e r e a rly C h ristian w riters also

co n trib u te d d e ta ile d d e sc rip tio n s, eep h ra ses, that c o u ld be inserted in the
relevan t p laces. S id o n iu s A p o llin a r is w as a u sefu l so u rce.26 H e begins,
u n u su ally, w it h a p h y s ic a l d e sc rip tio n b e fo r e g o in g o n to narrate the w a y the
E m p e ro r T h e o d o r ic sp en d s his d a y s (his m o res). H e re a secular m odel is
created fo r s u b s e q u e n t b io g r a p h e r s . N o t o n ly d o historians like R e g in a ld o f
D u rh a m a n d P e te r o f B lo is f o llo w th e o rd e r o f S id o n iu s’ topics, as
im p ressive a w r it e r as E in h a r d h im s e lf adapts the p h y sical details fo r his o w n
p icture o f C h a r le m a g n e , w h o ap p ears w ith T h e o d o r ic ’s ro u n d head. W hen
secular fig u r e s a g a in b e g a n to b e p o ssib le su bjects fo r b io g ra p h y , the models
that w e r e a v a ila b le w e r e n o t ju s t th e classical historians m entioned above in
C h a p te r 2, b u t th a t classical an d late-classical tradition as m odified b y
 the M id d le A g e s
T ru th and co n v en tio n in
14<S

generations o f hagiograph.cal w riting. A s early C hristian w a te r s had striven

to assimtlate their saints to pre-existing models o f c .v .c o r literary v ir tu s , so
subsequent writers reversed the process to d ign ify their secular subjects. O n e
may wonder when characteristics actually belonged to the subject o f a L ife,
since they may be included because the author th o u gh t them a p p ro p riate to
the type his protagonist exem plified. I f being ju st a little taller than the
average was the ‘correct’ height for a king o r hero, i f it w as tradition al for
him to ride a w ilder horse or pull a heavier b o w , then the alert b io g ra p h e r
will assign him the necessary attributes. C o n ve rse ly , d iv e rg e n ce fro m the
accepted pattern, including the omission ot topics one co u ld rea so n ab ly
expect to find, m ay be im plicit m oral criticism rather than p art o f accu rate

observation.28
As a model for a free-standing e n c o m iu m the V ita M a r tin i also p ro v e d
useful to writers developing claims fo r their o w n subjects. A m o n g the
descendants o f Sulpicius’ Life are tw o ten th -cen tu ry L atin L iv e s b y authors
resident at theO ttonian court: the V ita M a h th ild is , w h ic h celeb rates th e w ife
o fH en ry the Fow ler, and a L ife o f her son A rch b ish o p B r u n o o f C o lo g n e b y
R u otgcr.2’ T he form er reminds us that the m o d e l c o u ld b e a d a p te d fo r a
saint o f the other sex. W h at is im p ortan t is that it is w r itte n as a p a n e g y ric
praise o f the p rogenitrix o f the royal fam ily; that is, so far f r o m b e in g the tale
o f the ascetic life and a bishopric, the o u tlin e o f the success s to r y o f the
soldier's son could be transform ed b y use o f its stru c tu re an d to p ics as a
model for a w om an w hose fam e seems to rest o n h e r so cia l status and
successful production o f children. A rch b ish o p B r u n o w a s h e r y o u n g e r son;
like his mother, he was instrum ental in fu rth e rin g th e p o litic a l a m b itio n s o f
their family. In addition to aid in g his b ro th e r, O t t o I, to g o v e r n th e H o ly
Roman Empire, he also con solidated p o w e r b y r e f o r m in g his d io ce se . Y e t
R uotger’s Life stresses B r u n o ’s p iou s desire to be u n ite d w ith G od;
R u otger’s com bination o f B r u n o ’s p o sitio n a n d h is f e r v e n t (b u t discreet)
asceticism claims him fo r the co m m u n io n o f th e sain ts. H e s h o w s B r u n o ’s
ortitude and self-discipline. In b o th these b io g r a p h ie s th e p a n e g y r ic elevates
but does nothing to illum in ate, th e c h a ra cte r o f th e ir s u b je c ts ,

the ° rS s’£n 'f ican t m o d e ls in r e w r it in g t h e m ; t h e y d o n o t use

describcV T'T" 5 ° f d,<ferent WayS m Wh'ch thcir s u b je c ts m ,g h t bC

ineptitude eve ^ rn etboc^ m 'g h t a t t r a c t accu sa tio n s o f
accusations of wbcrc fbe subject was active in the w orld - risking
author. Thev h ambition, both for the subject and for the
genre ambitions which m ight lead them to extend or
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
H7

m o d ify . T h e y are co m p ilers, n o t observers, but they are b y no means

u n soph isticated. T h e ir a p p a re n tly pious aim s in effect g lo rify the O ttonian
ro y a l fam ily- T h e ju s tifica tio n fo r the b io g rap h ica l enterprise is derived from
the celeb ratio n o f h o ly m en and w o m e n , b u t the net effect is to m o ve that
tradition b a ck to w a r d the re c o rd in g o f p o litica lly significant people. Like
B o c c a c c io ’s encomium o f D a n te , the existen ce o f a rh etorically am bitious Life
stakes a cla im fo r its su b ject, and w h a te v e r its subject exem plified. I shall
return to this.
H a g io g r a p h ic a l w r it in g w a s b y n o m eans alw ays o f a high standard.
M e ch a n ica l ce leb ratio n s o f holin ess b y endless squads o f indifferent stylists
(w h o se en th u siasm abused the m o st gen ero u s in terpretation o f acceptable
latitude o f e m b ellish m e n t) h a v e earned m e d iev a l saints’ lives considerable
co n te m p t. M o s t w rite rs in m o st tim es and places do n ot stand out, and it
w o u ld b e fo o lis h to e x p e c t m o st e a rly lives to rep ay rereading, just because
th ey h a v e s u r v iv e d a lo n g tim e . M o s t p iou s lives w e re w ritten to a recipe for
a p u rp o se. A n e x tr e m e e x a m p le o f p iou s p a tc h w o rk can be fo u n d in the Life
o f St V in c e n t M a d e lg a riu s : th e p re fa ce co m b in es the p ro lo g u e to the life o f
St E rm in , a dash o f S u lp iciu s S e ve ru s, and the o p en in g o f the life o f St
P a tro clu s b y G r e g o r y o f T o u r s . T h e section o n his birth and childh ood is
co p ied fr o m th e L iv e s o f S aints E rm in , W a ld etru d is, A ld eg u n d , w ith a
m a rriag e o u t o f th e V it a L e o b a r d i b y G r e g o r y o f T o u rs. His deeds com e
fro m G rego ry, to o , this tim e fr o m the L iv es o f Saints M artius and
Q u in tin ia n u s . H is m iracle s are S t B a v o ’s and St M a rtin ’s.30
R e g in a ld o f C a n te r b u r y is q u ite e x p lic it a b o u t the m eth od. In his ow n
Vita Sancti M a lch i h e ‘ a d vises his readers to co m p a re his story w ith Jerom e’s.
W h e r e th e t w o a g re e , h e says, th e read er m eets w ith history; w here the tw o
disagree, th e re a d e r is to b e lie v e J e ro m e , n o t R e g in a ld . I f 1 ran across a good
story a n y w h e r e , says R e g in a ld , I in clu d e d it, fo r all things are common in the
communion o f the saints. S in c e M a lc h u s w a s ju s t, sain tly, lo v e d b y Christ, full
o f the v e r y essen ce o f rig h te o u sn e ss, I d o n o t d eviate fro m the truth, no
m atter w h a t m ira cle s I ascrib e to M a lch u s, even though they were
m anifested in s o m e o th e r sa in t.’ 31 W h y , w e m ig h t w ish to ask, did R egin ald
then r e w r ite a life w h ic h e x is te d fr o m th e hand o f Jerom e himself? Had
J ero m e ’s L a tin b e c o m e t o o d ifficu lt? O r w a s his tex t in som e w ay too short?
b this a case o f a u th o r ia l a m b itio n , in w h ic h w e sec a desire to emulate the
a ch iev em en ts o f th e e a r lie r te x t? In the earliest life o f St G re g o ry the Great,
the a n o n y m o u s M o n k o f W h i t b y insists th at e ve n i f the miracles he describes
ldn t h a p p e n , t h e y are tru e a n y w a y . T h a t is, the subject manifests G o d s
 the M id d le A g e s
T ru th and c o n v en tio n
I4fi

w „ , C The conclusion o f * .
relation to anything that ever happened.1:
hagiography that bears no
Though these are extremes, they represent w,despread att tudes. m the genre
o f holy encom.un, events are less true or false than s.gns o f the subject s h o ly
elhos and o f G od's abundant grace. As they seldom co m m en t on each other's
practice their attitudes must be deduced; stuptdtty. m eapaetty, and
misunderstanding must be allow ed for. as m ust the desire to sneak
something in under the cover ot a 'safe co n ven tio n
As with the practice o f historians, the m ore p opu lar the audience, the
greater the latitude o f invention. Som e saints’ lives seem to b lu r the edges o f
the genre and enter the territory o f the kind o f fictio n ca te go rize d as
•romance’. T oday the M iddle English p oem ‘Sir G o w t h e r ’ is classified as
romance because it is recognizably a fictionalized saint s life w ith adventures
that are m ore secular than w e have co m e to e xp ect. In a p e rio d w ith no
independent concept o f ‘literature’, pious authors adapted p o p u la r adven­
tures to appeal to the piety o fla y audiences, w ith o u t w o r r y in g a b o u t w hether
or not they w ere transgressing critical categories. N o d o u b t there w e r e some
am ong them w h o deliberately prepared a d ve n tu re stories w h ic h w ou ld
convey a ‘higher’ message than the usual run o f g ia n t-k illin g , w h o were
adapting the conventions o f fiction in o rd er to p reach b y stealth . T h e story o f
the tw o great friends A m is and A m ilo u n g a v e rise to t w o self-sacrificing
saints o f the same names. A n o th e r w riter celeb rated his lo c a l saint, Vidian
with events adapted from the adventures o f the e p ic h e ro , V iv ia n , n ep h ew o f
William o f O range, o rig in ally recoun ted in the E n fa n c e s V iv ie n and A lis c a n s ,

tw o c h a n s o n s d e g e s t e . 33 C le a rly fiction al stories a b o u t p io u s heroes and

heroines w ho suffered rem arkable a d ve n tu res w it h o u t lo s in g their faith
celebrated divine p o w e r on earth b y p r e s e r v in g G o d ’s fa v o u re d figures
through m iraculous in terven tio n . T h e re are A p o c r y p h a l R o m a n c e s , like the
pseudo-Clem entine R e c o g n itio n e s o r the A cts o f P a u l and T h e c la that seem
neither one thing n o r another. T h e p o in t at w h ic h fr e e -s ta n d in g biography
becomes free-standing fiction is h a rd er to d e fin e th a n to r e c o g n iz e , and how
much medieval and renaissance readers v a r ie d in th e ir re a ctio n s it is very
hard to say. R h eto rica l e m b ellish m e n t o f liv e s w h ic h c la im to be true, look
true, were w ritten b y co n te m p o ra rie s, e v e n e y e - w it n e s s e s , raise problem s in
an acute form . In a so ciety w h ic h r e c o g n iz e d th e d iffe r e n c e betw een the
historical and the fiction al as critica l c a te g o r ie s o f n a r r a tiv e , individual
writers were m ore w illin g to a g re e th a t th e d is t in c t io n existed than to
tify w hich kind o f n arratio n a n y p a r t ic u la r u n i t o f n a r r a t io n represented-
 L e t us n o w p raise fa m o u s m en
149

T h is in d eterm in acy enabled w riters to circum vent prohibitions and ' w

bitions o f m an y kinds.
T h e lik e ly truth co n ten t in the Life o f Christina ofMarkyate raises just such
problem s.34 T h e m anuscript lacks several folios at the beginning and end
none o f the p re fa to ry o r co n clu d in g material w hich may once h a ^
accom panied it - and w h ich is so useful a place to begin interpreting the
author’s in ten tion - rem ains. It is a co p y o f a life w ritten in Latin prose in the
m id tw e lfth ce n tu ry b y som eon e w h o represents him self as having known
C h ristina, and who w as p ro b a b ly a m o n k o f St Albans. There is
co rro b o ra tin g e vid en ce that C h ristin a w as a real person; after her death a cult
was established and there w ere m oves to have her canonized. A book
survives w h ic h p ro b a b ly b e lo n ge d to her: she was educated enough to want
a Psalter w h ic h con tain s b o th A n g lo -N o r m a n French and Latin.35 At the
time the L ife w as w ritten , h o w e v e r , although Christina’s exceptional
holiness w as re c o g n iz e d , she w as n o t o fficially regarded as a saint. This might
suggest that a w rite r w a n tin g to support her candidature for official saintly
status w o u ld h a v e e v e r y reason to interpret her life in the terms which
belon ged to b io g ra p h ie s o f h o ly m en and w om en . T h e extant Life is
basically a c h r o n o lo g ic a l sequence w h ich depends upon Christina’s own
rem iniscences: it is u n u su a lly autobiographical, th ough there is a strong sense
o f the m o n astic n a rra to r, w h o co m m en ts upon the action from time to time.
T h ere is little fo rm a l dioisio in to abstract categories, though once one o f
Ch ristina’s sp iritual g ifts (p reco gn ition ) is m entioned examples o f it are
m ultiplied. W h a t m a k es this L ife so strikin g is its verisimilitude and

unm istakable lite r a r y realism .

T h e n a rra tiv e f o llo w s C h ris tin a ’s m em ories fro m her point o f view , and
contains m a n y o f th o se ‘ m istakes and m iscarriages’ w h ich Johnson took to
em b o d y tru e b io g r a p h y . B u t th e y are suspiciously like the mistakes and
miscarriages o f in v e n te d s to r y . A s a sm all child Christina, whose baptismal
name w as a p p r o p r ia te ly T h e o d o r a (she chan ged it later to elude recog­
nition), v o w e d to liv e ce lib a te in the service o f G o d , and fought for years
against her f a m ily an d th e ch u rch h iera rch y to be allow ed to follow her
vocation. C h r is tin a ’ s m o st p ressin g con cern w as to preserve her virginity,
that alm ost m a g ic a l a ttr ib u te w h ic h w o u ld q u a lify her soul for a special place
in heaven. A s so o fte n , th e o sten sib le re ligio u s concern tells us as much about
secular values as th e o n e s it p u rp o rts to support: Christina’s adventures seem
t0 ar' se f r ° m h e r e x c e p tio n a l b e a u ty . A s a y o u n g girl she claims to have
escaped the a d v a n c e s o f R a n u lp h F lam b ard (K in g H enry I’s chancellor, w ho
 Truth and convention the M id d le Ages

for storybook w ickedness, and w h o attracted a

early acquired a reputation
illustrate it) b y means o f an eq u ivo catio n :
number ui
numoci o f tvm.v...
folklore ----
stories to
tricked into finding herself alone w ith him in his ch am ber she pretended to
accede to his desire but insisted upon boltin g the d o o r. Sh e says that he m ade
her swear that i f he let her go o f her she w o u ld o n ly bo lt the d o o r. Sh e kept
her oath but shot the bolt from the outside, thus lo ck in g him in. T h is is S()
like a fabliau incident that it is hard to credit: even i f th ey had been alone
• • 1 l i t
w ithin call, even i f the d o o r had bolts on both
even i f there were no servants
sides it is highly unlikely that a suspicious man w ould have let go o f the
young girl. He would surely either have kept a gr.p on her or have bolted the
door himself Later. Christina says, having in a moment o f weakness agreed
to a betrothal she managed to talk her husband out o f consum m ating their
marriage by recounting to him the story o f the married celibacy o f Saints
Cecilia and Valerian. On a third occasion she hid from pursuers ostensibly
intent upon deflowering her then and there b y clim bing up behind a tapestry
on the wall o f her own bedchamber; though someone actually grasped her
foot through the hangings he did not realize w hat he had in his hand. A
certain scepticism seems called for, but there is no evidence outside the
narrative. Some o f the ‘realistic’ touches m ay w ell be based on w hat actually
happened, but they may - like the fabliaux — be stylizations ‘down’,
recounting, in low style, tricks o f deception and escape. M uch o f the
narrative depends upon repetition o f and allusion to other narratives, but
whether it was Christina reading her ow n experience in the ligh t o f the Bible
or her author assimilating her story to m ore authoritative ones cannot be
resolved. Sometimes the narrator anticipates his audience’s criticism of
Christina’s behaviour; having decided to escape fro m her fam ily to take
shelter with a recluse w ho was w illin g to hide her, C hristina put on men’s
clothes (a shocking immodesty) and rode a w a y . T h e incident is told with
dramatic skill, and includes suspense w hen her a cco m p lice is delayed, and a
moment o f peril when the sleeve o f her n e w clothes protrudes from the
sleeve o f her gow n and she has to invent an exp lan ation on the spot. In the
moment before mounting her horse she hesitates, embarrassed to ride
astride. Whether or not any o f this happened, the description (or invention)
o f her inner life is extraordinary. So is the p ercep tive com m ent o f the
narrator that Christina’s zeal to live the re ligio u s life resem bled her family s
refusal to agree, and that the fam ily w as un ited in the trait o f stubbornness
We may ask how it is that the narrator has a ch iev ed such vividness, the
answer is something to do w ith his a b ility to d ram atize and create suspe11
 Let us n o w praise famous men
I5 i

T here is no simple explanation which will help to account for the unusual
features o f the Life; indeed, describing those features builds some o f the
problems into the analysis, like Chinese boxes. First, it is both intertextual
and mimetic. But before readers could recognize it as a p,ece o f writing
which is shaped b y reference to the conventions o f earlier texts, as well as
containing explicit reference to them, both Christina and her reporter must
have seen her ow n life according to the experience o f other women known
through their reading. She tried, in her life, to imitate, not art, but the way of
perfection offered by historical, sacred report. The written Life is thus a
literary construct w hich attempts to con vey a tTue report o f something
modelled on other literary constructs. Second, the ‘other literary constructs’
upon w hich it is m odelled as a piece of writing are not just other religious
narratives. T h e dram atized anecdotes are the w ork o f an author who was
well-read in secular literature, and it m ay be possible for some future readers
to identify his sources, even to the point o f finding that he has adapted
adventures fro m k n o w n texts. T hird , his amalgam also includes direct
reflection upon the traits o f character shown b y people with whom he was
acquainted, m ediated b y his experience o f human behaviour, amounting to
an inexplicit collusion w ith the potential reader, from w hom he expects
recognition o f, and agreem ent w ith , his analysis - so that he is assuming that
his literary picture co n veys a sense o f a person w ho can be interpreted by
other persons in w ays that he intends. A ll o f this makes it an exceptional text
for the period.
It is possible that the Life o f Christina o f Markyate was intended as a first step
in a process o f canonization, and that its chronological arrangement marks
an early stage in that process, but w hile that w ould account for its existence it
would do little to explain the style o f its content.36 It may be that there was a
debate at the tim e it w as w ritten o ver the status o f unwitnessed vows;
certainly a great deal turns on w hether or not the young Theodora/Christina
bound herself b y h er unexpressed oath to enter the religious life; there may
also be som e legal im p lication about the age at which such vows could be
made, given the op position o f the fam ily. T h e concern with virginity was of
overriding concern to a w o m a n , but Christina’s adventures read like a Greek
romance, w ith its e xaggerated perils, and she clearly goes on being desirable
Respite her m ortification s and illnesses. A ll o f these are speculations which
Put us, as readers, in the traditional position o f analysts w ho have nothing to
8° on in m akin g an assessment about the truth o f the narrative beyond the
at'v e itself, and thus far suspicion has been awakened only when
 Truth and convention in the M id d le A ge s
152
plausibility (reference to life as we kn ow it) and m ter-textuabty (m utation o f
other books, suggest that we should question the assertions o f the narrator.
Did r/,e invent the stones winch her reporter transcribed? Som e o f the
narrative is embellished enough to raise the suspicion that ,t w as invented,
hut it is impossible to say which parts, h o w much, or by w h o m . It ,s so w ell
narrated that we are constantly invited to bel.eve: the ep ito m e o f the
rhetorician's success. Perhaps we can say no m ore than that the author,
whoever he was. made a coherent story about an unusual w o m an , w h o se
success in dedicating herself to G od was w orth p reserving in o rd e r to .nsp,re
others to do likewise. T o com plete the literary ironies it m ust be recorded
that i f that is what he intended he seems to have been unsuccessful: the tex t as
we have it looks like a cop y o f his original, but on ce again there is no
evidence ofits having been know n to other m edieval readers o r w riters. A n d
this is another reminder that ‘literary realism is a p o ssib ility at a n y tim e or
place.37 It is hard, given our retrospective ju d g em e n ts a b o u t lite ra ry realism
as an improvement, not to feel that m edieval b io g r a p h y is a perpetual
incitement to invent the wheel.
If we turn to a writer w hose w orks w ere m u ch studied , and a b o u t w hose
influence there is no doubt, w e can see m an y o f these sam e processes. In the
case o f Be(G there are particularly clear e xa m p les o f gen re-related
manipulations, since there is one m atter w h ich h e treated th ree tim es in
different ways. E a c h o f B e d e ’s L iv e s o f S t C u th b e r t is in a d iffe re n t gen re, and
awareness o f th e m goes some w a y to e x p la in in g w h y th e y tak e the form s
they do.3* In B ede’s great E c c le s i a s t i c a l H i s t o r y , w h ic h re c o u n ts the story o f
th e E n g lis h Church, and G o d ’s m anifestations o f his p lan s t h r o u g h history,
B ede te lls how ‘K in g E g fr id , ig n o rin g the a d v ic e o f his friends and
particularly o f Cuthbert, o f blessed m e m o ry , w h o h a d r e c e n t ly been made
b i s h o p , r a s h ly l e d a n a r m y t o ravage the p r o v in c e o f th e P ie t s .’39 T h a t is, the
s t o r y is t h e king's story, as is a p p ro p riate to h is to r y , in w h ic h C u th bert
makes an a p p e a r a n c e as an app arently m in o r (b u t n o t c o n tin g e n t) figure.
during h i s P i c t i s h campaign, thus exemplifying God’s
T h e k in g w as k ille d

speedy punishment of the unrighteous, while demonstrating Cuthbert’s

JU ^ ment (and thercfore his u i r t u s in the sense of spiritual power). There is
But 17
” CeptIOnai about this kin d of historical writing as moral exam ple.
D •• C CnC* s sect,on Bede inserts, out o f strict chronological
life a n d w k Cuthbert/0 Three chapters narrate Cuthbert s

a larger hism 35 3 success^u^preacher. As this is inset biography >n

ry. ede is careful to name other men who were influential at
 Let us n o w praise fam o u s m en
153

the tim e, and also to describe som ethin g o f the customs o f the English in the
late seventh cen tu ry . T h is is the kind o f straightforw ard historical narrative
w h ich has earned B ed e his high reputation fo r organization and observation.
T h en , h o w e v e r , fo llo w three chapters on C u th b e rt’s cult and miracles: Bede
explains that he in cludes these instances o f the saint’s p o w er to heal because
they have co m e to his attention since the com p letion o f his earlier book (not
hitherto m en tio n ed ) on C u th b e r t’s life. T h e y are addenda to a pre-existing
V ita , w h ich he exp ects his reader to k n o w . I f w e turn to that e n c o m iu m , genre
distinctions e m erge.
B e d e ’s prose L ife o f S t C u th b e r t is based on an earlier anonym ous L ife , and
uses the fo rm established b y Sulp icius S e v e ru s T B ed e is fam iliar w ith the
genre: he b egin s w ith a c h r ia fro m the p ro p h et Jerem iah, and treats o f
C u th b e r t’s e a rly d ays as ‘praise o f his b o y h o o d ’ , in w h ich the familiar
prom ises o f greatness appear. T h e ch ro n o lo g ica l account o f his life and
w o rk s con tain s the m iracles (his deeds), so that the earlier tripartite division
disappears. S o , to o , instead o f a final section on character and habits, Bede
interpolates n u m e ro u s speeches w h ic h illustrate C u th b e rt’s piety, fore-
bearance, and e v e n h u m o u r. T h e ascrip tion o f the w rite r’s o w n w ords to his
subject is b y n o w a fa m ilia r rh eto rica l co n ve n tio n ; B ed e, w h o was the author
o f the e le g a n t d ra m a tiza tio n o f the debates at W h itb y o ve r the dating o f
Easter, m akes C u th b e r t speak n o t o n ly in fo rm a l addresses, but also in
co n versatio n , w h ic h b e g in s to create a sense o f w h a t the man was like,
th o u g h B ede does not in clu d e any p h ysical description. G iven the
requirem ents o f h o ly e n c o m iu m , the L ife includes m aterial w hich make the
b io grap h e r lo o k m o r e cred u lo u s than the carefu l observer o f the E c c le s ia s t ic a l

H is to r y - b u t o f co u rse c r e d u lo u s n e s s is n o t at issue here at all. E n c o m iu m has

w id er la titu d e fo r in clu sio n and e m b ellish m e n t than does history; Bede is a
go o d w rite r , n o t an in co n sisten t m a n . In an age w h ere revised editions are
possible, the d is c o v e r y o f n e w m a teria l is h an dled b y republishing. But Bede
could n o t r e w r ite and reissue his b io g r a p h y w h e n parchm ent was scarce and
books w e r e d u p lic a te d b y c o p y in g th em o u t b y hand. His solution was
stra ig h tfo rw a rd , b u t re q u ires a m o d e rn reader to be alert. He adds to the life

in the co u rse o f th e h is to r y b ecau se m o re in fo rm atio n had com e to his

attention. I f h e h a d in stead re w ritte n the b io g r a p h y the miracles w hich seem
ut ° f p lace in th e la te r w o r k w o u ld h a v e fo rm e d a consistent part o f a free
standing b io g r a p h y . T h e y b e lo n g to the m o re s y m b o lic genre and not - in
torical term s — to th e h isto rica l n arra tiv e o f the English church and
pie. Y e t , g iv e n th e o v e r - r id in g co n cern s o f B e d e ’s w o rk , and his desire to
 T r u .h and convention,., -he M id d le A ge s

154
educate p re a c h , a n d te a c h , th e lit e r a r y sacrifice is m inor, ft is also w ell
marked In e ffe c t . B e d e s ig n a ls t h e change o f genre at the end o f B o o k Four
when he digresses from the main line o f historical narrative in order to
include h is new information. C h a p ters 26 a n d 27 arc part o f that historical
sequence; at the beginning of chapter 28 Bede m entions his earlier
composition m order to indicate the additions that he is a b ou t to make.
Narrator ‘speaks' d ir e c t ly to reader in a kind o f d is p o s itio , and lest, in the
course o f the final few chapters (28-32) the reader should fo rg e t that he is
reading a k i n d o f d ig r e s s io . B e d e reappears w ith a quiet rem in der at the end o f

ch a p te r jo :
T h e m ir a c le s o f h e a l i n g th a t t a k e place from tim e to tim e at the to m b bear witness to
C u t h b e r t 's h o lin e s s , a n d l h a v e r e c o r d e d s o m e i n s t a n c e s i n m y b o o k o n his life. A n d
in th is p r e s e n t history 1 have in c lu d e d fu r t h e r e x a m p le s that h ave recen tly co m e to

my k n o w le d g e .

There is another reminder in the fo llo w in g chapter (31), as i f B e d e w ere

worried that the reader m ight have missed it the first tim e. T h e reco gn ition
that there is a literary change at issue here reso lves B e d e ’s apparent
inconsistency at the same time as it im plies aw areness o f g e n re . B e d e m ay
himself have felt that hi s chapters on C u th b e rt d id n o t re a lly b e lo n g in the
Ecclesiastical History, since they stretch the c o n v e n tio n s o f w h a t was
acceptable, but that m ixtures o f genres w as a sm all p ric e to p a y in order to
complete and preserve his record o f C u th b e r t’s w itn ess to th e g lo r y o f G od.
Setting the digression at the end o f one o f his la rg e r d iv isio n s , an d m a rk in g it
as material additional to another b o o k w as the best s o lu tio n to a difficult
problem. Rhetorical am bitions w ere su b o rd in a te to r e lig io u s ones.
Bede’s own concern w ith g o o d w ritin g in c lu d e d a p e d a g o g ic am b itio n to
teach rhetoric to his pupils, and to teach the skills o f r h e t o r ic v ia a m orally
inspiring m odel he w rote a third version o f th e L ife o f C u t h b e r t , a metrical
Life to be used as part o f the school c u r ric u lu m , sin c e th e h o l y m a tte r is used
like a musical theme on w h ich to w r it e v a r ia tio n s . By w ritin g an
emphatically E n g l i s h as w e l l as a soun d C h ris tia n m o d e l f o r his students Bede
avoided the difficulty that arose e v e r y tim e s t y le a n d th e fig u re s o f speech
were dissociated from their co n ten t. T h e m e tr ic a l L if e , o f co u rse , created a
model for other verse lives. A lc u in and th e a n o n y m o u s a u t h o r o f the Song o f

A r t h u l w u l f were am ong those to c o n tr ib u te t o th is t r a d it io n .42 A s biography

pproaches poetry it claims grea ter lic e n s e o f e la b o r a t io n . L a te r, w h en such

^positions m oved into the v e rn a cu la rs , w h e r e t h e y w e r e in tend ed f° r
 Le t us n o w praise fam o u s m en
155

)ess w ell educated audience, their em bellishm ents pushed them to - even
beyo n d - the lim its o f w h a t m igh t b y m odern standards count as a true
report o f the subject’s life and deeds, and th ey becom e hagiographic
rom ances. T h a t is, a lth o u gh the p oetic b io g ra p h y can tell us about attitudes,
w ith o u t the co rro b o ra tio n o f other kinds o f sources it cannot be relied upon
as a source fo r deeds and it can n ev er be relied upon as a source for w ords.
Bede also rem inds us that the practice w as m odified w h en ever successful
new texts w e re w ritten . H is successors reco gn ized his superiority in most
genres and sin cerely flattered h im .43
F elix o f C r o w la n d w as o n e o f the first to press B e d e ’s St C u th b ert into
service fo r a n e w h a g io g ra p h y . In his L ife o f S t G u th la c he acknow ledges
B ed e’s e lo q u en ce b y rep eatin g m a n y o f his phrases and sentences in a new
co n tex t.44 In so far as G u th la c im itates C u th b e r t F elix legitim ates his ow n
com p osition . Incidents in B e d e ’s n arrative con tin ued to reappear: m ortifi­
cation o f the flesh is o n e o f the to p o i o f the saint’s life, and B ede reported that
C u th b ert’ s self-d iscip lin e in clu d ed im m ersin g his b o d y in the sea in order to
subdue desire. W h e n W a lte r D a n iel has A ilred repeat the technique in a Life
w hich is in m a n y o th e r w a y s m o d e lle d on B e d e ’s, one m ay w o n d e r i f total
bo d ily im m e rsio n has b e c o m e s y m b o lic .45 T h e n , w h en the B ecket bi­
ographers, w h o h a d so m e u n derstan dable difficulties w ith their stubborn and
unsaintly su bject, relate that the A rch b is h o p , to o , used the cold w ater cure,
suspicion is a n atu ral re a c tio n .46 L ite ra ry rep etitio n is required; the claim that
Becket b e h a v ed in u n u su al w a y s b u t that h e w as n e v e r th e le s s a saint is too hard
for m ost o f the w rite rs a b o u t h im . T h e y re p o rt the im m ersion as a claim to
his d e v o u t a tte m p ts to su b d u e his u n ru ly flesh, so it is a sign o f their v ie w o f
his in ten tio n . C o n t in g e n t ly , this im p lies that the inner m an m ay wish
som ething w h ic h w e can k n o w and un derstan d, b u t w h ich he him self cannot
accom plish; that is, th e p o ssib ility o f a litera ry distinction betw een inner life
and o u ter b e co m e s fea sib le. It also su ggests that w ith in liv in g m em o ry there
m ay h ave b een co n strain ts u p o n w h a t an a u th o r m ig h t attribute to his
subject. E ven a llo w in g f o r d ifferen ces in ge n re and n orm ative standards for
permissible in v e n tio n , th e re rem a in those au th o rs w h o say one thing and do
another. It is h a r d ly lik e ly , in the e n d , that a m e d iev al or renaissance author
w hl call a tte n tio n to fic tio n a l e m b e llis h m e n t o f an apparently factual
ccount, h o w e v e r a w a r e , e v e n p r o u d , o f its existen ce he m igh t be. Attesting
e truth o f th e a c c o u n t w h ic h is to f o llo w b ecam e as m uch a part o f the
h ° r s p refa ce as his a p o lo g y fo r his ru d e, h u m b le, and unpolished style, his
S ain tancc w ith his s u b je c t (w h ic h led the p lo d d in g A n g lo -S a x o n hagi-
 Tru th and c o n v e n t.o n in the M . d d lc A g e s
I s6

ographcr W illibald, to explain that he only k n ew his .subject. B o n iface,

'indirectly' . e o n ly through report or. to put it another w a y , n ot at all). Y e t
even Bontface's disclaimer suggests the transparency o f these rhetorical
transformattons. R eality was visible through them , even i f c lo u d e d .”
W illiam o f M almesbury's rhetorical and g c n cn c sensitivity and discrim in­
ation appears throughout his ow n hagiograph y, the Life ofW ulfstanS* T his is
one o f tw o b.ograph.es o f saints b y W illiam ; the other, a L ife o f St D unstan,
survives only as rewritten by Dunstan's m onks at G lasto n b u ry , so that it js
difficult to reconstruct h o w much is W illiam s. T h e Life o f Wulfstan is
divided into the traditional three parts, preceded b y a d e d ica to ry letter and
prologue, like Sulpicius' Martin. There are sections on W u lfs ta n ’s early life>
his miracles, and his habits and conversation (th o u gh there are fe w sp e e ch e s-
William gives the 'gist' o f w hat the saint said). In best rh eto rical style
William claims to eschew rhetoric, and he refers several tim es to the
temptation (into w hich other w riters fall th ro u g h excess o f zeal) to
embellish, and h o w unnecessary em bellishm ent is, g iv e n the w orthin ess o f
his subject, as for exam ple in this alm ost W ittg e n ste in ia n address to the

reader:
i f one desires to expariate as an orator to his audience on all the blessings that happy
day brought to Worcester which first saw Wulfstan a m onk, he w ou ld find his powers
unequal to his purpose. What the tongue cannot utter let the m ind strive to ponder 49

And, criticizing his predecessor in his most stylish prose,

I have left out some fine words and phrases w hich C o lem an b o rro w ed from the Acts
o f other saints, and in his blind devotion inserted . . . W h en the truth is high enough
the man who tries to raise it with fine words loses his labour. W h en he is trying to
praise he dishonours and diminishes: for it seems as i f he cannot trust his own story,
but must needs borrow help from another.50

Here we see a h ig h ly educated tw e lfth - c e n tu r y m o n k u s in g his rhetorical

s k ill to analyse and co rrect its o w n habits: th e in e x p r e s s ib ility to p o s, the
identification o f rh eto ric w ith o r a to r y , d e sp ite c e n tu r ie s o f te x ts fo r rea din g ,

th e historian s dedication to the truth o f his r e p r e s e n ta tio n , a n d th e ostensible

deference to the au th o rity o f a p e r c e iv e d a n d in te r p r e t a b le life-narrative.

stensible, since W illia m ’s o w n sto rie s, th e a n e c d o t e s h e includes to

exem plify W u lfstan ’s holiness, m a y w e ll h a v e b e e n in v e n t e d fo r the purpose.
ne needs to co n sid er each o f them o n their individual merits, as best
can, with an eye to the secu lar v a lu e s a n d a m b it io n s t h e y adm it. Whet*

Wulfsta ’ ^ 3S 3 ^ W u ^ stan e x c e lle d at v il l a g e sp o rts he illustrate5

lfSU n ! d ° " bl' triu m P h . b o th h ,s e x c e lle n c e a n d h is h u m ility , » » « *
 L e t us n o w praise fa m o u s m en
157

overcomes the temptation to worldly success that p„de in h' Hi

This is the same paradoxical reinforcement o f secular values th
the emphasis on Christina’s continued desirability. That is w * appeared ln
their protagonists were deliberately sacrificing som ethin^that w **''**-^
their grasp; they were not failures retreating from a world in W
could not w in . H ow ever much being good at games has come to s ***
o f English writing, it is unusual in the Middle Ages, and the l e T ^ T ^
example is to be merely traditional, the more we m ay be inclined to ' T ^
T h e re are, h o w e v e r , tra d itio n a l tem p tatio n s as w ell, like the s a in t^ ^
t o w n s w o m a n ’s sexu al a d va n ces (so, lik e C h ristina, W ulfstan [” 1Stmga
S ex is a lw a y s w ith us, an d th ere is n o reason w h y , just because s o m e 'S
sim ilar o n c e h a p p e n e d to Josep h in E g y p t, it should not have happened t
W u lfsta n in E n g la n d . S o m e stories m a y h a ve been traditionally told abou
this saint (that is, a c ce p te d as tru e b y the p eo p le, and therefore, accordhgTo
B e d e ’s ‘ tru e la w o f h is t o r y ’ , w o r t h y o f reco rd and perpetuation), some may
b e o rig in a l to W illia m . T h e y are all o f the same genus, panegyrical or
e n co m ia stic e x e m p la . W h ile in th e L ife o f D u n sta n W illia m characteristically
o b jecte d (th o u g h h is revisers a llo w e d th em to stand) to the invented
co n ve rsa tio n s in th e e arlier L ife b y O s b e m , he w as w illin g to present the
w o rd s o f b o t h h is saints, as o f his secu lar subjects, w hen it was convenient to
h im to r e p o r t sp ee ch . It is a g o o d gu ess, to o , that the revisers would have
in clu d e d su ch tr a d itio n a lly v in d ic a te d additions as speech when they
am p lified . ( W illia m o f M a lm e s b u r y w as n o t alone in his objection to
O s b e m ; E a d m e r , th e b io g r a p h e r o f A n s e lm , m ade the same complaint.)51 In
the e n d th e re is n o m o r e reaso n to th in k W illia m ’s stories and conversations
litera lly tru e th a n to b e lie v e h is a n ecd o tes in his secular G e s t a R e g u m . 52 The

sam e ta le n te d a n d w e ll- r e a d w r it e r is responsible throughout, and his

a llegia n ce to th e tr u th c o -e x is ts w it h his allegiance to good writing. Like
B ed e, o n w h o m W illia m c o n s c io u s ly an d e x p lic itly m odelled his histories,
W illia m w a s c o n c e r n e d to m a k e his v ie w o f the past and its actors as vivid as
possible. H is h a g io g r a p h ic a l e n c o m ia h ad , fo r h im , the added virtue o f being a
w a y o f p ra is in g th e A n g l o - S a x o n past in a p eriod o f N orm an ascendancy,
ben th e o ld sain ts w e r e b e in g d iscre d ited b y the reform ing zeal and the
cultural p r id e of N o rm an p ie t y . I shall return to W illia m ’ s vivid biography

b e lo w .

• nnv-and not only w ithin the

T h a t th e re w a s a c o n c e r n w it h a ccu rate testim ^ ^ c\ear. Canonization
houn ds o f th e r h e t o r ic a lly e m b e llish e d tex t ^ strict accuracy
u p e n d e d o n it, t h o u g h , as w it h th e b io g ra p
 Truth and convention in the M >ddlc A ge s
MS

was sometimes sacrificed to the good o f the cause. It is as w ell alw ays to
remember that deliberate slanting or forgery were tim e-honoured options.
It is only, after all. where the author is claiming that what he writes is strictly
true that a well-written embellishment can pass for convincing. It is equally
clear that, mediated through layers o f rhetorical invention o r stylish
presentation, 'accuracy1 takes on a different meaning as part o f a different
culture. Even when Inquisitors transcribed what witnesses said, they
translated from the vernacular into Latin. W hat other changes they must
have made must be familiar to anyone w ho has seen actual speech
transcribed. How much manipulation took place it m ay n ever be possible to
determine. Pious motives, and their belief that they w ere o n ly w ritin g w hat
'ought' to have happened, or rew riting an earlier text as the auth or h im self
would have wanted it rewritten, i f only he had had access to the in form ation
the transcriber had. saved them front thinking o f them selves as liars or
forgers.53

exercising biograph ical in vention

The serious hagiographical tradition w hich stems fro m S u lp iciu s Severus

was, ofcourse, not the only line o f Life w ritin g, h o w e v e r p re -em in en t it was.
Historical and biographical conventions are sim ilar. T h e y shared a rhetorical
basis, so that whatever the larger outlines, the sam e to p o i appeared: the
d e scr ip tio o f persons and places; the e n c o m iu m o f in d iv id u a l, city, or
abstraction; the style o f w riting speeches, do cu m en ts, letters, and defences;
the habit o f appealing to received w isdom . N e ve rth e less, as e a rly as the
Carolingian period, such was the h egem o n y o f m o n astic b o o k production
that turning hagiographical habits tow ards secular b io g r a p h y w as a real
challenge. Einhard’s L ife o f C h a r le m a g n e seem s to h a v e c o m e in to being
almost by accident, as i f the biographer, struck b y th e v ir tu s o f his subject,
strove to assimilate a royal life to the saintly b y m eans o f th e classical models
at his disposal. Like Bede, Einhard w as an e x c e p tio n a lly well-read,
intelligent innovator. Einhard’s in n o v atio n s are th e resu lt o f creative
synthesis. His success is his ow n . H e used classical m o d e ls w h e n th e y suited
him, as part ofhis ow n design. N o w it m a y be that it is sh eer co in cid en ce that
Charlemagne indeed had a head shaped ju s t lik e T h c o d o r ic ’s. It is, however,
more likely that Einhard, studying the a ttrib u te s th a t his m o d e l ascribed to
s Emperor, deliberately copied them to e n su re th a t his o w n h ero would
W e a r unmistakably imperial and R o m a n . S in c e a g o o d p a rt o f Einhard’s
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
59

intention was to ju stify C h arlem a gn e’s claim to be not only R o m an

Em peror restored, but Christian as w ell, it is easy to see w h y he should have
been scrupulous in the creation o f his im age - if lcss scrupulous in his
preservation o f w h at a later age m igh t consider to be the truth. A later age
m igh t also find it tem p tin g to class Einhard’s project as propaganda, and
therefore w o r k to be discounted, but this w ould be anachromstically
strenuous. Einhard b elieved in his vision o f Charlem agne and created it
accordin g to his a b ility as a rhetorician fo llo w in g the best models: his use o f
Suetonius has lo n g been recogn ized. T h e com bination o f historical events
and the description o f the E m p ero r becam e typical not only o f free-standing
secular b io g ra p h y , but also o f m any inset biographies. T h e testimony to that
success is the n u m b er o f w riters w h o im itated - w ell or badly - Einhard’s Life
and the existen ce o f o v e r e ig h ty m anuscripts o f the w o rk is evidence o f its
con tin ued p o p u la rity w ith those w h o w anted, for w hatever reasons, to read
it. B y s h o w in g h o w to m ake use o f Suetonius, Einhard opened the w ay for
blam e as w e ll as praise.
E in hard’s p reface m akes such claim s as m ust n o w seem familiar, although
in his case it does actu ally seem to be true that he w as the eye-witness o f
C h a rle m a g n e ’s c o u rt that he claim s to be. T h e re are letters and documents
w h ich co rro b o ra te his cla im . B u t his b o o k is far fro m being the memoirs o f a
courtier w h o se fo r ty years in the service o f his prince form the subject o f his
book. T h e Vita Caroli is a rh etorical production , w ritten some time
betw een the years 814 and 821, b y a sophisticated and am bitious w riter w ho
also w ro te L etters; a co n v e n tio n a l piece o f h agio gra p h y, De Translation et
miraculis sanctorum suorum Marcellini et Petri; and a com position on the Cross,
Libellus de adoranda Cruce, d ed icated to his friend and fellow -author Lupus o f
Ferrieres. T h is d e d ica tio n tells us ab ou t E in hard’s picture o f him self and what
he th o u g h t h e w as d o in g , as L u p u s is another o f those classicizing writers o f
the C a ro lin g ia n R en a issan ce w h o created that in form ed readership to which
Einhard c o u ld address a n e w k in d o f b o o k in the confidence that his
recapitulation o f L atin style and scholarship w o u ld be recognized and
appreciated.54
T h e fo rm o f E in h a rd ’ s Life o f Charlemagne is Suetonian, and Suetonian
from read in g S u e to n iu s, n o t as m o d ified and adapted from the Sulpician
tradition.55 It is c o g e n t ly and cle a rly o rgan ized , though not much more than
3 sketch, as n o sin g le sectio n is v e r y lo n g ; it does not approach the kind ot
disquisition on v irtu es that B o c c a c c io w ro te in his encomium on Dante. The
reatm ent o f C h a r le m a g n e is la u d a to ry , like a saint’s life; there is nothing ot
 l6o Truth and convention in the M id d le Ages

Charlemagne .s relations
. vstth his
Ins hrnthcr
brotner, w hom he dispossessed,
,. or ,o f his
treatment o fh i, tit., w ife o , h „ daughter,. ■ "«' f
e v e n t, o f h i, B ava rian W at. all p o ten t.,I lo p ie . m the S n e .o n .a n p a n e ™ .
Einhard w „ eteattng , lep n n u d n g Imperial biography, a " « » pattern To,
the w e n H i, Lite begin , w ith a w et,on on C h a rle m a g n e , .n e e , , o r , , and te ll,
1
how his ' father.
. . D
Pepin, .ln le to
came tcl be king
be m o f the Franks. A t Pepin s death
u *, u
Charlem agne and his brother Car.otnan succeeded, and w hen after tw o
vears C ariom an died (by dtsease. as Einhard «s careful to make clear),
Charlem agne re.gned alone. Einhard acknowledges the expectation that
there should be a sect,on on the kin g’s boyhood and education, but
substitutes an occupatio, explaining that he omits these topics because no
written evidence survives and the eye-witnesses have all died. T his is
probably due to a des.re to get on to the events o f the reign, h u real subject.
He gives a divisio o f the sections he intends to include: C h a rle m a g n e ’s deeds
and habits, subdivided into h.s resgestae at hom e and abroad, fo llo w e d b y his
domestic studia and mores, the administration o f his k in g d o m , and finally his
death. The section on ‘foreign w ars’ allow s him to describe, in good
historical fashion (complete with rhetorical flourishes) the Saxon s w h o m
Charles had only defeated w ith some difficulty. H e go e s o n to list
Charlemagne's treaties (with some exaggeration o f the readiness o f foreign
potentates to offer friendship to the Frankish kin g) and then his opera: his
works o f building like the Church at A achen, the b rid g e o v e r the R h in e , the
palaces, the fleet and coastal fortifications. AH o f this is ca re fu lly signposted,
as i f Einhard had analysed and listed Sueton ius’ topics, an d filled in under
each heading.
I t is when Einhard moves, in chapter 18, to C h a r le m a g n e ’s d o m estic life
that Suetonius’ influence becom es m ost strikin g, since m u c h o f the content
transforms units from the Lives o f A ugu stus and, to a lesser e x te n t, Tiberius.
The physical description, p ro b ab ly adapted fro m S id o n iu s A p o llin a r is ’ later
Emperor, shows h o w extensive E in hard’s researches w e r e . W h a t Einhard’s
translators have often represented as his d e sc rip tio n o f C h a rlem a g n e ’s
character is, in Einhard’s terms, a c o n sid e ra tio n o f his animi dotes and
lonstantia. These are difficult term s, fo r w h ic h th e re are n o English
equivalents, and refer to concepts q u ite u n lik e m o d e r n n o tio n s o f character.
Einhard seems to mean that C h a r le m a g n e w a s (lik e a sain t) firm , steadfast in
those gifts o f the spirit, those ‘essences’ o f th e in n e r m a n , w h ic h made it
possible for him to persevere in p ro s p e rity a n d a d v e r s it y . T h e r e are v e ry fe'v

examples which w ou ld illustrate C h a r le m a g n e 's ethos; m o s t o f this section is

 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
161

a description, o f a m ost carefully selected kind, copied from the Latin

models. Like Augustus, Charlem agne kept his children around him, and
always travelled w ith them . R eco rd s and charters o f the time show that this
is not true; Einhard must have thought it was appropriate, and certainly it goes
some w a y to suggesting a sentimental rather than a political reason why
C h arlem agn e’s daughters rem ained w ith him . Charles’s affection for his
children also gives Einhard the opportu nity to describe a human weakness in
C harlem agne, w h o w ep t w hen one o f them died, as he w ept when he heard
that Pope Hadrian I, w h o m he counted as a friend, had died. In the first case
Einhard describes C h arlem a gn e ’s inability to bear adversity with patience as
a lim it upon his m agn an im ity, that essential quality o f a ruler; the second is
an occasion to p oint o u t the strength o f his friendship. Einhard returns to
m agn an im ity w h e n he stresses the quality o f court hospitality to foreign
visitors, w h ich C h arlem a g n e m ade a point of, because it was important to his
fame. T h e description o f C h arlem a g n e ’s daily life is as problematic as the
rest. E inhard says that C h arlem a g n e en joyed sw im m in g for exercise; as far as
literary m odels g o , this is unusual (Charles sw am for the pleasure o f it, not at
all as an exercise in sexual continence). A re w e m eant to compare this bodily
im m ersion to the discipline B e d e described, or is it perhaps included because
it is true? T h e re is n o an sw er in the tex t, b e yo n d plausibility and likelihood. It
is plausible and lik e ly that, as Einhard w rites, he made a point o f wearing
Frankish n atio n a l dress, and w a s n o t pretentious in his tastes, yet w e must
allow that the d escrip tio n o f dress is there to assert bo th his sense o f rank and
his in difference to osten tatious riches. In term s o f Suetonian topics, Einhard
covers p h ysical d e scrip tio n , leisure, clo th in g , fo o d and drink (Charles, too,
exhibits m o d e ra tio n in e a tin g and d rin k in g , b u t alw ays had difficulty fasting
- this is a k in g n o t a saint), and sleep (m oderation here suggests that the king
was n ever slo th fu l). W h e n E in h ard praises C h arlem agn e’s eloquence and his
k n o w le d g e o f fo r e ig n la n g u a g e s o n e m a y h a ve one’ s doubts; the encourage­
ment o f le a rn in g is, h o w e v e r , w ell-a ttested fro m other sources. Charles s
ow n attem pts to lea rn to read and w rite are, o f course, famous (though that
does n ot m a k e th e m tr u e ). E in h ard then m o ve s on to his piety and care tor
the C h u rc h , his c o n c e r n fo r his c o u n tr y ’s la w s and for the calendar. Like so
much o f the rest, this se ctio n is sh o rt and list-like, and tells us little about the
m an- T h e re is, fo r e x a m p le , th o u g h it m ust be a fam iliar omission by now ,
nothing o f his c o n v e r s a tio n , th o u g h E inhard spent years at court and must
often h a ve h e ard h is e lo q u e n t e m p e ro r speak. It is n ot clear w hat such speech
W° u ld h a ve b e e n u se fu l as an e x a m p le o f, and that m ay be w h y it is omitted.
 the M id d le A ges
Truth and convention m
162

Einhard end, with the Em peror's death, then the porten ts w h ic h preceded it,
the obsequies, epttaph. and a cop y o f the w ill. T h e schem atic m o d el w h ic h
nutated at vario u s len gth s. T h e p h ysical
this provided C0“ ,d use b y o th er w riters, such as N o tk e r . f „ r
descrip tio n ,.n p am eu ^ ^ £ m p ero r; and T h e g a n fo r his life o f L o u is the
his ow n ants o o f C aen w h o used E in h a rd ’ s phrases to
P,ous and the an on ym ous m onk ot L.acn
describe the death o f W illiam the Conqueror as did A sser fo r the L , f e o f
a L U O nce Einhard had established the outline o f the secu lar biography,
an organizing schema, others could add illu strative an ecd otes, th at m ost

Suetonian trait. . , .
D escribing some o f the to p o i o f history in the previous chapter, I
postponed the discussion o f 't h e character o f a great m an'. If w e move
forward in time, and across the genre line from free-standing biography
back to history, and biography inset within it, m any o f these elements can be
seen in the work o f William o f M alm esbury, the tw elfth -cen tu ry historian
and hagiographer whose saints' lives w e have already considered. As the
traditions o f Bede’s Cuthbert and Sulpicius’ M artin lie behind W illiam ’s
Anglo-Saxon heroic saints, so Bede’s E c c le s i a s t ic a l H i s t o r y and Suetonius’
C a esa rs can be discerned as models for W illia m ’s N o rm a n kin gs.57 W ritin g at
much greater length than Einhard, W illiam includes illustrative anecdotes,
speeches, and all the examples which m ake his w o r k liv e ly - i f not necessarily
true. The paired lives o f W illiam R u fu s and H e n ry I are strikingly
Suetonian. The divisions are clear, although im p licit. B o th lives are divided
into eight sections. William R u fu s’s life is structured at birth, the settlement
with his brother which led to his o w n accession to the E n glish throne, his
wars, his private life, his acts a g a in s t G o d , the ch u rch , and his subjects, then a
description o f his person. H en ry’s life is sim ilar: e arly years, accession,
internal wars, external wars, m ores, description o f his person, his opera

(mainly buildings), and fam ily. It also includes t w o digressions which

concern general topics o f the day w h ich tie secular co n cern s to those o f the
church: investitures and noble ecclesiastics. T h e lives o f the tw o brothers are
meant to contrast. In W illiam o f M a lm e s b u ry ’s ju d g e m e n t the elder was a
bad man and a bad king, whose im m o ra lity w as h eld in ch eck as long as the
saintly Lanfranc lived, but w hose w icked n ess a p p ro a ch e d tyran n y once the
Archbishop was dead (sections 3 12 -1 3 ). W illia m ’s literary powers were

cons' " able> and the picture o f vice he d r e w p ersu asiv e, but i f one looks
Y US conventionaIity is clear. H e used ideas ab ou t clothing a"d
°n f° great at W ill,am R u fu s ’s c o u r t m en g r e w their hair long
 Let us n o w praise fam ous m en
if >3

and becam e too interested in w hat they w ore; this is because they were
hom osexuals, vicious and effem inate. If one turns from this diatribe to the
praise o f H enry I, one finds that by contrast H enry is described as a model o f
chastity. R eco rd s inform us o f about nineteen o f H enry’s illegitimate
children, and W illiam m entions several o f them in passing, so it seems likely
that H e n ry ’s chastity is posited as an appropriate virtue and a contrast to his
brother. W h ile it is true that there are no records o f illegitimate children for
W illia m R u fu s, there is no co n firm in g record o f hom osexuality either, and
it m ay w ell be that the historian b o rro w e d ‘vices’ from the R o m an court in
order to sy m b o lize his disapproval o f the English king. Certainly the section
devoted to the g r o w th o f vice in W illia m R u fu s after the death o f Lanfranc is
carefully co m p o sed, even elegant. T h e ve ry spontaneity o f the anecdotes may
arouse suspicion. O n e o f the con tin uin g criticisms o f W illiam Rufus is his
rapacity, especially to w ard s the chu rch’s lands and property. Since a king is
supposed to be m agn an im ous, W illia m ’s behaviour is doubly disgraceful.
O n e o f the b e st-k n o w n anecdotes concerns an incident w ith the court
cham berlain, w h o b ro u g h t the k in g a pair o f shoes w o rth only a few marks.
W illia m , reactin g a n g rily to his servant’s purchase, com plained that kings
didn’t w ea r cheap shoes, and sent the m an o u t in search o f a m ore expensive
pair. T h e servan t’s re ve n ge w as first to b u y an even cheaper pair o f shoes
than the o ffe n d in g pair, and then to tell the kin g that they w ere more
expensive. F urth er, cheatin g his master in this w a y becam e a habit, and an
im portant source o f reven ue. T h e story is un likely, if only because such
deceit w o u ld b e to o dan gerous fo r a servant to risk. It is there to illustrate the
k in g ’s m isplaced sense o f values, his offences against magnanimity. It is
focussed on clothes to be o f a piece w ith the rest o f the criticism o f the reign.
T he apparent co n sisten cy, or coherence, o f W illia m R u fu s’s ‘character’ is a
creation o f the h isto rian ’s ethical analysis. A necdote is the method.
T h e use and treatm en t o f anecdotes rem inds us once again that diverse
models m a y co in cid e in any n e w w o r k , and that the ways they are used are
not to be e xp lain e d o r p red icted fro m their place o f derivation; it is difficult
to tell if the an ecd o te a b o u t W illiam R u fu s ’s shoes was intended to be funny.
It seems u n lik e ly , n o t o n ly because the narrative is about a king, and the
decorum to be e x p e c te d o f such a subject suggests m ore dignity (that is,
seri°us satire is a ccep tab le, jo k e s are p ro bably not), but also because most
Sen°u s w ritin g at this le v e l is h o m o g en eo u s in effect. This is not the case in
w e lfth -cen tu ry ro m a n ces, th o u g h , and it is therefore possible that it was not
the case lr» c o n te m p o ra ry h isto ry . It is one o f the characteristics o f folklore
 Truth and convention in the M id d le A ge s
164
, „ v-rnted and repeated to epitom ize ethical types
traditions that stones are invented ana “ T r. , . r
„ „„ nnflinc wasorganized, the insertion o f
and recurring situations. Once an outline b
, . ,f„ r,iiv N otker’s anecdotal biography o f
extra material followed naturally. iNotKer ® .
Charlemagne, follow,ng Einhards schematic one. .Ilustrates just this
tendency. So docs Joinville s Life of S i La iii. .
As more and more secular histones were written, w ith the.r concentration
on and celebration of, non-relig.ous, non-saintly historical agents, they
provided almost by inertia, secular models o f concom itant im portance. A
certain defensiveness continues to appear in the.r prefaces, since there is a
(sometimes but not always) tacit assumption that properly spcak.ng, men
ought to despise the world and its ambitions, for the sake o f the hereafter.
But the strength o f w orldly ambition and the p ow er o f p o w e r continued to
exert their charm, and the argument that it was right to rem em ber the great
deeds o f the past remained a standard invocation. H agiographies, h o w ever
skilfully adapted, proved inadequate as models for the com p lexities o f life in
the world. Their plot is too simple. As annals and chronicles were
supplemented by ambitious narrative histories, from the tw e lfth century
onwards, kings and their reigns remained the m ost co n ven ien t organizing
principle. It became common for histories to contain inset biographical
sections, and, conversely, for works that seem to announce them selves as
biographies to treat a reign as a whole. It w ou ld be a m istake to place too
much stress on the distinction between inset and free-standin g bio grap h y; it
is a convenience. N or is there a simple line o f descent w h ic h w ill distinguish
kinds or styles o f biography. Each text requires analysis on its m erits - or
demerits. Richer’s tenth-century history o f France is full o f h ig h ly rhetorical
biographical material modelled on classical historians, w h ile W illia m o f
Poitier’s biography o f William the C o n quero r is replete w ith m aterial on the
reign.5’ Both writers stylize their historical actors in o rd e r to e m b o d y in
them the virtues (and vices) suitable to their age, sex, status, and role. Because
these roles now involved more com p lex m oral ju d g e m e n ts than w as the case
in hagiography, or in the compressed entries o f earlier, annalistic writing,
new models impressed themselves upon am bitiou s w riters. F ro m antiquity
Suetonius and Sallust presented abundant and va rio u s vice. A m bition,
treachery, and tyranny fill their pages. In the M id d le A g e s the epic writers,

histor T ° ^ 0ZCnS ° ^ c^ansons de geste, added to the stock as writers of

j^ m° St Pr° f ° und m odels o f h isto rical analysis, already
mentioned abnvp in
that nation I a^ter ls v ie w , enshrined in Sallust and Lucan,
s encourages turpitude, w h ic h w e a k e n s and leaves open
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
165

to defeat once ‘ virile ’ societies: a ‘decline and fall’ theory o f enormous

p opularity, appealing, as it does, to that dual streak o f asceticism and
m iso gy n y w h ich is so em phatically male-oriented. V irgil, at the heart o f
education, pervades educated w ritin g , w ith his sense o f public life and
national destiny; the role o f w om en is either monstrous regiments o f
temptresses or providers o f m ore soldiers.
C h ristian ity had, o f course, its o w n models o f history. R om an writers
w ere not the o n ly m odels fo r creating villainy. A lthough the historical
books o f the B ible could be useful for com parison, they were not very
analytical about the beh av io u r o f individuals, and w ere weak on motivation
and cause. W h e n T acitu s w as rediscovered, his tragical dramas, w ith all the
suspense o f w h ich he w as master, p roved irresistible, as the w ork o f More
and H a y w a rd , and even C laren d on , show s.60 Sallust’s Catiline and Jugurtha
reappear th ro u g h o u t m edieval and renaissance historical writing: Richer
used C a tilin e ’s speech fo r his o w n O tto II, and adapted Sallust’s exchanges
for som e o f his o w n conversations, such as those o f Louis IV .61 W illiam o f
Poitiers m anaged to tailor his o w n com parisons to Julius Caesar to make his
description o f W illia m the C o n q u e ro r straightforw ard, and W illiam o f
M alm esb u ry’s W illia m R u fu s is at one poin t so ‘close’ to the dark side o f
Julius Caesar that W illia m is constrained to insist that history repeats itself.62
W ell-read historians lik e O rd e ric V italis pointed out the imitations o f their
predecessors, b u t that did n o t stop them fro m m aking imitations o f their
o w n .63 T h e traditions o f the nine w orthies, three each from biblical, classical,
and vern acular h isto ry , rem in d us that history itself provides a system o f
references. T h e vern acular sagas o r chansons de geste w ere rich in examples o f
am bition, treach ery, e n v y , reven ge, and G anelon is as useful a comparison as
Judas. R a o u l de C a m b ra i is a fiction al villain w h o is the protagonist o f the
eponym ous chanson de geste w h ich recounts his ever-m ore-w icked deeds. He
burns nuns to death inside their co n ven t, including members o f his family.
W hen R o b e r t o f A ve sb u ry castigates John o f France he accuses him o f sexual
incontinence w ith secular w o m e n , w ith religious, and with members o f his
fam ily.64 Eadric Streona w as a figure around w h o m stories o f villainy
collected, and he boasted o f k illin g his o verlo rd .65
Certain roles are co n ven tio n al: go o d kings are wise and just, they
Maintain g o o d la w s in their o w n co u n try and conquer where they have
n gbts. T h e y establish the succession, exh ib it m agnanim ity, and support the
church. B y con trast, tyran ts abuse this same pow er. Herod provided a
° nventional m o d e l ty ra n t in the Christian tradition, both for kings and tor
 he M id d le A g e s
Truth and convention in t
166

,
the persecuting magistrates ...hn annrar mrc
who appear throughout
* the acts o f the m artyrs
/
and the inventions o f hagiographers. If Herod cam e also to sym bolize
dramatic crudity, he was no less potent for that, and the angry rant w hen the
tvrant loses h.s temper remained a useful model. T he R o m an m odel is m ore
subtle The political charactenst.es o f the tyrant w ere part of men s thinking
about power, the role o f kings, and form ed part o f a m ore general political
discourse if only because the problem o f the R ep u b lic w o u ld not g o aw ay.
Tyrants abused their roles by excess, perverting the values they o u g h t to
have espoused. In|usnce replaces the ruler’s com m itm ents to m aintain the
law. avarice replaces magnanimity, and so forth. Private vices can be equally
conventional. A bove all. tyranny brings duplicity w ith it. T his is o f crucial
importance in societies dependent upon loyalty, upon m en k e ep in g their
word. In the absence o f clear-cut laws or constitutions, and w h ere there are
no police and little by w ay o f armies, o n ly m en ’s obedien ce to that ideal kept
anarchy at bay. Often anarchy was not kept at bay. T h e association o f
duplicity with court life is venerable and w idespread. ‘D u p lic ity ’ appears in
Skelton s Bouge o f Court as ‘Harvey H after , the sm iler w ith the kn ife beneath
the cloak; M ore’s Richard III is the epitom e o f the ty p e .66 B ecause the
duplicitous man is disloyal himself, he also anticipates betrayal fro m everyo n e
around him, so he is suspicious, by turns in gratiatin g and b u lly in g , prone to
lose his temper, and tortured by insom nia and bad dream s. T y ra n ts are as
much a type as any o f the other topoi w e have con sidered, and w e need to be
alert to the use o f a recognizable description as an accusation o f tyran n y It
may seem to reveal a kn ow ledge o f m o tive , b u t th e lim ite d n ature o f the
motivation will be clear to anyone w h o has read a n y o f these descriptions.
‘T yranny’ seems to be its o w n explanation.
Much o f this chapter has been concerned w ith saints and k in g s, but it must
be remembered that it began w ith a poet. N e w subjects m a y be legitim ated
by old models, creating n ew ones in their turn. T h e m a n ip u la tio n o f to p o i

need not be a sterile or autom atic exercise, and the search in d ifferen t genres
for new models m ay be a creative response to re ca lcitra n t material.
CC*° s Praise o f D ante is a claim w h ich ele va tes D a n te to a dignity
hitherto reserved for saints or rulers. B y con trast, B o c c a c c io ’s short lives o f
notorious men and w o m e n exist to e x e m p lif y th e instability o f

... ^ ° rtUne' ®ut k ° m b e g in n in g s o f his s o -c a lle d ‘de casibus’

could b 8rC,T an0t^er ,lne ° ^ esccn t. a g r o u p o f d is c re te secu lar lives which

called attend ” ‘ ,UStratK>ns o f PoJ'tica l v ie w s as w e ll. T h e ir existen ce alone
them as im p o rtan t, w o r t h y o f p re se rv a tio n , a com
 Let us n o w praise fam ous m en
167

endium o f m odels. Translated, and expanded, first by Laurent de

Prem ierfait into French and then b y John L ydgate into English, they were
im itated in the series o f poem s k n o w n as the Mirror for Magistrates, published
'in its first, shortest, edition in 1559 - T h is is a vernacular, poetic, amplification
' f earlier histones w h ich the authors (it is a group compilation) have found
elsewhere. T h e q u a lity o f the best o f the contributions to the collection, such
as the ‘ In d u ctio n ’ and ‘C o m p la in t o f H en ry D uke o f Buckingham ’ , by
T hom as S a ck v ille , is h igh ; S a ck v ille used the rhym e royal stanza o f Chaucer
and his im itators, and pressed D an te and V irg il into service as well for his
o w n tragical historical p o em . O n c e again w e are reminded o f the essentially
literary nature o f m u ch bio grap h ica l and histoncal w riting, and o f the
disjunctions b e tw ee n literary success and either em pirical truth or causal
analysis- A u th o rs saw their characters in term s o f abstractions, abstractions
both o f qualities and o f h u m an types. F or T h o m a s M ore, translating the Life
ofPicus, the p o in t o f the te x t w as the question w h ere ‘true nobility’ was to be
found; P ico e x e m p lifie s the a rgu m en t that it is behaviour rather than birth
w hich m ade a m an w o r t h y o f im itatio n . L ik e so m any writers, M ore expects
his reader to re c o g n iz e the a rg u m e n t to w h ich his exam ple is directed. The
‘D e C a sib u s’ co lle ctio n s w h ic h heaped up exam ples o f disappointed
am bition w e r e o ste n sib ly presented as w arn in gs, perhaps for rhetorical
am plification in sch o o ls, b u t their effect m ust, paradoxically, have been to
enshrine the histories o f the strivin g.

If the ten d e n cy o f this ch a p te r has been to suggest that there are no reliable
biographies (in a n y m o d e m sense) b e fo re the seventeenth century, that the
texts w h ich p u rp o rt to tell us o f the lives o f real m en and w om en in fact tell
us alm ost n o th in g , o r at least n o th in g that can be used b y modern historians
w ho co m e to these tex ts w ith th eir o w n purposes, is there anywhere we can
look for the d e sc rip tio n and analysis o f hu m an experience throughout the
hundreds o f years o f the M id d le A g e s and Renaissance? There do exist a few
w orks w h ic h seem r e c o g n iz a b ly b io g ra p h ica l in Johnson’s sense, that is,
concerned w ith th e p erso n a litie s, the inner lives, the mental and emotional
experiences o f h is to rica l m e n and w o m e n . N o r is it anachronistic to ask if
some w riters p e r c e iv e d h u m a n e x p erien ce in terms different from the major
forms o f w ritte n e x p re s s io n ; cu ltu res are n ot hom ogeneous, not insulated
0IT1 effects o f tra d e , tra v e l, co n q u est, or the changes w hich com e with
m c> even w ith re a d in g b o o k s . It is another activity.
^ eeid en t m u st n e v e r b e u n d erestim a ted as a fact o f literary life. N o r is
 T r u t h and c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A g e s
168

, . „ c f^ ic h tfo r w a rd m a tte r o f descent lines,

literary history li e y to en tially as enabling fo r w riters as direct
C o lla tera l rc l.r .o o . are alw „ P ™ »
ancestors because they suggest altcrna
o d d rter O f m e d ie v a l Ir.eraru re I, <h.< e x c h a n g e o f le t t e r , b e , w e e n t w „
Team ed and .e rto u s c o r r e .p o n d e n ,.. w h ic h b e g i n , b y c o m m c n .r n g o n a t e a ,.
" th e m r e r p r e ra tio n o f b t o g r a p h y a n d a n r o b t o g r a p h y a n d th e n
b e c o m e s s o m e th in g m o r e f o r m a l, m o r e ak rn to th e q n a .t - p o b h c l e „ „ .
w r it in g w e k n o w Iro n , th e « JU m M . m i th e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e o f o t h c ,
In e ra te l a . i n . e e frie n d s. T h e r e e x is t n u m b e r s o f w h a t w c m i g h t d e s c r ib e a ,
c o u r .l v ' c le ric a l e x c h a n g e b e tw e e n a 'd i r e c t in g m e n to r, who is b o th
o ed a g o g u c and p n es, ,o a w in y but essen tially h u m b le fe m a le resp o n d en t,
F h ere6 is. h, o w e v e r, only
T i„ o
onn ee w h ere th
sMicre m ee yy h a v e been m a n a n d. w ife .
Peter A b e la rd ’s co n tribu tio n s to lo g ic , p h ilo s o p h y , a n d th e ir p la ce in the
study o f religion are u n d o u b ted ly o f th e k in d w h ic h r a d ic a lly a lte re d the
approaches to and un derstan din g o f th o se su b jects, h o w e v e r little his own
b ooks rem ained set texts o f u n iv e rsity stu d y . In te rm s o f b io g ra p h ica l
w n tin g as an attem p t to understand the p a r tic u la r ity o f h u m a n e x p erien ce ,
A belard innovates despite h im self. In his H is t o r ic C a la m it a tu m th e e v e n ts o f
his o w n life arc selected and p resen ted as a n a lo g o u s to a t e x t , th e correct
interpretation o f w h ich reveals the d e m o n s tr a tio n o f G o d ’s g r a c e at every
step to correct and chastise his b e lo v e d , e x c e p t io n a l s in n e r. A b e la r d uses the
gen re o f the fam iliar letter lik e a h o m ily , an e x p o s it io n o f a s c r ip tu r a l te x t in a
conversational m o d e, then p o p u la r a m o n g p r e a c h e r s a n d w r it e r s alike.
L o o k in g back, he assim ilates his p erso n a l h is t o r y t o a b s tr a c t c a te g o r ie s such
as p ride and G o d ’s p ro v id e n c e : this is a p o la r it y in w h i c h th e w ilf u l soul
opposes its e lf to G ra ce. In a w a y , p e r h a p s , A b e l a r d m a y h a v e h a d the O ld
Testam en t stories o f K in g D a v id at th e b a c k o f h is m in d ; h e , A b e la r d , is the
sole p ro tago n ist, the o n ly s u fferer in th is d i v i n e c o m e d y . W h a t w as is
subsum ed in w h a t w as m e an t: th e h is t o r y o f A b e l a r d ’ s m is f o r t u n e s becom es
readable o n ly in re tro sp ect as a series o f s y m b o l i c e v e n t s in w h i c h th e hand o f

G o d can be discern ed, g u id in g a n d d ir e c t in g a n e le m e n t a l d r a m a o f pride,

fall, and red em p tio n . A s th ere is o n l y o n e v o i c e , o n e n a r r a t o r , a n d that the
vo ice o f a m aster rh e to ric ia n , it is c o n v i n c i n g : c o n f i d e n t a n d coherent,
A b elard m o ve s and p ersu ades. T h e H is to r ic , c o u c h e d as a le t t e r o f e x e m p l ary
instruction, carries n o e v id e n c e o f a n i n t e n d e d r e c i p i e n t . W h e t h e r or not

there was one, the H is t o r ia w a s t r e a te d as ‘p u b l i s h e d ’ , c o p i e d a n d circulate

publicly, and it seems that Heloise read it w ith o u t it h avin g been Abela
intention to send it to her. The addition o f her v o ic e m odifes the imprC
 L e t u s n o w praise fa m o u s m en
16 9

o f his, and It g iv e s us un usual e v id e n ce o f reading and in te r n ™

rh eto rica l c o n v e n tio n s o f th e presen tation. It seems clear that hT ' ™ ^
a n g ered b y th e ‘ le tte r’ . H e r in te rv e n tio n appears to have com e ^
o f t w e lv e y ea rs (unless t w e lv e is m ean t to sign ify som ethin* s v ^ T !
d u rin g w h ic h she had n o co n ta c t w ith her husband, and durin W h *

had s tru g g le d to liv e w it h - a lth o u g h she co u ld n ot acquire f m J h ^

c o n v ic tio n - th e v o c a tio n h e h a d thrust u p o n h er after he was castrated t T
in ten sity o f e m o tio n , th e p a r tic u la r ity o f her descriptions and the force 0fh
analysis are u n iq u e .68 H e lo is e c o v e rs th e g r o u n d A b ela rd has traversed °fr0m
h er p o in t o f v ie w , th a t is, as a p erso n in her o w n righ t, n ot a contingency m
A b e la r d ’ s sc h e m e o f p erso n a l s a lv a tio n , and she attributes m o tive h ow ev
o b liq u e ly . H e r c o n c e r n f o r w h a t w as, in all its exactitu d e and passion is ckar
and c o m p e llin g , and it dem ands that the reader (w h o , it must b
re m e m b e r e d , is at least in th e first in stan ce A b e la rd him self) is challenged to
d e n y h e r a c c o u n t a n d a n alysis i f h e dare. H elo ise’s ab ility to recall and
e m b o d y th e c h a ra c te r s a n d m o tiv e s o f th e acto rs in their dram a is the more
m o v in g fo r th e c o m p a r a t iv e su p e rfic ia lity o f A b ela rd ’s - differently
in te n d e d - a c c o u n t. O n e o f th e a rg u m e n ts , in d eed , fo r the authenticity o f the
letters is h o w m u c h b e tt e r H e lo is e co m e s o u t o f them than does Abelard; a
ju d g e m e n t e x t r e m e l y u n lik e ly fr o m a fo rg e r, g iv e n the m iso gyn y o f the
p erio d . B y r e s t o r in g th e h u m a n m essiness o f their life to geth er she defies his
a tte m p t to m a k e lite r a tu r e o f it, th a t is, a co h e re n t salvation narrative; at the
sam e tim e , sh e uses a ll th e rh e to r ic a l skills at her co m m a n d to increase the
p ath o s o f h e r o w n d e s c r ip tio n .
T h e r e is c a r e fu lly c a lc u la te d d is p o s itio , w ith all the stylistic and rhythmic
effects H e lo is e h a d le a r n e d f r o m y e a rs o f stu d y . H e r w ritin g is meant to be
heard, fu ll, as it is, o f c a r e f u lly b a la n c e d rh y th m s . I f she objects to Abelard’s
m a n ip u la tio n o f h is ‘ l if e ’ as a s a lv a tio n n a rra tiv e , she h erself exploits to the
full a c o m b in a t io n o f th e fa m ilia r le tte r a n d the O v id ia n plea. She brings
h e rs e lf in to th e a c tio n , a n d b y stre ssin g A b e la r d ’s je a lo u sy and lack o f trust in
her, a d d s la y e r s o f c o m p l e x i t y to his v e rsio n . W h ile it is true that Heloise
seem s m o r e h u m a n e t o m o d e m rea d ers than A b ela rd does, once again we
m ust r e m in d o u r s e lv e s th a t th is is b e ca u se o f the values w e brin g to the letters
n o w ; w e p ra ise H e l o is e ’ s g r a s p o f r e a lity as she experien ced it, and as she
c o n v e y s its f o r c e t o A b e l a r d . S h e uses rh e to ric, k n o w in g that w hatever
A b e la r d s r e a c tio n to t h e c o n te n t m ig h t b e , he w ill be in trigued b y , adm iring
° f ’ h er e x p r e s s io n .69 It a p p e a r s as i f A b e la r d - tactless as this is - w as tryin g to
c o n str u c t a c o n s o la tw , m a k in g his life an e x e m p lu m ; he w as n ot w ritin g his
 170 Truth an d c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A ge s

, .
autobiography .
nor an Augustinian rnnfession. And even here w e need to
con
remind ourselves o f the manifold dm erenns which distance
i i r i differences . . . . their culture
- m ours. H
fro , , eloise
, and, A. ,belard
| i ...K errihed to
subscribed to the sam e eth ical im p' erativ es;’
stlie did not. W e treasure her for her
he achieved them in some measure, oh
failure but must be w ary o f condemning him for h,s success, spiritual
blackmailer though he be. In a w ay that is both serious and intriguing,
Heloise's reaction suggests that different possibilities of interpretation existed
for her as a reader, and Abelard s rebuke insists that she misread h,s text. In
accepting his criticism she also accepted that hers was the inferior w a y o f
understanding their past, though she could only aspire to strive to transcend
it to read it symbolically, as he now did. She obeyed his injunction, ceased to
write to him about that personal past, and turned to the matters w hich
concerned them both as shepherds o f souls. B ut she did not destroy w h at she
had written. The first passionate com m itm ent to w h at w as survives, born o f
its odd circumstances, attesting to such an exceptional ability to see, to
understand, to express, that w e must regret that she w ro te n o th in g else. The
rhetorical elegance o f her Latin style, and the tendency o f b oth correspond­
ents to allude to classical and Christian writers, is a final rem in der o f their
training and o f the conventions o f their literary culture: to express the
highest planes o f em otion, the highest style is the best m ed iu m .
It seems, how ever, that strong em otions som etim es distorted even the
loose genre boundaries o f medieval literary culture. W e m ig h t w ish to think
o f the new book as referring to an older one, o r an o ld er tradition o f books,
while, because o f the pressure o f em otion, the u rg e n cy , o f the ‘n e w ’ w riter,
something different appears. G u ib e r to fN o g e n t’s ‘a u to b io g ra p h ica l’ w riting
stands as an exam ple o f this peculiarly in tertextual creatio n . G u ib e rt was a
tw elfth-century A b b o t o f a small m onastery in n o rth e rn Fran ce, a historian,
an exegete, and the author o f a w o rk he called D e V i t a S u a s i v e m o n o d ia r u m

s u a r u m lib r i i r e s .70 T he earlier author w h o stands b eh in d G u ib e r t’s b o o k is

Augustine: G uibert begins w ith the b egin n in g o f th e g re a t C o n fe s s io n s :

‘confiteor’, then, like A ugustine, gives us a kin d o f sp iritu al a u to b io g ra p h y

in which his mother loom s large. It is the in te rte x tu a lity o f th e references to
the mothers which makes G u ib ert’s suspect. H o w far A u g u s t in e ’s descrip­
tion o f M onica lies behind G u ib ert’s descrip tion o f his m o th e r is impossible
to say; it has always to be considered, to o , that M o n ic a a s s u b je c t legitim ated
Guibert s desire to w rite about the fig u re w h o o bsessed h im .
This sense o f one life as an a n a lo g y o f a n o th e r o n e can be found
ughout the writings o f the la te -m e d ie v a l m y s tic s, w h o s e ostensible
 Let us n o w praise famous men
171

concern w ith their o w n inner experience includes wide

earlier, similar w ritin g. T here are reasons for this w h ^ 8*"8 reference to
defence: particularly in the case o f w om en mystics, th l self PUrdy sdf'
w hich cam e w ith the claim to exceptional experience6 ~aggrandizement
could lead to accusations o f heterodoxy, and all the^ eXCeptl0nal 8ifts.
society used to enforce co n fo rm ity, o f w hich confinementn,sh*nents which
onerous. T h e same kin d o f interpretation which Christi™ " f * ^ ^ ^
to legitim ate her experience can be seen in the B o o k lf UXA
Making her book recognizably like the books by or about earli^^
w a y o f cla im in g her o w n legitim acy; the repetition o f their « lermySt,CS 15 a
the Lives o f the Saints - is a m ethod o f insisting u p o n ^ ' Z h “ ^
authenticity. Its v e ry roughness m ay be the kind o f literary pi ” w l
exploits sermo humilis, sim ple language for a ‘simple’ woman- t f c f a l
m ake an elegan t, coherent ‘ story’ another w ay o f makino n* * “ l°
, c u i « 7 Kin8 a l l seem true
T h a t is, referen ce b a ck to rom ance’ w ou ld discredit Margery in
direction as surely as reference back to hagiography w ould discredit her m
another. H er b o o k is a co llectio n o f instances, o f anecdotes, which follow the
patterns o f her read in g in the lives o f h o ly w om en, but there is no overall
architecton ic sense b e y o n d the ch ro n o lo g y o f her life. There could be no
section o f mores o r opera w ith o u t co n veyin g some kind o f claim to

exe m p la ry status.
N o t all in te rte xtu a l reference w as to historical or biographical texts and in
the fifteen th ce n tu ry w e fin d authors w ritin g about themselves in new ways.
C h ristin e de P izan creates a n arrator-figure fo r herself on the model o f earlier
practice, b u t w ith the strik in g in novation that comes w ith the use o f her life:
that is, fem a le a u to b io g ra p h y . It is im portan t to remember how far bringing
the details o f h e r difficulties fo rw a rd constituted a cue to her patrons that she
needed h e lp .71 W h erea s the author as narrator had been a feature o f
fo u rte en th -ce n tu ry c o u rt p o e try , in Petrarch and Boccaccio, Machaut,
C h au cer and G o w e r , the n arratin g vo ice, sometimes straightforward,
som etim es e q u iv o c a l, w a s a creation fo r the sake o f the fiction, building a
c o m m e n ta ry in to th e te x t b y the addition o f an apparently privileged voice
from o u tsid e it. T h e case o f H o ccle ve introduces something new: his
references arc m a in ly to C h a u c e r , and he seems to be expanding the
C h au cerian n a rra to r. In so d o in g , he describes his life as a civil servant, and
includes a lo n g sectio n in his L a M a le R e g ie on his mental state.72 Anecdotes,
t0° ’ w h ere th e y u n d e r g o rh eto rical am plification, begin to aspire to some
kind o f lite r a r y status, as w ith the erotic encounter called De D uobus
 ! the M id d le A ge s
T ruth and convention
172

, . . AA\ „ c Aeneas S v lv iu s P ic c o lo m in i.
A m a n lib u s or E u r y a l u s a n d L u c r c c c (14 ab o u t th em selv es u n d e r the
C o n v e r s e ly ,.« is possible to find a u t h o n w n m g ^ ^ # ^ ^ ^ ^

cover o f an apparently c° " ve^ ,° Douleurueuses qui precedent de

fictionalized autobiography- S ' . •» «
ncnonaii^c es r -1 section in w hich the em otions
/’diwflurof‘HclisennedeCrenne „ „ o „ „ !u(r„ in g , ,

ot the writer teem to tpi o te r o)- cjrcum vcnting liteniry co n v cn -

Unusua mental states may be a wa> 01
don at least to some extent. I f what Hoceleve suflered from was som ethtng
like the state w e describe as 'depress,on', w e are m ovtng tow ards the cur.ous
position that someth,ng about the discovery or at least the leg ,t,m ,Zat,on o f
the inner life as a literary subject may be contingent upon an excess o f hum an
misery perceived as a med.cal cond,t,on. The examples w h .ch survtve are so
rare that ,t would be foolish to generalize, but from tim e to tim e w e find self­
exam,nat,on preserved in writing. Sorrow was a spur w h .c h d ro v e some
writers - and artists - among them O tloh and O picinus de C an istris.^ T h e
rat,oc,nat,on d,splayed in M onta.gne’s senes o f Essays re viv ified the old
Senccan and Plutarch,an genre, the moral essay, and m ade it a central literary
form.75 At the end o f the penod with which this b o o k is con cerned, tw o
famous and influential studies o f depression appeared; T im o th y B r ig h t’s
Treatise (1586) and R obert Burton’s great Anatomy o f M elancholy,76
The more books, the more com plexity, o f course. In w ritin g abou t the
history o f a genre some reference has to be m ade to co n trastin g genres,
against which definitions m ay be made. I have referred to the d rift tow ard
fiction in the saint’s life, and o f the use o f history as a ‘c o v e r ’ fo r o th er kinds
o f narrative. Philosophy, too, is a potential source o f ch a n ge fo r o th er kinds
o f writing where the arguments are em bodied, o r enspeeched, in con ten ding
figures in the Dialogue. Clearly, where speakers are e x c h a n g in g argum ents,
there is, necessarily, the creation o f ethos for each speaker, and w ith ethos
comes an impression - sometimes tenuous - o f character. O n e o f the most
striking, because most rhetorically prepared fo r, o f th eir successes is their skill
at moving and persuading their audiences, and a lo n g lines w h ic h were
complex, secular, and led to questioning the sim p ler tru th s u p o n w hich
morally inspired writing was based. G o o d kin gs and h o ly m en exem p lify
safe uses o f writing which
are easy to in terpret and hard miciicp

W o u I d L r a ? r hr r ° ne ° fth e dlfflCulties has b ccn to fin d term s which

cargo o f anach ^ ° nve^ me£fceval ideas w ith o u t c a r r y in g w ith them a
she expectations, w h ile n e v e r lo s in g s ig h t o f modern
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
173

preoccupations. A description o f the past is always predicated upon the

"resent. I have tried to distinguish historical actors (men and wom en w ho
really lived, h o w e v e r unreliable the su rvivin g evidence as testimony about
the details o f their lives) fro m literary ones, and to be clear and explicit about
‘characterization’ and the analysis o f m o tive as an activity distinct from
creating ‘characters’ w h o do things and feel emotions. H o w clumsily and
inadequately I have described the co m p lex ity o f the past 1 am only too well
aware, and this is b y n o m eans m eant as a h u m ility topos. T h e problems o f
analysing the descriptions o f persons are n otoriously difficult, and the source
o f som e o f the m ost basic disagreem ents a m o n g historians and literary critics
w hen dealing w ith the texts o f these rem ote periods. I have tried to paint a
picture b y p eo p lin g it w ith exam ples o f texts w h ich readers can study for
themselves. I h a ve tried to b e exp licit abou t the central argument o f this
chapter: that p eo p le w ere seen as instances o f unchanging types.
O n e o f the courses o n e m ust take is to lo o k at the vocabulary available to
m edieval and renaissance w riters fo r the analysis o f w hat people w ere like,
though this in v o lv e s a historical and p h ilo lo gical analysis o f the most difficult
kind. W o rd s and phrases w h ic h are apparently m etaphorical may reveal
underlying assum ptions a b o u t the w o r ld w h ich determ ine the questions by
determ ining h o w th e y shall b e put. T h e first thing that strikes one is the
consistency and lim itatio n s o f that vo ca b u la ry across the European ver­
naculars and the L atin w h ic h w as the lan guage o f learning and philosophy,
and the source fo r m u c h o f the vo ca b u la ry o f analysis. A few words do
service fo r a w id e ra n g e o f ideas, and depend fo r their coherence upon an
im plicit, b u t p o te n t, m e ta p h o rica l relation to the language used for the
analysis o f in an im ate o b jects fo u n d in nature, objects like w oo d , water,
stones, or m etal, th e p en u ltim a te things o f the universe o f hum an experience.
T he m ost real, perhaps th e o n ly real reality, w h ich existed in the mind o f
G od, w as the u ltim a te so u rce, and w as th o u g h t to be beyo n d language, pre­
existent. A n u n q u e stio n ed P lato n ism thus p ervaded the discussion: inani­
mate objects w e r e co n sid e re d to h a v e an essence, an essential nature which
could be id en tified , and w h ic h d irected , and lim ited, the uses to which the
objects co u ld b e p u t. T h is is cru cia lly a la n g u ag e o f desire: not gravity (which
had not y e t b een p e rce iv e d ) b u t the desire o f objects to come to rest
accounted fo r th eir fa llin g to the g ro u n d . D esire is to be understood as the
energy directed to w a r d s th e telos, the m o ra l goal or end for which things
W h ile it m a y seem triv ia l to call attention to the essential wetness o f
3ter or ^ e heavin ess o f lead , these fun dam en tal characteristics mattered not
 in (he M id d le A g e s
T ruth and convention
t 74

o n ly as w h at w as taken fo r gran ted ah o n t them b u t also attrib u te d m o ral

values to them . T h e w h o le u niverse ap peared to exist in a series o f m o r a l rank
hierarchies. T h e idea that a person possesses, is, o r is d e fin e d b y , a stable,
iden tifiable belon gs to the sam e w o r ld o f
eth o s, d isco u rse w h ic h search es f 0 r
nature o f the p h y sic al w o r ld . In the b r ie f
the co m p lex io n , disposition, o r - - ,
analysis w h ich fo llo w s I shall restrict m y se lf to E n g lish , b u t e x a m p le s c o u ld
be m u ltiplied fro m the o th er lan gu ages o f w e stern E u r o p e . ^
T h e w ord ‘ch aracter' itse lf presents an initial difficulty. In modern
English we often use it to indicate the sum ofidiosyncras.es, habit, style, a„ d
moral qualities (but not ph ysical attributes, age, or intelligence) w h ich make
a person (sometimes group or nation) uniquely, and re co g n iza b ly , this and
no other W e m ay use it to suggest eccentricity (‘ w h at a character!’) 0r
criticism (‘a weak character ). A nother com m on use, w h ich can be confusing
,n literary analysis, indicates an actor o r agen t in a literary w o r k (the
characters o f a ‘p lo t’, the persons o f the action). It can be co n fu sin g w hen w e
wish to discuss the characters o f characters, but fo r the m ost p art w e are clear
enough in context w hat is meant. These current m ean ings are themselves
metaphoric extensions o f the w o r d ’s origin as ‘a d istin g u ish in g m a rk ’. We
preserve this n ow restricted usage w hen w e id e n tify letters, runes, or
ideograms (‘Chinese characters’). T h e m ed ieval and renaissance uses o f
‘character’ are closer to this e tym o lo gical m ean in g, d istin g u ish in g m ark, than
they are to the m odem ones. W h ile m ed iev al and renaissance ‘characters’
may be said to have ‘characters’, they rarely e x h ib it g r a tu ito u s idiosyncrasy,
either in action or in habits o f speech. T h e v o c a b u la r y o f s y m b o lic gestures
which indicate characters’ inner states is its e lf h ig h ly co n v e n tio n a l, and fairly
restricted: a m o n g them biting the lip to s h o w a n g e r, t h r o w in g the arms into
the air to indicate a desire fo r reven ge, and c h a n g in g c o lo u r. Ham let’s
famous tic o f repeating h im s e lf (‘th rift, H o r a tio , t h r ift ’, ‘w o rd s, words,
w ords’, ‘excep t m y life, e x ce p t m y life, e x c e p t m y lif e ’) is practically
unheard o f earlier. W h ere the w o r d ‘c h a ra c te r’ it s e lf m a k e s o n e o f its rare
appearances, it is usually reserved fo r stable im p rin ts, e ith e r in m etal or in
men. The rediscovery o f the sketches o f T h e o p h r a s tu s w e r e a p o w e rfu l force
for change; this disco very and im ita tio n b e lo n g s to th e v e r y end o f our
period, and is one o f the b o u n d a ry m a rk ers b e tw e e n p r e m o d e r n conceptions
and m odem ones. Y e t even these sketch es are n o t in d iv id u a ls in our sense,
they are ethical characters, re c o g n iza b le ty p e s , w h o a rc w h a t th e y arc, once
for always. T h e y are n ot described in a c tio n o r o v e r t im e , and they do not
change.
 Let us n o w praise fam ous men
175

T w o w ords, both derived from Latin, were used to describe th

im print w h ich m en displayed: ‘disposition’ and ‘complexion’ T h “
w h ile related to the rhetorical dispositio, the arrangement o f the p a n T ’
speech, p ro b a b ly derives from astrological thinking about pkmeurv
positions and the w ays that the relative situations o f different heavenly
bodies affect or influence events. ‘C o m p le x io n ’ is related to this conceptual
fra m ew o rk b y the strong analogies w hich bound analysis o f the heaveni*
bodies to descriptions o f earthly objects (the vocabulary for astrology T nd
alchem y). B o th ‘ disposition’ and ‘co m p lexio n ’ were used to express nature
or constitution, and thus m igh t describe innate qualities or cast o f mind
m ore like o u r use o f ‘ w ill’ than like o ur use o f ‘inclination’ . These are in
th eory perm anent p sych o logical essences, the result o f a balance or
arrangem ent o f factors that m igh t be analysed further as part o f the theory of
hum ours, o r the S to ic theory o f the passions, like love or longing. But
because balance, in the nature o f things, is unstable, and because the external
w o rld changes, these term s co u ld also be used to allow for change. There is
little b y w a y o f e x p licit analysis o f h o w these states could be contradictory,
but e v e ry accep tan ce that th e y w ere. T h a t is, the same words might be
em p lo y ed to in dicate either a perm anent characteristic or a temporary
con dition . T h e reader is dependent upon the context. ‘H igh complexion’ is
as lik e ly to m ean a red face in a p h ysiolo gical description as it is to describe a
n oble n ature in a p sy ch o lo g ica l one. Indeed, there m ay be no distinction
betw een p h y s io lo g y and p s y ch o lo g y . People changed, as premodem writers
k n ew p e rfe c tly w e ll. B ecause their system o f description was essentially static
(rather than p ro g ressive , in o u r sense o f sup plyin g a series o f reasons to satisfy
our e xp ecta tio n that p eo p le are different at different periods o f their lives for
causes that e x te n d b e y o n d th e different stages o f life itself), their vocabulary
restricted th em to series o f abstract categories.
‘N a tu re ’ an d th e allied w o r d , ‘k in d ’ , are used w ith a similar combination
o f sp ecificity and fre e d o m . T h e ir ten d en cy is to address what is permanent
and essential to p eo p le as types o f h u m a n ity , and it is their sense o f grasping a
fun dam en tal w h ic h ties this v o ca b u la ry together to make a coherent - if
som etim es a p p a re n tly co n tra d ic to ry — p sych o log y. This modern term for
the stu d y o f p e rso n a lity w a s n o t, o f course, coined until the seventeenth
century. T h e sense th a t h u m an nature is, h o w ev er puzzling to witnesses at
the tim e o r a fte r, know n, is o n e o f the apparent assumptions o f premodem
culture. It is a m o n g th e a ch ievem en ts o f, for exam ple, Montaigne, to make
hu m an ity m y s te r io u s. A c o m p le x ty p o lo g y existed, based on age, sex, status,
 T ru th and convention in t
he Middle Ages
176

balance o f inner qualities, virtues, and vices, as w e saw ,n C h ap ter , but - as

so often in the Mtdd.e Ages - .to one brought together a of
psychology; the nearest thing » the constant focus on the w ,ll. corrup t since
the Fall The force o f the examples enshnned in the manuals cannot be
underestimated. For this chapter, where w e have considered e xem p la ry
figures hke saints or secular princes, the medieval exam ples arc o f param ou nt
importance because there were no such exam ples in Athens or R o m e w hen
classical manuals were being prepared. Here w e have another rem inder that
literary models do change as society changes. T h e e th o s o f a samt is
fundamentally stable, and medieval authors disclosed virtues a cco rd in g to a
pattern m order to celebrate them and to provide an exam p le fo r o rd in ary
men and wom en. Recalcitrant figures like T hom as B eck et co u ld be forced
onto the Procrustean bed o f m ortification, h u m ility, and co n ven tio n a l
holiness, or could be made to refer to standards they co u ld o n ly appreciate
from a distance, like M argery K cm pe, w hose m arried status e ffe ctiv e ly kept
her in the world. This emphasis on the perm anent e th o s o f a life go es some
w ay to explaining attitudes to children in m edieval w ritin g , th e y are the
father o f the man.
A ny rhetorical manual will give the im pression that the d e s c r ip t io of a
person, either as incidental ‘observations’ o f externals, o r as a su m m a ry o f the
person's life, deeds, and habits, recounted at som e a p p ro p ria te p o sitio n in a
narrative in accordance w ith the schemes fo r b io g ra p h ica l w r itin g , w as a
combination o f units which con veyed an e th o s. B a d k in g s, fo r exam ple,
demonstrated the vices that inverted the virtu es th e y o u g h t to have
displayed: dis-loyalty, in-justice, u n -law fu l se x u a lity , a v a rice rather than
magnanimity. Y et it w ould be a m istake to take as an a ccu ra te d e scrip tio n o f
medieval w riting the recom m endations o f the h a n d b o o k s . In theory
characters em bodied, acted out, abstract vices, v irtu e s , and passions; in
practice writers made them change. O n e so u rce o f d y n a m is m in the
apparently static m odel can be traced to A r is to tle ’s c o d ific a tio n o f th e ages o f
man; at different times o f life different e m o tio n s h e ld s w a y , a n d th e lust o f
youth yielded to the avarice o f age. H u m ilit y , h o w e v e r o fte n it was
p reeived as a gift o f G od to the virtu o u s, m ig h t b e s o u g h t an d achieved
through just those exercises in m o rtifica tio n a sc rib ed to saints lik e Becket.
were perfectly capable o f d iscern in g th e h o lin e ss o f th e p riv a te man

M or ’ h ' V d aPPro P n a tc P ° m p o f th e p u b lic o ffice: Thom as

how ever r , Under c^ance^o r s r° b e s is a fa m o u s h is to ric a l exam ple,
muc the devotions o f St L o u is o r St M a r g a r e t o f S co tla n d may
 Le t us n o w praise fam o u s men
177

b e lo n g to the exp ectatio n s o f their biographers. W hat w e do not find is

m uch descrip tion o f the process o f change; this seems to have been the
p u rv ie w , and the a ch iev em en t, o f certain rare poets like Chretien, w h o
show s characters lea rn in g so m eth in g, or the Gawain-poet, w ho shows them
obstin ately refusin g to . G ra d u a l revelation , realizing and understanding, is
n ot one o f the literary effects m u ch sought. It is am ong the most spectacular
achievem en ts o f E lizabeth an dram a.
A n o th e r source fo r character chan ge com es from temptation to sin or
later, fro m the S to ic th e o ry o f the passions. Character shades into motive'.
Even w h a t seem to b e s tra ig h tfo rw a rd em bodim ents o f sin - ire, lust
avarice, sloth , o r e n v y - m a y be set in m o tio n b y pride, and the temptations
to pride b y w o r ld ly fo rtu n e. T h is m a y be another reason w h y writers set
their p lots in co u rts, then m ade their characters leave', m otion makes for
chan ge. T w o o f the m o st im p o rta n t m o tives w ere revenge and, though it
cam e late, a m b itio n . S o , to o , kin ship lo y a lty w as a constant and natural
spring o f a ctio n , m o st lik e ly to appear w h ere the actors have families
con cern ed w ith th e riches and status o f this w o r ld , and h o w much o f them
th ey can a cq u ire . O v e r a ll, there is an im pression o f coarse grain: a little
‘e x p la n a tio n ’ go es a lo n g w a y . W e h a v e fo u n d , in the last tw o chapters, that
authors ty p ic a lly a ttrib u te deeds to their agents in accordance w ith their pre­
e xistin g v ie w s o f th e a g e n t’ s e th o s. T h a t is, w h a t characters do or say, and
w h at o th e r ch aracters say a b o u t th e m , stem s fro m the author’s evaluation,
and n o t n ece ssa rily fr o m w h a t th e y re a lly said o r did. T h e m ore ambitious, in
the lite ra ry sense, th e a u th o r, the better educated, the more capable o f
assim ilatin g his su b ject to the c o n v e n tio n s o f his art, the less dependable his
n arrative m a y b e as a so u rce o f w h a t his subject did. T h e author o f Le Traison
et M o r t d e R i c h a r d I I w r o t e a m o ra l tale useless to the m odem historian, but
e n o rm o u sly p o p u la r , as a m o ra l tale, a m o n g his contem poraries.78 Froissart is
another n o to r io u s case w h e r e speeches are attributed to characters w ho may
n ot in f a c t h a v e b e e n p resen t o n the occasion described, but w ho became
a p p r o p r ia te sp eakers o f th e sp eech w h ic h is con venient to the action at that
tim e. A ‘b a d ’ c h a ra c te r m a y ap p ea r and reappear to m outh bad actions, but
e qu ally , an a u th o r m a y use a ch aracter inconsistently and w ithout much
con cern fo r ‘ c h a r a c te r iz a tio n ’ , as a co n ve n ie n t speaker. N o history can be
telied u p o n w it h o u t e x te r n a l ch ecks fro m itineraries, rolls, charters, or
a rch e o lo g ica l re m a in s. H is to r y an d b io g ra p h y m ay be unreliable, too, as
guides to w h a t h is to ric a l fig u re s w e re like; they m ay tell us only what
historians t h o u g h t t h e y s y m b o liz e d .
 I?8 Truth and convention in the M id d le A ge s

By implication, the reader’s interpretation, the effort to assimilate the

evidence o f the text to a consistent human type, constitutes one o f the
fundamental illusions o f literary creation. Stylization occurs at m any levels,
and requires astringent attention. W hen m odem readers bring anachronistic
expectations to pre-modem characters, the risk o f over-personalization
increases in proportion to our ignorance o f literary conventions and
psychological assumptions. It w ill be objected that creative literature
escapes rhetoncal categorization because it is based, p ro fo u n d ly, upon
observation o fh o w people behave in the w orld. Expression is alm ost alw ays
literary, and impression is not far behind. All historical w ritin g was creative,
and there was no separate and independent category called literature ; there
was ‘poetry’, fiction, but good examples o f it w ere bound b y the same
categories as any verbal expression. G ood w riting m ight be true o r n ot true;
it was still rhetoncal. The exem plary and the allegorical depend Up on
categories o f interpretation which were inculcated at school: the habit o f
expecting meanings beyond the literal one.
Medieval and renaissance readers recognized them selves and their human
situations - but unlike Johnson’s understanding o f self and situation w ith
which this chapter began, these tended to be m oral o r eth ical perceptions
rather than psychological or social ones. D isco v ery o f an abstract, perm anent
essence is not the same as consistent personality fuelled b y instincts, drives, or
the complex and ‘over-determ ined’ p sych o logical d y n am ics w e take for
granted now . These last are concepts w h ich b e lo n g to different, in­
commensurable worlds. T o represent those p ercep tions th e y exp lo ite d the
training in w riting and interpretation w h ich their rh eto rica l e d u catio n had
given them. The units o f com position could be a m p lifie d o r exchanged,
transformed in any num ber o f w ays, yet still claim to represen t the essentials
o f a historical narrative or a life. A t this p o in t w e m ig h t pursue the
innovations o f fiction, but let us turn, instead, to a n o th e r idea w h e re rhetoric
might be thought to control transform ations o f la n g u a g e . T h e n e x t chapter
looks at translation as an aspect o f rhetorical in te rp re tatio n and rew riting.
 4
t r a i t o r t r a n s l a t o r

For o f necessity, when we speak what is true, i.e. speak what we know,
there is born from the knowledge itself which the memory retains, a
word that is altogether o f the same kind as the knowledge from which it
is bom. For the thought that is formed by the thing which we know, is
the w ord which we speak in the heart: which word is neither Greek nor
Latin, nor o f any tongue. But when it is needful to convey this to the
knowledge o f those to whom we speak, then some sign is assumed
whereby to signify it . . . But whereas we exhibit these and the like
bodily signs either to ears or eyes o f persons present to whom we speak,
letters have been invented that we might be able to converse also with
the absent; but these are signs o f words, as words themselves are signs in
our conversation o f those things which we think.
St Augustine, De Trinitate, xv.10.19

R E FER ENC E AND REPRESENTATI ON

The title o f this chap ter is a translation. T h e proverbial Italian original,

‘traduttore, traditore’ , m ig h t also be rendered ‘the translator is a betrayer’ ,
or, ‘to translate is to b e tr a y ’ . B o th renderings add those little words which
are h o w English indicates gram m atical relationships, while keeping the
word order o f the o rig in a l la n g u ag e, but at a heavy cost in style, that
simultaneous p ercep tion n o t o n ly o f w h at is meant, but also o f something
about the feelin g w ith w h ic h it is expressed. B y increasing the number of
words w e lose b o th rh y m e and rh y th m ic repetition, and make an ordinary
proposition o u t o f an e p ig ra m . T h a t p ith y , forceful impression created by a
rhythm ically parallel pair o f w o rd s has evaporated. The excitement o f the
small sound chan ge has disppeared. W e m igh t still claim that the meaning,
what is understood, rem ains. E ven in that case w e should wish to allow that
m°re is understood than can be represented b y a prose paraphrase. Though
m° re sophisticated than C a t o ’s distichs, stylistically speaking ‘traduttore
traditore’ shares their effect. A n d w h at this opening paragraph is doing, as

179
 l8o Tru th and convention in the M id d le A ge s

you read is just the kind o f commentary which was the habitual m ethod o f
literary analysts as w e have studied it in the previous chapters: translation,
elucidation (to invent another epigram ).*
Thus far we have looked at the ways experiences o f rhetoric (including
model texts which exemplified rhetorical precepts) encouraged readers and
writers to believe that the same thing could be expressed in different styles or
narrative units w ithout significantly altering the representation o f the thing
itself The tensions between correspondence to events w h ich had actually,
verifiably, occurred and a sophisticated convention o f signs for their
depiction reveals certain contradictions between w hat authors say they do,
and what they do in practice. At the simplest level, truth means something
at least as much like ‘exem plary’ or ‘representative’ as it does ‘w hat really
happened so far as it can be ascertained’. ‘Evidence’ can be m oral rather than
actual. ‘A ccuracy’ is one of a num ber o f com p etin g values and m ay be
variously defined. Imaginative and fictional w ritin g can be presented as true
when it exemplifies eternal verities o f hum an (and supra-hum an) activity.
This insistence that certain conventionally expressed fictions w ere true was
reinforced by the medieval and renaissance an xiety abou t ‘ly in g ’, broadly
defined, and the accom panying fear that the beautiful lies o f literature might
be a complete waste o f an adult’s time, as w ell as co n d u civ e to im m orality. I
have looked at interpretation as a m ethod o f d ecip h erin g conventional
stylizations o f character and event, and at the lim its o f such convention, in
order to interpret expression, as w ell as to con sider h o w change and
innovation occurred. Literary success has been a k e y criterion , defined
largely as the recognition and desire to em ulate and im itate o f succeeding
writers; thus there has been a need fo r circu latio n in o rd e r fo r som ething to
be deemed successful. A nd the success o f k e y w riters such as B ed e, William
o f M almesbury, or Boccaccio, o r Froissart, has been a triu m p h o f literary
expression which coincided w ith som e k in d o f a lle g ia n ce to a convincing,
verisimilar, historical account w h ich p ro b a b ly b o re a close relationship to
what they believed to have occurred.
This chapter considers translation p ra c tic e .1 A s in the p revio u s chapters,
the discussion o f individual exam ples rests u p o n the p rem iss that readers and
writers thought that the particular exp ressio n th e y w e r e read in g referred to

And what this footnote does is introduce an annotating commentary on a text which
ady contained a gloss within it marked by the convention o f parenthesis (brackets). And th
bracketed (or parenthetic) synonym is a reminder that the readers o f this book w ill coit
ore than one dialect area, and areas which use different words for the same thing
 T ra ito r translator
181

an underlying m eaning w hich they could grasp by interpreting what 1

before them. Interpreting meant both translation and glossing for eluc 7
ation, cither in the original language or into another. Just as ‘histori \
w ritin g ’ rested upon conventions which enabled the cognizant andTlen
reader to understand w hat was indicated by a speech or description rafoer
than upon our expectation o f ‘facts’ which can be externally verified so
translation w as often a m atter o f am algam ating various forms o f elucidatio^
B oth text and translation represented a prelinguistic reality.2 The status o f
their representations varied in im portant ways. This is not to deny for a
m om ent that at least som e m edieval and renaissance translators understood
demands fo r literal rendering, fo r familiar kinds o f accuracy ; it is a reminder
that any such translator, as any reader or w riter, depends upon the idea o f
types o f reference, w h ich includes an audience-based decision about how the
translation w ill be used: is it an accom panim ent to or a substitution for the
original one? T h is is perhaps a sim ple, but not a trivial, point. In shifting
attention fro m the translation as an independent text (a text which attempts
to represent an equ ivalen t fo r the original in another language, and which
can be read con tin uously) to the intertextual relationships between trans­
lation, source tex t o r texts, and the translation and other works in the same
(target) lan g u ag e, I am try in g to suggest more process than product. The
best representation w o u ld be a verbal equivalent o f the real thing to be
expressed; one exp lan atio n o f the greatness o f H om er, or V irgil, or the Bible,
is that in those texts la n g u ag e finds o r achieves a trium ph o f correspondence:
it m akes the o th erw ise arbitrary choice o f particular words or phrases
inevitable expression. Su ch texts are few . In the next chapter 1 will consider
the p oin t at w h ic h translations them selves began to attract the attention
hitherto focussed on their originals, texts in their ow n right with some verbal
authority. In this ch a p ter I w ill lo o k at h o w dynam ic the relations between
the original, the translation, and the prelinguistic reality represented by the
original m ig h t h a v e been th o u g h t to be. T h at is, both the original and the
translation m a y refer to the sam e things, so that a translation o f a translation
could claim to represen t the first tex t, o r even w hat it represented. Beginning
from the idea that all translations refer in one w ay or another to their source
text, or texts, the fo llo w in g translation schema might be erected.

Accompaniment translations
’■ Interlinear tran slatio n (glossing).
2- Literal translation (sm all scale asyntactic accuracy).
3- Commentary, e.g. Latin/Latin or Latin/vernacular.
 T ru th and convention in the M id d le A ge s
182

translations m ig h t fo rm the basis fo r

A n v o f these accompaniment transiati b

Substitution translations
4 Equivalen t translation (sm all-scale v erb a l co rresp o n d en ce).
Edited translations (su bs.i.u .to n o t esetsto n to b ttn g a so u rc e te x t
line tvttlt the e xp ertatto n , o l w h a , w o u ld h av e been w r itt e n h ad the
author had access to the k n o w le d g e w h ic h the tran slato r h ad or th e
social o t cultural exp ectatio n s o f the tran slato r's c o n t e n p o r a r .e s , e .g .
P o p e's excision o f H o m e r’s vu lgarities).
6. R e d a c t,o n translation ( o f an a m a lg a m a tio n o f s e v e ra l tex ts).

A , the po in t at w h ich an v o f these tran sfo rm a tio n s resu lted in a te x t ,n the

n e w lan gu age (or later register o f the sam e la n g u a g e , to a l lo w fo r
m odernization) w h ich could claim the status o f a te x t to b e re a d in its o w n

righ t w e m igh t begin to discern

Replacement translations
- Fluent-text translation which would differ from the first six categories
because, however much it continued to refer to the original, source,
text, it had become independent. The most important instance would be
certain kinds of Bible translation, but some fictions also belong in this
catego ry.
8. Narrative-paraphrase translations (as an extension o f 7) which, as fluent
texts, rehearse the plot-contents, or some embellishment o f the plot, o f a
p rio r text or texts.
9. Alternative representations which, like fluent-text translation, cont­
inued to refer to the original text(s) and/or their matter, but changed
medium. (Either 7 or 8 could be heavily redacted.)

These nine types overlap. T h ey are n ot m ean t to be e x c lu siv e , n o r do they

suggest either a historical process, since d ifferen t k in d s o f translation
continue to be made at different times, o r w ith in a sin g le w o r k , neither are
they a trajectory o f quality. T h e usefulness, o r o th e r w is e , o f d ifferen t kinds
o f translation, must be calculated in a cco rd a n ce w ith th e use to w h ich the
translation was to be put, so that no co n fu sio n o f q u a lity arises because a
paraphrase o f a biblical story retold in a cco rd a n c e w ith v e rn a cu la r poetic
pectations appears to be in accu rate’ as a clo se v e rb a l e q u iv a le n t o f the
g nal. This suggests that there are o th e r ca lc u la tio n s to be m ade which
ersect this scheme, w hich h ave to d o w ith th e a u d ie n c e fo r w h ich the

or lis n W3S mten£k ^ ' M ° re liberties w e r e ta k e n fo r less ed u ca te d readers

nd there was little th o u g h t that ‘a c c u r a c y ’ w a s b e in g ‘ sacrificed
 T raitor translator
183

How many ways o f referring did they exploit? No one would want to
argue that there is one thing, and one only, which ‘is’ translation, or that one
language had the same status either as any other language, or as its own
earlier forms (e.g. medieval Latin never had the prestige o f classical Latin)
The ‘language’ o f highest status was described by Augustine as being neither
Greek nor Latin, but the carrier o f thought in the mind of God, something
humanity might sometimes experience as direct perception or understand-
,ng without words, an experience which is prior to the transference that
becomes verbal articulation.3The original universal human language spoken
before Babel was thought to have been as close to this direct perception, this
preverbal nonlingual language, as mankind has ever known. By extending
arguments o f priority, it came to seem obvious that the older the language
the closer it must be to pre-Babel expression, and thus also the more likely to
hold mysteries impossible to put into words. Hypothesized languages, such
as ‘ancient Chaldean’ m ight claim to hide, through symbols, secrets known
to the ancients but since lost. Hermetic writing is full of such assumptions.
This implies that the modem languages - the vernaculars - are inferior,
lacking the lexical and syntactic complexity o f earlier languages as
represented by their written registers.
The problem o f vocabulary, particularly for abstractions, often perceived
as a la ck , a fault, or a flaw, focussed an area o f argument about the target
languages. M aking up missing words could lead to the use of the ‘closest’
pre-existing word, to redefinition, to new coinage from the available roots
o f the target language; adaptation (from straight borrowing) to manipu­
lation o f the source-language w ord by morphological transformation
according to the rules o f the target language; or a combination, often by the
use o f doublets, tw o words in the translation to represent one in the original.4
The creation o f ‘translationese’ might not only be deliberate, but be thought
a virtue because it im proved the style and resources o f the target language.
While the skill and imagination o f the translator cannot be disregarded, the
quality’ o f the original counted, too, because some vocabulary is ‘crucial’ in
ways that other vocabulary is not. G od ’s Being involves this kind of crucial
lexis, R om an ranks, though equally problematic in many ways, do not.
Words such as senator (or denarius) are not crucial vocabulary in the sense ot
^ e importance o f what is conveyed to the beliefs of readers. Translators
were often m ulti-lingual, and aware o f choices and precedents in other
nguages chan their o w n . N ot only could they turn tor resources to more
n 0r*e language, their positions changed with time, not only vis-a-vis the
cvelopment o f their o w n vernacular, but in terms of translation inertia,
 Truth m d convention in the M id d le A ge s
I 84

w h ereb y m ethods and tradit.onal equ.valen ces m .g h t c o m e to seem rig h t

even w hen they had once been th ou ght to be w r o n g . Prefaces, to o , h ave
their conventions. A fifteenth-centu ry translator had m o re c h o ice som e
areas than his eleven th-cen tu ry predecessor bu t less in o th ers w h e re earlier

choices had com e to seem binding.

D ifferent kinds of texts invited different kinds o f attention. Sacred texts
thus created serious challenges for reading and interpretation simply on
account of their age and singularity. Scientific and philosophical treatises
(often not categories which their authors would have distinguished) posed
similar if less pressing, problems. If a disagreement over an interpretation of
Aristotle was unlikely to carry with it the severe, and unpleasant, penalties
which sometimes resulted from disagreements over sacred writings, there
were, nevertheless, complex concepts to be understood. Language use that
we think of as literature inspired translations, adaptations, and imitations of
overlapping kinds. As we shall see, many activities could be thought o f as
translation', from interlineation to paraphrase, from amplification to
redaction. Once established, habits o f effective paraphrase could be extended
to other kinds of texts.5 Once there were enough ‘secular’ texts to warrant
‘redaction’ (the translation of edited or combined texts) we find methods of
paraphrase, extension, and adaptation growing more and more widespread.
And, in turn, the ambition to emulate successful style grew once again, as it
had done in Rome centuries before. There were and continued to be
temptations to make the Bible the paradigm case. It is certainly a special case,
but it is not one which determined how every other kind o f text would
always be read, interpreted, or transformed. When the Bible was divided
into distinctiones, glossed and commentated, it was being treated like a
classical literary text. Priority in this method belongs to key poems like
Homer’s or Virgil’s; it is a matter o f chronology and the tendencies of
rhetorical education. The habit o f subjecting first order texts to second order
discussion was established Jong before there was a Bible, and treating the
Bible like the Iliad was a natural reaction by people w ho ‘kn ew ’ how to treat
texts. So in discussion o f translation most o f the same topics arise, but any
discussion must keep constantly in view the medieval certainty that the word
of Aristotle could not begin to be commensurate with the w ord o f God. Not
even the word o f Cicero ever mounted that high.
ible s pre-eminence might suggest that it w ould be the obvious text
even f ^ ^ co^ect^on ° f canonical books (itself a problem, since
even a ter arguments about which books should be considered canonical
 T ra ito r translator
85

w e re fin a lly se ttle d , th ere re m a in e d im p o rta n t texts on the periphery n t

just the A p o c r y p h a , b u t e v e n m o re d o u b tfu l pseu do-G ospels like The CoJ ,
wh.ch represented the word of God, or the interpretation 0f
0J S i c o d e m u s )

that Word, as revealed to divinely inspired men who had enshrined it ln

writing m the great languages o f Antiquity, Hebrew and Greek. The Bible is
an inescapably ‘referring’ text, as are the translations made of it. This
reference backward to earlier texts in different languages and representation
beyond to a reality perceived but not necessarily articulated has been one of
the continuing themes o f this book. Literary works seemed to be verbal
artifacts which referred to something (a history, a life, an idea, even a style)-
their expressions were distinguished from the things represented. The
achievement o f ‘composition’ makes the expression seem to be the inevitable
way o f moving and persuading. In secular work we would classify this kind
of success as aesthetic beauty, rhetorical force, or some kind of truth to life.
The Bible, at the height o f sacred work, is the most exact, congruent,
felicitous, and true expression o f the perfection that is the word of God, even
where God is imitating his own earlier styles. This makes it literally
inevitable in every sense. It also lends urgency to the need to reconcile the
parallel narratives, where different writers give different accounts. The
meaning or meanings o f these biblical books presented inexhaustible
possibilities for interpretation, for restating in different words; like the books
considered in Chapter 1, biblical texts came with commentaries, not only
surrounding them, but independently, in books about the canonical books
by the Fathers o f the Church, whose interpretations, in turn, posed problems
of translation and interpretation. Whether it was licit to apply these
techniques to other compositions occupied medieval interpreters for whom
the ‘discovery’ or attribution o f secret wisdom could provide a much-
needed defence o f imaginative literature. Because many translations and
commentaries precede the Bible, so that the Bible came to be treated with all
the dignity already afforded important texts, it will be appropriate to
precede a discussion o f the Bible with a discussion of one of the translators
who appeared to articulate the principles o f translation.

t h e c o n v e n t i o n a l w i s d o m o f t r a n s l a t o r s

cussions o f tra n sla tio n s u r v iv e fro m the tim e o f C icero and the principal
w h^ 'CmS W^1C^ c o n c e rn e d h im also concerned Augustine and Jerome,
0se arguments about translating the Bible became the central discussions
 the M iddle A rcs
T ruth and con ven tio n in
i 86

C„lhc Christian M iddlr Ages. the ,n P,cs around w in ch the, disagreem en ts

revolved are soil the on e, which occupy translators and th eo re.ictan , „ f
translation. These have .h o v e all appeared to be predicated upon quest,
o f accuracy w hether o , no, the translations u n d e , d ,se n ,..o n are „ c

accurate rep ro d, u, ctio

cm y „t o f th eir o rig in a ls, and w h a t, in a n y ease, w o u ld
n s 01 tn eir o r
constitute measure, of accuracy, wuh lea,cal. granrmattcal. and syntactic
equivalence leading the held. With this assunipoon comes the v.cw th „ ,hc
translation „ m » . rex. worthy o f cons,deration, a fluent equivalent „ f , hc
original (schema s o, 7). There ,s an uns.a.cd presuppos.tron about ,cx,„,||,y
hrre wuh which medieval translator, did no, necessarily agree - bu, they did
no, discuss „ either. The question ha, traditionally been posed, smee Cieeto,
as a choice between word-for-word and sense-tor-sense correspondence as if
all translations reproduced their originals in adequate, exact substitutions.
This might be thought of as a tendency to accentuate verbal expression at the
expensed the things or ideas the words represent, or, conversely, to convey
the ideas (the ‘sentence') without overmuch regard for the style in which the
original expressed them. One still finds modern translators making this
distinction, as if style were not always implicated in meaning.6 This early
dichotomy pre-empted other kinds of discussion.
Accuracy often rums on scale. This concern with the size o f the unit to be
translated arose in Antiquity, where we first find this distinction between
word-for-word and sense-for sense translation. It is to be found scattered
through Cicero’s writing, when translation is at issue. ‘Scattered’ gives a
good sense of Cicero’s method, or lack o f one; like so many of a busy
politician’s opinions, Cicero’s ideas about translating vary with the context
something taken insufficient account o f by his successors, who were prone to
enlist him on their side of an argument without much attempt to analyse the
circumstances in which a favoured quotation occurred. Since it was to the
authority of Cicero that the great late-classical Church Fathers all appealed,
Ciceronian catch-phrases recurred for centuries as the headings o f arguments
over accuracy of translation, or what look like such arguments. Cicero was
concerned with that end of all oratory - to move and persuade his audiences,
and he saw his writing as a representation o f that aural experience. The
attractions of the pagan orator were further increased when his views about
ation were compared to the apparently opposing views of medieval
ranslators, whose insistence upon literalism was notorious, and
notoriously seductive to certain biblical exegetes.7 Cicero never found
trying to translate a holy text, and even in his discussions of Stoic
 Traitor translator
187

philosophy (as in the Fourth Tusculan) he managed to deal pragmatically

with technical vocabulary, by using the equivalent Latin word, by definin
what he meant by the nearest Latin word, or by Latinizing a Greek wordTt
must be repeated that any attempt to sketch his views must stress their
pragmatism, their frequent contingency to other subjects, and therefore
their lack of all-encompassing coherence.
In the preface to Cicero’s translation of two opposing speeches of the great
Greek orators Demosthenes and Aeschines, which is all that survives of the
work known as D e optima genere or alarum , he insisted that his translation was
composed eloqu en tly , by a translator known for his own success as an orator
for the instruction of those who wished to learn the best manner of speaking
(schema ?)■ Since, to be eloquent, a speech must move its audience, Cicero
made the arousal o f equivalent emotion in his Latin readership his pnme
concern, since eliciting that response is the essence of a good oration. He
stressed his imitation o f the Greek orators’ intentions vis-a-vis their original
auditors, and contrasted orations with history, using Thucydides as his
example o f excellence in style for another function.

For 1have translated the most illustrious orations of the two most eloquent of the
Attic orators, spoken in opposition to one another: Aeschines and Demosthenes. And
I have not translated them as a literal interpreter, but as an orator giving the same
ideas in the same form and mould as it were, in words conformable to our manners,
in doing which I did not consider it necessary to give word for word, but 1 have
preserved the character and energy of the language throughout. For 1 did not
consider that my duty was to render to the reader the precise number of words, but
rather to give him all their weight. And this labour of mine will have this result, that
by it our countrymen may understand what to require of those who wish to be
accounted Attic speakers, and that they may recall them to, as it were, an
acknowledged standard of excellence.8

The key phrases, fid e s interpres and verbum pro verbo, recur for hundreds of
years to support the argument that claims that the less literal (on the small,
lexical, scale) a translation is the more faithful it can be to the spirit of the
original. The arguments come in terms of the difficulties of creating
equivalences, equivalent representations o f the words, the speech in context,
the effects it was supposed to arouse in its audience; it does not consider the
translation as known to be referring constantly to someone else s speech, that
ls. as a second-order and derivative ‘text’ which is always supposed to keep
the 0r'ginal before us. The authority of the original, Attic model of
Xcellence allows Cicero to present his own version of it without claiming to
 188 T ru th and convention in the M id d le A ge s

present h.s own words as such an authority - though no doubt that is more or
less what he had in mind. But he also had in mind the debates he inherited
about the best translation, as if there were such a thing, and only one, at that.
The true interpreter acquired a bad name, as if strict faithfulness were a fault o f
mechanically minded artisans rather than the artistry o f translators who truly
understand. It seems as if what Cicero meant was to make a disclaimer about
inaccuracies accepted for the sake o f the effect he wanted to make on a
Roman audience: first century reception theory. He could be quoted on
either side o f arguments about literalism and accuracy, and he was - out o f
context. Reference to the word-for-word/sense-for-sense debate became in
its tum the major topes ot translators prefaces, a heading for discussions o f
accuracy, even if only an indication o f direction.
Sometimes these debates sound like the optimist and the pessimist arguing
about whether the same glass o f water should be described as half full or half
empty (the translator thinks it half full; the critic o f his translation is resolute
that it is half empty). This is because the reproduction o f a text in another
language remains unattainable and irresistible. As long as people want to
read something written in a language they cannot understand, as long as
writers wish to emulate or incorporate in their own language the
achievements o f another one, there will be attempts to recreate written texts.
As with the historical or biographical motifs already considered, discussions
o f translation, too, raise topics which may appear because they are
conventional rather than because they are there to be analysed. In these
discussions, as in the prefaces to many medieval and renaissance translations,
the inherited argument about ‘accuracy’ is paramount. But the conventions
may be deployed in order to signal something about the kind o f text being
translated, or how the new work is to be interpreted in its turn; the translator
may be trying to protect or advertise himself, or simply to deflect criticism.
An anonymous fifteenth-century rhymed translation o f the French M elu sin e

ends with verses that are part disclaimer, part apology:

As ny as metre can conclude sentence,

Cereatly by rew in it have I go.
Nerehande stafe by staf, by gret diligence,
Sauyng J)at I most metre apply to;
The wourdes mene, and sett here and ther so,
Like as of ladn ho-so will fourge uers;
Wourdes most he change sondry & diuerse,
 Traitor translator
189
W hilom t>at bc-fore put, And sette behynd,
And oft that at end gretth best before;
So oft trauersing the langage we shall fynd
Be it latyn, frensh or our tonge to-bore.
H o it metre well, so do moste euermore,
B e it in balede, uers, R im e or prose.
He most torn and wend, metrely to close.

A n d so haue I done after m y simplesse,

Preseruing, I trust, mater and sentence
V n w em m ed , vnhurt, for any excesse,
O r b y meusing don b y violence.
W arded and kepte haue to intelligens,
T h at w ill vnderstande A n d know in may be
In o u r m oder tonge, spoken in contre.9

Because no theoretical discussion o f translation could ever begin by

considering the range o f tolerable inaccuracy, that is, of its limits, or what
might control the compromises necessary in all translation practice, the
history o f these discussions remained bound by agreed assumptions which
disguised certain important issues which only appear contingently if at all.10
Yet translators were aware o f the kinds o f changes that could be, and were,
made. Although Lydgate, that most prolix o f fifteenth-century Chaucer-
ians, claimed no authority for himself, and was far from suggesting that he
himself took liberties with his texts (although he constantly amplified what
he translated) he knew — and explicitly approved - other translators'
manipulations. When translating Laurent de Premierfait’s translation of
Boccaccio’s D e C a s ib u s , he prefaced his work with a defence ot Laurent’s
practice, which was also, tacitly, his own;

In his [Laurent’s] prologe affermyng off resoun,

Artificere hauyng exercise
May chaunge and tume bi good discrecioun
Shappis, formys, and newli hem deuyse.
Make and vnmake in many sondry wyse,
As potteres, which to that craft entende,
Breke and renewe ther vesselis to a-mende.

Thus men off crafft may off due riht,

That been inuentiff & han experience,
 IW Truth and convention in the M id d le A ges

Fantasien in thcr inw ard sigt

Dcuises new e thoruh thcr excellence,
Expert matstres han therto liccn ic
Fro good to bettir for to chaunge a th yn g .
A nd s c m b la b h these elerkts in w n ty n g ,

T h y n g that w as m aad o f auctours hem b efo m .

T hei m ay o ff n ew fvnde and tantasic.
O u t o f old ch a fl'tn c out ful clccnc co m ,
M ake it m ore fressh and lusti to the etc,
T hcr subtil w itt and thcr labour applie,
W ith thcr colours agreablc oft hew e.
M ake olde thynges for to seem e n ew e.

Aflom prouydid that no presumpeioun

In ther chaungyng haue noon auctonte,
And that meeknesse haue dominacioun,
Fals Envie that she not present be;
But that ther ground with parfit charite
Conueied be to ther auantage,
Trcwli roodd a-mid o f ther co rage."

Despite this apparent awareness of Laurent s amplifications, Lydgate refers

to Boccaccio’s original as if Laurent’s intermediary work were merely a
window through which he had direct access to the Latin text.
Two of these tacit topics are o f particular importance: first, how does the
translation refer to the original and, second, does the target text have its own
integrity, that is, was it meant to be read as a text in its own right (schema 7
and 8)? The variables abound: what kind o f text is what kind o f writer
translating for what audience for what purpose? Lydgate’s Princes were
exercises in praise and blame that gave vernacular readers exe m p la of
behaviour taken from the historical past; the combination o f encom ium and
the vernacular may have encouraged great latitude o f manipulation. How
many languages are involved and o f what kinds? H ow distant is the
syntactic, grammatical, and lexical ‘fit’ between (or among) them? How
close arc the correspondences between the cultures? Is there a status
difference between the languages? O r a long lapse o f time between original
and translation? How skilful is the translator: how good is his command of
* c languages he is reading and writing, how comprehensive his understand-
B e original text, how patient, or ambitious, or sensitive a craftsman >•'
 Traitor translator
191
he, and w hat are his criteria? M an y translators gloss in the
c o rre c tin g in fo rm a tio n o r a d d in g it, as C a x to n d id in this S° m etim es
his translation o f R a o u l L efevre’s ‘history’ o f Jason- * dltlonto

Thus endeth m yn A u ctor his prologe. And how wel that hit is sayd afo
that Eson was sone to Cacus, yet Bochace saith in the G e n e la g y e o fC o d T s h

sonc to Erictheus, the x x ix sone o fju p .te r, as ye m ay see more playnlv in'll!
o f the G e n e l a g y e o f G o d d e s , the x x iii chapytrc.12 e xmbook

Ineptitude must be a llo w ed for. Translations were made by the med

version o f the hack. M ed ieval forgeries, too, masquerade as translation " T
new com positions. Translators w h o beg and bo rro w also steal ° n’ aS °
T h e period w ith w h ich this b o o k is concerned is bounded by the
Bible translations o f Jerom e and the A uthorized Version- it 6
W ycliffe’s and L u th er’ s. F ro m the controversies w hich surroundeTthem
arose m uch (but n ot all) o f m edieval and renaissance theory o f translation
and ultim ately o f lan gu age itself. Even before Babel, the mind o f God hid
once revealed itself to the m in d o f men. W h ile scholars argued over w h ic h

language G o d had used, th ey w ere in no doubt that it was a language of

words, not a direct exp erien ce o f perception. A n d although they referred to
this language o f the heart that w as neither G reek nor Latin, the pnonty
superiority, and co n co m ita n t prestige o f the ancient languages led to a
prejudice (often un exam in ed ) that G reek or Latin or H ebrew were as close as
men could co m e to the u n itary to n g u e .'3 A fter Babel, even the three great
languages o f an tiq u ity w o u ld be treated differently at different times The
great Bible translator, J erom e, treated the G reek Fathers w ith more freedom
more artistry, than he did the Sacred Page, as his readers noticed at the time’
ye ' the m te g n ty o f the translation as a r e a d a b le , even a beautiful,
representation o f its G re e k and H e b re w m odels - was a concern, but only
m any, the in te g rity o f the n ew text was subordinate to other
concerns.

SACRED WI SDOM

Because the B ib le rep resen ted the W o r d o f G o d posed a

word-order might b e c ru c ia l to co rrect under ^^ Impossibility of
challenge fo r w h ic h ‘style’ is to o n a rro w a w o rd , g translation
translating this most d ifficu lt o f texts, perhaps the ^denng in the target
would be one w h ic h rep resen ted , b y gram m atica
 , 92 Truth and convention in the M id d le A ge s

language the sequence in w hich the o rigin al w o rd s appeared. - Perhaps the

‘ best’ translation w o u ld be, not a translation in the usual sense at all, but an
interlinear gloss, a gram m ar-free gu id e to the o rig in al (schem a i). T h e visual
relationship o f gloss to text represents the m ost baste kind o f ac co m p an im en t
translation. This im plies that the translation is an in terp retatio n dependent
upon the source text, and not in any w a y to be con sid ered a n e w and
independent text, not even a ‘ te x t’ at all; it in tro d u ces the ideas o f
sim ultaneity, and o f ‘ voices' in d ialogu e. 1 hat is, there is an o d d b u t potent
im itation o f a com m en tin g voice, e xp licatin g sm all-scale (v iz ., w o rd ) units
as they are read aloud in som e kind o f stu d y in g g ro u p . R e fe r e n c e is, m ust be,
im m ediate; it is im possible to 'lo se' the o rig in a l in the tran slatio n . One
cannot read con tinuously, but m ust con stan tly lo o k b ac k an d fo rth . The
illustration o f Ascensius’ V irg il, or o f the c o m m e n te d B ib le s in C h a p ter ,
rem ind us o f this habitu ally interru pted read in g .
The discipline o f interpretation was acquired as early as the first reading 0f
a fable, often by interpreting pagan poetry, as 1 argued in Chapter i . a

reader's first duty might be thought to begin b y understanding the literal

m eaning o f the words; but even in the early years, w h en Christian readers
m ight be supposed to have been m ultilingual, this was difficult, since not
o nly had thev to be readers o f G reek and Latin, but also o f H ebrew - not a
language many Rom an citizens cultivated. A n d even th o u gh m any o f the
books now called the N ew Testam ent w ere w ritten in sim ple language by
men who were not highly trained rhetoricians, these apparently humble
expressions conveyed, simultaneously, num erous different meanings. They
themselves referred to earlier canonical texts - o ften in o rd e r to maintain that
traditional prophecies w ere being fulfilled - but also to assert b y their archaic
or Hebraizing style a claim to be taken as con son an t w ith sacred depictions
and therefore sacred in their turn. G o d ’s m essage, his W o r d , was c lo th e d in
simplicity: in the status Jesus chose fo r his In carn ation , the lan guage he spoke,
the disciples he spoke it to. B u t the m essage w as n o t sim p le. E ven at the time,
he spoke in riddles, and his fo llo w ers lost n o tim e in increasing the difficulty
o f the texts which attached them selves to his leg en d . T h e contradictions or
inconsistencies o f the G ospel accounts w ere rich fo r potential interpreters;
with the passage o f time even the details o f b o tan ica l n am es could be a source
o f discussion and speculation. T h e cu ltu ral referen ces o f early first-century
Palestine were soon lost, first assim ilated to w h a t a sophisticated Roman
literary scholar could understand, and then, w ith th e collap se o f the Roma
imperium, maintained by traditions o f e xegesis. T h e s y n o n y m y involve
 Traitor translator
193
explaining meaning is already a kind o f translation. Writing a ,
. 1 1 r - t_ &d word
over a single w ord of text became more and more challencrmr, c
c . 1 , , borne
scholars w ere to go so far as to deny that the apparent literal meaning of the
words on the scroll before them were there to convey what they seemed to
say; that is, they m ight see them o n ly as a sign, not as meaning somethin!
which, perhaps, they could no longer interpret. The more systematized that
interpretation according to agreed allegorical levels became, the less likel
scholars were to question the literal meaning o f the text. Indeed, J r
Christian cxegetcs literal-mindedness became a patronizing description of
the lim ited w a y in w hich Jewish Bible interpreters read. This in turn meant
that the literal could be the dangerous reading, because it was a style of
interpretation associated w ith infidels. For commentators who wanted to use
the w o rk o f R ashi, the greatest o f the Jewish literalists, this made the closest
translation the riskiest.15
K n o w led ge o f and fam iliarity w ith the Bible changed over time, until its
difficulties meant that m ost o f the people w ho read it were learned. At first,
no one could fo rge t that the Latin Bible was a translation, and that large parts
o f it w ere translation o f translation. N o r was the text stable: even if copyists
o f Jerom e’s Latin texts (w ritten at different times o f his life for different
purposes and w ith different standards, from originals o f different authority
and quality, at speed or at leisure), had reproduced his w ork accurately (and
textual transmission w as no m ore reliable for Jerome than for anyone else),
Jerome’s translation n ever d rove out o f circulation the so-called V e tu s L a tin a ,

w hich he had m eant his o w n to replace. W hen Jerome’s translation first

appeared som e o f his innovations caused near-riot in the congregations
where they w ere introduced. His yo u n ger contemporary, Augustine, wrote
to him in vig o ro u s term s o f his o w n reservations about particular choices in
the translation.16 F or these rh etorically trained leaders were divided by their
different allegiances to audience and to text. As the Empire disintegrated,
with a speed and com pleteness w h ich neither Augustine nor Jerome could
have anticipated, and the Latin-speaking W est forgot its bilingual culture,
reference to the o rigin al texts dim inished w hile the inertia o f familiarity did
not. Even the w ea lth ier, less disrupted, Greek-speaking East was itself atone
or m ore lin gu istic re m o ve s fro m the biblical originals in Hebrew or
Aramaic. Sp oken G re ek and Latin continued to develop, and so did their
written registers. T h e re w ere n o dictionaries; though some readers noticed
that lar>guage chan ges, th ey had no w a y o f ascertaining what particular
ndividual w o rd s m ean t at specific historical moments. For all thei
 '9 4 Tru th and con ve ntion in the M id d le A g e s

r h e to r ic a l training to avoid solecisms and barbarisms (or am bition to w rite

w e l l in a dear style), scholars faced w ith vernaculars less rich in form al
registers a d a p te d vocabulary, gram m ar, and syntax to accom m odate the
concepts th e y n e e d e d to translate, as had C.icero before them . O n e m an’s
n e o lo g is m is another’s barbarism. In the absence o f histories o f literature,
bibliographies, even chronological lists, readers and translators had no cheek
on context, so that e v e n th e m ost sensitive ones, m ost alert to the w ays that
words change their meanings depending upon their circum stances, could
se ld o m c o m p a r e similar uses. Even w hen they could co m p are usage w ith in a
text, they w ere w'ithout th e resources o f com parison to k n o w n co n te m p o r­
ary texts that w o u ld illum inate the range o f possible uses. T h e ten d en cy o f
m e d ie v a l scholars to take w ords and phrases o u t o f c o n te x t is easier to
understand when w e c o n s id e r h o w little co n te x t w as availab le. It is n o t as if
th e r e was a r e c o g n iz e d sem antic fie ld at the edges o f w h ic h in v e n tiv e , poetic
uses c o u ld s tr e tc h m e a n in g throu gh m etap h o r and m e to n y m y ; all uses w ere
p o te n tia lly s y m b o lic . T h is in c r e a s e d th e ten d e n cy to assert that this w ord
meant th a t m e a n in g , w h e t h e r o r n o t that m e a n in g w as a p p ro p ria te, o r even
lik e ly . W o r d s as counters o f representation m ig h t a lw a y s re fe r to a n y o f their
p o s s ib le r e fe r e n ts . T h i s w a s a ls o u n d erw ritten b y th e a ssu m p tio n that words
r e p r e s e n te d r e a l th in g s ; to a d egree a ll m e d ie v a l w rite rs w e r e R ealists. The
te n d e n cy to q u o te p h ra ses o u t o f co n te x t, to a lle g o r iz e th e m in order to
support som e quite rem o te argum en t is to o w e ll- k n o w n to require
d e s c r ip t io n . B u t i t is i m p o r t a n t t o re m e m b e r th a t n e w in te rp re ta tio n s, i f they
c o u ld be argued w ith som e in g e n u ity , w e r e c o n sid e re d as discoveries
e n c o d e d f o r e v e r in t h e t e x t , a w a it in g a g e n e ra tio n a le rt e n o u g h to fin d them.
T h a t is , t r a n s l a t i o n , t o o , bears th e bu rd en o f h is to r y .
For a te x t-ce n tr e d r e lig io n to fin d it s e lf d e p e n d e n t u p o n a radically
u n s ta b le v e r s io n o f it s h o l y b o o k p o se d p r o f o u n d th rea ts. T h e a u th o rity for
th e b ib lic a l o r ig in a ls c o u l d n o t h a v e b e e n h i g h e r : t h e y w e r e th e w o r d o f God
uttered th r o u g h d iv in e ly in s p ir e d m e n . T h e s o lu tio n la y to h a n d . A lre a d y in
th e J e w is h c o m m u n it y in A le x a n d r ia tra n s la tio n h a d b e c o m e necessary as
Greek r e p la c e d Hebrew as its s p o k e n la n g u a g e . T h e tra n s la tio n w h ic h they
accepted as standard, The Septuagmt, that is, the tr a n s la tio n o f T h e Seventy,
came with le g e n d a r y ju s t i f ic a t io n . S e v e n ty s c h o la r s , so th e s t o r y w en t, had
been set to tr a n s la tin g t h e Bible (the books n o w called T h e O ld Testam ent),

l" epcndcntJy. and w ith o u t c o n s u lta tio n . W h e n th e ta sk w a s c o m p le te d and

s ta tio n s co m p ared (so m e said a ft e r s e v e n t y d a y s ) , t h e y w e r e found

f° 3grCe at 111 P ° ,n ts > * w o r d f o r w o r d . T h is c o n g r u e n c e w a s obviously

 T ra ito r translator
195

m iraculous, given the lo w probability o f translators all makin the

choices th rou ghou t a lo n g and difficult text, and proved that the Sev^"16
w ere them selves instances o f G o d's inspiration working through them T h ^
the idea o f d ivin ely inspired translation, with its own special star,, ™
the history o f translation. H o w ev er the status o f Jerome’s translation might
be tem pered b y the continued existence o f the V e t u s L a t in a and the criticisms
o f A ugu stin e, its claim to be the result o f an inspired saint encouraged readers
to treat it as som ethin g not very far aw ay from the word o f God. Even
mistakes m igh t have been deliberate - not on Jerome’s part, but on God’s
T h e m agic o f difficu lty does not fade. N o r does the double message: first a
translation is a lw a ys a choice o f possibilities w hich, second, always refer to a
single o rigin al. T h e translation indicates, even i f accompanying commen­
tary defines. T h is in turn encourages the survival o f as many translations and
glosses as w ill aid understanding. B u t Jerom e’s Vulgate acquired a special
status w h ic h ju stifie d treatin g it as a text w hose individual word-choices
co u ld b e analysed as a u th o ritative in the same w a y as the original - even
th o u gh translation m ust be im perfect. It is the first translation to assume
a u th o ritative status as a tex t w h o se individual w ords had the same claim to
in te rp re tab ility as its o rig in a l.
J e ro m e ’s tran slatio n is not identical w ith the text n ow known as the
V u lg a te. T h r o u g h o u t the M id d le A g e s the choice o f readings invited
th o u g h t and a rg u m e n t, th o u g h seldom d o u bt. For Bede or Abelard textual
un certain ty c o u ld b e a w a y a ro u n d apparent contradiction. It was not,
h o w e v e r, s o m e th in g that c o u ld be w ish ed a w a y. U n til the great work of
A lcu in o f Y o r k in th e n in th ce n tu ry there w as n o one standard Latin Bible
text; stan d a rd ized ch a p te r and verse divisions cam e late.n Breaking long
texts in to v is u a lly b ra c k e te d p aragraph s w as an im portant convenience for
readers w h o c o u ld o th e r w is e o n ly w ith difficulty find the lines they sought.
Standard glosses, i.e . te x tu a l, literal, and m etaphoric explanations, were the
a ch iev em en t o f th e g r e a t efflo re scen ce o f scholarship n o w called the twelfth-
cen tury ren aissan ce. T h e G lo s s a O r d in a r ia , w h ich collected the interpretative
w isd o m o f th e g r e a t B ib le c o m m e n ta to r s , began w ith Anselm o f Laon in the
early years o f th e t w e lf t h c e n t u r y .18 E ven then, how ever, few individual
readings re m a in e d b e y o n d q u e stio n : the paradoxical position was that the
w h o le B ib le was clearly divinely in sp ired , b u t scholars m ight take issue with
any particular expression. Respect fo r the s a c r a p a g in a and the traditions
commentary meant that doubts w e r e lik e ly to be expressed m the most
tactful term s; readings o r in te rp re ta tio n s w ere not ‘ w ro n g but various
 rru,„ .« » * ...................... . M “ IH" A ,:" !
igt>
m u ltiply intcrprctationt, ilia. is. to find n e w
‘disputed'. It was easier ti „ „ to pare u n lik e ly ones a w a y . Indeed,
meanings in this incxnausti c - ^ ^ abou t in terp retatio n that
‘unlikely* itself suggests modern Any n ew in terp reta tio n w as
medieval com m entators seldom )t c o u ld n o t be a final n o r an
implicated in the tradm on ol ^ ^ w as in te rp re tin g the B ible,
exhaustive reading. convcnt)0ns fro m the stu d y o f classical literary
Bible com m entary too ■ H o m cr. the New Testam ent books
texts. Like Virgil, who r c ' p | . seem ed to lo o k fo r w a r d to th e N e w .
looked back ,o the ^ ‘^ ^ ^ i^ ^ t s '.lr it e r lin e a r translation o r in terp reta tio n
Like com m en tan on , and 2)t „ o t a su b stitu tio n , as it w o u ld
r l t r . X T " r r p r e h e n s , b l e nonsense, w e re it d iv o rc e d fro m the
n 1- it ,s equallv obvious that this k in d o f a c c o m p a n im e n t is in te n d e d for
readers a. leas’ aequarnred w i.h bo rh la n g u a g e ,." G losses u su a lly a p p e ,rcd
w ,.h rhe rexr. th o u g h they could, and so m e trm e s d .d , a p p e a r separately,
keyed by lem m ata. This exercise o f c o n sta n t re fe re n c e k e e p s th e read er
thinking in tw o languages (or tw o h isto rical re g iste rs o f o n e lan g u ag e)
concurrently. But gloss did n o t rem ain se g reg a ted , a n d th is h a d im p lica tio n s
for translation. T he penetration o f the gloss in to te x t as tra n s la tio n can be
illustrated from an apparently trivial e x a m p le o f L a tin c o m m e n ta r y o n a
weed in one o f the parables, w here the in te rp re ta tio n o f th e s to r y influences
the translation o f a plant nam e. In the p a rab le w h ic h is n o w c a lle d ‘th e w heat
and the tares’ ( M a tth e w X I I I ), Jesus tells o f a m a n w h o p la n te d w h e a t in his
field. But his enem y cam e d u rin g th e n ig h t a n d s o w e d th e seeds o f a nother,
undesirable, crop. T he n am e o f th e p la n t to w h ic h th e fa rm e r objects
became, because o f its special, b o tan ic al, n a m e , im p o s s ib le to id e n tify , and
com m entators expended learned refe re n ce tr y in g to a g re e a L a tin equivalent
for the G reek nam e o f a w eed first p e rh ap s n a m e d in A ra m a ic . Identification
depends upon o n e ’s in te rp re ta tio n o f th e p a ra b le : m o s t la te -c la ssic a l exegetes
believed that the p o in t w as th a t it w as a lm o s t im p o s s ib le to d istin g u ish the
tw o plants (not the m o d ern u n d e rs ta n d in g ), t h a t th e p a ra b le w a s a b o u t the
difficulties o f separating tru e C h ristia n s f r o m h y p o c r ite s . O n th is in te rp ret­
ation the w eed had to be s o m e th in g w h ic h lo o k e d lik e w h e a t, and
com m entators suggested w h e a t-lik e p la n ts. J e r o m e calls it ‘lo liu m and
Augustine avena’ o r ‘lo liu m ’; la te r R a b a n u s M a u r u s q u o te s Isidore of
Seville on the p roblem , re fe rrin g to V i r g i l ’s G e o r g ie s (i. 154): ‘A v e n a , lolium,
zizania, quam poetae sem per in felix lo liu m d i c u n t ’, w h i c h re m in d s us that
poetry was as im p o rta n t as b o ta n y in th e m in d s o f th o s e t w o rhetorically
trained C hurch Fathers.20
 T raitor translator
197

B otan ical speculation m ay seem trivial, but I quote it for more than its
value as an illustration o f the com plexities in volved in even the interpret­
ation o f a noun. First, it reveals the ‘p oetic’ habit o f interpretation, familiar
from com m entaries on V irg il, as w ell as Psalms. Second, it reminds us that
the co m m o n ly used distinction b etw een w o rd -fo r-w o rd and sense-for-sense
obscures other factors w h ich m ay equally com e into play. Third, this
happens to be a lo c u s c la s s i c u s o f biblical hermeneutics, an example that
anyone studying the traditional com m entaries w ou ld come across. Trans­
lation is co m m e n ta ry is interpretation. T h e point is that the false is
^distinguishable fro m the true: there is another lo c u s c la s s ic u s o f interpret­
ation o f con cern to readers o f C h au cer, w h o invented a famous fake
authority w h o m he called ‘L o lliu s’ . A ccident? O r the sort o f learned pun he
oUid exp ect his le a r n e d readers to reco gn ize, one that w ou ld do no harm to
those left o u t o f the jo k e . A possibility, i f n o m ore.21
1
Later shall consider m o re substantial effects on translation, where words,
hrases, even w h o le sentences fro m a gloss are incorporated as part o f the
translated te x t w ith o u t distinction. E ven w ith o u t these difficulties, the range
o f choices open to the translator often depended upon an interpretation o f
the m eaning o f a u n it m u ch larger than a single w o rd or even a phrase. The
meaning o f a w h o le p arable o r eve n t had to be taken into account. In terms
o f scale, this m ig h t b e described differen tly fro m the usual ‘w ord ’ or ‘sense’
distinction, because th e w o r d -fo r -w o r d selection is controlled by the
interpretation o f an entire n arrative unit.
T o turn to the o p p o site case, it m a y be that the replacement o f the original
word w ith a single and e x a ct lex ica l e qu ivalen t is possible, but that the result
is a poor translation. O n e o f the tradition al exam ples o f this problem is
naming coins. In the in cid en t w h e re Jesus, faced w ith the problem o f
whether o r n o t to p a y ta x to the R o m a n s , confounds his questioners by
telling them to ‘ ren der u n to C a esa r the things that are Caesar’s’ (in the words
o f the A u th o rized V e rs io n ), the G o sp e l w riters specified a particular coin.
Here com m entators and translators agree that it is not the name or even the
correct m o n etary va lu e o f the co in b u t its function as ‘the coin o f tribute
which must be ren d ered . Y e t the sum o f m o n ey it represented was bound to
Take a difference to the reader, w h o se vie w s o f w hether it was a lot or a little
would be affected b y th e e q u iv a le n t co in chosen. Here the coin stands for
T eth in g t it is o n the w a y to b e in g a sym b o l, though in th is occurrence it is
a symbol y e t. If, h o w e v e r , another author used it elsewhere, with
erence to this o ccu rre n c e , there w o u ld be no question that it had become
symbolic,2*
 Tru th and convention in the M id d le A ge s
198

Both o f these interpretative hazards m ight be extended. Sometim es,

because o f the status or importance o f a particular story, an allegorical
interpretation became so w idely recognized as to becom e one o f the
meanings o f the word, as if the w ord could not occur w ith ou t its m etaphoric
associations, and a thing was always sym bolic. T he apparent concreteness o f
place names might seem to make translation ta.rly straightforw ard even if
the location o f the place was forgotten. T he flight o f the Israelites from
Egypt was traditionally interpreted as the retreat o f the enlightened soul
from the world: the fleshpots o f Egypt for w hich the exiles yearned was only
an interpretative step aw ay from temptations o f the flesh. So co m m o n w as
this identification that any trained reader w ou ld habitually supply ‘the
w orld’ as a possible meaning for ‘Egypt . Less succinct, m ore arbitrary, but
equally typical in method, is an exegesis o f G re g o ry the G reat on r Samuel
xm. 19-20, where the Philistines (a w ord w hose o w n m etaphorical trans­
formations mean that a m odem reader m ay need the rem in der that in this
context at this time it meant inhabitants o f Philistia) fo rb id the Israelites to
have smiths, for fear that the smiths w ill turn ploughshares into swords.
Gregory expounded as follows: the Israelites o n ly possess divine literature;
the smiths stand for writers o f secular literature, w ith o u t w h o m the Israelites
cannot be victorious. The Philistines are dem ons w h o try to prevent the
acquisition o f secular learning. W h en G re g o ry interprets ‘ Philistine’ as
'demon' he believes that he is r e c o g n iz in g so m eth in g w h ic h really exists, not
inventing a story which corresponds to a k in d o f tem p late given by the
original.23 The Sacred Page was believed to con tain coded information
which would tell the learned exegete real truths a b o u t the real w orld, like a
scientific treatise, not like a hypothesis. A s far as G r e g o r y w as concerned, he
was decoding, recognizing, not in ven tin g an in terp retatio n for the sake of
special pleading. H o w , it m ay be asked, does this h ap pen , h o w does the gloss
become part o f the meaning? A trivial a n sw er is that som etim es copyists and
translators put what had been a gloss in to the m ain b o d y o f the new text.
This was likelier to happen w ith secular than sacred texts, but it certainly
happened to all kinds o f texts fro m tim e to tim e. O r th ey m ight choose
between variant readings on the a u th o rity o f a gloss. In the sixteenth century
Thomas W yatt s English translation o f the seven Pen itential Psalms shows
the results o f his studies o f continental L atin texts and expositions.2
A more important answ er lies in those h abits o f reading consider
throughout this book. A n y w o rd , phrase, o r s to r y m ig h t refer to someth g
her than what it appeared to represent. O n e m ig h t be tem pted to ob
 Traitor translator
199

that i f such apparently straightforw ard cases raised problems of

co m p lex ity , the challenges posed b y words w ith doctrinal impUcatio
w ou ld have been practically insuperable. In practice, the Bible was thou h

to be interpreted at several allegorical le v e l s , which meant that a s^ati 1

m etaphor was used to categorize different kinds or type 0f symbolic
equivalence in a w a y w hich introduced a hierarchy o f significance, thus
encouraging m ultiple translation, until not only place names, but even the
com m onest o f nouns m igh t signify insuperable complexities, too. ‘Signify’
indicates a kind o f reference w h ich w e are prone to classify as ‘metaphor’
that is, som ethin g w h ich happens in the imagination, a likeness which we
perceive, alm ost a gam e o f in genuity, something which is our own
invention. B u t fo r hundreds o f years that perception was considered to be
not a hum an creation at all, but recognition o f the universe as its maker
intended it to be com prehended. T h a t metaphors were real and ‘deeper’
legitim ated the idea o f p r o g r e s s iv e interpretations o f increased mystery,
w hich reached to w a rd that prelinguistic truth w hich was neither Greek nor
Latin, but represented the thought o f G od. Aquinas opens his great
collection o f religious co m m en tary and analysis, the S u m m a T h e o lo g ic a , with
a discussion o f e x a ctly this problem : ‘w ords signify the things understood,
for w e express b y w o rd s w h at w e understand’ .25 Aquinas seems to have
considered the B ib le to be a special case, w here words are signs o f things
w hich are, in their turn, signs o f som ething further (1.1.10). This sentence
was often qu o ted , and often quoted out o f context, to suggest that the Bible
is only special b y b e in g a p aradigm case, and that all w riting is potentially
allegorical in this sam e m a n y layered w ay .
M etaphor, o f course, is the w a y w e w ou ld classify most of the
interpretations that a llego rizin g translators and commentators supplied.
That is w h at tr a n s la tio m ean t in Latin. (The classical Latin term for ‘translate’
is ‘transferro’ o r ‘ v e r to ’ — o u r English ‘to turn’ is, straightforwardly, a
translation o f ‘ v e r to ’ .)26 W h ere w e w o u ld separate translation (finding an
equivalent w o rd o r phrase in a different language) from interpretation
(explaining the sense in the same or another language), earlier practice saw
the activities as part o f one spectrum . T h e basic opposition in translation
practice saw the activities as part o f one spectrum. The basic opposition in
translation practice, that betw een w ord -fo r-w o rd and sense-for-sense,
parallels the distinction b etw een ‘ the m atter’ and ‘the sentence (in French
atiere and sens’) w h ich separated the surface narrative or subject from its
Crnd o f m ean in g, th em e, or ‘ m o ral’ . T hat the distinction is itself often
 he M id d le Ages
Truth Jiid convention m
200

expressed in spatial metaphors, stm.l.tudes to cloth.n g, or to extertors a „ d

interiors suggests a belief in a 'real' meaning separable from linguistic
expression and basically unaffected by the variety o f possible articulations o f
it The distinction between ‘w heat' and ‘c h a ff w h ich recent so-called
Patristic criticism has made so familiar distinguishes a hierarchy o f realities
that denigrates the outer or surface or literal for the sake o f the m oral message
which it veils. O f course that very stress on the distracting, even d eceivin g ,
nature o f the apparent narrative emphasizes its p o w er. In D e C a s u D ia b o li

Anselm makes his Magister express this view to his Student at the end o f his
first chapter: 'But w e shouldn't so much cling to inappropriate w o rd s w h ich
conceal the truth, as we should seek to discover the gen uin e truth w h ich is
hidden under the many types of expression. F or A n selm the surface
expression, the style or texture of the language, has m u ch less im p o rtan ce
than that prelinguistic core of truth w hich it indicates. T h e status o f their
representations varied in im portant w ays. T his is n ot fo r a m o m e n t to deny
that a man like Anselm had literary sensitivity; it is to re c o g n ize the co n text
o f the dialogue, in which a M aster is tryin g to educate a S tu d e n t in m ethods
o f reading.27
Even in periods when there was w idespread a c k n o w le d g e m e n t o f
bilingual culture w e can find assessments, o r at least a ck n o w le d g e m e n ts, o f
the irrational pow er o f the prim acy o f one o r a n o th er o f the la n gu ages. This
insistence upon reference to the Latin text is so m etim es a rg u e d in term s o f
the emotional force which the right w o rd , the Latin w o r d , c o u ld inspire, like
this advice to the young Charles V I o f France w h ic h P h ilip p e de M ezieres
put into the mouth o f ‘Q ueen T ru th ’ (la ro y n e V e rite )

Insofar as you can, read the books (o f the Bible] in Latin, and be certain that you will
enjoy reading in Latin, that stories or instruction w ill please yo u r heart more than half
a dozen stories in French. For Holy Scripture, written and dictated b y the Saints in
Latin, and afterwards translated into French, does not giv e the same substance to
readers as streams as from the source itself. . . For there are in H o ly Scripture certain,
even many, Latin words which pierce the heart w ith great devotion in the reading,
which, translated into French, are without spice and taste in the vernacular.28

This is also a reminder, even a w arn in g, that n o v e r n a c u la r tran slatio n can be

a substitute for the original. Fluent and g r a c e fu l tra n s la tio n w a s certainly
possible, but it was dangerous, because it r e m o v e d th e re m in d e rs that the
substitute text w is i means not an end. P h ilip p e 's p r o m is e o f d e lig h t is a b ° »
attempt ptotett. That e m otio n al argument w h ic h P h .lip p e d c M ea*“
 T raitor translator
201

used to entice his pupil in to stu d yin g the B ible in Latin in order to experie
the im m e d ia cy o f its e m otio n al p o w e r can be found elsewhere ^

W h e n M o n t a ig n e d iscu sses th e issu e, a lm o s t in passing, he locates thes

fe e lin g s th r o u g h o n e o f th o se m e ta p h o r s o f la y e r s to w h ich these chapteT
h a v e so o fte n c a lle d a tte n tio n : P ers

O riginal qualities are not abolished, they are covered, hidden. Latin is part o f m
nature, I understand it better than French; but for fo rty years I have never used h t0

speak or to w rite , excep t w h en I have fallen, tw o or three times in my life, in °

extrem e o r sudden em o tio n , fo r exam p le, seeing m y father, in good health, fall on me
in a faint, m y gu t reaction has a lw ay s been to burst out w ith m y first words in Latin »

T w o factors m ust be rem a rk ed . First, the language o f education and o f great

literature retains e m o tio n a l p rio rity . Seco n d , there is a mental analogy here
to the spatial m e ta p h o r w h ic h links ‘d ep th ’ to ‘im portance’ , so that Latin’s
em otio n al ‘ c e n tra lity ’ in M o n ta ig n e ’s em otio n al expenence reinforces its
great status. L a tin ’ s c o m p a ra tiv e richness w as the despair o f vernacular
w riters w h o fo u n d th e m selve s in the p osition o f C ice ro centuries before.
T h ere is a g rea t d istan ce, h o w e v e r , b e tw ee n the v ie w that a good translator
can em u late his m o d e l, ab so rb its qualities, and in so d o in g actually improve
his o w n la n g u a g e to the p o in t w h e re it rivals its predecessor (Cicero’s
con fiden t a m b itio n ), and th e m o re m o d est ju d g e m e n t o f most medieval
w riters that L a tin ’ s p re stig e w a s u n ch a llen geab le because o f the imperfec­
tions o f th e m o d e r n v e rn a cu la rs w ith th eir la ck o f regulation, their paucity o f
vo ca b u la ry , th e ir co n sta n t c h a n g e .30 N o t o n ly did attitudes to Latin affect
w riters, so d id a ttitu d e s to th eir o w n vern aculars, w h ich changed with the
passage o f tim e a n d th e in crease in co n fid e n ce that those vernaculars were
not o n ly a d e q u a te b u t g r e a t m e d iu m s fo r expression. T h is confidence must
almost a lw a y s b e r e tr o s p e c tiv e , b ased o n the existence o f great vernacular
texts (perhaps th e w r ite r s o f G o ld e n A g e Latin thought their literary
predecessors had w r it t e n g r e a t tex ts in Latin). A ccu ra cy for its ow n sake had
less value than d id m a k in g a n e w te x t w h ic h w o u ld co n vey the subtleties o f
the o rig in a l. W e b e g in t o see e v id e n c e o f revisio n . N o one labours to make a
text w o rse, so w e m ay ask in w h a t w a y s rew ritin g improved. The
com m on est c r ite r io n seem s to b e c la r ity , b u t there is also evidence o f change
or style, p a r tic u la r ly in v e r n a c u la r h is to ry translation.
T h e spatial m e ta p h o r s w e r e a n d co n tin u e d to be im portant. Understand-
Ukes manY forms, o f w h ic h th e p arad ig m is often a spontaneous and
P ently simultaneous moment o f realization or recognition, when we
 T ru th and co n ve n tio n in the M id d le A g e s
202

feel that everyth.ng suddenly slots into place and w e understand at last, tru ly
and com pletely, and for the first time. Thts is a p o w e rfu l e x p e n e n cc, and
freauently involves an act o f nam ing w h.ch realigns or rcorgan .zes p revio u s
observations (and moments o f understanding). Even such m om en ts,
how ever com e after m any others, and it is this process o f c o m in g to an
understanding w h.ch is often .gnored, or abandoned, o n ce w e h a ve had it.
When texts arc treated as puzzles to be decoded, as i f th e y stood fo r an
answer read.ng appears to be the search fo r eqm valen ce. B o th the ‘a n sw er’
and the ‘process’ v.ew s ofinterpretation w ere c o m m o n a m o n g m e d ie v a l and
renaissance readers, depending n ot least upon w h a t kin ds o f texts th e y w ere
reading. A n y text w hich in volves com parison (in the rh eto rica l sense) or
arguments m ight im plicate the audience in an assu m ption th at the positions
would inspire discussion - and n ot perhaps discussion that w o u ld issue in a
resolution. T hat is, texts m igh t be th o u g h t to be e m b e d d e d in an o ra l culture
o f talking about them.
It is the m ost obvious o f observation s to say th a t w o r d s are not
mathematical counters w ith a single agreed m e a n in g , th a t languages
function associatively, so that m eanings th em selves are p a rt o f processes o f
sequence, juxtaposition, and habitual use (o r th e tra n sg re ssio n o f any o f
these). Translation attem pts to fin d and s o m e tim e s c re a te coin ciden ce
between tw o dyn am ic system s (this is also w h y th e y d a te so q u ick ly ). It
appears to be unavoidable that translators first a g r e e o n th e im p o ss ib ility o f
their task then insist that it could be d o n e b e tte r b y p o in t in g o u t in felicities o f
particular w ord or phrase choices.
When Augustine, Jerome, and Rufinus argue about their own and each
other’s translation of Divine Scripture or the Greek Fathers, their mutual
accusations cover the ground from inaccuracy to paraphrase, and stem from
different habits of mind which themselves define approaches to translation
which remain current. Active rhetoricians (politicians, lawyers, teachers,
bishops who had habitually to preach) tended to be audience-centred:
Augustine insisted upon the need for biblical translations that could be
understood and used by his congregations, whose familiarity with older,
traditional liturgical translations complicated matters further with an
understandable recalcitrance towards innovations in the sacred texts they
ad used from childhood. Recent reactions to the changes introduced afit
atican II or by revisions in the Anglican liturgy did not rise to the heights
“0mng priest wh° attempted to introduce the new text, whl
AugustinereportsinoneofhiscomplaintstoJerome, but they evid en ced t
 T ra itor translator
203

same conservative habits, and remind us how strong ls the belief of nost
Antique culture that the words o f sacred texts - larger than simple charms '
are in some way magical, that they are instruments of power that must not be
tampered with. By contrast, the rhetorically trained and scholarly (but
socially withdrawn) Jerome, in any case a far better scholar than his
ambitious (and aggressive) younger colleague, leaned toward devotion to
the o r ig in ! text, i.e. the Hebrew from which the Septuagmt had originally
come; he was preparing texts for study which, if they finished as
replacements, were certainly intended, in so far as possible, to accompany
their originals. An acceptable compromise was annotation (introduction of a
commenting voice whose language and authority might differ from that of
the primary text) to explain the problems as they arose. But commentary,
however basic, neither solves nor circumvents the basic difficulties. They
knew that. Both men, o f course, vastly underestimated the speed with which
ancient norms o f general level o f cultural attainment were collapsing. Soon
the assumption that culture was bilingual would be reduced to so much less
than a living m em ory that in the Latin-speaking West Jerome’s translation
might appear to promise to be the W ord itself, rather than one translation of
the Word. The subservient ‘voice’ acquired the authority of a primary text.
One way o f thinking about the shifting authority o f these ‘voices’ and texts
which move from primary, or ‘original’ to secondary, or commentary, or
translation status m ight be to imagine the latter group o f texts (like Jerome’s
Bible translation) as a pane o f glass which can be looked at as well as through.
In addition, o f co u rse , it is as w e ll to rem em b er that the status and
understanding o f te x ts v a rie s at d ifferen t h isto rica l m om ents. In late-classical
antiquity J e ro m e ’ s s ty le m a y h a v e seem ed sim ple to the point o f clumsiness.
B y B ede’ s d a y it h a d risen to the h e ig h ts o f e lo q u en ce, n ot only because o f its
status, b ut becau se o f h is to ric ch a n g e s in L atin and b y comparison to the
w riting o f B e d e ’ s im m e d ia te p recu rso rs and contem poraries.
If the B ib le is all th e w o r d o f G o d , a lth o u g h mediated by human
amanuenses, it o u g h t to f o l lo w th a t n o o n e part be m ore or less privileged
than any o th e r p art. In p ra c tic e , h o w e v e r , certain parts o f the Bible, parts
^hat w ere e sp e cia lly fa m ilia r b ecau se o f their place, for example, in the
UrSy. b e ca m e th e s u b je c t o f co n tin u o u s interpretation and the fust
candidates f o r tra n s la tio n . In th e co u rse o f the tw elfth century, with the
in u h ° ^ scb ° la s tic c o m m e n t a r y , th e in stitutional d e v e lo p m e n t o f scho
texi Prest*8e a n d a d v a n c e m e n t d e p e n d ed up on mastery o f certa
S’ 0ne b y o n e th e b ib lic a l b o o k s ca m e un der the creative attention 0
 T r u t h and co n v e n tio n in the M . d d . c A g e s
204
sto ries, o f ‘ p r o fe s s io n a l’ c o m m e n t a r y a n d o f
c o m m e n ta to rs. T h e se t w o s ^ ^ • th c d iff ic u lt y o f b ib lic a l L a tin
v e rn a c u la r tran slatio n , i f th e s ig n ific a n c e o f th c ‘ p l a in ’ te x t
necessitated c o m m e n t a t e ^ ^ f o r g e t th e s c h o la r ly p r e s s u r e to d e fin e
w a s to be u n d e rsto o . or ^ -n g n e w a „ d c o m p l e x a b s tr a c tio n s ,
term s, to d is c o v e r e x i n s t r u m e n t it b e c a m e . O n c e a g a in
w h .c h m a d e sch 1 ^ ^ w im e s s ; ,n D e fin ,b u s a n d in hts F o u rth T u s c u la n he
C ic e r o c o u ld be th c n e x e m p l i ft es th e u se a n d a d a p t a tio n

o Z Z L jo y the s d v .ii.a g e o f the in n o v a to r: s im p ly b y th e r p r io r it y tlKy

o r " m p . .h e v o ca b u la ry o f c o m p le x analysis. H e a lto m e n .,o „ s (again , in
p an tag and w ith o u t c o n n d .n n g the b a n c - o f c „ m m e „ sn „ b , l „ y) his
Z Z Sfo r translating w o rd s fo r th e e m o n o n s , b o th w h e r e th e L a t.n seen,,
equivalent to the G re e k and w h e r e it d o es n o t. In tu rn C h n s n a n Latin
inherited these G re e k 'caiq u es', and a d d ed t o th e m th o s e H e b r e w w o r d , such
a , 'A m e n ' 'H osan n a', and 'S e la h ' w h ic h w e r e so s p e c ia l as to resis,
translation alto g eth er. In a d d itio n to these le x ic a l ite m s , th e L a tin Bible
absorbed len gth ier caiques w h e r e an a p p a re n t o d d i t y in th e G r e e k represents
a H ebraism , w h ich is ju s tifie d b y its sty lis tic r e la t io n t o th e O l d Testam en t
narrative, that is, b y c o p y in g the p h ra s in g o f th e e a r lie r p r o p h e c ie s , the N e w
T estam ent w riters c o u ld cla im , in p a rt b y th e s t y le t h e y c h o s e , that the
prophecies w e re b e in g fu lfille d , fo r e x a m p le in t h e e x p r e s s io n w h ic h we
translate ‘And it ca m e to p ass’ at th e b e g in n in g o f a s e n te n c e . A s lo n g as a
culture is bilingual, o r a t least a w a r e o f th e v o c a b u l a r y a n d stru ctu re o f
another literary la n g u a g e , r e c o g n iz a b le w o r d s o r p h r a s e s f r o m th e source
language can be imitated as a s ty lis tic d e v i c e w h ic h r e fe r s to another
language's literature and w a y s o f d o in g t h i n g s .32 I f it is th e case that
translations w e re m e an t to c a r r y r e m in d e r s t o t h e ir r e a d e r s th a t th e y were
translations, perhaps un usual v o c a b u l a r y o r w o r d - o r d e r w e r e instrumental

in creating con stant stran gen ess.

In practice it was the Psalter which focussed the problems o f translation,
because it was part o f daily worship, because it was recognized to be a
collection of hymns, because it was an extractable part o f the Bible w h ich lay
as well as religious worshippers used, w e find it translated early and often
Bilingual texts exist in French and Latin w h ich instruct the worshipper”’
correct behaviour (both physical and mental discipline) during the

rituals o f worship, by framing the Latin o f th e litu rg y in a French acc0“ here

die correct way to experience it. Here w e see an exam p le o [digl°ssia’
 T raitor translator

Latin has g r e a te r p re stig e th an F re n ch . It m a y be 2o*

that w o r s h ip c o n tin u e d to b e fo cu ssed u p o n rb T ' * rem ’nd>ng 0urt .
understood b y .h e w o r s h ,PPe r. E „ 8L h ^ ^
p sa lm s f r o m an e a r ly d a te , b u t it w as an ‘ acc Substitute’ metfi '
(schem a 2 a n d 3) w h ic h h a d w id e s p re a d c ir c u l^ T * ™ ' translat,on
o r th o d o x an d th e s o -c a lle d L o lla rd s , w h o in te r p o la t e d 'V ^ am° " 8 the
tary in to it). T h is e a r ly f o u r te e n th -c e n tu r y t r a n s l a t i o n ^ ^ C° ^
strik in g case o f re fe r e n c e b a c k to th e o rig in a l; the read ^ Was a
m o m e n t a llo w e d to lo s e s ig h t o f th e fa ct that th V “ " ever for a
p ra c tic a lly g r a p p le s w it h th e L a tin to w h ic h it is add6 En8' 1Sh tra n sla t“ - It
verse p r o lo g u e w h ic h w a s a d d e d to th e w o r k , it w rCSSed' A ccord'n g to a
Richard Rolle for a woman, Margaret Kirkby bm^ ° n8mally Wri«en by
prose prologue reveals that he was well aware that"* ? “ R°lle’s 0Wn
the use of many different readers.31 Most of this' ** recoPied for
co n d en sed fro m L a tin in tr o d u c t io n s to c o J e ! ^ ” ^ ' 5
particularly Peter Lombard’s, but the end contains a b f ^ Psalter-
to the reader, which is also a kind of defeCnce
nceo t Rno lle,, s CO mPact>address
effort.

The matere o f this boke is Crist & his spouse, that is, haly kyrke, or ilk ryghtwise
mannys saule. The entent is to confourme men that ere filyd in Adam til Crist in
newnes o f lyf. The maner o f lare is swilke: umstunt he spekis of Crist in his godhed,
umstunt in his manhed, umstunt in that at he oises the voice of his servauntes. Alswa
he spekis o f haly kyrke in thre maners: umwhile in the person of perfite men,
somtyme o f unperfite men, som tyme o f ill men, whilk er in halikyrke by body
noght by thoght, by name noght by ded, in noumbire noght in merit. In this werke 1
seke na straunge Ynglis, bot lyghtest and comonest, and swilk that is mast lyke til the
Latyn, swa that thai that knawes noght Latyn by the Ynglis may com til mony Latyn
wordis. In the translacioun I folow the lettere als mykyll as I may, and thare I fynd na
propire Ynglis I folow the wit o f the worde, swa that thai that sail red it thaim thare
noght dred errynge. In expounynge I fologh haly doctours, for it may come in some
envyous man hand that knawes nought what he sould say, that will say that I wist
noght what I sayd, and swa doe harme til him and til othere if he dispise the werke
that is profytabile for him and othere.34

Here we find R o lle first introducing the subject and why we should read it.
both what its overarching intention is to us (to move and persuade us to
"ghteousness) and w hat its particular method is (following learned example
° f exposition). T he translation is meant as an accompaniment, to bring
readers to the Latin. R o lle stresses the humility necessary to his readers,
Cause he know s the risk o f misunderstanding that his work may enco g
 206 T r u t h and c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A g e s

i ignorant. Hut ,-hr

among the tnc work
worn., in best rhetorical terms, is nevertheless
profitable to be done.
What in effect RolJc has done is to assemble a bilingual Psalter with
English Commentary, so that the devout, but unlearned, reader (not
imagined as a female reader, nor as a collection o f female readers, as will be
obvious f r o m the pronouns) can meditate upon the Latin, sentence by
sentence. The opening sentence o f Psalm i elicits a com mentary o f almost
two pages, o f which this is the beginning.

Beatus vir qui non abijt in consilio impiorum: & in via peccatorum non
stetit, & in cathedra pestilencie non sedit.
In this psalme first he spekis of Crist and o f his folouers, bloundisand til us, highland
blisfulhed til nghtwisemen; sithen he spekis o f vcngaunce o f wickcdmcn, that thai
dred pyne sen thai will noght luf joy. He bygynnes at the goed man & says
Blisful man the whilk oway 3ed noght in the counsailc o f wicked and in the way of
synful stode noght & in the chaiere o f pestilens he noght sate.
He is blisful til whaim all thynge comes that he covaites, or that has all that he will
& will nathynge that is ill, and as Saynt Austyne sais, fife thynge falles til
blysfulhed . . . (p. j)
Notice that what we might want to call the translation o f the verse comes
after a short introduction instructing us in how to interpret; the commentary
begins with an exposition o f the first word (schema 3). After this, it should be
said, Rolle’s habit is to give the Latin verse and then, immediately, the closest
lexical-equivalent English translation that he can, before giving the
allegorical exposition (schema 4). The English words represent the sequence
o f Latin words in order to indicate the template from which interpretation
arises. Lexical equivalence is a stage, an indication o f small units which
represent both the Latin and what the Latin represented (an adaptation of
schema 2). Judgements about accuracy or inaccuracy are incomplete without
the expansions which follow. It is part o f a process o f translation-and-
interpretation which always refers back to the original. O ne other example
may serve as an illustration o f textual variation. In what w e now number as
the twenty-third Psalm (but which in R o lle’s num bering, follow ing Jerome,
Js Psalm 22), the opening o f which is familiarly rendered ‘The Lord is my
S ephcrd’’ the medieval Latin text reads ‘regit’ where the Hebrew, which
the verb to b e, gives a word which means ‘m y shepherd ,

D o m in iu s r e g it m e & n ic h il michi d e e r it : in l o c o p a s c u e ib i m e c o lle c t

* governs me and nathynge sail me want; in sted o f pasture thare he me sett
 T r a it o r translator
207
The vo.ee o f a rightwisman: Lord Cr.st is my kynge, and forth. „ , l
walU, that is, in him I sail be s.kere and suffisaunt, for I hope in him ^
cndles. And he ledis me in sted o f pasture, that is, in und.rstandynge S w ^ 3nd
dclite in his luf, where I am sikere to be fild. Thare, in that sled he set m /V*0" 1’ and
perfeccioun. (p. 85) t0benoristt,l

O n c e a g a in , th e c o m m e n t a r y takes a w o r d or a phrase at a time

have o n ce aga in trie d to in d ica te b y u sin g distinctive type faces. This kind1 '
translation is c o m p re s se d , as co m m e n ta rie s tend to be, so that the readw h ^
to re c o g n iz e th at ‘T h e v o ic e o f a rig h tw is m a n ’ identifies the ‘ voice’ of the
p o em , w h a t w e m ig h t t o d a y call the ‘ p erso n a’ , the im aginary speaker, here
an u n sp ecified r ig h te o u s m a n , and th at the translation is partly repeated inset
into an e x p a n s iv e (re la tiv e ly ) in te rp re ta tio n . U s in g different type faces is one
w a y o f c o n v e y in g th e b r e a k -u p o f the line - in certain intriguing ways the
best a n a lo g y is w i t h m o d e r n p o e tr y , fro m T . S. Eliot to John Berryman,
w h ere the re a d e r has to a c q u ire an alertness to w h ich vo ice is speaking now'.
T his is re a d e r -o r ie n te d tra n sla tio n , w h ic h n ever forgets the emotional
im p act th e te x t s h o u ld b e e n a b le d to m a k e - th o u g h C ice ro w ou ld have been
h o rrified b y th e s e n tim e n ts , h e w o u ld h a v e reco gn ized the intention to
address th e a u d ie n c e ’ s e m o tio n s . T ra n s la tio n and com m entary are methods
o f in d ire ctio n w h ic h w i l l le t d ir e c tio n o u t.35
A c c o m p a n im e n t tra n s la tio n is n o t m ean t to be read easily, as a flowing
sequence, b u t to b e th e m e an s o f m e d ita tio n , o f constant reference to the
Latin. A n e x h a u s t iv e c o m m e n t a r y w o u ld attend to units o f different sizes,
and w o u ld m o v e b a c k a n d fo r th b e tw e e n them : a single w ord, as here, a
w o rd as it a p p ea rs in a p h ra s e , o r as it is used at o th er places in the Bible, or the
phrase as it a p p e a rs e ls e w h e r e . T h is p rocess m ig h t be described as radial
reading: tu r n in g t h e p a g e s , r e fe r r in g b a c k w a rd s and forwards, constantly
rereading a n d m e d it a t in g . It is a k in d o f m en ta l ‘scro llin g’ . In that way, far
from b e in g a s u b s titu te f o r th e o r ig in a l o r a n y kin d o f literarily ambitious
English c r e a tio n , its su ccess as a m e d iu m fo r con tem p lation depends upon
1 e ch o p p in e ss o f its e ffe c t, th e c o n sta n t in te rru p tio n w hich prevents the
reader fr o m c a r r y in g o n . T h e E n g lis h is n o t ‘ b a d ’ , b u t certainly not fluent or
graceful — th is is im p o r t a n t , b e c a u s e a trib u te to the sacredness and difficulty
o f rhe S a cre d P a g e . It is n o t m e a n t to b e read as a uniform prose sequence
•ch is c o n v e y i n g i n f o r m a t io n , o r n a rra tio n , at speed; it is better to think 0
UfaS 3 Secl Uen c e o f v o ic e s . W h a t I ca lle d e arlier the ‘ in te grity ’ o f the language
ranslation is n o t a n issu e. It is glass to be lo o k e d through, not at, ne^
StUdled as o f in te r e s t in its o w n r ig h t. It is d y n am ic, but it is not a te
 208 T r u t h an d c o n v e n tio n in the M id d le A g e s

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8 The opening verses o f the T w e n ty - t h ir d P salm in R o lle s

Com m entary. T h e rubrications in th e o rig in a l are red , em phasizing
different sections, w h ich are lettered in s lig h tly d ifferen t scripts
 T ra ito r translator
209

WO R D S AND DEEDS

But n ot a ll readers c o u ld b e referred to the L

o r m o re c o m f o r t a b l e in th e ve rn a cu la r anoth * F° r aud'ences 1 to

e x a m p le , s o m e t T m e s T ^
A n g lo - S a x o n tr a n s la to r s , f o r be n e ^
— - jjiui or story as
lU f,,t la rg e r th an WOT
o r d s o r p hrases an d translated ' ' th- a t. T his appears
plot oras5t0rv
a kind
a m»— —
o f narrative p arap h rase (sch em a 8), o ften expressed r r "“
poetry . A ll th e r h e to n c a l exercises w h ic h treat o f e l ^ ^ ° f Vemacular
w hen n a rra tiv e -p a ra p h ra se tran slation co n vert f " 510" c°m e intc play

_ ' • '..........- ........... " - ■ ,h' 0n* ™ ' plot

son ,c th in g re fe r r in g -b u t-n o t-e q u iv a le n t in the vernacular. In add.tion
am plification s in clu d e th e in tro d u c tio n o f n ew characters and incidents’
often su b o rd in a te d to s o m e abstract schem e o f reference, like Shakespearean
subplots, w h ic h ‘ r e fe r ’ w h ile th e y e x e m p lify . O n e important check upon
this kin d o f p arap h rase is th a t n e w adventures for know n characters are
alw ays fitte d in to c h r o n o lo g ic a l p eriod s fo r w h ich nothing is recorded, like
the H a r r o w in g o f H e ll o r th e A p o c r y p h a l gospels which invent the
childhood o f C h r is t. ‘ N e w ’ ch a ra cters are con trolled by the same historical
con ventions w e c o n s id e re d in e a rlie r chapters. Since it is clear that no woman
could g o th r o u g h la b o u r u n a tte n d e d b y another w om an , the midwife who
delivered th e V ir g in o f th e in fa n t C h ris t is an obvio u s necessity o f the story.
N a rrative -p arap h rasa l ‘ tra n s la tio n ’ c o u ld e x p lo it such resources, and ex­
tended the a lr e a d y c a p a c io u s c a te g o r y o f translation b y increasing in practice
(w ithout e x p lic it ly e x t e n d in g in th e o r y ) the latitude o f addition.
Peter C o m e s t o r ’ s m id - t w e lf t h - c e n t u r y H i s t o r i a S c h o la s t ic a was narrative-
paraphrase o f s a c re d ‘ h is t o r y ’ in seq u en tia l Latin prose, and it provided a
text, as it w e r e a t o n e r e m o v e fr o m the holiness and linguistic difficulty of
Sacred W r it itse lf, o n w h ic h , o r fr o m w h ic h , translators could work. Peter’s
nicknam e refers w it h re s p e c t to his h a v in g d ig e s te d the Bible. His paraphrase
was su p p le m e n ted b y th e A urora o f P e te r o f R ig a , and vernacular translators
used b oth w o r k s as bases f o r v e rse paraphrases ot biblical material.'’1 Jehan
M alkaraum e in se rte d th e ta le o f P y ra m u s and Thisbe into his Bible
Paraphrase at th e e n d o f th e s t o r y o f S usann a and the Elders.31* The Ormulum
's another v e rs ifie d p a r a p h r a s e , t h o u g h o n e w h ic h had no currency. Almost
tWo dozen m o r e lim it e d p o e t ic parap hrases survive from eleventh and
1 elfth~ce n tu ry G erm an y, in c lu d in g tw o celebrating the exploits
th- A n g l o - S a x o n p o e ts r e c r e a te d th e stories o f Genesis, Exodus, an

sirn'i11 f° r v e r n a c u la r a u d ie n c e s , a n d M id d le English is nch in o th ertS^

1 ar exercises in t e llin g th e s t o r y , p arap h rasin g the ‘narrative matter
 T ru th and convention in the M id d le A g e s

thcr a word-for-word nr a scnsc-for-sense

literal level, without being ei ^ ^ ^ ^ Middic English alliterative
translation. Poems like Gen” “ ^ of thc Apocrypha but in the M iddle
S u s a n n a h (today usually c as. revcai thc limitations of thc simple
Ages contained in t h e J (s„ bsrilMi„n on w o r d -fo r -w o r d / * m p -fo t .
dichotomies accompan ^ .substitution’ to ‘r e p la c e m e n t, b u t only
sense translation. T hey me m to an audience fo r w h o m the Latin
in the limited sense that t they tend to fo llo w the o rd e r o f events as
original was probably out o r ^ e n o u g h to it at a n y ve rb a l level
given in the ongma u ^ ^ again) t0 be considered simply as
(that inescapable me F T o co m p licate m atters fu rth er, those
translating e,ther V' ° " f translate b o th fro m the b ib lica l books and
medieval v e m a c u a rp so that it w o u ld req u ire both an

from their ac P w disentangle the sources o f th e vernacular

alert and a sc reader w w h o m the translation is n o t addressed.

T h « r » «xPn . . gh t be categorized as re d a ctio n -tra n sla tio n (schem a 6),

amalgamations directed a. an attdtence fo r w h o m n etth er accom panim ent
Z sobstitutton is really an adequate d escrip t,o n , becau se th e y co u ld n e ,«
be in a posttton to study the Sacred P a g e d ir e c tly (w ith an accom panm ten,
translation beside them). A nd w h at th e y w e r e I r m s la lm g w a s n o t m any
simple sense words. N o t did this restrict th e v e r n a c u la r -b o u n d audience to
the sacred plot alone.
W hile an audience o f unlearned listeners c o u ld n o t s u p p ly immediate
recognition o f the co m m en tary traditions o f u n d e rs ta n d in g , o r be expected
to grapple with the m ultilayered m ysteries o f th e a lle g o r ic a l interpretations,
neither allegory n or sym bol w ere alien to th e m , a n d a g r e a t m a n y meanings
were probably much m ore accessible than w e m ig h t p re d ic t - M a k , in the
Wakefield Master s play, S ecu n d a P a s to r u m , th e P r o c e s s u s P r o p h e to ru m , and
the devotional lyrics w ere all sources w h ic h b o th e x p lo ite d and transmitted
multiple interpretation. A m o n g the m o tiv e s fo r re c r e a tin g b ib lica l stories as
vernacular poems was a desire o n th e p a r t o f r e lig io u s w rite r s to provide a
substitute for poems o f w ar, o r lo v e , o r a n y o f th o se w o r d l y am bition s which
istracted lay men and w o m e n fro m G o d . T h c p u r p o s e o f and audience for
e story telling justified a c c o m m o d a tio n s to th e s ty le o f vern acu lar fiction
e pleasures o f interpretation w e r e a c r u c ia l p a r t o f th e p leasure o f the text;
. authors could direct in te rp re ta tio n a n d e x p e c t th e direction to
g ized though no o n e w o u ld w a n t to c la im th a t d ir e c tio n was in eve ^

3 SUCCeSsful restri« to n . T h e a u th o r o f Pearl, Patience, an d C k * « * '

 T ra ito r translator
211

fo u rte en th -ce n tu ry E n gla n d , w as a m asterful poet w h o integrated biblical

substance in to his p o e try , w h tch is d idactic w ith o u t tears. Misunderstanding
_ that is, m isin terp retatio n represented w ith in the text b y uncomprehending
characters - elevates the in terp retative status o f the reader. Internal
m isreading is an e n co u ra g e m e n t to co rrectio n b y the implied, external
reader. N o r sh o u ld m e d iev a l vern acu lar dram a be left out o f account.
C h an ge o f la n g u a g e , ch an ge o f m e d iu m , adaptation to an unlearned
audience’s exp ecta tio n s - n evertheless the m a tte r o f the Bible stories or the
lives o f saints rem ain s, and rem ains the p ro m in en t thing (schema 9). Events
are prelin guistic. It is o n ly w h e n w e reco u n t them that w e turn them into
language, w h ic h can b e clo th ed in m a n y guises. T h e n ew representation
offers acts, visu al and v e rb a l, fo r in terp retation .
W h a t is strik in g a b o u t a great deal o f m ed ieval w ritin g is h o w often new
texts a v o id asp irations to b e v e rb a lly au th o rita tiv e, even w hen the details of
expression o ffe r th em selves fo r in terp retatio n . W h e n the M iddle English
poet w ro te a b o u t his d re a m -v is io n o f a lost Pearl, b o th his choice o f medium
(dreams rem a in fa m o u sly in terp retab le texts) and his sym bol invite
speculation. It is n o t ju s t th a t w e re c o g n ize the ‘P earl’ as a traditional symbol
(like the co in o f trib u te , this s y m b o l w o r k s b y reference to a well-known
biblical te x t, th e ‘ p earl o f grea t p rice ’ w h ic h in turn stands for salvation
itself). T h e c o n te x t o f th e d rea m visio n in w h ich , because the Dreamer
appears n o t to b e resp o n sib le fo r his exp erien ce, the narrator disclaims
authority fo r h is fic tio n , since dream s and visions w ere w ell know n to be
interior m a n ifesta tio n s o f e x te rio r fo rces, in fact im plies a greater authority
than any in d iv id u a l p o e t c o u ld cla im , b y presenting the text as a locus of
interpretation: w h a t w a s seen an d w h a t hap pened are enigmas to be
understood b y th e in te llig e n t and k n o w le d g e a b le reader.40 Both W ill
Langland and Julian o f N o r w ic h represen t them selves as humble seekers
after truth, re cip ien ts o f c o d e d m essages w h ic h their w ak in g selves (and their
readers) can in te rp re t in to clear. D r e a m visions, jo u rn eys to the Other- or
U n d e r-w o rld (lik e th e L a tin p o e m o f St P a trick ’s P u rgatory which Marie de
France translated), a b d ica te re s p o n s ib ility . T h e author can say what he (or
she - this v is io n a r y lite ra tu re is a h a ve n o f safety for w om en, for whom
responsibility and a u th o r ity p o se d sp ecial problem s) likes while disclaiming
rCSP °n sib ility fo r h a v in g in v e n te d it. ‘ It’ is som ethin g seen , so that writing
°ut it is a lrea d y an act o f in te rp re ta tio n and translation from the visual
^ verbal (sch em a 9 ). T h is is a n o th e r rem in der that w e must reverse our
mary v ie w s a b o u t th e p r io r it y o f la n g u ag e. It w ou ld not be a sur
 the M id d le A g e s
T ruth and convention in
212

, , . ,hc , * chestnut sh ou t being P » » " " " ' s b° f * “

read the 0,0 arc ,carncd m en’s pictures; language cannot

aX thcTnstamancous simultaneity o f visual or aural perception. Texts

e
J w redactions. T h e fascinating ease o f dreams arises h ere,
may bc J c°" ™ both vjsuaj and verbal experiences - lik e texts. That
h ^ r -r -T o lu n ta r v and sometimes ‘sent’ might convey the authority to
interpret them as if they were texts. T h e y could be spurs to faith, to action, or
t0 contemplation, without being themselves intended for detailed study,
word by word. For the large number o f people who could not read Latin,
would never be able to read Latin, lay piety included an awakening o f the
emotions toward God in order to stimulate them to work toward their own
salvation. Thesis/ was enough, because the integrity o f the sacred narrative
would guarantee its message through the most humble words.
It may seem that the English M ystery Plays o f the late fo u rteen th or
fifteenth centuries which, after all, only use translation o f the w o rd s o f the
Bible from time to time, and usually depend at m o st on paraphrase, g 0
beyond whatever boundary the idea o f translation erects. A n d so, in
important ways, they do: they do not appear to o ffe r e x te n d e d vernacular
equivalents for the Latin w ords o f an original te x t. B u t it w a s still possible to
argue that staged representation was a w a y o f a rticu la tin g th in g s w h ic h had
happened, deeds d o n e, w ords sp oken , all o f w h ic h had a re a lity which
language and dramatic gesture im itated and c o n v e y e d , fo r the most
important res g e s t a o f all, the historic arrival o f m a n k in d ’s s a lv a tio n (schema
9). When Mak hides a stolen lam b in a cradle and p re te n d s that his w ife has
just given birth, the Second Shepherds’ P la y m a k es a c o m p le x visual pun
which assumes that the audience understands p e r fe c tly w e ll that the
shepherds o f the G osp el story visited the L a m b o f G o d . E v e n the relatively
ignorant can enjoy the jo k e . ‘F luency and g r a c e ’ im p ly a co n ce n tra tio n upon
the style o f the new, the translated, text. In s o m e la rg e -s c a le w a y the matter
may be preserved despite the translator’s in a tte n tio n to th e details o f the
manner. But in rem aking the sto ry in a n e w m e d iu m (and this refers to plot
and character) medieval w riters w ere u n ea sy a b o u t w h e t h e r o r not they
ere creating an authoritative text, o n e whose o w n w o r d s c a rr y the weight
terpretability. Are the words value free when it is the plot, th e matter,
istory or life which they express? The invented ch a ra cters become
P rs for the message to be illustrated. They neither pretend to be

„ , Z “ ' T S m " ,0 m of P«t -or e lic it interpretation as factu ally « *

I an do the expansions o r sp eech es o f th e c h a ra c te rs in histories
 T raitor translator
213

w ritin g . T h is kin d o f translation paraphrases and amalgamates events

w ith ou t im p ly in g that the w o rd s m w h ich it does so correspond to the
original. T h is is n either a substitute n or an accom panim ent text in the sense
in w h ich J ero m e ’s o r A u g u stin e ’s translations w ere; nor does it pretend to be
a representation o f ‘ a’ text at all. T h a t w o u ld im p ly that the lay (or
uneducated) audien ce had the ca p a city to read (and interpret) the difficult
originals, w h ic h it had n ot. T h is is audience-based translation, telling what
there is w ith o u t rep resen tin g its w o rd s.
I f the dram a suggests the m ost d is ta n t kin d o f translation, the problem
remains that m e d iev a l w riters o r audiences m ig h t crave that impossible feat
of c lo s e referen ce, v e rn a cu la r translations lex ica lly equivalent to the Latin,
fluent e n o u g h to appear to be a substitute and n ot an accompaniment, but
none the less co n sta n tly re ferrin g b y m eans o f glosses, accessu s, and notes. The
great vern a cu la r translation s all g r o w o u t o f rich translation cultures
perm eated b y m u lti-lin g u a l aw areness, in h eritin g w ritten styles that allowed
for extensions in to w h a t co m es to be seen as peculiar, even unique,
archaizing, artificial lite ra ry registers capable o f sustaining the necessary
strangeness w h ic h p reserves the sense o f a referrin g translation. Manipul­
ation o f the ve rn a cu la rs w a s d elib era te and added fam ous resources o f lexis
and syntax, n o t c o n tin g e n tly , b u t as part o f the translators’ perception o f the
remedies n ecessary to m a k e lo w e r status languages approach Greek and
Latin. E nglish a rg u m e n ts a b o u t ‘ in k h o r n ’ additions to lexis (like the debates
in France o v e r th e ‘ g ran d s rh e to riq u e u rs’ ) are a sixteenth-century pheno­
menon w h ich disp laces a n x ieties a b o u t in cip ien t nationalism onto language.
T o have reach ed th e p o in t w h e r e d efen ce and illustration o f the vernacular
are part o f the d a y ’ s d e b a te , la n g u a g e -c u ltu re m ust progress through long
periods o f e x p e r im e n ta tio n , a c c re tio n , and am algam ation. Controversies
about lexis, v ie w e d as co n tro v e rs ie s a b o u t co m p etitio n either with the
ancients o r w ith o th e r n a tio n a l g r o u p s, d ep en d upon a measure of retrospect
and a certain c o n fid e n c e in w h a t has a lrea d y been achieved.

T h rou gh o u t th e M id d le A g e s , w h ile the B ib le and sacred history were the

most ' m p o rtan t c a te g o r y o f o r ig in a l tex ts to be interpreted, other kinds o f
ancient texts raised s im ila r p ro b le m s fo r the e v o lv in g vernaculars. W hat the
® Ua8 e o f an a n c ie n t t e x t rep resen ts co u ld raise c o m p le x problems
rrab esp e cially i f it w a s it s e lf a translation . Just as the Bible was
ati ° n (and in s o m e p lace s a tra n sla tio n o f a translation), so equally we
y ° f the p h ilo s o p h ic a l te x ts to w h ic h the interests o f vemacu a
 214 T ruth and convention in the M iddle Ages

audiences turned from the early years of the thirteenth century onward.
While there is a clear distinction, in theory, between the crucial vocabulary
o f a sacred text and the vocabulary o f moral philosophy, there is still a
profound need for precision. Latin had been the language o f theological
commentary and speculation for centuries, and had developed under the
impetus o f medieval scholarship. The translations o f Greek and Arabic texts
which so fertilized the schools brought caiques from those languages itUo
medieval Latin: words as familiar as ‘algebra’ are successful adaptations froiri
Arabic. Like theology, philosophy requires a specialized vocabulary; We f,nd
translators - indeed, we found Cicero —im porting w ords from their o rig in ]
texts into their translations when the target language did n o t seem to provide
an acceptable synonym. Transliteration ofG rcek into Latin set an important
precedent, enlarging the vocabulary first o f Latin then o f the European
vernaculars, but it remained a contentious issue. N o one ever claimed that
the exact, and exacting, language o f scholastic disputation was elegant. Yet it
served its function and served it well, and the rejection o f it by Renaissance
humanists as part o f their own archaizing and purifying cam paign over the
style o f Latin they were to em ploy struck an im p o rta n t blow against
Latimtas itself. Latin had been an evolving language, and over several
h undred years, and under pressure to develop n ew w ays o f dealing with new
concepts, changes from classical Latin had resulted in a rich medium that
could be universally understood. It provided a centralizing and regularizing
standard. Medieval translators frequently bem oan the difficulty o f their
originals; the challenge o f classical Latin was often fu rth e r complicated by
the unreliability o f the textual tradition, by am big u ities in terminology, or
by specialist jargons. It is also likely that the reflections w e read on the
difficulty o f certain texts constituted claim , justificatio n , and excuse.
Fourteenth-century rulers such as C harles V o f France o r R o b e rt the Wise
o f Naples ordered translations o f texts w h ich m ig h t be categorized as
broadly political, that is, both m oral instru ctio n and advice to princes, for
their non-Latinate court readers, ju s t as C h a rle m a g n e o r Alfred had done
centuries before. D em ands for v ernacular versions o f Latin texts appear
wherever court culture creates a class o f p o te n tia l readers w ho need - or
want - know ledge enshrined in the trad itio n s o f A n tiq u ity ; for their various
reasons, courts recreate, o r perhaps g iv e ad d itio n al impetus to, die
conversation w ith the classical past w h ich increase th e n u m b er o f reading5
and interpretations o f its texts. In this p e rp e tu a l confrontation w't
Antiquity there are n o term s o f su rre n d er. W a r, go v ern m en t, law -3,1
history (all subjects w hich stim ulate, o r are s tim u la te d by, w orldly amb,t,on
 T raitor translator

were absorbing subjects for readers - and not Us 2' 5

power and rprestige-----c/ could be matters of C r n ^ ' " readers' - for wu
------ m e was
learning was presented
presented as as an expensive object aTu"8 ’ CSpecially
objecra'l""**’ eSpecially w h^
when
ing translations becam e one o f the marks o { ^
attitudes ocJif the
v**'--m- -en
- - from w hom the w orks were f° r Prince, t T
_____ had had beenbeen form form ed
ed by
by learned
learned habiteT 7
habits of° ^ ^ r Wion'
S,0n' dd Vaned’
varied;mos'
m
When they found themselves translating f0r * 'n8 and expHcating
unsophisticated, audience, they often amalgamatedTevUnlr rned’ but not
create a readable replacem ent text w hich could neverth 1 tCXtS * °rder t0
of com parison to the original (schema 6). This j, ^ S°me k>nd
pretensions to style m ove forw ard, and translators e * C m° ment when
uneasiness. T he prefaces w hich repeat topoi about the ^ k'nd of
begin to show signs o f sacrificing that accuracy to the C f° r accuracy
text, or perhaps the desire to em ulate the old one in the ^ a new
way they begin to m ove in directions not d i s s i m i l a r ^ k ^ * 86' In thls
biblical m aterial.41 B ut new com position, in the sense of0™ adaptation of
poems, new texts, was n o t an im m ediate result.
Nicole O resm e w as one o f m any translators to remark his own adaptation
of foreign term s in his new w ork, as for example the astrological terms
which abound in his o w n translation o f his own Latin essay, Le Livre des
Divinations. T his is a rem inder o f the many reasons besides sacredness which
might inhibit translation. O resm e addressed a scholarly audience first, when
denouncing astrological divination, but the obvious importance of the
subject to non-L atinate readers led him to rewrite his book; its technical and
restricted subject led to a steady literalism. Y et we may ask why he translated
this way w hen the original was his ow n. M ore’s Richard III raises similar
questions. Technical books raise slightly different ones (on the one hand they
may be addressed to a ‘professionalized’ group for whom either Latin or a
specialist jarg o n is k n o w n , on the other the information conveyed may not
require sentence structures o f a com plex kind). The Galenic tradition of
medical w riting, the codes and com m entaries o f Roman Law, as well as
many kinds o f scientific w ritin g w ere original y ^ ^ wor^ Even when
whom Latin w as th e o rdinary language ot t ^ wl(je\y they were
translations exist it is som etim es difficult to know centU r y Justinian’ s

used, or even k n o w n . In th e course o f the * irte^ ^ h the f,rst o f these

Institutes, Digest, an d C o d e w ere all translated 'ntc> is required
mt0 verse by R ic h a rd d ’E nnebault about 1280. ° « ^
before the status and use o f such a translation w ^ 0 f an ed u cated
Just as w ith the stu d y o f the Bible, the cl
 T ruth and convention in the M iddle Ages

language invited accusations that the learned were maintaining a closed shop
in order to prevent the non-Latinate reader from benef.tting from
knowledge which might aid him. or even enable him to do without such
learned mediators as priests, doctors, or lawyers. This created a co m p ly
k.nd o f aggression, which had as much to do with the power symbolized hy
the use of Latin as with the use itself. As late as the seventeenth century w hCn
Culpeper translated his H erbal f o r vernacular English readers, and after
several centuries o f vernacular writing, his preface has an air o f committed
monopoly-breaking.43 Lighter in tone, but no less serious in intent, arc Ben
Jonson’s plays upon the obfuscations open to alchemists or lawyers - 0r
rather, pseudo-alchemists and -lawyers - in The Alchemist and Epicoene. EVen
V o l p o n e has its scene o f medical mumbo-jumbo. Latin could be perceived as

the language o f social control or the means o f deceit, translation as the

method o f freedom which provided access to information and learning for
plain men. The archaeology o f knowledge is matched by geological strata of
language.
Further, and despite the ostensible achievem ents o f Renaissance trans­
lators o f either the Bible or A ristotle, there is in ertia in translation history
Many translations which w ere claim ed to be n ew w ere in fact based upon
previous versions (the roots o f the K ing Jam es B ible tran slatio n lie in the late
fourteenth century); versions w hich w ere dism issed as in adequate no doubt
came to seem m ore impressive under the pressure o f searching for alternative
solutions to difficult problem s. T he respect w h ich a n e w tran slato r comes to
fee1 for a once-despised, earlier, inadequate versio n also leads to a kind of
piety which preserves for the sake o f p re se rv in g , o r by a kind of
psychological process o f fam iliarization, by a resp ect fo r th e authority of
writers now dead. W hat once seem ed a b arb a rism co m es to seem acceptable,
even the w ord always used for the th in g o r co n c ep t. In n o v atio n for its own
sake is as hard-w on a concept as p rese rv a tio n fo r its o w n sake later came to
seem. This has, o f course, im p o rta n t in te lle ctu al defences. Enshrining
chronological stratification in the lite ra tu re o f a la n g u ag e is an important
impulse in preserving its range o f style a n d referen c e; th a t is, the witness of
the past, in an evolving language, ac tu a lly w o rk s to p reserve understanding
o f texts which are rapidly datin g . It also has th e o ften -rem ark ed effect o
keeping the translation clearly a tra n sla tio n , b ecau se as cu rren t languag1'
changes, the archaic style o f th e tra n sla tio n has an o th ern ess that w° rl<S
minder. Thus, despite the osten sib le c ritic ism o f later translators,
remained an unm istakeablc c o n tin u ity f ro m th ir te e n th - to sevent

k
 T raito r translator
217

century versions o f A ristotle, ju st as surely as successive Bibles ret

increasingly archaic vernacular. C ertain Humanist ed.tions of A ?
preserved scholastic translations as parallel texts, as, in a way, c o m m e n ^ 6
not quite synchronized to the new ly printed originals. Even schoTarcfr"*
the East, w h o spoke m odern G reek, were dependent upon ‘bad’ L aT
translations som etim es several hundred years old. So the Aristotle commen"
tarics o f A quinas continued to be quoted and praised despite the assurance
that the text o f A ristotle on w hich they were based was corrupt. ^
Arabic translations o f A ristotle included versions with quite different
am ounts o f co m m en tary , som e o f it included in the text. When in the
thirteenth century W illiam o f M oerbeke turned his prodigious energies to
translating A ristotle, he attem pted the w ord-for-w ord method which
w ould preserve ev ery th in g in his m odel, but ‘everything’ included
interpolated glosses.44 T his m eth o d o f sm all-unit lexical equivalence which
was m eant to represent as precisely as possible, by manipulation of Latin
itself, the verbal and syntactic expression o f Aristotle’s philosophy, modified
the Latin w hich w as then used as the m edium o f discussion. This is
im portant, n o t o n ly fo r an understanding o f scholastic innovations, but also
as a precedent fo r attitudes to vernacular translation. The preservation of
caiques m ay represent n o t o n ly a m eth o d o f rem inding readers that they are
reading a translation, b u t also a bid for stability, by attaching the translation
to older, and th e re fo re h o n o u rab le, m ethods o f expression. W e are used to
thinking ab o u t ‘au re a tio n ’ (or doublets) as a fashion, b ut the use of Latinate
vocabulary w as m o re th an an attem p t to heighten register; it was also a
means o f attach in g th e vernacular to the timeless qualities o f the classical
languages. ‘M e th o d ’ itself is a transliteration o f Greek, and one opposed by
many hum anist tran slato rs as unacceptable.45 Translators no doubt had
many am bitions fo r th e ir vernaculars as part o f their cultural identification.
In the absence o f an available sy n o n y m , transfer by adaptation is an enriching
solution. It should also co m e w ith a rem inder that words come in phrases,
and that the use o f a w o rd o ften im plies consequences at a larger unit level.
The enrichm ent and th e establishm ent o f new literary languages increased as
•me passed, so th a t w rite rs in English feel that English has a special
lationship w ith F rench (b u t no longer any relationship with Norse).
O resm e s ju stify in g preface to his version o f Aristotle s Ethics begins
p. 3 re^ ect*on u p o n L a tin ’s ev id en t superiority:
lan . ^lt en ung petit livre que il fist des metres de Terence, que de tou
s,8« du monde latin est le plus abille pour mieulx exprimer et plus noblement
 T ruth and convention in the M iddle Ages
2 I8

n et cornme il soil ainsi que latin cst a present plus parfait et plus
son intencison ■ francols, par plus forte raison Ten ne pourroit translator
ha on ant »nP ^ ^ fran cois, sicomme entre cnnombrablcs exemples p cu lt
a'p p arT d " ceste p ro p o sitio n , homo es, animal parquoy je doy cstre excuse e„
partie se je ne parle en cest mat.ere s. proprement, si clcrcmcnt, si aornctnent

comment il fust mesticr.

N or is this remarkably different from his careful defence o f bibliCal
translation 47 While with less contentious texts, written with less crucial
vocabularies there is more stress on the challenge o f turning difficult Latin
into vernacular versions which will read fluently, some were still presented
as scholarly texts actually intended to make a choppy impression. JacqUes
Bouchant’s Seneca is preceded by reflections on the moralist s pithiness.48
These are difficult texts which require study and meditation.
The rational argum ents for regarding Latin as su p erio r to an y o f the
modem vernaculars depended upon traditions o f co m p lex syntactic organiz­
ation and extensive abstract vocabulary w hich c o m b in e d to create pow er­
fully expressive resources for the w ell-read reader. O f course, w h a t he had
been reading varied, and no one w ould w an t to arg u e th a t a d ie t o f Aquinas
would be the best preparation for reading classical L atin p o e try , or that a
medieval scholar used to w orking in a h ig h ly d e v o lv e d lin g u a franca Latin
would have easy access to the vocabulary of, say, T eren c e. N evertheless, the
passage o f centuries and the constant use and ex p a n sio n o f L atin literature
gave writers in the language an undeniable c e rta in ty a b o u t th e variety of
registers that m ight be available to th e m ; L atin h a d actually w hat the
European vernaculars seemed still o n ly to p ro m ise potentially. Latin was
hard; its difficulties posed problems w h ich w e re b y n o m eans sim ply an
opportunity for conventional translator’s m o d e sty .
Prefaces can often tell us a great deal more about the book they precede
than we might expect, given the conventionality o f so many of their
elements. That essential early distinction between the word-for-word and
sense-for-sense translation combines in certain cases with the need to create a
replacement text for a non-scholarly audience which may well also require
additional explanations and require them in a language insufficiently
endowed with the vocabulary to make subtle distinctions (schem a 5 and 7)
Much depends, too, upon the calibre o f the translator. Men like Nicole
Oresme orJean de Meun are not only capable, but articulate about what they
are doing. Jean’s translation o f Boethius’ D e C o n so la tio n e P h ilo s o p h ic 3

striking example. He provides an accessus to his text, explaining what i t 1

 T ra ito r translator
2lg
who w ro te it, and w h y w e should read it. The
address to the king: W ole 15 P^ceded by an

A ta royal majeste, tres noble prince, par la grace de Di

Quart, jejehan de Meun qui jad.s ou Rommant de F° y des Franco^, p, ,, ,
en prison Bel Acuc.l, cnseignai la maniere du chastel „ °S! ’ pUis ^ Jal0Usie^ P<Cle
translatay de latin en francois le livrc Vegecc de C h r-v T " '^ et de la fose m’S
de Hyrlande ct la V.c et les Epistre Pierres Abaelart et H T * * liVre des
de Esperituelle Amitie, envoie ore Boece de Consolacion0^ " le liv* Acred
francois. Ja soit ce que tu entendes bren le latin, mais tout" ^ ^ translat« de latirTen
a entendre le francois que le latin. Et por ce’ que tu T e T ^ ^ ^ P'USleP'lets
commandement - que je pre.sse plainement la sentence de l ' “ ~ ^ JC rieng pour
les paroles du latin, je l’ai fait a mon petit pooir s, com Sens *op ensure
commanda. O r pri touz ceulz qui cest livre verront s’il ^ * debonnairete le me
que je me soie trop eslongnies des paroles de l’aucteur *" aucuns ''eus
que ils le me pardoingnent. C ar seje eusse espons mot a ^ m T fois mams,
livres en fust trop occurs aus gens lais et li clers, neis moien ' ^ ^ 'e francoT li
pas legierement entendre le latin par le francois."'1 ° ,enneinent letr«. ne peussent

Here w e have a te x t w h ic h seems to be intended both as a Replacement Text

and also as an A cc o m p a n im e n t. C lose attention to the translation shows that
it includes elu cid a tio n an d co m m en tary w herever obscurity threatens. The
difficulty o f th e L atin le g itim ate d that, and not surprisingly, Chaucer
1
depended u p o n Je an w h e n m a k in g a translation in his turn. considered this
briefly ab o v e w h e n lo o k in g a t style. N o r is Jean’s practice significantly
different in his tra n sla tio n o f th e L etters o f Abelard and Heloise, though if
there ever w as a preface to th a t w o rk it has not survived. Jean is capable of
suiting his reg ister in F re n ch to E loise’s Latin, achieving that fidelity which is
not literal in th e stric t sense, b u t m anages to convey non-semantic elements
of the o riginal, b o th e m o tio n a l and stylistic. H e glosses in the text wherever
he finds a need to elu cid a te its references —and given the erudition of the
writers, fo r w h o m allusion w as a constant pleasure, the need arose
frequently.50
But this is to ru n ahead , b e y o n d the problem o f texts which might be
categorized as m a rk e d b y th e d em an d s o f crucial vocabulary. It is, however,
an instructive re m in d e r o f th e com plexities o f the issues. A single, articulate
Wr»ter o f ex c e p tio n a l le a rn in g m ig h t be expected to vary his practice with
type o f te x t, b u t it is n o t clear th at he distinguishes types of text
’? ° dern categories. W h a t can b e said is that the medieval translations 0^
0ethius are re m a rk a b le fo r th e n u m b e r and variety o f their interpolations.
 Truth and convention in the M iddle Ages
220

It seems plausible to hypothesize that the needs o f the secular audience were
more important than the kind o f w ord-for-w ord restriction that marked
interlinear accompaniment texts. W hile some distance from the original
would not hamper the reader w ho was com paring translation and original
(schema 1-3), and using the translation as a means o f m editating upon the
Latin, perhaps even as a kind o f com m entary upon it, any syntax-w renching
complexity or obscurity o f vocabulary w ould m ake the translation
unreadable for the audience at which it was directed. C oncom itantly
translators seem to have distinguished the kind o f original they were
translating, reserving the strictest adherence to syntax and vocabulary to the
most sacred originals w here the vernacular was to accom pany, not to
replace. Yet any attem pt to generalize founders on the variety o f practice
not only o f different translators, but o f single translators at different times'
confronting different texts, for different audiences. It is easy to assume that
Marie de France allowed herself great latitude in h er Fables, since they
recreate traditional Aesopic material. W e m ig h t ask the usual question
another way, w hy should she have adhered as closely as she did to her models
for the Espurgatoire S t Patrice o r the Vie Ste. Audree (if she is th e M arie who
translated it)? T hat is, w hy do we find ‘accuracy’ w h e re w e need n o t expect
it? W hy, in cultures which em phasized the im p o rta n c e o f learning by heart
do we find such inaccuracy in quotation m ad e - it seems clear - from
memory? W hile there m ay be no single, sim ple an sw er, it m ay be possible to
describe the latitude o f interpretation.
Many o f these issues can be studied in th e prefaces o f Caxton’s
philosophical editions. W hen C ax to n p rin te d C h a u c e r’s translation of
Boethius’ Consolation o f Philosophy, he k n e w th a t C h a u c e r had used Jean de
M eung’s French version, w ith its in te rp o late d glosses. H is gestures include
praise o f Chaucer for developing th e E nglish lite ra ry language.

And for as moche as the stile o f it is hard and difficile to be understonde of simple
personcs, therfore the worshipful fader and first foundeur and enbelissher of ornate
eloquence in our Englisshe, I mene Maister Geffrey Chaucer, hath translated this sayd
werke oute of Latyn into oure usual and m oder tonge, folow yng the Latyn as neygh
as is possible to be understande. W herein in m yne oppynyon he hath deservid a
perpetuell lawde and thanke o f al this noble royam e o f Englond, and in especiall 0
them that shall rede and understande it. For in the sayd boke they may see w hat this
transitorie and mutable worlde is and w herto every m ann livyng in hit oug ^
entende. Thenne for as moche as this sayd boke so translated is rare and not p ^
knowen, as it is digne and w orthy, for the erudicion and lem yng o f suche as
 T raito r translator
221
jgnoraunt and not k n o w y n g o f it, atte requeste o f a singuler frend
myne 1, W illiam C a x to n , have done m y devuoir and payne t’en r ” 6 g0ssib of
is hereafore m ade, in h o p yn g that it shall prouffite moche pepk fourme «
0f theire soules and for to lerne to have and kepe the better p a c i e l c e ^
And furtherm ore I desire and require you that o f your charite ye w^ld"
soulc o f the sayd w orsh ip fu l mann, G effrey Chaucer, first translator o f ““
boke into Englisshe and enbelissher in m aking the sayd langage ornate V d ^
whichc shal endure perpetuelly and therfore he ought etemelly to be r e l e l b r i d "

His c laim fo r th e E n g lis h v e rs io n o f C i c e r o ’ s D e senectute lies m its solufion o f

difficulties fo r h is a u d ie n c e , th e k in d o f p u b lish e r’ s b lu rb w h ich says thauhe
translation a c tu a lly im p r o v e s w h ile p r e s e rv in g the o riginal. 6

. . . prayeng to take this red u cyn g pacyently and subm yttyng me to the amend
and correction o f the reder and understonder that is disposed to rede or have 17
contemplacion in th’ ysto ryes o f this b o ok whiche w ere drawen and compyled o u ttf
the bookes o f th’ auncyen t phylosophers o f Grece, as in th’orygynal text o f Tullii- De
Senectute in L atyn e is sp ecyfyced com pend you sly, whiche is in maner harde the text
But this b ook reduced in En glyssh tongue is m ore ample expowned and more
swetter to the reder, k e p y n g the ju ste sentence o f the Latyn.53

The expansions necessitated by translating the text and its accompanying

commentary are justified b y the view that the translation represents the full
meaning o f the discussion as generations o f readers understood it. Equivalent
translation (schema 4) m ay attem p t a kind o f completion, translating both
text and gloss. Som e m o d e m readers may hear a slight defensiveness in
Caxton’s tone, as he justifies his ‘sw eet’ Cicero. The question of whether or
not the glosses cou n t as p art o f the text to be translated arises as well in certain
vernacular texts.
Clearly som e in n o v a tin g authors, o f w hom Dante might be the most
famous, intended their w o rk to assume the status o f great texts to be read
allegorically; w here the in te n tio n is em bodied in the text there are cues to tell
the reader w hat to expect, h o w to read. T he vexed question of how many
ernacular authors w ro te glosses to accom pany their texts is only now being
plored in detail.54 D a n te ’s am b itio n - adapting the dream vision journey
ca 6 Underw orld fo r a great vernacular poem - brings us at last to the
a 8° U hteratu re’ and the translation o f Latin or vernacular texts. Once
wh^h CqUeStlon arises o f w h a t kinds o f w ork for what kinds of audience by
rem e m rnSlat° rS- T ra ™ lation already has a long history. It is important to
how bilingual, even m ultilingual, medieval and renaissanc
 T ruth and convention in the Mtcidlc Ages

inlbucd with the continuing history o f Latin culture,

culture were, and o ^ y but tbc evolving Latim ty w hich included

~ t o o n o g - p b V - hagiography. »'«' * * * « ( *
oetrv Oresme is not alone m taking Latin as a model of
w ritin g , as w ell _ AaMil-irc n n i n rotanaf ^l
imitation and growth w h ic h E u ro p ean v e rn a c u la rs came to repeat alm o st, *
t w e re k n o w in g the w a y . It had not been n e c e ssa ry , in Classical R o m e, f0r
C atu llu s o r V irg il to m ake d irect translations of Greek poetry, because ,hcy
b elon ged to an audien ce that read G r e e k . Nevertheless, both poets, by
im itatin g G re e k ac h ievem en ts in lyric an d epic, and by adapting Greek
m etres and fo rm s, instantiate more than the aspirations o f individual pocts
T h e v are an early e x a m p le o f a k in d o f linguistic nationalism : Greek and
H ellenistic cu ltu re possessed something which Latin w riters w anted for their
o w n lan gu age, so m eth in g w h ic h , if they could p rovide it, w o u ld immortal-
,ze them as G reek poets had im m ortalized them selves by their earlier
achievement. Their borrow ings and im itations w ere in effect intended to
make good a lack they perceived. There is a confident com petitiveness about
their success that still arouses w onder, despite, perhaps because of, the
occasional defective line, the aw kw ardness as C atullus tries to bend the
natural cadences o f Latin to fit his G reek ideal, neologism s to supply a want
in Latin vocabulary. The relationship betw een G reek and Latin was not
static, and seemed different depending upon the subject treated, the time of
composition, or the individual com petence and confidence o f Latin
writers.55 In the course o f the hundred years aro u n d the change of era a
sequence o f fine writers raised the ‘status’ o f L atin literatu re to the point
where Latin-speaking readers could feel on a p ar w ith the older, Greek­
speaking, culture. Their representatives had reacted to the desire for the
Greek literary achievement by em ulation, an d h ad succeeded. This assumes a
self-conscious awareness o f a category ‘lite ra tu re ’, th a t register o f written
language in which the texture o r style is reg a rd e d as im p o rta n t for its own
sake. The words call attention to them selves in m o re than purely semantic
ways: style (the ‘h o w ’ expressed) m u st be tak en in to account however
apparently inseparable from c o n te n t (the ‘w h a t’ described), but this
doubleness (words and w hat they represent) carried no sacred overtones.
Translation and im itation w ere m e th o d s o f cre atin g verbal culture
writers uninhibited by the C hristian am b iv alen c e to w a rd non-sacrcd, n
religious writing. ‘L iterature’ w as n o t o n ly possible, it was central.
The very existence o f such a c a te g o ry w as problem atic in 5 ^ ^
ostensibly dedicated to the p u rsu it o f sa lv atio n , n o t such worldly g
 T raito r translator
iZj
cal education the means o f training literate readers and
fictio*1- ^ ith T'ic t° rl jjterary awareness was built into every serious
writers, s° mC 'form ation, how ever m uch the apparent religious
student’s intcllec ^ d tQ deny that. Story-telling is always with us,
beliefs o f 'i t s e o n t ® * ^ ^ us highest expression loomed - how
—
and p o etry ....... .........— * ’ ---- 4UV ill
ever
problem atically - over education. It may have been vilified, since it not o
dcalt w ith those essential hum an experiences which it was the Christ00 ^
duty to despise and transcend, but it dealt with those unden,ablyTemral
events beautifully, distracting its readers from their otherworldly business
and encouraging them at least to go and w rite likewise. For all the religious
w riting o f the M iddle Ages, it is the secular, questing, questioning texTs
which survive to m ove and persuade their readers, works in which love
am bition, character and m otive contradict the known goods of con­
templation, self-abnegation, and hum ility. T hat the language of human
desire is the m ost intense m etaphor available to even the most rigorously
religious w riters opens the w in d o w , as so often, to just those kinds of writing
against w hich the d o o r was barred. Justifying the study of classical poetry
and history, in so far as these w ere even perceived as radically different
categories, occupied the authors o f countless prefaces, caught as they were in
the need to defend w h at they w ere doing. This does not mean that we should
wrench the m eaning o f their texts to some obvious, simple, and straightfor­
ward religious in terp retatio n , as was popular a generation ago, but that we
should recognize th at they w ere caught in a w eb o f irresolvable arguments.
Those for literature as a good-in -itself came hard, and they came late. In the
meantime, th ro u g h o u t the M iddle Ages, the presentation o f the commented
text which had been the achievem ent o f late-classical scholarship, provided
the model for C hristian texts. T h a t is, m any scholarly texts looked so similar
as to provide visual cues to w ard s interpretation. T he glossed Bible imitates
the glossed V irgil. T h e glossed Justinian presents itself as a difficult text for
study. T he glossed presentation o f Spenser’s Shepheardes Calender is a
vernacular exam ple o f a k in d o f ‘aspiring’ text, ‘packaged’ as it is by
typeface-cues. It dem ands trea tm e n t as a classical text-to-be-interpreted.
Translations o f C h aucer, H en ry so n , and M ilton into Latin suggest similar
linguistic-nationalist claim s.56
rri
e tex t-an d -co m m en ta ry w hich established itself as such an important
^ Hellenistic and R o m a n scholarship may seem at best an unfortunate
ditfic t0 ena^ e H te-com ers o r apprentice readers to read ancient and
texts, at w o rst an invitation to unhindered antiquarian nostalgia
 the Middle Ages
Truth and convention in
224

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Plate 9 An extract from the Introduction to D o u g la s ’s A e t ie id , w ith a fragnt

o f his accompanying com m entary. H e is ta k in g issue w ith Chaucers
interpretation.
 T raitor translator
225

which erects such barriers o f apparent scholarshi

work becomes impossible to read through t h e ^ l T * ^ the origina|
g r o u n d s it. Yet, as w e have seen, the multivocal wh1(-K
tiirro u n u a - • - ■ - 1 provid.
c fo r sch o la rs d e d ic a te d to e d u c a tin g th eir som etim es solitary students
to
SC° P the c o m p le x it ie s o f th eir e x p e rie n c e . T h e m ultiplication o f
are tnc w .. T -
share . * -----meanings
. ,f created a parallel experience. In the course of the high and late Middle
T e s the variety o f texts w hich attracted the attention of scholars form a
sthnony to their love o f the classical past, their desire that - however
incapable they m ight bC ° f cm ulatlng ' tS achlevements - as little as possible
mjeht be lost.
practice anticipated theory. Translations were commissioned in increas-
numbers. T he range o f translation activities, from the accompaniments
ing. teriinear glossing and com m entary and the substitute text of accurate
° bal correspondence (schema 1 - 3 ) , to the replacement translation of single
V conflated original texts (schema 4-6), to paraphrase and adaptation
T h em a 7-9 ) can be traced th ro u g h o u t the Middle Ages in many kinds of
S acred w riting. E m ulative envy seems to be a feature of what we term
‘ enaissances’, w h e th e r o f the co u rt o f Charlem agne, R obert of Anjou,
phiiippe le B on, the M edici or the T udors. Just as a concern to read and
understand classical w riters m arks a period o f increased intellectual activity,
so does a concern w ith the status o f vernacular. T he passion which such
discussions arouses is itself m ark ed b y a strong linguistic nationalism,
powerful and irrational, w hose m etaphors correspond in tum to patterns of
kinship, so that the force o f the phrase ‘m o th er tongue’ is revealed by the
word which expresses it. T his co m m itm en t to making Latin writing
available to a secular audience appears regularly in prefaces to translations
from the classics in to th e E uro p ean vernaculars. As we have seen, the mere
appearance o f a subject in a preface is n o t in itself a guarantee that the subject
will be treated seriously in w h a t follow s, b u t here the justification of the
activity - w riting itself, especially non-relig io u s w riting - inspired the
adaptation o f earlier defences o f translations and ot translation practice.
Saying that a figure o f a u th o rity h ad requested it was not only a way of
circumventing accusations o f tim e -w a stin g , or am bition, it was also a
rec°m m endation to p o te n tia l readers, as dedications later became in early
Printed books. It is possible th a t such prefaces w ere a means ot indicating the
j ltl<* audicnce for w h ic h th e n e w translation was intended, perhaps
for gU*sb*ng scbolarly w o rk s (w ith special dem ands) from those intended
ular readership. A n d , o f course, n ew w orks could pose as translations.
 , the Middle Ages
Truth .md convention in
226
M onm outh’s did. This implies first, that non-professional
a, v-------- ts which might profit them (cspcc.ally texts of
readers wantc ate ■ ^ thought); second, that although such readers
military strategy or ---- ..« ,,^ rth elp ss a d e m ia fp tr>
' m n a ra tivcly u n ed u c ated , they were nevertheless adequate to the
were comparatively
were comp ^ that non. religious books were in demand.
demands of the texts ,1111U, --- - '-*•— ‘-I*-**- - - 1•
esc may itself be a referring register, that is, medieval
‘Translationese’ may
. , « mav have del.berately developed (especially for their substitute
Z 2 L schema ,-6)* which constantly reminded the reader „
reference .0 another language. O r they may have been drtven create a
k,„d ofeomnrom.se reg.s.er because they found themselves o f „eeessi, y
absorbing caiques of word and phrase .0 supply lacks in their ow n language,
Certainly the difficulties of finding, or creating, equivalent styles occup.es
many translators’ prefaces. The earlier the translator the m ore defensive he is
likely to be. because he thinks he is doing something exceptional.” Nicole
Oresme deals with what might be thought o f as a question o f snobbery w hen
he writes, ‘sent pluseurs gens de langue francoise qui sent de grant
entendement et de excellent engin et qui n entendent pas souffisanment
latin . . .’ (there are many French-speaking men o f great understanding and
excellent intelligence who do not sufficiently understand Latin); or there is
Raoul des Presles, addressing Charles V at the opening o f his translation of
Augustine's City o f God, using the standard rhetorical defences that an action
(in this case the translation itself) is useful and profitable to be done, ‘Vous
avez fait translater plusieurs livres, tant pou r plaire a vous, comme pour
profitez a vos subgez . . . Vous avez voulu estre translate de latin en francois,
pour le profit et utilite de vostre roiaum e . . (You have had many books
translated, as much to please yourself as to p rofit y o u r subjects . . .Y ou have
wanted [themj to be translated from Latin into French for the profit and
usefulness of your subjects); Christine de Pizan gave Charles particular credit
for these commissions in her Livre des Faits, w ritten after his death.58 Caxton
hides behind friends, nobles, and countrym en.
It has been the history o f m odern studies o f m edieval translation to begin
by considering their accuracy (in effect their lack o f it), and to attempt to

them T Lfle.aPParem miStalccs ,n translation practice w hich characterize

century " \ t 'f3" * * StnCtures o f Etienne Dolet in the mid-sixteenth
monolith L " ' V h ' ^ ^ d an ge ro u s to treat the Middle Ages as a
competence , . ^ transktors shared the same views about and
instructive and - ^ aCt’V' t^ ’ Their disagreements are numerous, and
crease both with the passage o f time (and increase h1
 T raitor translator
227

translation activity) and the variety o f texts

intcr\inc3tion to paraphrase was repeated The ran£fe r
phi,osoPhical texts. W hile the change in klnd ? hn,cal' scientific T a

vocabulary o u g h t in p rin a p le to be absolute jn ‘holV’ ‘cruc ?

vocabulary, syntax, and w ord order to exact the claims Qf “
representation, w ere often a m atter o f degree ’ ° ne' f° r' ° ne. same 0f^
Texts which m ight be categorized as historical
the range o f vernacular originals which rep^ ^ ProbIems
an
stations o f Latin texts illustrate the same categories that I have already
" ^ ld c re d . T hat is, there are com m entaries, which appear on the same page
C0'the Latin text (Livy m ay be taken as one example), like so many of the
aS k w ith w hich w e have been concerned. There are small-unit-equivalent
b° ° Stranslations o f single texts, w hich follow their originals phrase by
pr0S£ w herever possible including distortion o f current target-language
^ ^ a x (and allow ing, as always, for anachronistic substitutions for Roman
Offices) there are am algam ations o f a num ber of Latin originals in order to
create a chronologically coherent narrative o f ancient history (the so-called
Histoid ancienne jusqu’ a Cesar and Li Fait des Romains are two of the best
known o f these), and there are w h at am ount to new narratives loosely based
upon classical originals. T h e Romans antique: Eneas, L ’ Histoire de Thebes, and
Benoit’s Roman de Troie belong in this last category. The history of the
history of T roy can be taken as a suprem e illustration since the fall of Troy
was thought to be the beginning o f European history, and a secular
benchmark for subsequent chronology. From the twelfth century, too, the
Trojan war becam e the subject o f fictional expansion at French and Anglo-
Norman courts, and the subsequent life o f these texts, via the adaptations of
Guido delle C olonne and G io v an n i Boccaccio, inspired English poetry for
centuries.
At the point at w h ich w e find ourselves arguing over whether to
categorize B enoit’s p o em as ’tran slatio n ’ or ‘adaptation’, it becomes clear
that in the Middle Ages the lines o f distinction m ay have been differently or
more variously draw n. B enoit used the m atter o f the ‘histories’ of Dares and
hhetys as a kind o f arm a tu re on w h ich he h u n g expansions taken from other
^ S or his ow n devising; Le Roman de Troie is thus as much like Peter
Wh t St° r SP^,i*oria Scholastica as it is like Eneas, the preceding roman antique.
whoin h ^ 16^ PfeC tre a tm e n t Latin was surely the audience for
newly li^ *s a^so w ith w orks like this that we see new and
erary texts em erg in g . W h e th e r B enoit knew what he was doing, of
 T rll(|, a„d convention in the M iddle Ages

course sve shall never know. H i s work was in its turn adapted, turned into
prose and readapted, translated into different European vernaculars, fQr
about two hundred years. For the most part, the audiences for his poem, 0r
its progeny, were secular ones. But it is worth remarking that there vvcrc
objections to Benoit's claim to be translating the ostensible eye-witness wh0
had travelled to Troy to support Priam, and whose ‘history’, a late-classical
historical romance, was often copied, and was taken at face value. Twice j„
the thirteenth century translations o f Dares so close as to look like probable
accompaniment texts were made. Jean dc Flixecourt prefaced his version of
1 2 6 2 with the reflection that the exigencies o f rhyme may help explain

Benoit's expansions:
dc T roies rim e conduct m olt de coses que on ne treuve mie
Pour che que h roum ans ^ autrement belement avoir trouvee se rime, j e,
ens u latin. car chis q u ie ^ nm e ,.cstoire des Troiens et de Troies du latin en
Jehans
roumans de mot
F lic caicmot
o u rt.
ens. com m ejeletr v a i en un des livres du libraire Monseigneur
trans
1 - 60
Saint Pierre de C o rb ie . •

The claim to translate m ot a mot assim ilates th is w o rk to the kind of

accom panim ent text w hich helped readers to d eal w ith th e difficulties of
Latin. There is no claim to be m a k in g a ‘lite r a r y ’ te x t w h ic h takes the liberties
o f a ‘sense for sense’ translation in o rd e r to p lease th e n o n -L a d n a te reader.
B ut nor is there any h u m b le excuse f o r je a n ’s in a b ility to tran slate closely. He
does the jo b he set o u t to do. J e a n ’s p ra c tic e is e n o u g h lik e B e n o it’s to allow
the possibility o f adaptation. H e o cc asio n ally re m a rk s th a t expansions might
be m ade from w h at can be read else w h e re th a n in th e p a rtic u la r book he is
w riting. T he o th e r version does n o t in d u lg e its e lf ev e n th a t far.
Even positing a h ard and fast d iv id e b e tw e e n se cu la r, v ern a cu la r audiences
and scholarly Latin ones can raise difficulties. It h a p p e n s th a t B en o it’s poem
also inspired a translation back in to th e le a rn e d la n g u a g e , b y one o f the
m em bers o f R o b e rt o f S ic ily ’s c o u r t. G u id o d e lle C o lo n n e , a judge of
Messina, had w ritte n verse in th e v e r n a c u la r, b u t his p ro se adaptation 01
Benoit was in Latin. B e n o it’s p o e m f o r m e d th e base fo r G u id o s prose in
m uch the sam e w ay th a t D a re s h a d f o r m e d th e s o u rc e f o r th e Roman de Trc1
G uido s m oral reflections m a y h a v e s e e m e d m o r e e le v a te d , m ore ser ^
than his vernacular source, b u t th e y w e r e n o m o r e a c c u ra te as a tep
ation o f w h at B e n o it w r o te th a n B e n o it w a s o f D ares. G u id o s
vocabulary is an e x c e lle n t in d ic a to r o f h is m e th o d . M o d e rn
approaching G u id o as a p u ta tiv e w r i t e r o f r o m a n c e , h a v e fo u n d h
 T ra ito r translator

voice p o m p o u s and m terfering, and he has been a

in rG.nu id o ’ss term s nc
he nis «a tran
u amslato
idiuir w ho adapts a t r a n O ^ ° f P'a8iarizing, but
oo aaapts
is th erefore c o rrec t in iden tify in g his ow n trln sk ™ 1311011 ° fD ar« and who
supplem ented it m ay be by learned a d d i n o n ^ ’ ^ ^ W e v e r
version was th e o n e m o st regularly relied upon by t That his
European vernaculars is strik in g testim ony to his s 3t0rs b« k into the
versions rep resen ted them selves as translations o f h i s t ^ u Thc M a c u la r
standards th e y are, h o w e v e r supp lem en ted o r m terpobted COmemp0rary
today. T h e c o rre c tio n o f a te x t w as a n y b o d y ’--------
’s concern,atC
and they
what one nseem
to ask is w h a t c o n tro lle d th e corrections. T h a t is the point at w h ic h *
tran slator’s attitu d e s to his o rig in al, his audience, and his own work must be
taken in to a c c o u n t. T h e view s en g e n d ered b y a broadly rhetorical culture or
education su p p o rte d th e practices o f distinguishing w hat should be retamed
or ex p an d ed fro m w h a t sh o u ld be o m itte d on grounds of probability or
utility, and o f re fe rrin g to th e o rig in a l au th o r w hen in fact the actual text
being stu d ied w as a tra n sla tio n o f th a t au th o r. T his latter habit seems to have
been rein fo rced b y th e sc h o larly practice o f n o t referring to living
c o m m en tato rs b y n a m e (an d n o t ju s t w h e n one was disagreeing with them)
At the sam e tim e w e m u s t n o t lose sig h t o f the sheer difference made by
com petence, n o t sim p ly o f th e tw o languages involved, b ut in the ability to
versify o r c o n tro l p ro se .
T h e ran g e o f tra n sla tio n s th a t I h a v e so far looked at in this chapter raise
questions o f re la tio n sh ip s to o rig in a ls th a t are defined as relations of
dependence. F ro m th e v isu a lly d e p e n d e n t (interlineation or gloss or
m arginal c o m m e n ta r y ) a c c o m p a n im e n t translation intended for side-by-
side use w ith th e o r ig in a l, th e n e w la n g u ag e s p ropose a voice in dialogue (this
must, o f c o u rse , in c lu d e m o d e m L atin side-by-side w ith classical texts).
Lexical and sty listic m a n ip u la tio n s c o n s ta n tly rem in d the reader of the status
o f the base te x t b e in g re a d . E v e n w h e n translated texts assume a role as
substitutes th e y d o n o t se e m to im p o s e them selves as texts whose actual
words in v ite s tu d y , th a t is th e y d o n o t p re su m e to ‘au th o rity ’, to the status of
lng elucidatable. This tentativeness is more pronounced when the
nslations are themselves based upon translations; although the translators
m to represent original works, their freedom to transform the verbal unit
seems
is potentially greater. Re-presentation bserved terms k in
ofd s,conventional
to be made
manipulation allow s for changes, or regu ar y ^ biographic^ writing
across such apparent generic categories as histor ^
(non-inspired, non-crucial-vocabulary), or rom
 2}C
Pruth and co n v en tio n in the M id d le A ges

T here is also a perpetual tension for translators b etw een th eir perception
o f the source m eaning and the resources o f th e ta rg e t language. A ny choice
excludes o th e r possibilities. T rad itio n al theories o f w o rd -fo r-w o rd vs. sense-
for-sense translation are b o u n d to obscure so m e o f the p ro b lem s raised by the
size o f the un it to be translated, since size is n o t sim p ly a m a tte r o f co u n tin g i„
w o rd s o r phrases. N o r do th ey consid er w h at registers exist in th e targ et
language at the tim e that the translation is m ade, o r w h e th e r, at th a t tim e, the
target language is p ro v id ed w ith a h isto ry o f its o w n w h ic h allow s for
reference back in to archaizing registers, so th a t th e ta rg e t la n g u ag e itself
contains resources fo r coinage and ex p ressio n . In a d d itio n , since th e tim e o f
E tienne D olet. w h o first listed th e prereq u isites fo r g o o d tra n sla tio n , certain
expectations ab o u t the in te g rity o f th e ta rg e t la n g u a g e h a v e b een taken for
g ran ted T h ere is a trad itio n al insistence th a t th e re g iste r o f th e translation
m ust, w hile co rresp o n d in g to th e m e a n in g a n d sty le o f th e o rig in a l, rem ain
nevertheless en tirely consistent w ith th e h a b itu a l ex p re ssio n s o f th e target
language. T his ev ades certain a ttitu d e s at p a rtic u la r h isto ric a l p e rio d s tow ard
the status o f the source la n g u ag e a n d desires to a u g m e n t th e v o ca b u la ry or
increase the syntactic p o te n tia l o f th e ta rg e t la n g u a g e ; th a t is, some
translators d elib erately a tte m p te d to use th e ir tra n sla tio n s to m o d ify the
ta rg e t language. A u re a tio n , in k - h o rn te rm s , a n d th e p e r io d ic sty le exem plify
this te n d en c y , a n d m a y in d ic a te a d esire to m a k e th e v ern acu lars as
ap p a ren tly tim eless as L atin. T h u s, th e id e a th a t a tra n s la tio n should be
colloquial e n o u g h to av o id ‘tra n sla tio n e se ’ is false in t w o d ire c tio n s . First, the
ta rg e t la n g u ag e is a lm o st alw a y s re s tric te d f r o m u s in g th o s e o f its own
resources w h ich w o u ld a le rt th e re a d e r to its o w n u n iq u e ch aracteristics. This
is m o st strik in g in te rm s o f slang, fa sh io n , o r m o d is h n e s s , b u t sh o u ld also take
in to ac c o u n t aspects o f social o r g a n iz a tio n , g e o g r a p h y , flo ra o r fau n a, o r any
o f the m a teria l areas o f life w h ic h w o u ld i n tr o d u c e e ith e r an a ch ro n ism or
im possible co rre sp o n d e n c e . S e c o n d , s o m e a m o u n t o f ‘tr a n s la tio n e s e ’ is o f the
first necessity i f aspects o f sty le (c a iq u e s o f le x ic a l o r p h ra s a l equivalence,
obsolete terms) a re not to be lost a l to g e t h e r . A r c h a ic o r innovatory
representations must be found or coined in order t o p r e s e r v e th e ‘referring
function o f translation. The assumption that readers e x p e c t a translation to
read like a primary text in their o w n language is a mistake; th e y n0
 5

T E X T S A N D P R E - T £ XTs

INVENTION AND REPRESENTATION

T h u s far I h a v e co n sid e re d so m e o f the varieties o f medieval na

tra n sfo rm a tio n an d tra n sla tio n , and w h a t legitim ated and controlled
m ed ieval w r it e r s ’ cla im s th a t th e ir n e w version s w ere the same as, or ele am
variations u p o n , a p r io r a u th o r ity . T h e se transformations have often
in v o lv e d a d o u b le re fe r e n c e : th e w o r d s h a v e represented events (or agents
or ideas) w h ile a lso re p re s e n tin g th e w o r d s o f som e prior text or texts That
is, eith er th e o r d e r o f b e in g p r io r to a n y v e rb a l expression or the earlier words
as w o rd s c o u ld b e a llu d e d t o , m a n ip u la te d , o r transform ed. In both cases, the
rep resen tation s d iscu sse d h a v e d e p e n d e d u p o n certain conventional kinds of
expression , to p o i w h i c h , w h ile a p p a r e n tly d escrib in g som ething which had
h appened, w h a t s o m e o n e w a s lik e , sp eeches that w ere made, could be
in terp reted b y k n o w l e d g e a b l e re a d e rs as c o n v e y in g opin ion about the status
o f w h at w a s r e p r e s e n te d . C a t e g o r ie s o f re p re se n ta tio n , particularly the range
o f h isto rica l c a te g o r ie s f o r ‘ d e e d s d o n e in the past’ , exploited fictional
em b ellish m e n ts in r e c o g n i z a b l y p a tte r n e d w a y s w h ic h m ake categories such
as ‘h is to ry ’ a n d ‘ f i c t i o n ’ less s e p a r a b le th a n th e y later cam e to seem. Medieval
w riters w o r r ie d a b o u t t h e f ic t io n s c o n ta in e d w ith in historical narratives, as
they w o r r ie d a b o u t a c c u r a t e r e p r e s e n ta t io n in th eir translations, but they
never re s o lv e d t h e ir a m b i v a l e n t a n d o f te n co n tra d ic to ry beliefs.
T h e y w o r r ie d e q u a l l y a b o u t t h e sta tu s o f th eir w o rk : did the new text
dem and, o r m ig h t it b e s u s c e p t ib le t o , th e k in d s o f attention to its language
and its c la im t o b e t r u e m a n if e s t e d b y th e o rig in a l text or texts:1 This
d erivativeness, th is a m b i g u i t y a b o u t th e te x t-s ta tu s o f the transformation,
translation, o r n e w c o m p o s i t i o n , is an o u t s t a n d in g feature o f m any medieval
narratives. T h e a u t h o r i t y f o r t h e ir t r u t h lies e ls e w h e re . O r , at least, it appears

t0‘ ^ he d e fe r e n c e o f n a r r a t o r s a n d tr a n s la to r s to so m e p rio r w o r k , some pre-

’ *S ^ast ° f t h e v e x e d c a t e g o r ie s w h ic h I shall consider. T h e very
e ercnce w h ic h a p p e a r s t e n t a t i v e a n d h u m b le , in p ractice allo w ed authors

231
 Truth and convention in the M iddle Ages
23.2

to exploit a rich narrative uncertainty and to create a space w ithin which

they c o u ld manipulate their true talcs about the past. T he conventions o f
narration, description, and dialogue, o f arg u m en t and representation,
implicated them in complex series o f displacements, by w hich they could
represent and refer w ithout needing to assume the responsibility for their
work which later came to seem necessary. N o t only did intcrtcxtual
reference create a dynam ic relationship betw een present and p rio r texts; the
addition o f marginal glossing, the suggestion o f a parallel narrative, changCs
o f book-hand or type face, all contributed to the creation o f dialogic
com m entary upon the text, som etim es questioning, som etim es suppo rtine
O)
but always intervening.
Medieval histories and lives are susceptible to the techniques o f literary
analysis, not only in so far as any text o r topos might imitate some classical or
medieval model, but also in small-scale habits o f expression, which I hav
classed as rhetorical. Indeed, they must be so susceptible, in order to be
understood. Especially where ‘realistic’ depiction may tempt readers to
mistake plausibility for a reliable, factual, account, some sense of the
tentativeness, the hypothetical nature o f the narration, is a necessity \
c o n v i n c i n g text may be a literary success, a triumph o f consistency

p l a u s i b i l i t y , a n d s t y l e , t h e triumphant creation o f a gifted narrator’s good

e t h o s r a t h e r t h a n a n exact and accurate depiction in terms consistent with the

p r o f e s s i o n a l e x p e c t a t i o n s o f modern historians. The objective order of

b e i n g , p r i o r t o a n y l i n g u i s t i c expression, had to be mediated by language

even in t h o s e c a s e s o f d i r e c t p e r c e p t i o n open only to mystics, who could rise

above verbal expression o n l y until they wished to convey it. Being precedes
text, is p r i o r t o l i n g u i s t i c interpretation, but verbal expression is text’s only
m e t h o d o f communication. Saying ‘what happened’ means ‘saying’. Saying

m e a n s v o i c e , a n d it means order and sequence. The search for simultaneity is

b o u n d t o b e frustrated as l o n g as readers can only absorb one thing at a time.

Even the existence o f m arginal commentary or the constant interruption of

certain kinds o f translation cannot transcend that limitation. Banal as it is to
remind oneself that words are not mathematical symbols with restricted and
agreed meanings, it remains necessary. W h e re there is linguistic represent­
ation there is room for m o re than one interpretation. But more than one
expression could represent the same prior order o f being, in - as I hope I have
shown - a different level o f style, ora manipulation o f the kinds o f things'**'
happen in war or to saints, or by change o f language by translation. Pre ^
m that s lip p a g e between the event and the expression o f it lay 'he wr,ter
 T exts and pre-texts

2 33
room for m anoeuvre, fo r creation. R e p resc
a p p r o x i m a t i o n , and the au th o rity fo r mi*st a]
r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s - v a n e s , too. B etw een the nr represemation be an
o f n a r r a tiv e in d e te r m in a c y . and text falls .. n° Se
O nly biblical e x p re s s io n -a n d only, u itlm ate] . eshadow
c o u ld claim c o m p le te coincidence betw een t n J ’ ° r,glnal laneua
ation, and, as I have arg u ed , alth o u g h there c o u ld u trUe
biblical a u th ority, its difficulties, b o th in term s o f it ^ ^Uest>on ah
the mysteries its verbal te x tu re h id , m ade it susceptive of*1 a"d
1-— - , , , , , “ —-r~ »■*<*<ysis in
ways n0t ent,re y un,qUC' Indeed’ even here evidence o f medieval
tttion, w ith itS C° nSUnt aPProxim atlon and ^accuracy, suggests that
jhere was less care fo r exact replication than theory m ight predict. After all,
widespread m isq u o tatio n o f the B ible cannot be attributed simply to
widespread bad m e m o ry . T h e coincidence betw een representation and
expression in g reat p o e try , o r g reat h isto ry , could only be felicitous (rather
than holy), a m edieval version o f the best w ords in the best order. Human
representations o f tr u th co u ld n o t b e guaranteed. T h e verbal expression of,
for example, V irg il, g av e the A en eid a different, b u t related, kind of status.
While it had its o w n te x t-a u th o rity , th e re could be, and were, large questions
about the tru th o r false h o o d w h ic h lay b eh in d V irgil’s representation, and
commentators g ave reasons w h y V irg il chose the m anipulations he did. For
plots, events, h isto ric al agents, an d o ra l trad itio n s all carried some kind of
authority, th o u g h e x a c tly w h a t th a t a u th o rity im plied was seldom directly
addressed, if o n ly b ecau se it led to accusations th at V irgil lied.
One w ay o f d e a lin g w ith these difficulties was to approach them
obliquely, to re c k o n u p o n th e v a rie ty o f ce rtain possible presentations, and
thus to claim th a t th e y c o u ld b e u se d in o n e o f a n u m b e r o f different ways. As
matter for in te rp re ta tio n th e y m a y , b u t in essential w ays need not, be exact
and accurate ac co u n ts o f d eed s a c tu a lly d o n e in th e past. Aeneas (or Jason, or
Alexander the G re at) a n d th e le g e n d s —o r h isto ry - w hich surrounded him,
could be in te rp re ted a n d r e p re s e n te d in m a n y different styles, ‘historically ,
biographically’, in p o e tr y o r p ro se , as ex a m p le s o f how to behave (or of
. at behaviour to a v o id ), as p re te n c e s fo r p ractice speeches, as allegory or
cholT f° r Wisd° m ~ o r f°U y -' E ac h re p re s e n ta tio n w as free (within limits) to
differ am° n ^ 3 v a rie tY ° f e a rly p o e m s a n d p rose accounts w hich gave quite
fodeed” 1 teStlm ony to A e n e a s, his d e e d s, a n d h o w they could be interpreted.
rec°ncil d ^*^Crent W ere th e v e rsio n s th a t th e re w as n o w ay they could be
o w ay th a t th e p r e - te x t c o u ld be reco v ered ; yet the assumption
 T ru th and convention in the M .d d lc Ages
234

th a t s o m e t h in g , an d s o m e th tn g r e a d a b le o u g h t to h a v e b e e n r e c o v e r a b le ,
u n d e r la y m a n y m e d te v a l tre a tm e n ts o f th e le g e n d s . D e s p i t e th e v a n e t y o f
m e t h o d s o f in te rp re ta tio n w h ic h la y to h a n d n o n e o f th e m w o u ld u „ , 0 ck
th e se c re t o f p r e c is e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e to th e d e e d s a n d m o t i v e s o f th e A e n e a s
w h o o n c e liv e d . A n d th e m o r e p o e ts w h o tr e a t e d o f A e n e a s , th e g r e a t e r th e
la titu d e fo r p o e t ic e m b e llis h m e n t seem ed to becom e. W h a te v e r th e
re p re se n ta tio n , m e d ie v a l w r it e r s a s s u m e d r e fe r e n c e t o a k n o w n - i f seldom

e x p lic it ly a n a ly se d - ‘A e n e a s
T h e Aeneid w as a h is to r ic a l p o e m , w h ich referred to p r io r e v e n ts , to things
w hich had happened befo re the te x t w as c o n c e iv e d . A t th e s a m e tim e, in
V ir g il’s con cep tion o f a historical poem , h e in te rp re te d th e p r e - t e x t to
e m b o d y the m u ltip le referen ce o f his in v e n tio n s an d c o m m u n ic a t e his ow n
ideas o f R o m e and its destin y th ro u g h H o m e r and h is d e s tin y . T h e m o d e o f
interpretation o f a h is to r ic a l p o e m as ‘e p ic ’ w as u n d e rs to o d a fte r h u n d re d s o f
years o f im itations o f and c o m m e n ta r y u p o n H o m e r . V ir g il c o u ld thus
misrepresent w h at he had re ce iv e d fro m e arlie r h is to ric a l te x ts (such as
m akin g D id o and A en eas co n te m p o ra rie s); ju s t as f a m o u s ly , n o t o n ly did his
narrative represent historical characters an d e v e n ts, b u t th e firs t h a l f o f his
poem also referred to the litera ry te x t o f the O d yssey as th e s e c o n d to th e I li a d .

As soon as the A e n e id w as w ritte n it to o k its o w n p la c e in th e tra d itio n s o f

representations, and becam e a v e rb a l a rtifa ct to w h ic h s u b s e q u e n t p o e m s (or
histones) co u ld (and did) refer. It w as th e g r e a te s t s e c u la r s o u r c e o f, and
authority for, rh eto rical tra n sfo rm a tio n s; it w a s b o th g r e a t m o d e l te x t and

rhetoncal school.
T he com m entaries w h ic h ‘c o r r e c te d ’ V i r g i l ’s m is re p re s e n ta tio n s con­
tinued to o ffe r elaborate d e fe re n ce to a u th o ritie s w h ic h c o m p e t e d w ith his;
so d id other treatm ents o f his s to r y o r his c h a ra c te r s b y o t h e r w rite rs . The
events to w h ich the A en eid re fe rre d c o u ld b e th e s u b je c t o f narrative
paraphrase, lik e the p arap hrasal tra n sla tio n s o f th e B i b l e d iscu ssed in the
previous chapter. In the t w e lf th - c e n t u r y R om a n d’E n eas th e a n o n y m o u s poet
restored natural order, s e le c te d th o se e v e n ts w h ic h a c c o r d e d w ith his own
concern w ith the rig h t relatio n s to o n e ’s p o l i t y a n d o n e ’s f a m il y , to w a r and
love, and then am p lified th e m in o r d e r t o d e l i g h t a n d in s t r u c t a secular,

vernacular audience. H e did n o t ‘ tr a n s la te ’ th e w o r d s o f V i r g i l s p o e m , and

in choosing the o cto sy lla b ic c o u p le t, h e a s s im ila te d h is n a t u r a l- o r d e r version

to similar historical p o em s a lr e a d y f a m ilia r to h is F ren ch vernacuJ

audience.3 I n o fferin g a red a cted s u b s titu te t r a n s la t io n , h e d id n o t replace

original; he o n ly m ade so m e o f it s m a tt e r a v a ila b le t o a n a u d ie n c e w h ich
 ,u Pfc-tcxts

- or may not - have read Latin. Virgil’s cv™-

J . . . u ......... ..... , .7 vcnts. after
235
and discussed - as they were by John of Salisbury j C°uld bc ^ a c te
Jry in h.s Cxtractcd
treatise, the Policraticus - for a learned Latin audience inc| ‘Wclfth-«ntUry
government and the role o f the prince. In both these cx ^ ' hink ab°ut
directly to events, beyond Virgil’s particular expression"1^ rCfcrcncc is
By contrast, one o f the greatest o f medieval translati
comprehensive Eneados o f 1513, sought to represent V iW s ^ D° Uglas’s
meaning as it had been elucidated by commentators, a n d D ^ ’ Vir8,1’s
understanding o f how to read the poem, including his reserv ti° UgUs’S ° Wn
jn addition, Douglas intended to modify Scots English (using Ch ^ ‘t'3
do so), and to supply an expounding series ofaccessus, introduction"'" ’ *°
book, which created a kind o f counterpointing, an almost
v0ice in dialogue with Virgil and a kind o f counter-poem Bv A 7 °™
translation o f the so-called ‘thirteenth book’ o f Mapheus Veg,uS D “
omitted nothing traditional to reading Virgil. Within his trandationh
amplified in some places more than others: as one might predict, the standard
topoi such as the great description o f the storm at sea in Book vn inspired
great invention by generations o f imitators. P
The arguments which surrounded attempts to produce some kind of
substitution translation for the Aeneid touch most of the issues I have been
considering. Above all, the Aeneid was taught as the secular work closest in
status to the position o f sacred works: its vocabulary and style, defended not
only as the source o f history and moral instruction, were also models of
beauty. But since Virgil’s version o f the events at Troy was known, because
of the existence o f early commentaries, to be a version and not the version
there was room for revision o f the events. The continuing copying of the
text with its variety o f commentaries supplied accompaniment texts; the
same movement which led in the twelfth century to the creation of biblical
translations into French also led to the Roman d‘Eneas, and to ‘epic’ writing
which satisfied the demand for secular history and serious entertainment.4
The expansive vernacular inventions o f the twelfth-century Roman de Troie
were one more source text when Guido delle Colonne created his own
storia Destructions Troiae, an explicitly moralized rehearsal of the story of
n °^tbe city in which Benoit de St. Maure (his immediate source) is
Tro m^nti°ned. The pre-text is potentially the whole story o f the Fall of
•he way * Prev'ous treatments o f it. Guido treated his vernacular source in
sources^ ^3Ve m° re cornm° n ly seen vernacular authors treating Latin
discriminated examples according to his own criteria of
 and convention in the M tddle Ages
236 T ruth

. . m nra, weiKht and not by com parison to o th er k.nds o f

verisimilitude and meditation. From this w idely read version
evidence for a serious historical ,^ ^ ” tl^ jro pCaI1 v em acu lass. n p ,„ d

dT d nd « / C c c c * m .his 8en e.log.cl tree,

ChaucerB Trefc and Cmcpde appear, a. a Uirming care o f historical

" The’ Tte-eex. did no, need to be a tto ty at , w hole, a sto ry as already
ntuloply represented. I, could be a spec,lie book, a Im g u ts.tcU y tep resen ted
text To take a fifteenth-century example, L ydgate’s English verse F all o f
Princes translates Laurent de Prcm ierfa.t’s French translation o f B occaccio’s
fourteenth-century collections o f Latin exempla, D e Casibus V.rorum
A t r i u m and De Claris Mulieribus. W hen Boccacio w ro te his ex em p lary
lives he meant them to serve moral ends as m odels to be im itated or
eschewed. Less extended than the Encom ium for D ante, th ey nevertheless
belong in the category o f works o f praise and blam e. A lth o u g h th ey are
taken from secular history, rather than sacred, th ey are historical lives,
reporting w hat Boccaccio could discover ab o u t his subjects, th a t is to say,
composed, perhaps compiled according to his ingenium, his k nack for
exposition, as inventions from the past. Since I have ex to lle d w ith praise the
deeds deserving o f com m endation and have c o n d e m n e d w ith rep ro ac h the
crimes, there will sometimes be no t o nly g lo ry fo r th e n o b le, but
opprobrium for the wicked. ’5 T he pattern is the co n v e n tio n a l in ev itab ility o f
the turning wheel ofFortune; once am bition has te m p te d m en o r w o m e n to
mount Fortune’s wheel, fall is unavoidable. W hen L a u re n t turned
Boccaccio’s Latin prose into French verse, he conflated sev eral o f B o ccaccio’s
own works and added, according to his o w n in v e n tio n , m a te ria l w h ich he
had found elsewhere in order to am plify his m o d e l.6 In to B o c c a c c io ’s terse
Latin panegyrics and invectives L aurent inserted m o r e m a te ria l, am plifying
from other historical (or pseudo-historical) sources. F o r e x a m p le , Boccaccio
allots a paragraph to the Colchian king, A eetes, w h o m h e p o in ts o u t to the
reader:

Stabet enim ante alios Aeta Colchorum rex ob insignem magnificentiam/ &
diuitiarum nondum visum splendorem/ a barbaris solis creditus filius: & querula voce
ecrabatur/ in Colchos Thessali lasonis aduentum: eo quod eius perfida aureum
o
p m sit velJus. Acgialeus filius sece flebili oppressus: & in insanam libidinem adque
fugam Medea deducta:;, suum
suum senium
senium exev fulgore
fi.lV o r, praecipuo in
in detestabiles tenebras
deuolutum.
 T e x ts and p re-texts
237

(There before the others stands King Aectcs o f c

re g a lia a n d unprecedentedly splendid riches the barb'011'5' BeCause °fh is
sun. He curses w ith a querulous voice that Jason" r "* th° u8ht hin,UJ",a8nif,cent
Colchis, he by w hose perfidy the Coldcn Fleece shouId hav 5° n °fthe
mournfully cast dow n to die, Medea led into unclea^ A '& * l Z 'l * '* to
3gc he has fallen dow n from the brightness he anticin T T ^ Andli!* S° n

Laurent’s a m p lifica tio n s turn th is a lm o st ic o n ic (‘V’ P ’4<5>

history o f M e d ea’s se d u c tio n a n d d esertio n b v T rCpresentation int0 ..
revenges, an d e v e n tu a l rec o n ciliatio n hu,ba„ 7 7
M ) ° f h' r
rehearsal o f L a u re n t , „ g h , so to tran slate an d expand L''d 6»«'s
previous ch a p te r. W h e r e L a u r e n t h a d first translated h" * q “ ° " !d in the
added m o re in fo rm a tio n , L y d g a te rec ast th e w h o le ° Ccacci° and then

occasional sentence W h' Ch m ig h t bC c^ a ra* c te rized

• >••• as d ro " , resP°ndence *»
to
texts. In addition, Lydgate cites classical
the words o f the source text or
authors he probably knew had treated Medea’s story b°t h ~~
Gower, his fourteenth-century predecessor, from w h o * (or 1* d'd *** C“e
whose) citations o f O vid Lydgate may well have taken
ending:
and fynali, as w rit O vidius,
In his tragedies m akyng rem em braunce,
H o w M edea, lik as poetis seyn,
O n to Jason restored was a-gayn.

T o u ch y n g th e eend o ff ther furious discord,

Poetis m ake th e ro ff n o m encioun
N o r telle n o m ene h o w thei fill at accord,
B ut yiff it w ere b y incantatioun,
w hich so w ell k o u d e tu m e up-so-doun
S undry thunges o ff love & o ff hatreede.
And in B ochas o ff h ir n o m o re 1 reede (11. 2383-94).
^hes
multiple refe C2t'°nS nevertheless describe themselves as a translation. The
historical nan-*1*"6 ^ ^ ®OCCacc*° s WOfds as conveyed by Laurent, to the
narratives as r VCS both authors verbalize, and to the similar
whch allow each ^ 0t^er authors, named or silently incorporated,
e<lu'valence Qr CW aut^or to niake o f his ow n transformation the best
despondence, to past events. Re-presented in the
 238 Truth and convention in the M iddle Ages

literary/rhetorical terms and topoi which this book has explored, the new
texts added themselves to a huge reservoir always susceptible to m odifi­
cation. The success o f historians like Bede, and his influence on later writers,
is by now a familiar example o f the way that plausibility and eloquence can
combine. Perhaps if will be more faithful to medieval habits o f expression to
think o f correspondence or equivalence rather than to use that modern
coinage, the seventeenth-century word, ‘accuracy’, which takes us back to
the ‘word-for-word/sense-for-sense’ debate.
Multiple reference itself stimulated indctcrminacies w hich the medieval
writer could exploit. In this passage from Lydgate, poets nam ed and
unnamed become authorities to be taken, or taken issue w ith, or left. And
where they are silent, Lydgate him self can hypothesize that som e kind of
magic may be the omitted explanation for the final reconciliation. M ultip]e
reference can also help to explain w hy medieval authors som etim es refer to a
source which they can only be reading through an unnam ed intermediary-
the translation ofa translation m ay consider that its approach to the original
is a kind o f indirect knowledge, which resembles the indirect-know ledge
saint’s life quoted above in C hapter 2.

CONVENTI ON AND I N V E N T I O N

What was an acceptable latitude o f in ven tio n ? M u c h m ust h a v e depended

upon the audience’s ability to recogn ize allusion (eith er to earlier texts or the
events those texts represented, o r to the kinds o f sty liz e d representation I
have tried to e x p l o r e ) . Intertextuality can be a w a y o f m e d ia tin g the tensions
created by a culture un com fortable w ith the fre e-sta n d in g fiction ; that is,
r e fe r e n c e to ‘auth o rity’, e ith e r th e a u th o rity o f a p a rtic u la r w r ite r o r the
authority o f r e c e iv e d texts, can be used to e x p lo it th a t la titu d e . Denial o f
responsibility can becom e a w a y o f assu m in g re s p o n s ib ility . B u t it can also
be a way o f d e a lin g w ith the ap p aren t n ece ssity to ch o o se between
alternative, even irreconcilable, in terp retation s. W r ite rs c o u ld su ggest that A
and not-A were authorized, o r possible, an d c o u ld fu r th e r im p ly that both
occupied the same space by the e x p e d ie n t o f h y p o th e s iz in g them .
N o one would want to describe C h a u c e r ’s Troilus and Criseyde as an
amplified translation so inaccurate, that is, so bad, as to h a v e becom e an
independent w ork. Yet that it begins as a tra n sla tio n , h o w e v e r in-etched
with Chaucer s o w n material, m u st b e g r a n te d . M o r e p ro b lem atic is
1 haucer s attitude to its historicity, since it is a lso c le a r th a t his o w n ingettiutn
 Texts and pre-texts

flo w e d him to fin d , am phfy, and finally tQ jn

rnany o f the expansions. A lthough Troilus and c T Z *" tHe Modern
EngM-
g li s h o playing
o ff->nd
/>'»)■% w .i*
Pet w u , * c‘ __
idea o f y ’ ,tahan auth P‘e >as
Uthor* such n
Boccaccio and Petrarch had pjaycd e a sie r in Vh’
possible events and projecting them onto a Dm hypJ^
im 3 g i n e d pre-text. T he insert,on o f a l0n/ r eX' St,ng tcxt- or an '*'*,n*
gh style, plausibly presented, into the h i s t o r i c ^ ’ in ’* * £ * ' *
)sed - at least in theory - both an in v iu tio n and ° f thc FaH of T
ithor. T he status o f the am bitious plaus.blc f i J to the med f° V
3sition dubious.
aUl'rion dubious. A A pparent
pparent reference to -a ------
..........- no'0"uouius' nSecure; Us,
ecomes
PoS,tl £S a sophisticated jo k ee,, an awareness o f jintertextuality
° n~eX,stent «minor, L
which, for
beCOrn<wledgeable,
ie k n o w l e d g e a b l e , it is clear that the idea o f aauthority
u T h o r ^ is
1131'
a ^gamewhlc
played for
the high
th£ kn<h literary stakes o f poetic fiction, like the eepic p i Tpoems
^ “ 3 ganie Pla>Statius,
of Ovid,
nd
Ch'Virgil.
g il C haucer’s references are in part to that
Chaucer’s th ,, poemP° eniS 5
° f ° v'd. .which.
of Boccaccio
and Vir®‘ if was his m ajor source and the basis o f his translation, he never
m a,° r “ ur“ ” d th e * * o f k i
»lth0Ug This m ay itself exem plify the habits o f scholarly commentators,
not ref-e r by nam e to h y in g o r recent authonties. Were modem
Wh° * to rint the m a r g in a l glosses o f m edieval texts our picture of such
editions ^ m ig h t, o f course, be quite different. Chaucer also refers to
authority ^ o f the fall o f th e city, w hich he knew from a variety of
the rec^ oks from V irgil to Josep h o f E xeter. His translation amalgamates
0thef ° nts m any b o o k s w h ich them selves represent w hat happened at
and reJ*eS vented w h a t suited h im , w ith in the generous bounds of a
Troy. He . .
■ i ii-rarive T o be m o re prescriptive, m o re exacting, about what
historical narrative. .
constitutes historical tru th is to ru n th e risk o f im posing present-minded
categories (or, w orse, a single p rese n t-m in d ed definition o f one thing that
counts as history) u p o n th e ra n g e o f m ediev al narratives w hich fell within

ideas of historical presentation.

Chaucer’s is one o f the greatest, but by no means the first or only example,
of more or less free translations o f more or less literary texts. Bearing in
mind attitudes encouraged by the demands o f other kinds of texts, with
other kinds of authority, the varieties o f audience for whom translations
were made, and, above all, the changes that came simply with the passage of
time, it is possible to speculate about how the play o f authority might have
lr)ade a space which writers could exploit in order to make room for their
°wn inventions. Attitudes to the original language, or languages, to be
tr»nslated changed, as did attitudes to the vernaculars into which the works
*crc introduced; we saw Cicero’s confidence that Latin could emulate
 Truth and convention in the Middle Ages
240

Greek and make Roman culture equal Athens’. The argum ent, the
competit.cn, between the Anc.ents and the Moderns is always w ith us, and
different prejudices and expectat.ons were expressed by med.eval translators
and emulators o f greater and less confidence in their act.v.ty. Above all, Wc
must take into account the increased confidence that came w ith the passage
o f time and the increase in translation activity, not in any particular
European vernacular, but in them all as models for each other. W hile ‘more’
does not necessarily mean ’better', ’m ore’ is at least a legitim ation and a spUr
From the fabulous, strictly defined, one can m ove tow ard the social and
political criticism o f the later branches o f the R enart-cycle. O ne must say
that parody is perhaps the most instant o f literary reactions, and that the
extension o f subject is always with us. This suggests that even in the most
apparently free fiction there are constraints upon the teller. Beast fables
depend upon known matter conventionally interpreted, b u t that includ
issues o f surprise, in w hich both m atter and in terpretation are used
in new
ways. T o put such characters or plots to n ew uses, crossing or m ix in g genres
and styles, follow s from w ide understanding o f o ld ones; n e w interpretations
also m odify those previous ones b y changes o f em phasis w h ic h com e from
alterations o f style, arrangem ent, om ission and exp an sion . B y the late
Middle Ages m any o f the animals h a ve characters, and those characters
restrain authors w h o retell or in vent their in ven tio n s: fo x e s are clever and
lions are kings o f beasts, w h o ev er the author. A m o n g the m ost self-conscious
and yet im plicit fabulists, such as R o b e r t H e n ry so n , th e m a jo r modification
could be interpretative: by ch a n gin g the m o r a lita s so that it cannot be
deduced from the narrative, H enryson asserted q u ite startlin g readings ofhis
own otherwise traditional n a r r a t io n e s . T h is u n e x p e c te d an d unanticipatable
allegory is a confident in vitation to m e d ita tio n , an in v ita tio n continually
misunderstood, even suppressed, b y his e d ito rs, w h o d e leted sometimes the
morality, sometimes the te x t.7 F o r such a u th o rs w h a t appears to begin as a
reflex o f m odesty m a y be an assertion o f s o m e th in g else.
To look back tow ards, even b e y o n d , th e a u th o r ity o f the source text, or
texts, to the things, events o r ideas re p re se n te d in th e m , to consider what was

expressed th e n f C ^ " gU3geS ,n w ^ ,c ^ th e p re lin g u is tic realities were

c o n ,™ of

obvious but t ^ an®U3£ e ’ m a y seem n o t o n ly to belabour the

category yet ^ ^ a c t,v it y ^a r b e y o n d th e o b v io u s into another
p ro c e e d e d rh l ^rCC,se*y b y assessin g su ch relatio n sh ip s that 1 ha«
th ro u g h o u t lh is b o o t F o f w W fc ^ ^ o f ,„ „ * „ » » »
 T e x ts and pre-texts
241

m e precedents w h ich legitim ated, or at least encouraged

themselveS b£C o f existing texts, th ey could also provoke reactions againh
simile treatme eived as b e y o n d som e undefined boundary. Some
transfer"13' 10" ^ anted th e ir represen tatio n s to correspond as exactly as
author* clea" Y t w h ich w as th e ir source. ‘T ra n slatio n ’ that was close and
possible t° the ^ ^ tra n sfo rm a tio n - b u t only one. At the other
accural waS j habits o f th o u g h t e n c o u rag ed n ew versions o f old stories,
cXtret"e rhet° nCast o r fr o m the th esau ru s o f stories. T h e freest fiction might
citherfronl thCf Pas ’the n o n -v e risim ila r, b u t, as w ith the com parison of
be thought o ^ a rg Um e n t th a t insists th a t o n e fiction is as fictional as any
infinite- there is a

°ther' be im plicit signals to h elp th e read er recognize w hat kind of

T h ere may an d h o w to read it. T h e inclusion o f planetary gods
fiction isbeulg P ^ o f as a w ay o f insistin g th a t a fiction is non-verisim ilar (and
might ^ 1 ° historical re -p re se n ta tio n w h ic h claim s to correspond to the
therefore not a ^ ^ actu aj]y d o n e in th e past). H e n ry so n ’s o w n reinterpret-
res gestae, ntation) Qf th e sto ry o f T ro ilu s a n d C risey d e involved him in
ation, re-pr ^ ^ ^ g o f C h a u c e r ’s o ste n sib ly h isto rical depiction: he asks
30 CXP1 ,„v.Prher o r n o t C h a u c e r ’s v ersio n w as tru e, y et alludes to his
x/Vio knows
34
„ pvistent te x tu a l a u th o rity fo r a n o th e r w ay o f telling the tale.
own non-cAi .^*iv»
W hat it is h e re-presents is a fic tio n ’s re la tio n to a n o th e r fictio n , w here b o t h

are im p lic a te d in tru e tales a b o u t th e r e m o te past. T h e characters p e r ip h e r a l

to the main action are th e ones m o s t lik e ly to b e d e v e lo p e d , to te m p t authors

to create new adventures. T h e in v e n te d d esc e n d a n ts o f A eneas w h o founded
the E u ro p e a n nations are a ‘h is to ric a l’ e x a m p le o f a p h en o m e n o n w h ic h

multiplied the kin an d a d v e n tu re s o f n u m e r o u s A rth u ria n o r C arolingian

heroes.

Quha w ait g if all that C hauceir w rait was trew?

N or 1w ait n ocht g if this narratioun
Be authoreist, or fen3eit o f the new
Be sum poeit, th ro w his inuentioun
Maid to report the lam entatioun
And wofull end o f this lustie Creisseid,
And quhat distres scho thoillit, and quhat deid.9

WlSauthoriz d ^ baucer w r° te was true? N eith er do 1know if this narration

rcPort thc |am °rnewly im agined by som e poet, m ade according to his invention to
sorry end o f this lusty Cressid, b o th w hat misery she suffered
 242 Truth and convention in the M iddle Ages

Implied in his chotcc o f English vocabulary arc the rhetorical labels inventio,
narratio, and p l a n e , us (the name o f a particular kind o f lam ent) which

function like Lydgate’s defence o f Laurent de Prcm .crfa.t’s transform ations,

to legitimate his own fiction (a word he is the first to em ploy m an English
poem). Henryson seems to feel no need to identify - even m pretence - the
book or the language o f the book from wh.ch he supposedly found his own
alternate tale. He shows all the knowledgeable alertness to classical literature
which liberated medieval authors to try their ow n hands at serious fiction.
Yet liberation had to fly in the face o f strong traditional argum ents which
disapproved such creation: that such creations are a large p art o f medieval
writing confirms the diversity o f available practice, w hatever the ostensible
cultural prescriptions against the free-standing verisim ilar fiction.
Some o f the examples discussed in previous chapters as rhetorical
transformations o f historiographical w orks crossed boundaries o f language
as well as o f form and style. A lth o u gh questions o f co m p ete n ce arose, they
were mostly questions o f interpretation in the m ed iatin g sense o f h o w the
sources were understood and fo r w h at audience th e y w e r e re w ritten . In
representing true tales about the past, in clu d in g tru ly e x e m p la r y lives, what
we m ight think o f as the ‘unit o f translation’ w as u n d erstoo d to be the events
themselves, the re s g e s t a e . This im m ediately m o d ifes the a u th o rity o f any
exemplar, because its truth, its reliability, its a u th o rity , c o u ld be transferred
beyond the pre-text incidental to transmission. T h a t is, a n y in te rp re ter could
project authority beyond, o r behind, the p articu lar a c c o u n t to so m e — even
some hypothesized - earlier account. E ven w h en the o rig in a l a u th o r was o f
the highest human status (i.e. n o t the B ib le), h e w o u ld n o t th e re b y confer
upon his text the sense o f crucial vo ca b u la ry, n o r resp ect fo r p re se rv in g that
text as intact as translation m igh t a llo w . W h en the h is to r y rep resen ted by the
Bible could be redacted by paraphrase, w h e re e ve n ts n o t exp ressio n were
transmitted, to be turned into p o e try and d ram a in m e d ie v a l L atin o r the
European vernaculars, it becom es hard to r e c o g n iz e th e n e w w orks as
translations at all, because they are n o t n ecessarily tra n sla tin g the w ord s, but
the things represented by the w ords. A n e w k in d o f r e p la c e m e n t text, for
audiences incapable o f direct contact w ith d ifficu lt o rig in a ls , presents itself
humbly, but Kill p ow erfully, as a representation o f o r ig in a l even ts. Quite
ow that relation was constituted, redactors te n d e d to le a v e undefined.
Perhaps they themselves did n ot distinguish translation o f th e text-as-w ords
horn translation of the deeds-in-text. Tight correspondence a lm o s t neces-
r y epends not only upon readin g, b u t u p o n a k in d o f accom pan im en t
 reading w hich is perpetually aw are o f the
w here constant reference to another l a n T ^ ° fth c w°rd s
original text, can be
oc m ade. carm g ((SOmet.
aae. H earing s o m e t i^—;
f ! - 11if not
not spCcif '" " 51ation.
'crcnt experience, and encouraged looser^
different In™ UltaneoUslv ,Cally
SlmUltaneou,|v V to the
.vb biblical
w hich biblical historical
historical m
m aterial
aterial was p. u t fro COrr^POnH
C° rresP°ndenCc ' ySee,ng)w a,!
wa$a
m odified the source expression, and m any *y to her0lr USCs ^
claiming to preserve the essence. ,fled the source detP° etry’ a"
n is tim e to m ak e som e a llo w s™ , • ads> ^hile
............... “-owance tor incom
saying this, it must also be understood that there 3nd misreaa

« ' “'hC" i aU,h° " “ ke What ywa„t, or w h t * » t.T

th in k their audiences want or need, from a„ theYneed or , 'n &
* least difficult, and occasionally im p o ssib le1 T ' ‘ At ^
France cite an English Alured (Alfred) as the ‘ ’ ° ^ W h V did M “ “ be
« - * a p ro te c tiv e screen fo r a w o L " W te J * *
woman translated b o th th e ‘E sp u rg ato ire S t p t0 WrUe? If th * '
Audree’ (E theldreda o f E ly ), she w as as c **£“ * ' ^ - -"c
urt,.u—
vie Ste.'
the ‘V,e
- - ‘ XA sne was as caPable of close linguistic
7
correspondence
AUdreC0ndence as was Robert
as was Robert WaceWace -- at will^sb
at will. °f C
She may '°sehave
also linguist'
been
---------------- • - '• She mav ale. u. tlc
bleof using that same screen to defend her adaptations or inventions of
CaPa lais for her own new poems. The misrepresentation of a new text as a
Bret<htion also has a claim to be considered. When Marie, in turn, became a
traI1S* for translation, we find that the English and Old Norse versions arc
S°UrCdifferent from her originals. The precis of her plots which are all the
01/Norse translator provided suggest this same attitude to a text as
representing deeds or events which could be extracted. Much the same could
be said of the Middle English ‘Sir Launfal’ or ‘Sir Landevale’, which are
usually dismissed as mere popular performance material. We cannot tell if
the translators saw themselves as simplifying, or manipulating in any
conscious way, Marie’s tales; what we do see is that turning verse into verse
implies (but does not necessitate) some degree o f care for the words into
which the translation was put.

Here we see emerging that category o f re-usable plots which is so

"nportant throughout the period, where the G e s t a R o m a n o r u m is delibe-
tatelypresented like the basic material for a rhetorical exercise of am plijicatio,
^tensibly for preachers, or, in the fourteenth century, the re-usable plots
were ^r° myarc* s Summa P r a e d ic a n tiu m might be another example) that
G0tyCr a^ tC^’ Prc~em>nently by Boccaccio in Italy, but also in England by
distinctionb ^ ^ C^ ate’ as *n France by Marguerite of Navarre. The
een translation o f the words and re-presentation of the storv
 Truth and convention in the M iddle Ages
244

is not in theory hard to see. Yet explaining what has become o f the meaning
would tax any historian or philosopher, especially in the face o f the same,
often-repeated prefatory statements about translation being a matter of
cither word-for-word or scnsc-for-sense. Translations are usually pendant
texts, whatever our attitude to the truth-status o f their contents. What they
represent may be a text, or what comes prior to the text, or an amalgamation
o f a combination o f texts, or an interpreted amplification o f some kind 0f
hi nation.

TRUTH AND C O N V E N T I O N

Is there any check upon the hypotheses exp lo re d in the p re v io u s chapters

which can be supplied from w ith in m edieval cu ltu re itself? I h a ve already
alluded to the im portance o f con su ltin g the m o d es o f exp ressio n manifested
in legal and m edical treatises. T his im possible p ro g r a m m e o f com parative
reading is at least a rem inder that m o d ern p ro fessio n a l ca tego ries require
constant testing. Let m e end b y p ro p o sin g an area w h e r e intertextuality,
narrative in determ inacy, ran ge o f a u th o rity , and p la y , sheer pleasure,
intersect. W h ere text achieves v o ic e is in m u sic. T h a t m u ltip le interpretation
was understood and used w ith h u m o ro u s e ffe ct f o r so p h istica ted audiences
w h o shared certain in terp retative a ssu m p tio n s can b e illu strated from the
m otet tradition o f m e d iev al so n g . B y th e th irte e n th c e n tu ry it Was
fashionable in a rt-so n g to b rin g to g e th e r in d e p e n d e n t tu n es w h o se lyrics
offered different versions, e v e n c o m p e tin g v is io n s, a n d sin g th em simulta­
neously, usually o v e r a te n o r lin e su n g in L a tin , o fte n u sin g a well-known
tune from the chan t r e p e r to r y (th at is, litu r g ic a l m u s ic ). A F ren ch ‘courtly’
text could be su n g at th e sam e tim e as a lo w - s t y l e t e x t , so that each offers its
o w n vision, and, b y o ffe rin g it, a lso c o n tr a d ic ts th e a p p a re n t exclusivity of
the paired text. F u rth er, a n d to u n d e rs ta n d a n d s itu a te th e hum our, the
audience m ust n o t o n ly s u p p ly , f r o m th e ir e x t e n d e d k n o w le d g e o f liturgical
m usic and tex t, the L a tin lin es a llu d e d t o b y th e t e n o r p a rt, th e y must also
recognize that th e attitudes represented by th e v e r n a c u la r texts offer
competing in te rp re ta tio n s o f the world which n eed not b e reso lved. That is,
interpretation d o es not favour one version over a n o th e r so much as
re co g n ize that the existence o f each modifies the other. In the following.
Three
relatively simple example, at least three things are happening,
melodies are sung at once: the tenor sings ‘Ite Missa Es t , the closing
the mass (‘go, the mass is finished’) w hile tw o equal French Parts 0
 T ex ts and pre-texts
ZS 4
scripts o f a pastourelle encounter a
d iffe r e n t
a noble man attempts (sometimes su c c e ss fuyl!* "^ P° etn'
’ SOrnctl'n c ssubiee, • h 1ch
not CtC t,n*
woman. 1 t0 seducc .
0ea^nt
L’autrc jour par un matinct | Hicr matinct
m’en aloie esbanoiant I trouvai sans son bercheret
et trouvai sans son bercheret pastoure esgaree.
pastoure plaisant | A li vois ou prajolet,
grant joie faisant. | si l’ai acolee.
Les li m’assis mout liement, | Arriere se traist
s’amour li quis doucement. || et dist: ‘j ’aim tnieus Robinet,
Ele dist: ‘Aymi! Sire, j ’ai ami || qui m ’a plus amec.’
bel et joli a mon talent: || Lors l’embrachai;
Robin, pour qui refuser || ele dist ‘Fui de moil’
voell toute autre gent. | Mes one pour ce ne laissai.
Car je le voi et bel et gent Q uant l’oi rigotee,
et set bien muser, s’m our mi pramet
que tous jours l’amcrai, et dit: ‘Sire, biau vallet,
ne ja m ’en partirai . plus vous aim que Robinet’.

the m orning I w ent out w andering and 1 found without her

otherday in
(Th< (bo s aa pleasing shepherdess show ing great joy. I sat down beside her
1
and sweetly asked for her love. She said, ‘Alas, my lord, have a handsome
1
bPP teeTful friend w ho suits me, R o b in , for w hom w ant to deny all other men.
and C **,1 see mm as
Because a so handsom e and kind, and know ing , so well how to play the
bagpipes, 1 shall love him forever and never leave him .

Yesterday morning 1found a shepherdess w andering w ithout her shepherd. 1

approached her in the pasture and em braced her. She pulled back and said, ‘1 love
Robinet better w ho has loved m e m o re .’ T h e n 1kissed her; she said, ‘Leave me
alone!’ - but I didn’t let go for all that. W h e n 1had played w ith her she promised me
her love and said, ‘M y lord, fair y o u n g m an , l love you m ore than Robinet’.)

Thiskind of collusive, jokey, narrative indeterminacy suggests at least two

possible interpretations, indeed, by giving two versions of the encounter
fromthe same point of view (the young nobleman) in the same vocal
eg'ster, it insists that we not choose between them. It implies an art-song
odience, familiar enough with both the musical and the poetic contexts to
. mP^ex references which play upon numerous conventions at once.
Sec\riential ane'^ achieves in music what even the most dialogic ot
su8gest’ presentations - even texts plus commentary - can only
 T ru th ,n d co n v en tio n in the M.ddlc Age,
246

T h e reclassification o f t r a n s l a t e s a c c o rd in g to m u lt,p ie re fe re n c e , o f
translation to original text, as w ell as to th e m a te ria l re p re s e n te d b y t h a t te x t,
I d the expectatio n s th e a u th o rs c o u ld h a v e fo r th e m te rte x tu a l a w a re n e ss o f
the audience has c u t across th e usual g e n re b o u n d a rie s. It is c o n s is te n t w ith
the th em e o f this b o o k th at m o d e m c ateg o rie s lik e ‘h i s t o r y ’ o r ‘b i o g r a p h y
o r ‘lite ra tu re ’ (even its sub sectio n , ‘p o e tr y ’) m a y s u b tly m isle a d us w h en
m o d e m readers a tte m p t to u n d e rsta n d th e o ste n sib ly tr u e re p re s e n ta tio n s o f
p re -m o d e m a u thors. M o d e m c o n ce p ts lik e ‘fa c t a n d a c c u ra c y n e e d to b e
handled w ith care. T h e T o m a n s a n tiq u e ’, lik e th e h isto rie s o f W a c e and
La3m an w ith w hich this b o o k b e g an , c la im e d to b e tra n s la tio n s o f history.
T h ey appear to be n e ith e r an d b o th . T h is is p e rh a p s easiest to see w here
classical historical m y th s, legends, a n d e p ic p o e m s a re th e s u b je c t, b u t the
im plications fo r m o re c o n te m p o ra ry h isto ric a l su b je c ts s h o u ld also be
considered. It w as n o t ju s t such E u ro p e a n h e ro e s as A r t h u r , C h a rle m a g n e ,
and G o d fre y o f B o u lo g n e w h o e n jo y e d th e tr a n s f o r m a tio n s w h ic h the
rhetorical e m b e llish m en ts o f h is to ry in v ite d . T h e p a n e g y r ic s o f C o m m y n e s
o r Froissart, o r th e in v ec tiv e s o f th e h is to ria n s o f R i c h a r d II o r R ic h a r d III
c o m b in e th e m o d e m c ateg o rie s o f fic tio n a l a n d h is to r ic a l re p re s e n ta tio n in
ways w hich m ak e ‘a c c u rac y p r o b le m a tic .
For one thing, in looking at historiographical conventions w e were
looking at ways o f representing w hat had happened and at the ways rhetoric
suggested manipulations o f those representations. T ranslations claim not
only to convey a true report o f those things represented, b u t also aspects of
the representation: form , content, and style. In th e v ery act o f claiming that
they transmit the same prelinguistic core o f reality , th e y enshrine through
their acts an awareness o f translating a certain distance fro m the source.
Where they concentrate upon style, even i f th e y a d m it defeat in the attempt
to reproduce it, they turn attention to language itself. T h e constant effort of
evocation by loan-words, doublets, m a n ip u la tio n o f syntax, which remind ,
the reader o f the w o rk ’s status as translation, tu rn e d a tte n tio n from the thing
expressed to the expression itself, and in th e course o f constant interruption
modifed the new language by increasing its v o ca b u la ry , changing its style
registers, and adding to its o w n ab ility to allu d e to earlier texts. Authors
translate, but they also pose as translators in o r d e r to escape the problem
authority. Indeed, it could be arg u ed th a t th e d a rin g innovations o f 1
romans antique entirely failed to establishthep re c e d e n t o f the history
fiction as an accepted genre, and th a t theyin sp ire d , a t tw o removes.
 T e x t s a n d p re -te x ts

M l
1as’s fierce denunciations o f C a x to n ’s translation o f the Fr ,
P ° Ug n f the tw elfth -c en tu ry Roman d’ Eneas, which off T * * prosc
sUrTim a ry ^ h e D o u g las’s o w n practice, o f course, however ^ ** *

r^ o rto , o f 'T a t " ' g CO" t7 P0' " ’' a - o » J ; " e™

h del A t the sam e tu n e , perhaps, in countless other studies scattered act
m ‘ oth er scholars w ere con cen tratin g on m aking w hat would bee
EOr0 thing historical a ro u n d that, and sim ilar models. W ithin Douglas’s own
m en like P o ly d o re V ergil w ere beginning to doubt in pubiic thc
U icity o f the m y th s after T ro y w h ich had given nom inal founders to the
h,St° r -es o f E urope. T h e y expressed th eir d oubts in terms which changed
C0UI1 xtual discourse o f th e M id d le Ages, slow ly (and not - or not
th£ l a t e l y - as co m p letely as th ey claim ed) b u t in the end irrevocably.
imI" V e r all, the sixteenth c e n tu ry saw th a t m asterpiece o f vituperative anti-
F°r’ * turn, M o re ’s Richard III, a n d the recrudescence o f rhetorical study
- - a historians as d iverse as J o h n H ay or E dw ard H yde to imitate
enC° Umodels. T h e en d o f th e M id d le A ges - w h en ev er th at is deemed to be -
^ T lv e d the a tte m p t to e x c e p t so m e w riters, poets o r historians, depending
inV°ne>s p oint o f view , fro m th e g re a t mass o f G othic scribblers condemned
011 redulity m isre p re sen tatio n , a n d superstition. T h e Renaissance -
°henever that m ay b e d e e m e d to h a v e b e g u n - also m arks the beginning of
forgetting h o w to re a d m e d ie v a l texts.
The reacquisition o f m e d ie v a l h ab its o f rea d in g and w ritin g can look like a
Reconquista, b u t it can also a p p e a r to b e ju s t o n e m o re reconstruction o f thc
past in our o w n im ag e, o r im ages. O f th e p ain fu l aw arenesses 1 mentioned at
the outset o f this b o o k , o n e w h ic h rem a in s to h a u n t its ending is an
undeniable air o f h isto ric al re v isio n ism f ro m o n e p o in t o f view , o f canon­
bashing from an o th er. T h a t m e d ie v a l h isto ria n s w ro te fiction, that modem
literature schools n eg lec t m e d ie v a l L atin a n d v ern a cu la r historians, seem to
me unavoidable conclusions w h ic h th r u s t u p o n stu d e n ts o f the Middle Ages
demands which th re a te n - i f p u s h e d to an e x tre m e - to collapse the
difference betw een tw o h e a lth y m o d e r n specialism s. I have n o t intended to
argue for the discovery o f ‘fa c tio n s ’ avant la lettre, n o r to assert that no
medieval historian is e v e r tr u s tw o r th y , b u t to refo cu s th e questions that we
best ^SUC^ authors, such works. T h e limits o f such ambitions have perhaps
transiJ e” ^ramafized by the puzzle explored in Borges’ short story,
theWa th^ ^'Crre ^ enard. author o f D o n Q u ix o te ’. In it Borges describes
°^ervante ’ ^ enar<^recreates, and rewrites, word-for-word, the text
^ otl Q M**ofe, but because M enard’s re-invention occurs three
 248 T ruth and con ven tion in the M id d le A g e s

hundred years after the original, his text cannot be identical w ith C ervantes’,
because by n ow the Don has an existence o f his ow n , m ore com plex than the
book which once contained him. In this most intriguing o f his Ficctones,
Borges has m oved straight to the conundrum o f any study o f a past as distant
from us as the Middle Ages, a past which has been a palimpsest for western
culture for hundreds o f years.
 NOTES

MEANI NG a n d m e a n s

T h is s t o r y is t h e s u b je c t o f a n u m b e r o f s tu d ie s- R
H eritage a n d i t s B e n e f ic ia r ie s ( C a m b r id g e , 1 9 7 , ) . ^ R R B o lgar, 77,
^ .n d**o&~
(London, n , i1970o)\

Pznofsky, Renaissance
97
)-, Je a n S e z n c c , T h e S u r 'v iV a l 0 ' f
Jean oezi.tl_, . .. . ___
.........K
and Renascences in Western A rt i t "
A 2 ? * *
’ 9°5) a"d Studio
in Iconology ( N Y , 1 9 6 2 ) , i n t r o . I sh a ll re tu rn t o s o m e o f t? n d ° n ’ an
Erich Auerbach in L / W y L a t y , ^ W ,.ft p e e« m p le, first

by* .......
^ trsns. K.- lviani*^****
R Manhei_ \ - -----
m (p ™ « .0 „ , I96J)
, t
t k ^ b c h and to E. R - C u rtiu s , European Literature and the Latin Middle A g 7
AOerW R- T t « k (P rin c eto n , 1963) w ill already b e obvious. D etailed research
traI1S he history o f rh e to ric is in its infan cy , b u t tw o collections indicate the
,nt° C Cstate 0f k n o w le d g e: Medieval Eloquence: Studies in the Theory and Practice of
CUrt,ent„S; Rhetoric, ed. J-J- M u rp h y (B e rk eley , t 9 7 8 ) and his com panion volume,

The hrase translates ‘un horizon d attente o f Hans R obert Jauss, ‘Litterature
2 T / difvale et theorie des g e n re s,’ Poetique (1970), 7 9 ~ i o i .
!™e Wayne Booth, The Company W e Keep (New Haven, 1988) for a recent
3 discussion o f these p ro b lem s. D e fin in g n e e d n o t d e lim it; in n o v atio n s could be the
reciprocal gift o f succeeding c u ltu re s , as th e R o m a n sense o f satire as peculiarly

th e ir s testifies to e m u la tio n , b u t also sa tisfac tio n .

4 Aristotle’ s Rhetoric is only one o f m any texts to open w i t h a rehearsal of this
assumption. Brian Vickers’s In Defence o f Rhetoric (O xford, 1988) traces the

debates over the ethical value o f R heto ric as a subject from the earliest attacks

onwards.
5 The distinct shortage o f educated w om en was partly due to the belief that
Rhetoric was too powerful a tool to be p u t into frail hands. T he pretence of the
public nature of oratory as taught in the schools and practised in courts, was an
obvious bar to participation in public life o r h igh literary culture. This reinforced
the view that women were incapable o f rational th o u g h t or educated expression,
Jnd, concomitantly, the assum ption th a t educated values were in essence
, U'me' ^ number o f recent studies o f m edieval culture have addressed
VCS t0 l^ese ' ssues, e.g. Medieval Women Writers, ed. K. M. Wilson
 N o te s to p ag e s 1 8 -2 0
2 SO

(Manchester, 1985); Peter Dronke. W om en W r ite r s o f th e M id d le A g e s (C am ­

bridge, 1984).
6 Quintilian, I n s t i t u t i o O r a to r io , ed . H. E . B utler (C am bridge, Mass., 1958-60).
A nd for medieval knowledge o f his w ork, P. S. Boskoff, ‘Q uintilian in the
Middle Ages’, S p e c u lu m 27 (1952). 7 *—*- For g ooci in tro d u c to ry surveys o f
rhetorical literature sec G e o r g e A . K ennedy, TAf A r t o f P e r s u a s io n in G reece

(Princeton, 1963) and KAtforir i n t h e R o m a n W o r l d (Princeton, 1972). fy| L.

Q h fitn r ir a t R o m e (London, 2nd ed. 1966) and H i g h e r E d u c a t i o n a t R o m e

Aristotle’s use o f ‘pathetic’ in the epigraph to this book exem plifies this line o f
argument. The d e c la m a tio n e s o f the schoolroom w ere speeches p erfo rm ed ln
order to move in similar ways, and the preposterous ‘law s’ w hich lay behind the
‘controversiae’ and ‘suasoriae’ survived to provide plots for hundreds o f years.
See The Elder Seneca, C o n tr o v e r s ia e and S u a s o r ia e , ed. M ichael W in te rb o tto m
(Cambridge, Mass., 1974 )- A uthors as diverse as the a n o n y m o u s co m p iler o f the
so-called G e sta R om an orum and the French R o m a n c e -w rite r M m e de Scudery
pillaged these exercises for their ow n stories. T he closeness betw een the
schoolroom and the theatre, that is. the plots o f N e w C o m ed y , tells us som ething
about imaginative association.
8 Questions o f oracy and literacy have concerned classical scholars o f epic as well as
anthropologists, and recent w ork suggests that w ritin g cultures co-exist w ith oral
cultures for a Jong tim e before the conventions o f o ral presen tatio n are entirely
superseded. The w ork ofjack G oody has been crucial: T h e L o g i c o f W r i t i n g a n d th e

O r g a n iz a tio n o f S o c ie ty (C am bridge, 1986) and T h e In te r fa ce b etw een th e W r itte n

and th e O ra l (Cam bridge, 1987). Paul Z u m th o r, L a P o e s ie et la V o ix dans la

c iv iliz a tio n m d d ie v a le (Paris, 1984).

9 Seneca’s plays remained a p re-em inent source fo r th e stu d y o f the effects o f the
passions; whether o r not they w ere m ean t to be acted, th e y c o u ld be studied as
examples o f the high rhetorical style. T h a t th e y c o n tin u e d to m o v e their
audiences is clear. G ood translations o f Seneca’s plays h a v e b e g u n to appear and
th e r e fo r e to challenge the assum ption th at h ig h rh e to ric c a n n o t m o v e, and finally
to counter T. S. Eliot's dismissal o f hu n d red s o f years o f ap p reciatio n . See, for
example, A. J . Boyle, P haedra (L iverpool, 1987) an d T ro a d es, in I m p e r ia l L a tin

P o e tr y , e d . A.J. Boyle and J . P . Sullivan (H a rm o n d s w o rth , 1991), w hich contains

translations o f O vid, Statius, and o th e r im p o rta n t S ilv er L atin poets.
10 In De C o p ia R erum ac V erborum (Paris, 1512, b u t c o n sta n tly expanded). The
English translation, by D. B. K ing and H . D . R i x (M ilw a u k e e , 1963) i* abridged,
and docs not contain the variations: ‘T u ae lite ra e m e m a n o p e re delectarunt
(your letters gave me great pleasure, 130 d iffere n t w ay s) a n d ‘S e m p er dum viva
tui m eminero’ (I shall rem em ber you fo r th e rest o f m y life, 200 different ways)
The only modem equivalent is restricted to lexis, i.e. w o r d choice: the thesa
 N o t e s to p a g e s 2 0 - 4

251
A lth o u g h l d id n o t see A . G r a fto n and L

H u m a n itie s (L o n d o n , , 986) u n til this b o i J a r d i u e '* F '° m , ,

encouraged by th e ir w i l l i n g n e s s to ex am ine * * ^ ^ 7 ? '»
c la s s r o o m . O n m e d ie v a l e d u c a tio n , see N .c h o l 7 7 ^ ^ took 7 ’ ‘ Was
M id d le A g e s ( L o n d o n , i 9 7 3 ) an d his «T h e 3 ° rm e, E n g lis h P ic e '* thc
C o u r t C u lt u r e in th e L a te r M id d le A g e s , cd . V . I S ^ ° f thc C ° Ur tiCr» °° * '* th e

( N e w Y o r k , 19^3)* F o r an a ssessm en t o f C a r o l l 8° o d an d J w .s w ^
advent o f P n s a a n see R o s a m o n d M c K itte r ic k Th ° f D °n a tUs b° rnc
f f W ( C a m b r id g e , 198 9 ), c h . i . ’ ' C a r o lin g<ans a n d T *

„ Marcia C o lish , The M irror o f Language (2n d cd Li * in

detail w ith th e th e o ry o f la n g u a g e w h tch this , ^ 7 ’ >9 8 j ) dCals
see
below, C h a p te r 4, n o te 2. p cs- m odistic l0gic

12 For a consideration ofthe traditions o f epic lnFrancc

fo r H ero es: N in e C e n tu r ie s o f th e E p ic in F ra n ce ( T o ro „ t ,3rn Cali" . A M u se

(J For s u c h surveys see, in a d d itio n to th e te x ts cited a b ° ’ I9§3)'

Milmat St Paul’s School: A Study ofAncient Rhetoric in
I94«); W. S. H o w e ll, Logic and Rhetoric in England , 5o
2 ^ 7° L Clark.yofe|
Renai»ance (NY
and his Poetics, Rhetoric and Logic: Studies in the ’ B (Princet°n, I9j6)’
(Cornell, 1975), ch. 2; T. W . Baldwin, Shakespeare’s Z ° f Criticism
" C S‘ Ba,dw - ’^ A W few / Rhetoric and P ^ U “ G« *
repr. 7
(L°n Gloucester, Mass., 1949)) js
Q| 'ucester, Mass., is stiH 1949
still valuable
valuable. F o . a more recent
For “ (London,
overview, IQ,„.
with
rePf I d bibliographies, see The Present State o f Scholarship in Historical and
^temporary Rhetoric, ed. W. B. H orner (Colum bia and London, 1983), esp. ch.
, by James J. M urphy.
, Roger Ray, ‘Bede and C icero’, Anglo-Saxon England 16 (1987), 1-15; his ‘The
Triumph of Greco-Rom an R hetorical Assumptions in the Pre-Carolingian
History’, in The Inheritance o f Historiography 350-900, ed. C. Holdsworth and T.
P. Wiseman (Exeter, 1986), pp. 67-84; Paul M ayvaert’s collected essays, Benedict,
Gregory, Bede, and Others (London, 1977); R . R . Bolgar, ed., Classical Influences
on European Culture A . D . 500-1500 (C am bridge, 1971)-
b Gordon Leff, Paris and Oxford Universities in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth
Centuries: An Institutional and Intellectual History ( n y , 1968). M any o f these tex ts
we collected in C. Halm, Rhetores Latini Minores (Leipzig, 1863), R . W. Hunt,
Studies on Priscian in the Eleventh and T w elfth C enturies’, Medieval and
Renaissance Studies 1 (1941-2), 194-231 and (1950), 1-56. Priscian, Institutio de arte
^miMiic, ed. M. Hertz as vols. 2 and 3 o f Grammatici Latini, ed. H. Keil (Leipzig,
'ditionf ^ ° natUS’ ^ rs Minor, trans. W . J. Chase (M adison, 1926) and see thc
minorem i„pedu*'US ^cottus com m entaries ed. B. Lofstedt, In Donati artem
Mirtjlnus Qa ^ u>ychen and In Donati artem maiorem (Turnhout, 1977).
(S‘tutg»rd,
t a’ De NupUis Philologiae et Mercutii, ed. A. D ick, rev. J. Preaux
9 3nd trans- W - H - Stahl and R . St. C . Johnson ( n y , 1977)
 252 N o t e s to p a g e s 2 4 —7

th eir Q u a d r i v i u m (ny. 197')- C assiodorus, In s titu tio n s , cd. R . A. B. M y n 0r

(O x fo rd , 1937) and trans. A n I n t r o d u c t i o n t o D iv in e a n d H u m a n R e a d in g s , L

Jo n es (ny, 1946). T h e c o n tra d ic tio n s w h ic h th e tex ts incu lcate arc th e subject

W esley T rim p i, ‘T h e Q u a lity o f Fiction: T h e R h e to ric a l T ransm ission
L ite rary T h e o ry ', T r a d i t i o 30 (1974), I—1 18. O n M e ro v in g ia n an d C aro lin
lay literacy see M c K itte ric k , T h e C a r o l i n g i a n s , ch. 6.
16 Sec N atalie Z c m o n D avis, T h e R e tu r n o f M a r tin G u e r r e (H a rm o n d s w o rth
csp. the plate p. xiv. T his te x t allow s its a u th o r a d ia lo g u e (in th e notes) w ith h '
o w n . a p p are n tly m o re ‘fa c tu a l’ re p o rt, th u s c re a tin g a v o ice w h ic h an S
a lo n g the w ay.
17 S e r v ia n i in A e n c id e m , E d it io H a r v a r d ia n a vols. 2, 3 (L ancaster, P e n n , a n d O x f
1946, 1965); S e r v ii G r a m m a tic i, c d . G . T h ilo (L eipzig, 1878—83). M o d e rn edit' ^
d o n o t. o f course, re p ro d u c e th e sim u lta n e o u s p re s e n ta tio n o f tP *°nS
c o m m e n ta ry w h ic h c reated , fo r e arlie r ages, th e sense o f v oices in d ia lo g Ue
b e lo w , C h a p te r 4. ^ee
18 Ed. J . W illis (L eipzig, 1963) an d I S a tu r n a li d i M a c r o b io T e o d o s io , ed. and tran
M a rin o n c (T u rin . 1967) an d trans. P e rc iv a l V a u g h a n D a v ie s T h e c ^
’ c o M u r n a lia
(L o n d o n , 1969).
19 C o m m e n ta r ii in S o m n iu m S c ip io n is , ed. J. W illis (L eip zig , 1 9 6 3 -7 0 ) and trans
H . S tahl, C o m m e n ta r y o n th e D r e a m o f S c ip io (2 n d e d . ny, 1966). See Pj
C o u rc elle, L e s L e ttr e s g r e c s en a c c id e n t d e M a c r o b e a C a s s io d o r e (Paris, 1943) a n d l /
‘La P o ste rite c h re tie n n e d u S o n g e d u S c ip io n , R e v u e d es E tu d e s la tin e s 36 (1958)
2 0 5 -3 4 a n d H . S ilv estre, ‘S u rv ie d e M a c ro b e a u M o y e n A g e ’ C la s s ic

M e d ie v a lia 2 4 ( 1 963), 1 70-80.

20 B ede, fo r e x a m p le , cites th e B ib le t h r o u g h o u t h is in tr o d u c t o r y textbook D e

s c h e m a t ib u s et tr o p is in a b o u t 700 a .d . T r a n s la tio n b y G . H . T an e n h au s in The

Q u a r te r ly J o u r n a l o f S p e e c h 3 (1962), 2 3 7 -5 3 a n d e x c e r p ts in R e a d in g s in M e d ie v a l

R h e to r ic , ed. J . M . M ille r, M . H . Prosser, a n d T . W . B e n s o n (Bloomington,

Indiana, 1973). Bede follow s the o rd er established b y D o n a tu s b u t changes the
content o f the examples. See also C u rtiu s, E u r o p e a n L i t e r a t u r e , p. 46.
21 In the O ld Testam ent, during the E xodus fro m E g y p t, the fleeing Israelites are
described as takingjew els and precious m etals fro m th eir form er m asters (12.35).
By putting their spoils to better, holier, use, th e ir th eft o f ‘Egyptian gold’ was
justified. So, A ugustine argued, C h ristian w riters are to be trained in classical
rhetoric by w hich he still understands a cu rricu lu m in persuasive oratory in order
to transm ute this ‘E gyptian g o ld ’ in to a m o re h o ly w o rd . They will take over
pagan learning and redirect it to th e g re a t use o f m a n ’s salvation, by creating
style and content o f w ritin g w h ich w ill p reserv e th e argum ents o f Christen)
forms that will appear to the h ig h est level o f lite ra ry sophistication. De ^
Christiana, ed. J. M artin (T u rn h o u t, 1962). T ra n sla tio n by D. W. ^
O n Christian Doctrine ( n y , 1958). See especially P e te r B ro w n , A ugust

(Berkeley, 1967), ch. 23 on A u g u stin e ’s e lo q u e n c e as a late-classical p

 N o te s to pages 29-38
253

sce H e le n C o o p e r , P o s to r a l: M e d ie v a l in to R e n a is s a n c e (Ipsw ich

O n r h r ; ! e P a r i s 'a n a P o e tr ia o f J o h n o f G a r la n d is e d ite d an d translated by
22
j 9 7 7 ). ‘ V i l e r ( N e w H a v e n , 1 9 7 4 ), see esp. ch. 7 . F o r th e late r trad itio n ,
TraUgo tt ^ . (h p e t r a rc h , see A n n a b e l P a tte rs o n , P a s t o r a l a n d I d e o l o g y : V i r g i l t o

p a ltr y E x p lo r a tio n in to th e U s e s o f M y th in M e d ie v a l P la to n is m

peter D ro n k c , ^ D £m a ts, F a b u la : T r o is ttu d e s d e m y th o g r a p h ie a n tiq u e et

23
(Leiden. 1974)1 ^ I9 7 3 ), ch . 1; J ill M a n n , Y s e n g r im u s (L eid en , 1987), in tro .
(GeI’el mJSa„re a n d R
m iiih a lo e n a s c e n c e s in W e s te r n A r t, esp, ch. 2.
E panofsky. e n ^ F i f s t s i x B p o k s 0f th e A e n e id C o m m o n ly A ttr ib u te d to B e r n a r d

T h e J o n e s a n d E. F. J o n e s ( L in c o ln , N e b r a s k a , t 977), p p . 2_ J; trans
S ilv e s tr is , e d . J- ^ ^ £ M a r e sca ( L in c o ln , N e b r a s k a , l 9 7 9 ); a n d C . B asw ell, ‘T h e
E. Schreiber an o f th e “ A e n e id ” : M S C a m b r i d g e , P e te rh o u s e 158’,
M edieval A eg i g l _ 237 A n d see B . S to c k , M y t h a n d S c ie n c e in th e T w e lfth

fr a d itio 4 1 (*9^ 5 oj B e m a r ij S ilv e s te r ( P r i n c e t o n , i 9 7 2); W . W e th e rb e e , P la to n is m

Century
r c n t u r V '- A MJ T w e ijih C e n t u r y ( P r i n c e t o n , i 9 7 2 ), p p . 1 0 4 -2 5 . F o r B occaccio,
and Poetry in ■ Deorum Gentilium Libri, e d . V in c e n z o R o m a n o (B a ri, 1951); the
see G en ea o g le c h a r les C . O s g o o d as B o c c a c c io o n P o e tr y (n y , 1930).
last boo r a te e o r i e s see E d g a r d e B r u y n e , Etudes d’ esthetique medievale
For the aesth etic c a tc g

(Bruges, J 9 4 6 ^ e t h e a ll e g o r y o f th e O vid e Moralise in h e r Allegorical

z6 R ° S* l ° (p rin c e to n j i 9 6 6 ), c h . 4- M e g T w y c r o s s , T h e M edieval Anadyomene: A

Imagery M ythography ( O x f o r d , 1 9 7 2 ) c o n s id e r s th is tra d itio n as it

Study in
affected Chaucer
Quoted from The Metamorphoses o f O vid: Translated by W illiam Caxton 1480,
27
(New Y ork, G eo rg e B r a z ille r in c o n n e c tio n w it h M a g d a le n e C o lle g e , C a m ­
bridge, 1968), vo l. 1, ff. I 3 r - I 4 r . 1 h a v e p u n c tu a te d an d lig h tly m o d ern ized the
orthography. C a x to n g iv e s us, in c id e n ta lly an d b y th e w a y , the distinctions
between such different w a y s o f w r it in g as h is to r y a n d fab le o r p o e try , and genres
such as poetry, p h ilo so p h y , an d p o litic s .
28 Saturnalia, trans. D avies, pp. 256—7. M y em phases.
29 John of Salisbury, Metalogicon 1.24 an d see R . W . H u n t, T h e Schools and the
Cloister (Oxford, 1984), esp. ch. 3. G . R . O w s t, Preaching in M edieval England
(Cambridge, 1926) and Literature and P u lp it in M e d iev a l England (2nd ed. O xford,
^ l°°ks in detail at th e r e lig io u s m a te ria l.
^ the medieval C icero see E. K . R a n d , C icero in the Courtroom o f St Thomas
Cicero’ ^ Ulnas le c tu r e 1945) (M ilw a u k e e , 1946); C icero includes
Dickey ‘g 'CVec^ t0 have w ritte n th e A d H erennium as, fo r exam ple, M ary
hWenthandF ^ 0 rn rn e n tar*es o n th e D e Inventione an d A d Herennium o f the
>~4t; Harry ^ We)h h Centuries’ , M e d ia ev a l and Renaissance Studies 6 (1968!
lri(l London 1 ^ ^ ^ ^ 0<i uence: S tu d ie s in A n cie n t and M ed iev a l Rhetoric (Ithaca
7o). J- O . W ard, ‘T he Date o f the Com m entary on Cicero’s Dr
 N o t e s to p a g e s 3 6 - 4 0
2J 4

Iiwenlione by Thierry o f Chartres (c. .095-1 >60?) and the Corn.fic.an Attack on
the Liberal Arts’, Viator 3 ( ' 9 7 2 ), 2 .9 - 7 3 - An adaptat.on o f De Invention is
translated as The Rhetoric 0/A la in and Charlemagne, W . S. H owell (Princeton,
.941). In the tenth century Richer reports that his own teacher, Gcrbcrt,
employed a ’sophista’ to teach eloquent debate, and there is no reason to doubt
that some kind o f Christian declamation is meant, but what that implies about
tenth-century schools education is not clear. See Auerbach, Literary Language and
Its Public, p. 168.
3! A manuscript in the Hunterian Library survives in which Latin poems
interspersed with rhetoric texts illustrate the precepts described in the handbooks.
See A Thirteenth Century Anthology o f Rhetorical Poems, ed. Bruce Herbert
(Toronto. .975); James J. Murphy, Medieval Rhetoric: A Select Bibliography
(Toronto, 1971): his Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: A History o f Rhetorical Theory
from Saint Augustine to the Renaissance (Berkeley, 1974). See also Readings in
Medieval Rhetoric. cd.J. M . Miller, M. H. Prosser, T . W . Benson (Bloom ington,
1975). In the Middle Ages the ars dictaminis become popular; seejam es R . Banker,
‘The Ars Dictaminis and Rhetorical Textbooks at the B olognese U n iversity in the
Fourteenth Century’, Medievalia el Humanistica 5 (1974), 153—<58 w hich considers
commentaries on the A d Herennium, and Q . R . D. Skin n er’s discussion o f the
contents o f such letters in his The Foundations o f Modem Political Thought (2 vols
Cambridge, 1978), ch. 2. For the Renaissance, see G rafton and Jardine.
32 Disticha Calonis, ed. M . Boas (Amsterdam, 1952); a late M iddle English dual
language edition printed by C axton is Parvus Cato Magnus Cato, ed. F.
Kuriyaga wa (Tokyo, 1974). A nd see Nicholas O rm e , English Schools in the Middle
Ages (London, 1973), esp. ch. 3;J O . W ard, ‘From A n tiq u ity to the Renaissance:
Glosses and Commentaries on C ice ro ’s Rhetorica', in Medieval Eloquence, pp.
25-67.
33 Quoted from Helen Waddell, Medieval Latin Lyrics (L ondon , 1929), pp. 188-91.
And see Hunt, Schools and Cloister, pp. 4708 fo r A lex a n d e r N e q u a m ’s use o f Cato
in his Bible commentaries.
34 Caxton's translation, n ow available as a ch ild ren ’s b o o k , Aesop’s Fables: In
William Caxton’s Original Edition, ed. B. and C . G asco ig n e (L ondon, 1984), was
from a Dutch version. L. J. H ervieux, Les Fabulistes latins d’Auguste a la Jin du
Moyen Age, 5 vols. (Paris, 1893-9), e g . O d o o f C h e rito n , vo l. iv; Ben Edwin
Perry, Aesopica (London, 1952) and Babrius and Phaedrus (C am brid ge, Mass.,
.965); see also H.J. Blackham, The Fable as Literature (L o n d o n , 1985), esp. ch. 2
for a survey o f the literature based on the earlier studies. M a rie de France, Fables,
ed and trans. Harriet Speigel (T o ro n to , 1987), has a useful introduction, as has
Mann, Ysengrimus. Dual language texts (G reek/L atin ) o f A eso p w ere early staple5
o f humanist presses. See G rafton and Jardine, Humanism, p. i n . Preaching
collections, Jikejohn B ro m y a rd ’s Summa Praedicantium o f the fourteenth centi )'
often contained fables as exem pla fo r the use o f p reach ers.
 I'lotcs to pages 41-7
*5S

35 The Complete Poems, cd. R . A. R ebholz (Harmondswonh,98’,i).978).

The peon: of R obert H en ryso n , ed. Denton Fox (Oxford , 98,
’
3* t a F_o n,„tainin ce , Selected Fables (London, 1979)
37 M t only can there be simultaneous multiple interpretation becau
use of audience,
3 8 N ° the inverse also exists, w ith similar complexities. The allegorical
^ C h a u c e r 's P a r d o n e r exem plifies (am ong other things) the'go'od“ ™sermon told
put
the mouth o f a go o d orator w h o is a bad man. T he use to which the Pard
1 Cl* . ■ - I I • I___ *- L n n o r 1 t ___ _ n ioner
int° hjs rhetorical skill is both go o d (because it m oves men to repentance) andb'ad
P° cause he uses them repentance to cheat them). Literature is more complex than
v textbooks.
rhet° A risto tle, R h e t o r i c , I 3 9 3 b - ^ 4a; Q u in tilia n ..9 , v . u , 22; c p . Joh n o f Garland
39 AS‘n 100); fo r th e re n aissan c e e .g . F r a n c s R . Jo h n so n , 'T w o Renaissance
v (eSP‘ P. o f R h e to r i c : A p h t h o n i u s ’ P r o g y m n a s m a t a a n d R a in o ld e 's A Book
TeXtbfc°F o u n d a t i o n o f R h e to r ic ’ , H u n tin g to n L ib r a r y Q u a r te r ly 6 (.942-3), 427_ ^
c a lle d ^ .,a b le in a S c o la r P ress facsim ile: T h e F o u n d a t io n o f R h e to r ic

Rainolde is
(M en sto n , Q W Q rk o n t h e w a y s t h a t la t e - m e d i e v a l s c h o la rs fo u n d

40 B e ry l S m a e y d a s s i c a ) ie a m i n g i n t o t h e ir w o r k is a c la s s ic : English Friars and

ways to sne3' hg Eafly p ourteenth Century (O x fo rd , I96o).
Antiqu,‘ y ^ c ioister' p p . 40-1. A nd see C ooper, Pastoral: Medievnl into
41 See Hunt,^
RenaisSanCe’^ o o \s these exercises led to practice declamations, w here ‘ la w s ’ w e r e
42 In Roman s ^ e x trav a g an t situations fo r ap p ren tice pleaders to practise th eir
invented to^ r^ Seneca is su p p o sed to hav e collected, fro m his m em ory a n d
skills. The sch o o l ‘cases’ an d fam o u s speeches b y w ell-k n o w n rheton-
expenence ^ p ersuasive exam ples. Ed. M ichael W in terb o tto m , Con-
ZversZlnASuasoriae (C a m b r.d g e , M ass., 1974). See also Janet Fa.rwcather,
Seneca the Elder (C am brid ge, 1981) a n d S. F. B o n n e r, Roman Declamation in the
Late Republic and Early Empire (L iv e rp o o l, 1969) a n d his Education in Ancient Rome

(London, 1977)-
43 See, for example, O . B. H a rd iso n , ‘T h e P lac e o f A v e rro e s’ C o m m e n ta ry on the
Poetics in the H istory o f M e d iev a l C r itic is m ’, M e d iev a l and Renaissance Studies
(1968), 57-81; J. R . O ’D o n n e ll, ‘T h e C o m m e n t a r y o f G iles o f R o m e on the
Rhetoric of Aristotle’, in Essays in M e d ie v a l H istory Presented to Bertie W ilkinson,
ed. T. A. Sandquist and M . R . P o w ic k e ( T o r o n to , 1969); Ju d so n B oyce Allen,
The Ethical Poetic; T. P. W ise m a n , C l i o 's C o sm etics: T h ree Studies in Greco-Roman
Literature (Leicester, 1979), ch. 1; P ie rre H a d o t, M a riu s Victorinus (Paris, 1971''

.. ‘ctorinus expanded the a p p lic a tio n o f r h e to r ic a l narratio to h isto ry .

n *UlS CXarrml
Rniaisj " e ls cxpanded fro m a h in t in C . S. L e w is ’s Studies in M edieval a-: .
manirmi , 'leralure (C a m b rid g e , 1966), p. 26. F o r a d e ta ile d stu d y o t W R e

ly4i), esp ch H o u c k , Sources o f the R o m a n de Brut o f W ace (H erk clcs

'°nger anci ° r ^ acc s re d a c tiv e tr a n s la tio n s see b e lo w C h a p te r 4 t
niore com plex e x a m n l c v 1
v s a m p le s o t r h e to r ic a l r e in t e r p r e ta t io n , \cc b e lo w
 256 Notes to pages 48-6'

45 See T h e H .s t o r ia R egum B r ,ta n n ic o f G eo g rey o f M o n m o u th , cd. N. W right

(Cambridge. 1985). p. 113. O n Geoffrey’s rhetorical expans.ons see V. I.J. Flint,
T h e Histona Regum Britanniac o f Geoffrey o f M onm outh: Parody and its
Purposes’, S p e c u lu m 54 ( W 9 ) and W .seman, C l i o ’s C o s m e tic s , ch. 1.
46 L a P a c e a r th u r ie n n e d u r o m a n d e B r u t. ed. 1. 15. O . A rn o ld and M . M . Pelan (Pa„ s,
1962), pp. 96-7. T h e poem , finished about 1155. fed to a historical con tin uation ,
the R om an de R o n , w ritten betw een 1 160 and 1174, bu t n e ve r co m p le te d . Wacc
stresses his learning th rou gh out his w orks, as w e ll he m igh t.
La3amon, B r u t. e d . G. L. Brook and R. F. Leslie (London, 1978), p. 6 5 0 -r. The
47
punctuation follows the earlier edition, S e le c tio n s f r o m L a ja m o n ’s B r u t, ed. G. L.
Brook (Oxford, 1963). pp. 1 0 3 - 4 -
48 The young Macaulay ’vigorously opposfed] in a school debate the rem oval o f the
seat o f the ancient R om an governm ent from R o m e to Vei; and addressed] an
appeal to the people o f Travancore to em brace the C hristian religion’, records
M acaulay’s sister in a letter. This exercise survived in English schools as part o f the
training o f the young men who were to run the Em pire. Jo h n Clive, Thomas
B a b in g to n M a c a u la y (London, 1973 ). P- 2 4 -
49 T. Wilson, T h e G. M air (O xford, 1909).
A r t o f R h e to r ic , e d .

50 R obert Greene, T h e C a r d e o fF a n c ie in S h o r t e r N o v e ls : E liz a b e th a n a n d J a c o b e a n , ed.

Philip Henderson (London, 1929), p. 199 -
51 See M. Lapidge, ‘Gildas’s Education and the Latin C u ltu re o f Sub-Rom an
Britain', in Gildas: N ew A p p roa ches, ed. M . L apidge and D . Dumville
(W oodbridge, 1984), pp. 27-50, for the structure o f D e E x c id io B r ita n n ia e as a
demonstrative oration. Equally little know n isjo h n R a in o ld e s O r a t io in Laudem
A r t i s P o e t i c a e f c ir c a 13 7 2 ], ed. W. R ingler and W . Allen, J r (Princeton, 1940).
52 The importance o f imaginative writers to the adv an cem en t o f rhetoric was
remarked by Aristotle, Rhetoric m .i.8-9: ‘T he first im p ro v e m e n t in style was
naturally made by the poets; for w ords are instrum ents o f im itation, and the
voice is the most imitative o f all our organs. Thus the arts o f recitation, the art of
acting, and more besides, were form ed.’ (trans. Jebb).
53 See O. B. Hardison, Jr, The Enduring Monument: A Study o f the Idea of Praise in
Renaissance Literary Theory and Practice (Chapel H ill, 1962).
54 Malory, Works, ed. Eugene Vinaver (Oxford, 1971), p. 725.
55 Quintilian, Institutio Oratorio, 2.1.10, 2.4.1-4, 4.2.116-20. Forensic narrative
theory is discussed by Bonner, Education, pp. 261-3, 29 iff. F o r the m ovem ent of
the rhetorical narratio into historical w riting see W isem an, Clio's Cosmetics, ch. 2.
56 Quintilian, Institutio Oratorio, 4.2.88-100, 2.17.26-8.
57 On the im portance o f the digression to medieval h isto ria n s see B e rn a rd Lacroix,
L Historien au Moyen Age (M ontreal and Paris, 1971), pp. 125-9; And see FaraI,
Les Arts Poetiques, p. 73; Lawler's edition o fJ o h n o f G arland, pp. 735 ~ <Michael
Lapidge, in Gildas.
 N ° tCS to Pages 6r-7 0

58 O'1 Digression see F. W. Walbank, Polybius ( zi7

O n plausibility see Cicero, D e Inveruione / a, ! clcy- ' 972) n„
5 Institutio Oratorio, 2.4.2-3 and Victorinus (jn h ' I <9 "
206-71- ',ores. pp.
Collected b y C . Halm, Rhetores Latin, Minors Th • ......1
o fp h y s were often set in italic type, pcrhaps in printC(J
defence, show ing h o w moral th e y really Wcre h 35 self' advertiSCm t,0ns
■
■Qu.s,
U1S, quid. ----
ubi.. per quos, quotius, quibus auxrliisT " " h * 0115 tf*ir , J ^
• ------Qrp incfr„^f„w ---------- ---- - , ’ r’ 'JUoniodo’ 01, J ° rs"
4 ando’, arc
the questionS COnfeSSOrS a re ,n s tru « e d to ask ^an d this b‘ : tJU° n io d 'a. quando’ '
Middle . - gc ie­ s . F o r its h is t o r y a n d c irc u la tio n D W a
iui^ A
the
on the Classical
ssical Origin o f "Circumstances"“Circumstances” ! in thp . " ' *VODertson |r -A
** ^
» * > » Philology « (,94»). JoJln * i ^
.0 rh « o n c „ m in d » TO ***, .
Rhetorical S c e p tic ism and Verisimilar Narrative 'SCUSS,on «n RoKer „ *
j* o t S ,ll* u r y ', in Classical R h„ „ , c
^ A W ***
Breisach (Kalamazoo, Michigan, 1985), pp. 6,_JQ2 ' H,s‘ °'>ographh ed
A. Minms, Medieval Theory o f Authorship (2nd ed ' “" her 0n Conditions’ '
- The Carde o f Fancie, pp. l66_^ ' ershot- 1988), ch. **
Robert Greene, — r-
62
. This kind of psychomachia, or inner struggle over a decision, reached an apogee
ofexpressive economy in French classical drama, where the soliloquy allows hero
or heroine to articulate turmoil between honour and love, revenge and
magnanimity- The point about time is an im portant one, because dramat.c time
is swifter, due to the exigencies o f performance, than romance time, where the
reader can pause at will. The application o f dramatic time to the romance, which
we see in the prose o f Cervantes, Behn, Marivaux, or Fielding, transformed the
way we habitually read, and has also made us impatient.
64 Brian Vickers, In Defence o f Rhetoric.
65 Sister Joan Marie Lechner, Renaissance Concepts o f the Commonplace (m , 1962)
Chapter 1 contains copious examples o f classical definition and example
66 The king then goes on to quote Euripides (in Latin translation). Thomas
Gainsford, The History o f Perkin Warbeck (London, 1618), pp. 51-2
67 Character and expression appropriate to character will receive more attention
below, Chapter 3. See also my Temperamental Texts: Medieval Discussions of
Character, Emotion, and Motivation’, forthcoming.
“ ur!.hiSt0ry o{encomium more comprehensive than its title suggests, see O. B.
lL Z The E
, ndDUring Monument: A Study o f the Idea o f Praise in Renaissance

^ oI m2 : T :,ue{chzpdHin' i962)-
illustrates the creative ' ^ ^or an unusually complex example which
dlscussionof the patt c ^ Wb'Cb tdlctor*cal armatures could be put, sec the
narrativc comparjn , °'nParatto which underlies and informs the historical
e c aracters of Gilbert of Poitiers and Bernard of
 Notes to pages 70-S6
2s 8

™ m y L o -i , » ' »f * ' “ ™ ‘ * r r : i n d " " r a d " “ ” d,cn« « *

£ L S „ r^ gn iz, » d -P P * • * « * “ S™* C° " " ,1" d “

70 n J ‘c ,™ r S r f g e r ^ t o / , t o a p m . <■!«'>. ^ A. Buck (S.uttgzrt, ,99,,

71 L * f e - S c ^ ' s M o . F. M P.dcIforB (Nv. ,905), d b c ^
I £ A 189 9 ) ; B c m ard
W em b erg H is to r y o f L ite r a r y C r itic is m m th e I ta l ia n R e n a , s ta n c e ( 2 Vq ]s

C h icago ijKSi). n.743-50; the notes to G e o ffre y S h e p h e rd ’s e d itio n o f Sidney-,’

A p o lo g y f o r P o e tr y (L on d on . 1965) g ' v e n u m e ro u s e x a m p le s o f these exercises. F0r
John o f Garland, see L a w lo r ’s ed ition , p p . 7 3 , 7 5 ^ , 133 an d F aral, Les A r ts
P o itiq u es, pp. 75 - « 3 - G rafton a n d ja r d .n e . H u m a n is m .
7 l In L e s A r ts P o itiq u e s d u X I I e et d u X I l i e s iic le , ed. Ed Faral (Paris. i 97l)
71 Grafton and jard in e cite a sim ilar use o f N io b e in W aw fa, H u m a n is m , pp. lg ^_g

74 Erich Auerbach. M im e s is , trans. W . R . T rask (P rinceton, 1968), ch. 2.

75 This lexical im itation has often been c ondem ned as ro te c o p y in g , especially ln
lyric poetry, where stock phrases abound. In E nglish, in th e fifteen th and early
sixteenth centuries, there is evidence th a t C h a u ce r p ro v id e d v ernacular writers
with a style-standard w hich they m em o rized and used fo r th e ir ow n compo­
sitions. N ew words, small phrases, collocations o f im ag es taken fro m Chaucer’s
poetry reappear in the p o e try o f his im itato rs. F o r d e ta ile d studies o f this
influence, see Cfowrer Traditions, ed. R . M o rse a n d B. A . W in d e a tt (Cambridge,

1990)-
76 The Poetical Works o f Edmund Spenser, ed. J. C . S m ith a n d E. de Selincourt
(Oxford, 1912), The Shepheardes Calender, pp. 430, 433.
77 N o t that there was a single w o rd o r p h rase th a t c o rre sp o n d s to o u r ‘fiction’.
‘Effictiones’ o r ‘fabulae’ carried n e g ativ e, o r a t lea st p o te n tia lly derogatory,
connotations.

2 THE ME A NI NG OF THE P A S T

i The closeness o f historian and p o e t as fabricators is a problem frequently referred

0, e.g. Anstotle, Poetics, 9 . i 4 S l b , esp. on Epic 2 3 .14 5 9 b ; Cicero, De Legibus
■ 1.14 an AdFam ,hares 3.12.3, discussed at le n g th in Michel Kambaud, Ciceron
e> h,stone romame (Pans, t95jj; Horace, Ars Poetria e.g. u 9ff; Q uint, lm
nstuutw Oratona 10. See also Pierre G r im a l, ‘Le Poete et l’histoire', Entretiens
or 13 (1968), 3 1 - 1 0 6 , 108-17; T. P. W isem a n , Clio’s Cosmetics: ThreeStudiesin
I aT r ^ W - r , 1982); and, F. W. Walbank'sJ
m a g isteria lly ,
yres emorial Lecture, ‘S p eech es in G r e e k Historians’ (Oxford, n. d.)-
 Notes to pages Sfw,,

*59
Dionysius o f H a lica rn a ssu s, ‘Letter to P om pey’ in T h r e e L U e r a r ,
XV R hys Roberts (Cambridge, 1901), pp. 88 y Le"ers, cd. and
,s . Ww . R h y>s
trans. ___ u__ ....................... , ,. . 127' m rbcrcere are
atc —
dications a b o u t genre here, smee the style o f h,story m ight , ,niP°nant
,es resem ble p o e try o r th ea tn ea l production. I discuss thi, at my lmisted)
This V ague R e la tio n ” , H istorical Fiction and Historical V e r ^ " 'C" 8th
in Middle A ges’, L e e d s S t u d i e s in E n g l i s h 13 (.982), 8 5- Io8, thc
Later .. the
4 ^<rate ’ss disgust w
- ith - firms fold
........fictions to ld in
in fhther ---------
ernic**
guise o f history.
— r-» n _1.__ TL - S~>1 __• 1 r.
cAP for exam ple, R . R B o lg ar, T h e Classical H e r ita g e and its f w da .
3 SeC’ urid g et 2nd ed., 1973). O n the influence o f A ugustine, H.-I. Marrou‘S
(C3m<tin O ro se, et l ’a u g u stin ism e h isto riq u e ’, L a S to n e r a f i a a lto M edieiT
AUgleto ’i970). PP- 5 V~8 7 - R W . S o u th e rn ’s fo u r presidential addresses to the
(SP 1 H istorical S o ciety fo rm a su rv e y o f the m edieval m aterial: ‘Aspects o f the
ROy3 T ra d itio n o f H isto rica l W r itin g ’, T r a n s a c tio n s o f th e R oy a i Hisiorical
Eor° pea (,9 7 0 ), 173-96; 21 ( 1 9 7 1 ), 159 - 7 9 ; 22 (1972), 159-80; 23 ( , 973)
S 0 C ,e ‘ y Bernard G u e n ee , H is to ir e et c u lt u r e historique d ans /’Occident m e d ie v a le

243^ 3 ' an) an d his P o litiq u e et H istoire au M oyen A g e (Paris, 1981) addresses

(P3riS’ f these p ro b lem s.

many 0 ^ a cc ep t th is as ‘c h iv a lro u s h is to ry ’ o r h isto ry ‘w ritte n w ith
4 Many h,St° ^ es,) and th in k n o m o r e o f it. J o h n T a y lo r, English Historical Literature
romance va » . . . . ,, ,
^ “ ^ te e n th C e n tu r y (O xford, 19 8 7 ) w ould b e a r e c e n t e x a m p le . A n to n ia
i» the Four ee cn sab le H is to r ic a l W r itin g in E n g la n d , 2 v o ls . ( L o n d o n , 1974,
Gransden s ithe terrain bbut
u t limits
lim it s ilibcu
t s e l f t o mu
n out iuc n
i ngg uthae mu<>i
lite ra rin
u ke»
s s ui
o fuie
th e examples.
e xa m p le s.

i 982) maps ^ ^ Galbraith, H is to r ic a l R e se a r c h in Medieval E n g la n d (London,

S° Siml T o nys Hay, e.g. ‘H istory and H istorians in France and England during
1951F if te e n th C entury’, B u l l e t i n o f t h e I n s t i t u t e o f Historical Research 35 (1962),
the

vol. 1, PP- 2 I 5> 2 37, 273-

5Gransden,
SeeM 1 . Finley, ‘M yth, M em ory, and H istory , History and Theory 4 (1964-5),
6
201—
jux..
7 The Church’s claim to power stemmed from a supposed gift by the first Christian
RomanEmperor; the demonstration that the document was a forgery was one of
thesuccesses of renaissance scholarship; see, for example, R. R. Bolgar, Classical
Heritage, p. 271; Joseph M. Levine, Humanism and History: Origins of Modern
EnglishHistoriography (Ithaca, 1987), esp. ch. I. On the new emphasis on literal
meaning and the philological analysis o f Roman law, see Donald R. Kelley,
Legal Humanism and the Sense o f History’, Studies in the Renaissance 13 (1966),
184-99,

in ^ ° m'^ 'ano’ ^ h e P^ce o f Herodotus in the History o f H isto rio g rap h y ’.repr.
Hiiio'5, SlUdieS m H ‘s to r io 8 ra p h y ( n y , 1966), pp. 127-42. The Inheritance oj
?Sp pp^^g*350— 900, ed. C. J. Holdsworth and T. P. Wiseman (Exeter, 1986),
 N o te s to p a g e s 91 2
26 0

9 Q u in tilian , I n s titu tio O ra to rio , ■ ^ xxx- c d . a„ d tr a m . B e tty R a d te e

.0 L e tte r s a n d P a n e g y r i c s , v-vui a n d 5 5 8 -6 3 . A . N . S h e r w i n - W h .t e
(C am b rid g e. Mass.. 196 9 h PP- LfW r5 gJ- p U n y . A H is to r ic a l a n d S o c ia l

analyses th.s discu“ ’° n “ J J 4 o n n-S-J"®- A ,so H - W ' T r a u b ’ ‘P lin V «

C o m m e n ta r y (O x fo rd , 19 h ^ ^ H is to r y ’, T r a n s a c tio n s a n d P r o c e e d in g s o f th e
E pistolary F orm 's T re a tm c n 2 2 x n . 27 o n th e in flu e n c e o f Q u in tilia n
A m e r ic a n P h ilo lo g ic a l th c le tte r to T itm iu s C a p it o i ts e lf im ita te s a

similar d iscu ssio n m C i c e r o . G f w f a ( H a r m o n d s w o r t h , 1 9 6 6 ), p . i 4 o r

I I As by M oses f H i s t o r y in th e R e n a is s a n c e ( P r i n c e t o n , 1 970), p
Nancy S tre u v er / , a te _classical h is to n a n s m u s t b e t a k e n i n t o a c c o u n t:
24. O th e r influ ^ h is to r y b e c a u s e ‘to tell lies ,s d is g r a c e f u l, to
- cd. » d , ™ , W B.
tell th e tr u t . , 4 8. It is t o o easy to i m p u g n th e h o n e s t y o f th e so -
called ‘trag ic h isto rian s';' th e y s o u g h t to w r i t e h is t o n e s w h i c h w o u l d m o v e an d
persuade th e ir aud.ences. T h .s d id n o t n e c e s sa rily in v o l v e d i s t o r t i o n o f t h e p a s t in

I2 S om e useful in tro d u c t.o n s to .d eas o f h is t o r y in c lu d e T . D . K e n d r i c k , British

Antiquity (L o n d o n , 1950): B e rn a r d G u e n e e , ‘ H is t o n e s , a n n a le s , c h r o n iq u e s : Essa,
sur Its gen res h .sto r.q u es au M o y e n A g e ’ , Annales 28 ( 1 9 7 3 ) , 9 9 ? - i o i 6 a n d his
collection o f essays, Le Metier d’historien au moyen age: etudes sur Vhistoriographic
medihale (Pans, r977);J- O . W a r d , ‘ C la s s ic a l R h e t o r i c in t h e W r i t i n g o f H is to ry
,n M ed ie v al and R e n a issa n c e C u l t u r e ’ in European History and its Historians , ed . F.

M c G r e g o r and N . W r ig h t ( A d e la id e , 1 9 7 7 ); R o g e r R a y , ‘ M e d i e v a l H is t o r io ­
gra p h y T h r o u g h th e T w e lf t h C e n t u r y : P r o b l e m s a n d P r o g r e s s o f R e s e a r c h ’,

Viator j ( i 9 74); The Writing o f History in the M iddle Ages: Essays Presented to
Richard William Southern, e d . R . H . C . D a v i s a n d J. M . W a l l a c e - H a d n l l ( O x fo r d ,
1981), which contains an outstanding essay by M aurice K een. F o r an interesting
analysis of the word ‘history’, see K. Keuck, Historia. Geschichte des Wortes uni
seiner Bedeutungen in der Antike und in den romanischen Sprachen (M unster, 1934).
Two more recent collections o f essays contain helpful m aterial; T he World of John
of Salisbury, ed. Michael Wilks (O xford, 1984) and Ideal and R eality in Frankish
and Anglo-Saxon Society, ed. Patrick W o rm a ld (O x fo rd , 1983) (J. M . Wallace-
Hadrill Festschrift).
13 On the exemplar theory from the m id sixteenth to th e m id eig h tee n th cen tu ries
see G e o r g e A. Nadel, ‘Philosophy o f H isto ry b e fo re H isto ricism , History ond
Theory 4 (1964), 291-313. He m ight have in c lu d e d Ju liu s C aesar Scaliger or S
Philip Sidney in his list o f theorists. For a w id e r discussion th a n the title sugg^
Peter von Moos, ‘The use o f Exem pla in th e Policraticus o f J o h n o f Salisbury .
Ihe World o f John o f Salisbury, pp. 207-61.
 i UUJ vv/ V4 261

trans. W . M. Roberts (London, 1912), pp.

o f Rome by Titus Livius ,
14 The H 'St° r^ i sixteenth-century Scots translation is in effect closer to Livy than
' 2' ^"dern^one, as well as being m ore oriented towards the moral/oratorical
th'S m °i hiv e been stressing: ‘And bocht sic thingis (as bene schewin afore fee
vaK’“ n * o f rom c or sen It was biggit) be d ec en t mare be pocticall fabillis ban
bCgVlncorruppit testim onial! o f trew historiis, 3it be samyn arc nouthir to be
°afterrnit
,iy ° no* reDrevit
r be ws; for sic thingis suld be perdonit
. . . .be .ressoun
. of bare
antiquiteis • • B ot ^
*yt, in quahatsum euir w ay tnir and sic opiniouns arc
siderit or belevit, w e hald bam e o f litil forss. N ow euery redare gif his mynde
with vehement attendance to knaw quhat maneris has bene afore this tyme
amang be romanis, be quhat pepill, be quhat crafty Ingynys, be empire of
romanis has be conquest and ekit baith in w ere and pece to bit dajis . . 3k ane
thing sail be richt hailsum & p rofitable to be bat happynnys to haue cogmcioun
o f bis historie, seing be d o cu m en ts o f sa m ony llluster and nobil exemplis as ar
colleckit here togiddir vnder ane historie, quarethrow 80w may do grete
com m odite baith to bi self & com m oun wele, sum tymes lerand sic doctryms as
bow may vse eftir in bi life, A nd sum tymes lerand to eschew all thingis quhilkis
has baith ane schamefull begynnyng & ane schamefull ending.’ Livy's History of
Rome: The First Five Books Translated into Scots byJohn Bellenden (1533), ed. W. A.
Craigie, STS (Edinburgh, 1901), 1, pp. 8-10. Higden presents similar reports and
disclaimers in his Polychronicon (i.i).
15 Marilyn Bendena, The Translations o f Lucan and their influence on French Medieval
Literature, together with an edition o f the Roumans de Jules Cesar by Jacos de Forest,
unpubl. dissertation (W ayne State University, 1976). R. W. Hunt, The Schools
and the Cloister, p. 48. And see Gransden, Historical Writing in England c. 530 to c.
1307 (London, 1974): Gildas (p. 5), W alter Map (pp. 243-4), Nicholas Trivet (pp.
279-80). Pierre G rim al, ‘LePoete et l’histoire’, Entretiens Hardt 15 (1968). 51-106
and discussion 108—17, considers the Pharsalia and its influence, as does V. B. M.
M arti, ‘T ragic H istory and Lucan’s Pharsalia’ , Studies I'llman (London, 1964)
1.165-204. For Sallust see for example Beryl Smalley, ’Sallust in the Middle
Ages’, in Classical Influences on European Culture A . D. 300-1300. ed. R. R. Bolgar
(Cam bridge, 1971). PP- 165-75; R obert Latouche. ‘Un im.tateur de Salluste au
6
X e siecle: l’historien R icher’, Annales de I’ Universite de Grenoble n. s. (.929).
289—306. G uibert o f N ogent’s description o f the torturer Thomas de Marie is
explicitly associated with Sallust on Catiline. See Benton, S elf and Society, ch. n .
A nd for his eclipse in popularity at the end of the period, when Tacitus replaced
him , see Peter Burke, ‘A Survey o f the Popularity o f Ancient Historians,
1450-1700’, History and Theory 5 (1966), 135-52 Myron P. Gilmore perhaps
overestimates the innovations o f the Renaissance, but see his ‘The Renaissance
Conception o f the Lessons o f History’ in Facets of the Renaissance, ed. W K.
Ferguson (N Y , 1959) and ‘Fides et Eruditio. Erasmus and the Study of History in
Teachers o f History, ed. H. Stuart Hughes et al. (Ithaca, 1954). PP - -9 27
 262 N o te s to p ag es 9 4 "7

16 R o g e r R a y , B ede, the E xcgctc. as H istorian ', in F a m u lu s C h r is li: E ssa ys i„

C o m m e m o ra tio n o f th e T h ir te e n th C e n te n a r y o f th e B irth o f th e V e n era b le Bede
(London . 1976), pp. 125-40. See also his 'B e d e 's V era L e x H is to r ia e ’, S p e c u lu m 55
(1980), 1_ 21. B ed e m ay h ave recorded the co m m o n rep ort, b u t he seem s to have
disinguished the b e lie f o f the vu lga r fro m that o f the learn ed. T h is further
suggests that the range o f representation w as m et b y a ra n g e o f in terp reta tio n . See
Paul M eyv aert. 'B ed e the S ch olar', in F a m u lu s C h r is ti, pp. 4 0 -6 9 , esp. n. 65. s ee
also Peter H u n ter-B lair, ‘T h e H istorical W ritin g s o f B e d e ', L a S to rio S raf i a
alto m ed iea va le (Sp o leto. 1970), M 9 7 - 2 2 I and C . N . L. B r o o k e ‘H istorical
W ritin g m E ngland b etw een 850 and 1 150’ in the sam e v o lu m e pp. 223-47. A n d
H igd en m arked his o w n add itions w ith an r (see P ro lo g u e , pp. 20-1).
17 •Ad hanc formam praecipuc perttnet schema [dialogismos], id est, serminocinat-
io, quoties uniquique sermonem accommodamus, aetati, generi, patriae, uitae[,]
instituto, animo, moribusque congruentem. Nam huiusmodi sermones in
h.stona licet affingere. Vnde tot Thucydidis, Salustii, Liuii, orationes eff,ngUntUr
& epistoiae & apophthegmata. Demum & cogitariones, ueluti hominis secum
loquentis, quanquam hoc poetis familiarius.’ De Duplici Copia verborum ac rerum
(3rd edition, with Erasmus’ final revisions, Basel, 1540). Erasmus, De Copia
53
translated King and Rix (Milwaukee, 1963), p. - Erasmus is one of many t0
insist that the characterizations enshrined in older texts must be respected, so that
Odysseus remains wily. See alsoJanet A. Fairweather, Fiction in the Biographies
of Ancient Writers’, Ancient Society 5 ( 1 9 7 4 ) , 23175
- - A Thirteenth Century
Anthology of Rhetorical Poems: Glasgow M S Hunterian V.8.14, ed. Bruce Harbert
(Toronto, 1975) contains some medieval examples.
18 Peter Burke, The Renaissance Sense o f the Past (London, 1969) perhaps over­
emphasizes the homogeneity o f medieval response, but the description of
Petrarch's questioning is unmatched. And see his ‘Tacitism’, in Tacitus, ed. T. A.
Dorey (London , 1969). This is why medieval rhetoricians identify the historical
as a style common to Tragedy, Comedy, and the Church. I have dealt with some
of these issues in ‘“This Vague Relation’” . And see F. W. Walbank, ‘History and
Tragedy’, Historia 9 (i960), 216—34.
19 The problems o f combining the different claims o f history, law, and philosophy
are discussed in Donald R . Kelley, ‘The D evelopm ent and Context of Bodin’s
Method’ in Jean Bodin: Proceedings o f the International Conference on Bodin in
Munich (Munich, 1973), pp. 123—50 where the scholastically trained lawyer
approached as his ‘Method o f H istory’ the art o f extracting lessons. See also, on
Franfois Hotman and Francois de M ezeray, George Huppert, The 1 roj^
Franks and their Critics', Studies in the Renaissance 1 2 (1965). 227-4L an<^
Idea of Perfect History (Urbana, 1970). ^ arC
Cicero’s earliest exposition, in D e Inventione i.xix, includes events
supposed to have occurred.
 Notes to pagCS 97-9

p p. Pickering, A u g u s t in u s o d e r B o e th iu s 2 Vo|s. (Ber| *6j

21
■ Saint A u gu stin , O ro sc , et 1’augustinism c historique'"/ ' T ' ' 976); H'> MJrr
(Spoleto, . 9 7 0 ) i . S 9 - * 7 - O n Is.dorc see further L a c J x
M lu n ia n i lu s tim E p ito m a H tsto n a ru m P h i l i p p icarU m p m ch. 3
22
Sec! (Stuttgart, .972); trans. and revised i„ Elizabetha t ^ ^ R u e lO
G o ld y n g (1564. 1570). J u s t i n , C o r n e liu s N e p o s , a n d E u tr o ^ "d°n by A«hUr
(London, 1897)- P “5’ tram J S. Wat!0n

Ed. L. F. Flutrc and K . S n cydcrs de V ogel (Pans, t937_8) See

23
des R o m a in s d a n s le s l it t i r a t u r e s f r a n f a i s e e t ita lie n n e du

,932). Paul M e y e r’s ‘ Les Prem ieres Com pilations francaises d’h ^ (Paris’
R o m a n ia 14(18 8 5). 1-8 1 is still useful. M odern editions which ex'5' 0" " anClennc’’
from their m anuscript con texts ignore information about in t e T r ^ ^ W° rks
ations. C o m m en ta ries, associated texts, and style o f preseerpreUtlVeeXpea‘
inform ation. A su rv e y fro m the G erm an point o f view is G e j c S r / V 0" '''5'
Jurgen S ch esch k ew itz (D usseldorf, 1968). WC r«Mmy,ed.

24 For surveys o f the historiography o f Troy see Jacques Perret Les Or, ,
Ik g en d e tr o y e n n e e n R o m e (Paris, 1942); his conclusions are not now th<3 hn ^
correct, but his survey o f the material is excellent; and my T h e Legends o fja s m , ]

M edea , unpubl. Ph.D . dissertation (Cambridge, 1978), ch. 2, pp 36-7 nn 2- "

For English T ro y books, C . D avid Benson, T h e H i s t o r y o f T r o y in M i d d le E n g lis h

L ite r a tu r e : G u i d o d e l l e C o l o n n e ’ s ‘ H i s t o r i a D e s t r u c t io n is T r o ia e ’ in Medieval England

(W oodbridge, 1980). For Spain, J. N. Hillgarth, ‘Historiography in Visigothic
Spain’ S t o r i o g r a j i a a l t o m e d i e v a l e 1 (1970), 261-3I 1 and lan Michael, T h e Treatment
o f C la s s ic a l M a t e r ia l in th e L ib r o de A le x a n d r e (Manchester, 1970), esp. ch 7
25 Ben Edwin Perry, T h e A n c ie n t R om an ces (Berkeley, 1967).
26 See the exam ples quoted in O m e r Jodogne, ‘La Naissance de la prose franyaise’,
B u lle t in d e T A c a d e m i e R o y a l e d e B e lg iq u e 49 (1963), 296-308. Everyone agrees that
verse requires som e liberties w ith the material in order to fit its metre, though no
one says quite w h y those liberties should include pure invention; nor does anyone
point out the logical fallacy that even if verse is less accurate than prose that
doesn’t make prose accurate per se.
27 See May M cKisack, M e d ie v a l H is t o r y in th e T u d o r dye (Oxford, 1971); F.J. Levy,
T u d o r H is to r ic a l T h o u g h t (San M arino, Calif., 1967). Eye-witness accounts had a
particularly high status, though that did not protect them from rhetorical
expansion, as the use o f Dares and Dictys shows. The differences between them
were not only a m atter o f degree. Epic poetry embraced gods as well as men,
history tended to be m ore restrained. William Nelson, F act or F ic tio n . The

D ile m m a o f th e R e n a is s a n c e S t o r y t e lle r (Cambridge, Mass., 1973) discusses some ot

these problem s from the view point o f the writer of fictions.
Discussed by T . A. Shippey in his O ld E n g lis h V erse (London, I97 2). PP' •
with examples o f o th er historical poems, mainly encomia on dead kings.
2f>4 N o t e s t o p a g e s 9 9 —10 7

th e uses m ad e o f w h a t m u st hav e been p re -e x istin g p o e m s w e re th e op p o site o f

the o rig in a l in te n tio n to celebrate; S hippey re m a rk s th e pleasure poets
historians so m e tim es feel in th e sudden d o w n fa ll o f th e great.
29 T h e p o e m , fro m M S . C o tto n C le o p a tra c .iv . fol. 24r, n am es som e o f th e nobl
w h o fo u g h t on c ith e r side, in rh y m e d a llite rativ e stanzas. Sec Political Poems and
Songs relating to English History, ed. T h o m a s W r ig h t (L o n d o n , 1861) 11.123—7 A
b rie f e x tra c t ap p ea rs b e lo w .
30 F lo w e r s o f H is to r y , ed. a n d trans. C . D . Y o n g c (L o n d o n , 1853), n . 230, s v I2+
3 1 A b o v e , pp . 68—9. G a in sfo rd in tro d u c e s parallels to classical a u th o rs th ro u g h o
his n a rra tiv e , w ith n o sense o f a n a c h ro n ism , n o r a n y w o r r y th a t he is o u o t'
G re ek tra g e d ia n s in L atin tran sla tio n . T h e lessons are th e re , a n d th e c o m pariso °
p o in t th e m . T h a t o n e o f his E nglish m o d els is J o h n H a y w a rd , w h o se use f
T a c itu s is w e ll-k n o w n , fu rth e r identifies his in te lle c tu a l lin e a g e, C p . T h e Fir
Part of the Life and Raigne o f King Henrie IIII (L o n d o n , 1559).
32 Flowers o f History, s. v. 1264, p. 418.
33 Gervase o f Canterbury, Historical Works, ed. W . Stubbs (London, 1879_ 80)
(r . s .). O n the genres o f history see Bernard Lacroix, L ’ Historien au Moyen A g e
(M ontreal and Pans, 1971). ch. 1, esp. pp. 58-9, 71-3; B. Guenee, Histoire et
Culture Historique, ch. 5.
34 This is one o f the theses o f George Steiner’s After BabeI (London, 1975). And see
below C hapter 4.
35 T he adventures o f Hercules in B urgundy included an encounter w ith a legendary
Burgundian princess; hence the Ducal house nam ed Hercules among its
ancestors. See m y Legends o f Jason and Medea, ch. 5.
36 Historia Destructionis Troiae, ed. N . E. Griffin (C am bridge, Mass., 1936) and trans.
M. E. Meek (Bloom ington, Indiana, 1974).
37 Radulfi de Diceto Decani Londiniensis Opera Historica ed. W . Stubbs (London,
1876) (R . S.) See Gransden, vol. 1, pp. 187, 259—60, 273.
38 O n the grow th o f am bition generally, see A lexander M u rray , Reason and Society
in the Middle Ages (O xford, 1978).
39 See m y ‘M edieval Biography: H istory as a B ranch o f L iterature’ in The Modern
Language Review 80 (1985), 264—5.
40 S e e D o n a ld R . K e l l e y , ‘ C l i o a n d t h e L a w y e r s : F o r m s o f H is t o r i c a l C o n sciou sn ess

in M e d i e v a l J u r is p r u d e n c e ’ , Medievalia et Humanistica n . s. 5 (19 7 4 ). 55

2 - °-
4i R o g e r R a y , ‘ R h e t o r i c a l S c e p t ic is m a n d V e r i s i m i l a r N a r r a t i v e in th e Historia
Pontificalis o f j o h n o f S a l i s b u r y ’ , in Classical Rhetoric and Medieval H isto rio gra p h y,

e d . E . B r e is a c h ( K a l a m a z o o , M i c h i g a n , 1985), pp. 61-102. S e e fu r th e r R M-

T w e lfth -
T h o m s o n , ‘J o h n o f S a l is b u r y a n d W i l l i a m o f M a l m e s b u r y : C u r r e n t s in
C e n t u r y H u m a n is m ’ , in The World o f John o f Salisbury, e d . M . W i l k s (O x fo r
19 8 4 ), p p . 1 1 7 - 2 5 . d
42 The Historia Novella by W illiam o f M alm esbury , e d . K . R . P o t t e r ( E d in b u g
 N o tes to pages 107-10
265

London. ,955). P- i- N o w Sec R o d n eV Thomson, William of M .

dbridge, i987), esp. Part 1 and ch. 7. This is not an announcement^

m in d e d p r a .« o f K i n g S t e p h e n ( « „ o n 4 6 j ) « , b , th e o( '
rh e to ric , o b liq u e c r i t .c .t m . T h e r e n o r e „ o „ to s„ p p 0!C th>, ^ ™
W illia m ’ s s ty le g u a r a n t e e s th e t r u t h o f h is d e p ic tio n s.

Eric C h ristia n so n , ‘T h e P lace o f F ic tio n in S axo’s Later Books’ in Sa

43
Grammaticus: A Medieval Author Between Norse and Latin Culture (Copcnha T

1981). PP- 2 7 - 3 7 analyses th e rh e to ric a l schem es Saxo used to organizThis

inventions. B ib lical c x e g e te s so m e tim e s ta u g h t their students to use the rhetorical
categories th e y h a d m e m o riz e d a t school to classify, for example, ty p T o f
p ro p h e cy . See C H B , p p . 173, 207. F o r R o b e r t W ace’s sources and imitations in
the Roman de Rou, see th e e d itio n b y A . J. H o ld en (Paris, 1970-3), „i, pp. 99_ l68
44 F itzS tep h en also c la im s th a t th ere w e re p ublic disputationes o f a classical, secular
rh e to rica l n a tu re in his L o n d o n . See W illia m ’s ‘Descriptio nobilissimac civitatis
L o n d o n ia e ’ w h e re th e classical allusions and quotations include Virgil, Ovid
Persius, M a rtia l, L u ca n , C ic e ro , and, m ost frequently, Horace. There is evidence
th at J o h n o f S a lisb u ry p a rtic ip a te d in controversiae. See J. O. Ward, 'A r t if i c i o s a

eloquentia in th e M id d le A ges’, (u n p u b . P h .D . diss., U . ofT oronto, 1972) quoted

by R a y , ‘R h e to r ic a l S c e p tic ism ’. For FitzStephen, sec Materialsf o r the H i s t o r y of

Thomas Becket (L o n d o n , 1877), R . S. vol. m, pp. 2-5 and F. Barlow, Thom as

Becket (L o n d o n , 1986). D o m in ic M ancini praised London, where he was only a

d ip lo m a tic v isito r: The Usurpation of Richard III: D o m i n i c u s M a n c in u s a d A n g e lu m

Catonem D e Occupatione Regni Anglie Per Ricardum T e r c iu m L ih e llu s , ed. and trans.
C . A. J. A rm s tro n g (O x fo rd , 1969).
45 Imagines Historiarum, R o lls Series i p. 291. Alcuin’s praise o f York in the pretacc
o f his h is to ry o f its ab b o ts sim ilarly belongs to the e n c o m iu m u r h is .

46 J o h n T . A p p le b y , C h r o n ic le o f R ic h a r d o f D e v iz e s (London, 1963). PP- <>4-5 Cesta

S te p h a n i, ed. K . R . P o tte r, new introduction and notes by R H. C. Davies

(O x fo rd , 1976), C h a p te r 16 contains a description of Exeter. Coggeshall s
d e sc rip tio n o f C o n sta n tin o p le is similarly derivative, C h r o n i c o n A n g lic a n u m , ed J
Stevens (London, 1875) (R- S-)- b
47 G . H . T . K im b le, G eo g ra p h y in th e M id d le A g es (London, 193 >'

C a m p b e ll, T h e W itn e s s a n d th e O th e r w o r ld (Ithaca, Powers.

48 L ucan m a y also be behind the banquet at sea described y
H i s t o i r e d e G u i l l a u m e l e C o n q u e r a n t , ed. R . Foreville ( g , B r ita in :

49
E x p lo re d at len g th by R o b e rt W . Hanning, T h e V i s u m o f H i s t o r y
fr o m G ild a s to G e o ffr e y o f M o n m o u th (n y . 1966)....... (Oxford,

50 To h e r e d i t i o n o f O r d e r i c , The E cclesiastica I ^
■ - id e d M a r jo r ie C h ib n a ll. I he *
19 6 9 -8 0 ) can n o w 1986).
( O x f o r d , 1 9 8 4 ). and her Anglo-Norman England (O xtor ,
 266 Notes to pages 110-14

51 As e.g. Higdcn's P o ly c h r o n ic o n , cd. Churchill Babington, R olls Series vol r

(London. 186s), r.x (Paradise), l.xxvii (Poitou and Aquitaine on the authority o f
Isidore). John Taylor. T he U n iv e r s a l C h r o n ic le o f R a n u lf H ig d e n (O xford, 1966),
eh. 1. Higden’s A r s C o m p o n e n t Serm on es. cd. M argaret Jennings (Leiden, 1983)
proves his rhetorical learning and com m itm ent.
$2 J. J. N. Palmer, 'The Authorship. Date, and Historical Value o f the French
Chronicles on the Lancastrian Revolution B u lle t in o f th e J o h n R y la n d s L ib r a r y 61
(1978), 145-81 and 398—421 discusses the problem s this raises for m odern
motvi nuia.
<3 Editions of Froissart are complex because he kept on revising his work. The only
■complete' modem edition is still Oeuvres, cd. Kervyn de Lettynhove (Brussels,
,870-7). but see the important Chronique: Debut du premier livre (dernibe
)-1
redaction), ed. G. T. Diller (Geneva. 1972 quote from The Chronicle o f Froissart
translated ou, of French by SirJohn Bourchier, Lord Berners, intro. W. P. Ker (6 vols.
London. 1901); references are to book, chapter, and then pages o f this edition:
111.80, p. 451. (Oxford. 1927-*) Richer has a dialogue like this in which a wicked
councillor attempts to persuade his king, Louis IV, to order a murder, Histoire de
France, ed. Latouche, pp. 2iof. Jean Frappier analysed similar techniques in
ViUehardouw in Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 30 (1946), pp. 9 - n and a(
length in 'Les Discours dans la chronique de Villehardouin’, in Etudes Romanes
didiees a Manon Roques (Pans, 1946), pp. - - 39 55
54 Arguments on this issue include P. F. Ainsworth, Style direct et peinture des
personnages chez Froissart’, Romania 93 (1972), 498-522; Jacqueline Pioche, Le
Vocabulatre Psychologique dans les Chroniques de Froissart (Paris, 1976); G. T. Diller,
‘Robert d’Artois et I'histoncite des Chroniques de Froissart’, Le Moyen Age 86
(1980), 217-31 and his edition (Geneva, 1972). Froissart attributed to Robert a
desire (traditional enough from the Old French gestes o f revolt) for revenge
against the French king, who had banished him, embodying current opinion that
he was responsible for beginning the war. Diller’s comparison o f the successive
redactions shows Froissart coming to his conclusion and using the techniques
common to fiction and history to dramatize it.
55 Mark Lambert, Malory: Style and Vision in the 'Morte Darthur' (New Haven,
975
• ), discusses this gro u p n arrative as it appears in M a lo r y . It is n o t unique to
him.

56 Froissart was not, o f course, the o n ly h istorian to d o this. W a lte r o f G uisborough

could furnish similar exam ples, as G ran sd en , v o l. 1, p. 470. T h e C h r o n i c l e of Walter
of Guisborough, ed. H. R o c h w e li (L o n d o n , 1957), pp. 198-202.
57 Bede s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, ed. B. Colgrave and R. A . B
M ynors (O xford,1969), 11.16; the P e n g u in tra n sla tio n has c h a n g e d the aquiline
nose to face . Even here B e d e defers t o a u th o r ity : the description o f
an ascetic
Pauhnus came to him from a reliable a u th o rity , an a b b o t, w h o h ad himself been
 Notes to pages 1 14 21
267

U an anonymous very old m o n k . A nton,a G ransden collected in,tanc„ of

toi'ld “I description, which she cons.dercd ‘ Real,Stic Observation in T w e lf th ,
verisim dat ^ S p e c u lu m 4 7 ( 1 9 7 2 ), H er examples instantiate precisely
Century t n g ^ ^ g u j s h i n g style from actual observation. For a discussion of
the diff'cU t,CS pra n k B a rlo w , T h o m a s B ccket (L ondon, 1986).
pcckct’s n ose see C o n sta blc, cd., The L e t te r s o f P e te r th e V e n e r a b le , m tro.
g Rhetor*’ B ° ° ’n i c l e , cd. c . C la rk (2nd ed. O x fo rd , ,970), pp. 5 5 ^ . T h e Welsh
*n p e t e r b o r < > u 2 h by ’thc C e s t a
S t e p h a n i s. v. 1136 include the enslavem ent o f the
59 atroccities re p o t DUblic rape o f w o m e n o f all ages. T h e a u th o r m akes an
rh n th sexes r
younf? *° f ence to Lucan in the e n try fo r U 4 2 .
explicit retef c o m c o ften as th e clim ax o f a sto ry o f anarchy m ay be
That such reP ° ^ c u ib e r t o f N o g e n t’s v ersio n , the id en tific atio n o f a m urdered
60 ificant, as w ^ ^ ^ m o n o d ia r u m s u a r u m lib r i tr e s, trans. Jo h n F. B enton as
sig011
bishop in 1HlS 0 6 A le d ie v a l F ra n ce (NY, 1 9 7 ° ), PP- 181-2 an d n . 9. fo r sim ilar stories
o f M a h n e s b u r y ) a n d H a ro ld .
S e l f ^ S°Cietyu
(Williat ted this. Gildas and Geoffrey o f M onm outh use it, e.g.
ofTostig have started
01 v r
Sallust may x XIILI9. See Hanning, Vision o f History. Guibert of
^ ^,;naCV m
effetninaoy 1 cinrr as a s___
y m,ub^o1l o f th e aa nn aa rr rcbhvy rcaauussee dd hb vy aa np oo np nu lla
a rr ri«ir»rr
ris in g
cross-dressing j ,
NogentUseS h ic h th e b is h o p w a s m u r d e r e d a n d m u t ila t e d .
the story
lU‘- -- ■ m W th is t o p o s in ‘ M e d i e v a l B i o g r a p h y : H is t o r y as a B r a n c h o f

6* I * * deJtJ?* 80 ( j9 8 5), 257-68. ^ here 1 Sive detalled references‘

L iterature, M ^ M o n s t r e \eU ed. L. D o u et-D ’Arcq (Pans, i8s8),
63La Cl,T°mqf ,Medieval B iography’, 5f- 26
n.338-9; an Be , Smalley, English Friars and Antiquity in the Early

64 Dl5CUt c « ( O x f o r d , 1 9 5 5 ). oh- I-
Fourteenth T r a d itio n h as e x a g g e r a t e d t h e k i n g ’ s h a n d ic a p :

65 Fr ' , t» , ‘ n v e h e b l y n d e ’ . T h e k i n g ’ s b e h a v i o u r fits c o n v e n t i o n a l r e p o r t ,
Berners trans a tB a t p e f lrs t a sk e d a f t e r h is s o n b e f o r e la u n c h in g
though of course it may be true
himself into the thick o f the battle. Froissart leaves until later the report that his
son had made a timely w ithdraw al. T he iro n y w hich arises from this near
juxtaposition depends upon recognition o f conv en tio n and contrast.
66 The Carmen de Hastingae Proelio o f G uy Bishop o f A m iens , ed. C . M orton and H.
Muntz (Oxford, 1972), pp. 12-15. T hey po in t o u t the rem iniscence o f Lucan,
Pliarwliu 1.145 m the couplet w hich begins ‘M ilicie . . .’
6] For Henry V see C. L. Kingsford, The First English Life o f Henry V (O xford,
Wi), which is still valuable, as is his English Historical Literature in the Fifteenth
Gniury (Oxford, 1913). W right, Political Poems and Songs , p. 124. A. M.
^jjghorn, The Chorus of History: Literary-Historical Relations in Renaissance
6J ,^ 5 ^ on^on. ! 97l) is useful in this co n tex t, as is V. J. Scattergoud
(Oxford i j Deeds o f Henry the Fifth, trans. F. T ay lo r a n d j. S. R oskill
 Notes to pages 121-7
200
J f rr, m H enry V , ed. I. H . W a lte r (L o n d o n ,
69 Holinshed, C hronicles, 539
ra.j . “° 'cd from J
1954). P- , R ic h a r d o f H e x h a m re p o r ts f a s tin g b e f o r e th e

70 “ 2 £ 3 * pp Henry °f Hunringdon on the " ~

battle. Historia Anglorum. ed . T . A r n o ld ( L o n d o n . .8 7 9 ) . P-

i; ^ V lu m m L S o s m s k ,. ‘O ld F re n c h N a r r a t iv e G e n r e s : T o w a r d s th e
D e fin itio n o f th e R o m a n s A n t iq u e ’ . R om a n ce P h ilo lo g y 34 ( 1 9 8 0 - 1 ) , 1 4 3 - 5 9

em p h asizes th eir b o o k ish n ess.

3 LE T US NOW P R A I S E FAMOUS MEN

, Surveys of biography concentrate on the modern period, but sec Harold

NicoJson, T h e D e v e l o p m e n t o f E n g l i s h B i o g r a p h y (London, 1928), for a graceful
survey of some biographical texts and an anachronistic approach to ‘a’ genre;
Donald A. Stauffer, E n g l i s h B i o g r a p h y B e f o r e 1700 (Cambridge, Mass., 1930), esp’
pp. 36-7; and his T h e A r t o f B i o g r a p h y i n E i g h t e e n t h - C e n t u r y E n g l a n d (Princeton,
1941), which contains a useful bibliographical supplement; Warren Ginsberg,
T h e C a s t o f C h a r a c te r : T h e R e p r e s e n ta tio n o f P e r s o n a lity in A n c ie n t a n d M e d ie v a l

L ite r a tu r e (Toronto, 1983). which is largely a sequence o f essays on individual

works. F o r an excellent study with comprehensive bibliographical coverage
beyond its notional dates, see Judith H. Anderson, B i o g r a p h i c a l T r u t h : T h e
R e p r e s e n ta tio n o f H is t o r ic a l P e r s o n s in T u d o r - S t u a r t W r i t i n g (New Haven, 1984).

Autobiography i n s p i r e d a number o f studies, o f which the most famous is the

great survey by Georg Misch, o f which the early volumes, translated into
English, are A H i s t o r y o f A u t o b i o g r a p h y i n A n t i q u i t y (London, 1950) 2 vols.; Paul
Lehmann, ‘Autobiographies o f the Middle Ages’, T R H S 5th series 3 (1953),
41-52; Elizabeth Bruss, A u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l A c t s (Baltimore, 1976) begins with
essential definitions relevant to the m odem period; Georges May,
L ’ A u t o b i o g r a p h i c (Paris, 1979) and Philippe Lejeune, L ’ A u t o b i o g r a p h i c e n F r a n c e

(Paris, 1 9 7 1 ) , L a P a c t e A u t o b i o g r a p h i q u e (Paris, 1975), and J e e s t u n A u t r e :

/’a u t o b i o g r a p h i c , d e la litte r a tu r e a u x m e d ia s (Paris, 1980) concentrate on modem
French material; Wm. C. Spengemann, T h e F o r m s o f A u to b io g r a p h y : E p i s o d e s in

Haven, 1980) ju m p s from Antiquity to Dante

th e H is to r y o f a L ite r a r y G e n r e ( N e w

to the modem period. A good collection o f essays is A u t o b i o g r a p h y : E s s a y s

C r i t i c a l , e d . J a m e s O lney (Princeton, 1980).
T h e o r e tic a l a n d

2 The Theophrastan ‘character’ is important in this context. Two good introduc­

tions are Warren Anderson, Theophrastus, The Character Sketches (Kent State,
Ohio. 1970); Benjamin Boyce, The Theophrastan Character in England to 1642
(Cambridge, Mass., 1947). The roots o f the ‘character’ go back to Aristotle s
Rhetoric, discussed in Chapter 1 above.
 Notes to Pages i2 8 -35

} The phrase is Judson Allen's. Sec his Ethical Poet 2<59

4 A.Momigliano, The Development o f Greek Biogranh ^ ° nd° n- 1982)
fir more than 3 survey o fth e Gre<* material For (Cambridge, Mas
pp. ’ S ' 16- ,n 3dd’t,0n' See Duane R « d Stuart’s SathC o5' " " 3*N a tio n ’ is
0f Greek and Roman Biography (Berkeley, , 92fj) ej Cr Cla«-cal L ectu ^ S" ” p
See Elizabeth Rawson, Cicero: A Portrait (Har ' ****’ * *' 7 ' Bp°chs
\ See Baldwin, p. 31. A phthonius' schem e is a l ^ T ^ 0^ ' *9 7 5)
E p iie ic t ic L ite r a tu r e ( U n iv e r s ity o f C h tc a g o Studies TC B u r Kcs .
IP*)- _ ClaSS,cal Phi,olo8 “ m
Geoffrey C haucer, The Works, ,5J2: W m BV’ 3-
Eiitions o f 1542, 1561, 1598, and 1601 (M cnston r96g) Material f , otn
t Eg- ‘ he distinction between panegyric (other histori ,
work) in vm .io. O n Polybius see F. W. W albank P T J h' Story (His o/2
3 ^ o ; 2nd bis 'Tragic H istory', Bulletin ofthe Institute o f C l< * ) " 972
4-14. On Lucan see Pierre Grim al, ‘L e poete et l ’hist StUdies2 (195 i’
(1968), 57-106 and the discussion, io 8 - i 7; V B M Hardt ‘ ’
Lucan’s Pharsalia’ , Studies UUmann (1964) x> l6 ' ^ ‘T ra g 'c H ist0rv J *
■ Biography and Tragedy in P lu tarch ’, , *' ° " P l u t a r c h , p. D [
***« * R ‘ D^ ’ of a G r e ^ * « « * * , 73
(I93J). 97-.°7- The argum ent th ro u g h o u t refers n o t o n ly t” ' C ’" " «<W ea
oforherSenr« ( • « , trag ed y , w h ich mfl ‘V to '« d e r - o r ln d ,

S
fom., ' c estao lish m en t o f d
9 Translated and discussed by J am es R o b in s o n S u
(ny, 1901). and, more recentJv h rn ,th, T h e Earliest 1 ■
mi Criticism c. uoo-c. i375 ed *Vld W a ,,a c e - in M ed iev a l L ^
492-519.
heMiddfe.,
3’ A J■ and A. B Scot 7rZ
,
Tht
988).
uP«n historians an d l i f ^ n ,a U e y tr a c e d tb u•

m fp. ,6sf a . O. cd ™ « " « c u la r . See C l,

J ? " " fc* « W e a u X e ^ T 'f " ' app,lc«ion see R V ° ' gar <C>">bn
KC,e l'h“ =oiredeRi g Rob' rt Latouche •
w / gpma fPaf.-
“*»11CPMA ------
(p„ ’PP' y ' 3°o and
28p-l«S and his v hCr ’'
his cdi, A n m l “ de
* l’/'Lie
n„
■^ - 0^;;: : 3°x ■ * pp
i s - «<=£::: »p. w t ; : °d^,ch' r's* * £ r
Z S ° ; d <p»bs. , 9^ : 5- n ‘ e c h a r a c ,« s’ o f a
w, f ' f° r a bistorica, „ ,
Srr,% , hndel. j -j ’ a" d C 'are S«nfiel,
l9 J n ,“ m a f H , •W “‘ ( 0 , 1
)tsppp ^ L
" C a «''ne as a modi
 N o t e s to p ag e s 1 35 7
270

D ll On G ild a s ' u s e o f l e r o m e a n dSu lp iciu s see N . W r ig h t, G ild as's P rose

S ty lc ^ in G ild a s : N e w A p p ro a ch es, c d . M . L a p id ge an d D . D u m v illc ( W o o d b r id g e t
1984). pp. 109-11- _ .
12 Suipicius Severus. V ie dc S a in t M a r tin , cd. Jacques F on tain e S o u rce s C h re tte n n e s,
12 , j j , 3 voJs. (Pans. 196 7-9). «*• * CSP- P P ’ , o r ’ ,0 ^ ’ ’1' ~ ' 2 S ee aIso A n d rew
W aJiace-H adriil. S u e to n iu s (L o n d on . 1983). c h - 3- It m u st b e reca lled in this
con text that oth er lives, p a rticu larly o f the D esert F athers, w e r e also im p o rta n t.
B enjam in K u rtz looks at o n e instance o f transm ission in F r o m S t A n t h o n y , 0 S /
G u th la c. U n iversity o f C a lifo rn ia P u b lica tio n s in M o d e r n P h ilo lo g y 12 ( , 926)
E a r ly C h r is tia n B io g ra p h ies, ed. R . J- D e fe rra ri ( n y , 19J 2 ). A ls o discussed jn
R ich a rd South ern, S a in t A n s e l m a n d h is B io g ra p h e r: A S t u d y o f M o n a s tic L ife a n d
T h o u g h t (C a m b rid g e , 1962). csp. p p . 3 20 -8 . F o r a s tu d y o f S t D e n is an d the
•historical’ additions to his L ives b y H ild u in and H in c m a r , see G a b r ie lle M
S piegel, ‘T h e C u l t o f S t . D e n is and C a p e tia n K in g s h ip ’ in S a i n t s a n d th e ir C u lts
e d . S te p h e n W i l s o n (C a m b rid g e , 1 9 S 3 ), p p . 14 1-6 8 .
13 T h e A l e x a n d e r R o m a n c e s h a v e been m a p p e d b y G . A . C a r y , The Medieval
A le x a n d e r , ed. D. J. A . Ross (C a m b r id g e , 1936); R o s s , Alexander Historians
(London, 1963); T h e R o m a n c e s o f A l e x a n d e r , trans. D . M . K r a t z (n y , 1989)- and
o f i n e - F ox . A l e x a n d e r the Great (L o n d o n , 19 7 3 ) d iscu sses th e so u rces tm

14 See Momigliano, Greek B io g r a p h y , ch. 1 and 3.

15 A lth o u g h Plutarch’s parallel Jives and m oral essays w e re inaccessible th ro u g h the
main medieval period, their rediscovery in the R enaissance a n d th e ir translation
into the vernaculars has been well d o c u m e n ted . See fo r e x a m p le th e reactions to
the work o f Philem on H olland, w hose translation o f th e m o ra l essays appeared
(from the French) in Plutarch’s Moralia: Twenty Essays (L o n d o n , 1603, revised
1657; repr. o f 1603 ed., 1911), intro.
id Considered, from the Freudian point o f view, by O tto R ank, The Myth of the
Birth ofthe Hero: A Psychological Interpretation o f Mythology, trans. F. Robbins and
S. E. J e l liffe (n y , i 952), which analyses fifteen ‘heroes’ (including Judas), pp.
12-61. The description o f the standard form is ‘explained’ by the Family
Romance; rhetoric is not mentioned, pp. 61-94.
17 For classical precedents see J. A . Fairweather, ‘Fiction in the Biographies of
Ancient Writers’, Ancient Society j (1974), 231—75. Boccaccio’s Dante, ch. 2;
Bernard of Clairvaux’s mother is discussed in G. Evans, The M ind o f Bernard of
Clairvaux (Oxford, 1983), p. 37; for C hristina’s m other, The Life o f Christina of
Markyate: A Twelfth Century Recluse, ed. and trans. C. FI. T albot (Oxford, I ® )> 97
for Becket see Gamier de Pont-Sainte-M axence, La Vie Saint Thomas le Martyr d
Cantorbie, ed. E. Walberg (Oxford, 1922), n. 166-205 and trans. Janet Shirley-
Carnier’s Becket (London, 1975), p p . 6-7. F. B arlow , Thomas Becket (London,
1986), p. 282 n. 10; for Gregory o f N yssa’s m o th er before the birth o f hef
 ■Ka8cs I37—45 271

The C ult o f the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin

daUghtcr’ PCtCT BT0^ ' t'i9 8 t). PP- 57- 8 - F o r a m o re p o sitiv ist re a d in g o f th e
^o raph*csofBCCket’
Christi*"i‘Y (Ch,C3g° s’jc c p OIT1 D a v id K n o w le s, 'A rc h b ish o p T h o m a s B cckcf. A

T h e Historian and Character and O ther Essays (C a m b rid g e ,

r h a ra c tc r S tu d y *" '* d r e a m o r v isio n as a flo a tin g topos is th e su b je c t o f Ja c q u es
° , , s PP 98' 128- C , , ^ n a t i o n , tra n s. A r t h u r G o ld h a m m e r (C h ic a g o , 1988),

S „ lp ic l» and G regory o fT o rr,,. P e.e, B r o W ,

lC v and sec csp- PP_22 ‘ collectcd in Society and the H oly in Late Antiquity
Lcct°re o n a b s ’o r b c d in h is T h e C u lt o f the S aints.
^ do” - l9$2) h3S bC/ ed M . R -Jam es (O x fo rd , 1924)

A0OcryPhal e r r h r is t as a m odel to b e liv e d is perhaps now here so

i» t idea o f ^ Life o ^ q ( th c ,ife o f S t Francis, w h ich m anage to
19 flu s ly >'T,itated aS.; ; v for refusing to appear to com pete w ith Christ (as in the
Ct hv days'
^ i t n .PaSt^ ^ - royw in g the m atch in sigh t o f v ic to ry , o r m anifesting (but
ithhU
10

[« ) Alistair Campbell, C a m d e n T h r r d Series. ,2

cd.
: c0„,i„tn Emm* M g Hterary seif .Consc.ousness is m anifested not
(London, 1949). P- 5’ dialogUe urging the king to w ar (p. t i ) and a set-
only in such top‘CSf ahe „avy (I.4), but also by his references to V irgil, Lucan, and
piece descript'011 ° 1 interested in m otive.

Sallust- He is unusu i ^ Anxkty: Some Aspects of Re/i^ious Experience/rom

„ P ^ ^ G b ^ Z L a n t t n e : (Cambridge, 1965) collects a number o f essays on
M*rcusAurel,USt° Dodds See also Peter Brown, The Cult o f the Saints.
thisperiodby E‘ Martin’s status as bishop could also be described as the
jj These lessons rise _ contradict the ostensible message o f humility,
culmination o^a m e^ ^ ^ world> and utter reliance upon God: although he

T T ! success only as testim ony to G o d ’s g o o dt n ... ess,a M

so artin
c ie ty is
indwephicted
ich as an
^'administrator. ___ _ There
uuuot increased its p o p u message
is an underlying la rity . S oo, ftorecruitment
o , ex h o rta tioto
n sthe
single life for wom en include th e p a ra d o x ica l o ffer o f th e h ig h e s t-s ta t
religiouslife in this story o f the rise o f a poor boy in a society in which social
marriedlife, with God H im self as th e sp ou se, w h ic h a lso o ffer m ale patterns >
2l c.mobility was rare that no doubt increased its p o p u la rity . S o , to o , ex h o rta tio n s to
independence
the single lifefrom family
for wom en and even the
include th e ppaora
ssib
d o ility
x ica l oofffer
d o m^in a*ln ce and p o w e
'races J, life, with God H im self a' *■*—
married
C W. Jones,
indetw"-1- Saints Lives and Chronicles co n ta in s e x tr e m e ly u sefu l m aterial an
■raceslinesofinfluence. Herbert Paulhart d iscu sses O d ilo ’s u se o f S u lp ic iu s fo r &

Odillfv ™
___j u se o f S u lp ic iu s fo
’ n ^ ' e L e b e n s b e s c h r e ib u n g d e r K a is e r in A d e l h e i d v o n A l
— ..a u e s c h r e ib u n g d e r K a is e r in A d e l h e i d v o n A
Grosso,ir ’ F e stsc h r i f t z u m J a h r t a u s e n d f e t e r d e r K m " * -1-
O lio 1
Goss
C n‘guen 0f ,^Feslschrif
~ ‘Uny ’
l ms use
' Koln-
‘ zum Jahrtausendfeter
) •- « p . p p . n —
der Katserkrottung
F°t Higdcn^ ^ n’ 1962) ,e s P - PP- 11-12 f o r e m u la t io n o f C i c e r o a n d S u e t o n u

S% oe nr (oo T
xf„ . ,966^ h - 3 - see J o h n
0^ U^P*C*US T a y l o r , T h e U n i v e r s a l C h r o n i c l e i*f K a n

,St° r y 0 fth ' F r a n k s yofTours, T/]f H b .,

tr 3 n s O . m
 272 Notes to pages 145-6

v o l. I, intro. See also his saints’ lives, e .g . D e M ir a c u l i s a n c t i j u l i a n i an d a b o v e all his

in L e s L iv r c s des M ir a c le s e t A u t r e s O p u s c u le s , ed. H . L.
D e V irtu tib u s s a n cti M a r tin i
B o rd ier, v o l. 2 (Paris, i860), w h ic h stresses M a rtin 's status as an e y e -w itn e s s to the
m iracles, th o u g h n o t to the life; discussed b y P ete r B r o w n , C u l t o f th e S a in t s , chs. 3
and 4.
25 T h e B lic k lm g H o m ilie s , cd . R . M o rris E E T S o. s. 58, 63, 73 (rep r. L o n d o n , 196 7),

pp. 2 10 -2 7.
26 E d m o n d Faral, ‘ S id o m e A p o llin a ir e et la te c h n iq u e litte ra ire d u M o y e n A g e ’ in
M is c e lla n e a G io v a n n i A la r c a ti n (i.e. S t u d i e t T e s t i 122) ( V a tic a n C i t y , I946)
567—80 considers the im p o rta n c e o t S id o n iu s p o rtra its fo r th e la te r m id d le ages
M a tth e w o f V e n d o m c , G u illa u m e de B lo is, an d G e o ffr e y o f V in s a u f u sed w h a t
S id on iu s offered . T h e L etters are e d ited in th e L o e b series. A n o t h e r late -cla ssica l
C h ristia n train ed in rh e to ric , S id o n iu s w a s c o n n e c te d w it h th e c o u r t o f
T h e o d o r ic II b efo re b e c o m in g a b ish o p in so u th e rn F ra n c e . H e h a d s o m e fa c ility
as a p oet, th o u g h his lines are rh e to ric a l in th e u n fo r tu n a te sen se o f su b stitu tin g
d e c o ra tiv e fo rm u la e fo r in sp ira tio n . H e w a s a p r o lific w r it e r o f le tte r s , w h ic h he
co lle c ted and p u b lish ed at th e en d o f his life , a n d w h ic h s u r v iv e d as m o d e l letters
th r o u g h o u t the M id d le A g e s . In o n e o f th ese h e in c lu d e s a d e s c r ip tio n o f
T h e o d o r ic (E p is tu la e , l.ii).
27 That there was a manuscript of Sidonius available to Einhard is confirmed by my
colleague, Rosamund McKitterick. See now her The Carolingians and the Written
W ord (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 154, 251- Einhard’s use o f Suetonius has long been
known, but see esp. G. B. Townsend, ‘Suetonius and his Influence’ in Latin
Biography, ed. T. A. Dorey (London, 1967), pp. 79-1 n and Richard Southern
Saint Anselm and his Biographer, p. 327m O n John o f Salisbury’s use o f Suetonius
see Roger Ray, ‘Rhetorical Scepticism’.
28 O f course, they may also indicate, often by occupatio, a reference to topics the
particular life will omit, an attitude to Life-writing itself. M ore’s Picus argues, by
just such omission, that true nobility is earned not inherited. Reversing an
expectation, too, is a reactionary interpretation. M o re’s Life is available in
facsimile in the series The English Experience, no. 884. M ore opens with the
briefest of references to Pico’s ancestry, though he assures us that it was worthy,
But we shal let his auncestres passe to w hom e (though they w ere ryght excellent)
he gaue agayne as moche honour as he receyued’ ( A iii). C h ap ter titles like ‘O f his
parentes and tyme ofhis byrth’ and ‘O f the w ondre that appered before his byrth
indicate the traditional topics. The latter chapter includes references to the
frequency of prognosticating events, and specifies St A m brose and the bees
which surrounded the future saint’s cradle. Behind the occupatio lies the
assumption of mind encouraged by the school-exercise, comparatio, which
encouraged arguments on either side o f the question o f the sources o f true
nobility, enjoying the process o f debate as m uch as the search for an answer.
ulgens and Lucrece stem from the same preoccupations.
 N otes to pages 146-53

273
29 R u o tg e r, V ita B r u n o n is , ed. I. O t t , M G H n.s. ,0 (Weimar,
.. ...»_U I^npnlfp M nU /it v IIiar, IQ T/
ct\ V\[
95I).
regime a n t i w a r , ed. R. Kocpke, MGH ,0 (Hanover, l8 J f l V 't a ^ h , h i U is
literary Lt a_n .„</»> n d its
g u a g e aand its PPublic
u b lic in
in LLate
a te ILatin
m i n Antiquity
a
and ^^ ’• ^ee E. Auerbach
R . M a n h e im (L o n d o n , 19 6 5 ), c h . 2, p p . I5 6_64; G '“d,e V s , ttans
•__ Tnt/i MndeU from Tusplfth-Cwt..... n °CS iVfpj- . .
M a r r ia g e : Two Models from Twelfth-Century France, trans p, Med,e^(
(B a ltim o r e , 1978), c h . 3 o n th e b io g r a p h ie s o f the C o u n ts o f Gui Forster
b ib lio g r a p h y . A n d A d a m o f E y n e s h a m , Magna Vita Sancti H u ^ ^ eXtemive
Hugh of Lincoln, e d . D . L . D o u ie a n d D . H . Farm er (Oxford m gT ^ Ufe o}
123. T h e e d ito r s r e m a r k in p a ssin g A d a m ’s realism , but it arouse P? X‘V’ 43’
A d a m ’ s lite r a r y e ffe c ts in c lu d e q u o ta tio n s o f O v id and V irg il asweli° SCCpt‘C,Sm
30 R e c o r d e d b y A. P o u c e lc t in Analecta Bollandiana 12 nn , , , * aStheBlble-
31 c. W . J o n e s, Saints Lives and Chronicles (Ithaca, i 947)) p 6l
32 S ee m y ‘ B i o g r a p h y ’ a n d J o n e s, Saints’ Lives.
33 S ee H ip p o ly t e D e lc h a y e , The Legends of the Saints, trans. D o m U a,
( L o n d o n , 19 6 2 [ fr o m 3 rd e d ., 19 5 5 ]), P- 77-
34 The text survives imperfectly in a single copy which is defective throughout as a
result of the fire in Cottonian Library which destroyed so many medieval books'
It is ed. and trans. C. H. Talbot, The Life of Christina of Markyate: A Twelfth-
Century Recluse (Oxford, 1987).
35 Not, of course, that this proves that she could read the book if she owned it. See
Talbot, Life of Christina, pp. 25-7.
36 For a discussion o f types of text for another penod, see Michael Goodrich.
‘Politics o f Canonization in the Thirteenth Century' in Saints and their Culls, pp
169-87.
37 On the bookishness o f Margery Kempe, the fifteenth-century ‘mystic’, see the
Introduction to The Book of Margery Kempe, trans. B. A. Windeatt (Har-
mondsworth, 1985).
38 Bedas metrische Vita S. Cuthberti, ed. W. Jaager (Leipzig, 1935) and Two Lives ofSt
Cuthbert, ed. B. Colgrave (Cambridge, 1940).
39 Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, ed. B. Colgrave and R. A. B
Mynors (Oxford, 1969); trans. Leo Sherley Price (Harmondsworth, )- P 1955
252. A similar analysis might be made of the contrast between the mission to
Britain (1.23-30), i.e. the deeds, and the life of St Gregory. The manipulations are
recognizable. See Paul Mayvaert, ‘Bede and Gregory the Great in his Benedict,
Gregory, Bede, and Others (London, 1977), vni. The idea of two texts as twin ^
14
works is explored in Aldhelm: The Prose 'orfes, ed. and trans. M. Lapidgean
Herren (Cambridge, 1979), pp. 14 and 185 n. 11.
40 Ecclesiastical History, iv.27-32. f this life for
41 See Jones, Saints’ Lives, pp. 54, 215 a n d for Felix of C ro y la n d s ^^firmed by
his ow n life ofGuthlac, see p. 55. For Aldhelm s influence, pc P
bede, see Lapidge and Herren, Aldhelm, p. -■
 N o te s to p ag es I J 4 - 8
274

and in verse is cd. P.Jaflfe, M o n u m e n ta A l c u in i

42 A lcu in 's V ita S . W illib r o r d i in prose
(Berlin, 1973), pp. 35_ 79-
T his m a y appear to im p ort a W h ig th e o ry o f h isto rio gra p h ica l p rogress, b u t a
43
rem ind er that ‘success- also includes the in fluence o f Froissart o n the sh ape and
style o fh is to ry should h elp em ph asize the literariness o f th e id ea o f ‘su ccess’ ; that
B ed e's historical ju d g e m e n t also co in cid es w ith a lin e o f a strin g e n t b e lie f js
another m atter.
44 Ed. and trans. B ertram C o lg r a v c (C a m b rid g e , 1956), in tro ., e .g . p p , i8 _ , 9 _
T h ere are useful annotations to the a b rid g e d translations in clu d e d in Anglo-Saxon
S a in ts a n d H ero es, trans. C lin to n A lb ertso n (n .p .. F o rd h a m University p ress

1967).
45 T h e L ife o f A i lr e d o f Rievaulx, ed. F. M . P o w ic k e (L o n d o n , 1950 ), in tro .
46 G a m ier, V ie de T h o m a s , n. 3 6 11-3 5 -
47 See C. H. T a lb o t, T h e A n g l o - S a x o n M is s io n a r ie s in G e r m a n y : B e in g th e L i v e s o f S S .
W illib r o r d , B o n ifa ce , S tu r m , L e o b a a n d L e b u in , to g e th e r w i t h th e H o d o e p o r ic o n o f S t
(London, I954)i p
W illib a ld a n d a S e le c tio n f r o m th e C o r re sp o n d e n c e o f S t B o n ifa c e

30. T his l i f e contain s the w o n d e r fu l re p o rt o f a m a r ty r d o m in w h ic h th e sain t and

all his co m p a n io n s w e re k illed , d esp ite w h ic h c la im W illib a ld g iv e s th e ir d y in g
w ords.
48 V ita W u lfs ta n i, ed. R . R D a r lin g to n (L o n d o n , 1928), a n d L i f e o f W u l f s t a n , trans. J.

H . F. P e ile ( O x f o r d . 1934)■ S ee D . H . F a rm e r, ‘T w o B io g r a p h ie s b y W illia m o f

M a lm e sb u r y ’, in L a tin H is to r ia n s .
49 Peile, p. 12.
50 /, 16 (Peile, p. 35). Some o f these caveats may be due to his sense o f audience. Later
he addresses them as learned men who would not need to have instances spelled
out for them (n.15, Peile, p. 56).
51 See Southern, Saint Anselm and his Biographer: A Study o f Monastic Life and
Thought (Cambridge, 1963), pp- 320-8 on genre.
52 As in the famous story (recounted below) told o f W illiam R u fu s’s chamberlain.
De Nugis Curialum is only one repertory o f such anecdotes. O n the literary form
of William’s Lives, and the influence o f Suetonius, see M arie Schiitt, ‘The
Literary Form o f William o f M alm esbury’s Gesta Regum’ , E H R 46 (1931),
255-60. Suetonius is also discussed by Janet M artin, ‘J o h n o f Salisbury as a
Classical Scholar’, in The World o f John o f Salisbury, ed. M. W ilks (O xford, 1984),
pp. 184-5.
53 May McKisack discusses the ‘restorations’ m ade by the scribes in Archbishop
Parker’s library, which in effect rew rote som e A nglo-Saxon texts, in her
Medieval History in the Tudor Age. This is as true o f biographical as o f historical
writing. Eustace, who compiled the L ife o f St E d m u n d o f A bingdon, adapted in
tum material from John o f Salisbury’s Life o f B eckett as well as the (by now
almost predictable) Life of St Martin. T he variety o f p o ten tial interpretation for
 Notes to pages 158-64

*S 7
narrative latitude. what might be perceivedas an
created to sav what needed to he said. Their own
rh inc'dcnt C,nC>p\c frecd thcv wrote were no bar to expressing that truth
C0'iccrn5
.n ,rrany & Rarbs. '^------
P Ucl rV,„ , ;f, o f ^
the Life o f St Edmund probably ...... n recognizable
constituted
* - Eustace’s
St Thonias 1,1 1 hbishop’s mantle had fallen upon his own hero.
aclaim
„ i„« im- °
th'a-t the martyrcd
U w r c narC
c c , o Edmund 0/ Abingdon: A Study in
discus:sedhy
u.„- 34 Vm Hagiography and
d i 96o), intro, esp. P- - Despite the ostensible strictures of the
History ( ° * wcess, the Life by Eustace borrows from John of Salisbury on
3
c n°mzat'° n f .
0X Jecket
'- ---
and Suip
34
’ on Martin (p. )- Lawrence points
. ---------. -----------------
anonymous lives one is arranged chronologically th * UU[ «>at 111 the
See also ‘ La Vie S t Edmund’, Romania 55 e ° therl>y topjcs( 56-7).
Tradition Hagiographique de St Thomas Becket avantTfi E‘ W*lbcrg La
sie‘ le (Paris

54OLiterary
n L u p u s’s o w n c la s sic iz in g , e s p e c ia lly his im itations o f Sulpiciu
c h . 2, pp. 123-5. The c h a n g e s Au«bach,
L a n g u a g e a n d its P u b lic ,

sense of a c o m m u n it y o f lik e - m in d e d read ers and w riters re W‘' h ^

See M c K it t e r ic k , C a r o l i n g i a n s , pp. I5 8, 251. Suire no expansion.
J5 Discussed in se v e r a l of e.g. G B T
th e essays in Latin Biography,
(pp. 79-91) and T. A. Dorey ‘Will
‘Suetoniu s an d his In flu e n c e ’ °Wnsend>
“ Gesta Guillelmi D uds’” , in h is Latin Biography (London, ?™ * K
56 Alfred the Great: Asser’s Life o f King Alfred and Other Contemporary Sources ed^H
trans. S. Keynes and M. Lapidge (Harmondsworth, 1983). For d irea bore
from Einhard see nn. 3 5 , 139, 194- There may also be the adopt,o n T w h a t
amounts to a scholar’s topes in which a king tempts a man ofleaming to his court
imitated from the anonymous Life o f Alcuin; see n. 195. See alsoJames Campbell
‘Asset’s Life of Alfred', in The Inheritance of Historiography 350-900, ed. C.
Holdsworth and T. P. Wiseman (Exeter, 1986), pp. 115-35.
57 Degestis regum Anglorum, ed. W. Stubbs (London, 1887-9) («. S.). Mane Schtitt,
‘The Literary Form o f William of Malmesbury’s Gesta Regum', EHR 46 (1931),
255-60. D. H. Farmer, ‘T w o Biographies by William of Malmesbury’ in Dorey,
Latin Biography, pp. 1 5 7 - 7 6 , notices that Einhard’s Charlemagne has also been put
to use. Three articles by R . M. Thomson consider William’s reading: ‘The
Reading o f W illiam o f Malmesbury’, Revue Benedictine 85 (1975), 362-402 and,
as‘Addenda and C orrigenda’, Revue Benedictine 86 (1976), 327-35, and‘William
ofMalmesbury as Historian and Man of Letters’,Journal of Ecclesiastical History 29
O978), 3 8 7 - 4 1 3 , now collected in his IVilHam of Malmesbury (Woodbridge,
'987). William w rote ‘declamatio’ in the margin of his copy ot Orosius to mark
certain speeches (p. 404).
^ Conveniently edited in Historiens et Chroniqueurs du Moyen Age, ed A P3UP
(Baris, 1952) w h ich does not, however, distinguish genres. Trans. R
 276 Notes to pages 164-9

(London, 1955) and on style sec Paul A rcham bault, Seven French Chroniclers
(Syracuse, NY. 1974) Further on anecdotal m eth o d , see P eter von Moos, ‘T he
Use o f Ex'empla in the Policraticus o f |o h n o f S alisbury’, in The World of John 0f
Salisbury, pp ■ 256-61.
59 See D orey, ’W illiam o f Poitiers' in his Latin Biography.
60 The first part o f the Life and Raigne of King Henrie III I (L ondon, 1559) includes
‘characters’ (B olingbroke w hen Earl o f D erb y ), chrias, an d at o n e p o in t in a
speech has a debater rem ark that so m eth in g is ‘p ro fitab le to be d o n e ’ (John
Holland, p. it})-
61 Histoire de France, ed. Latouche, pp. 2 toff.
62 D orey, ‘W illiam o f P oitiers’, p. 144 T o w n se n d , ‘S u e to n iu s’, p. 321.
63 See, in addition to Marjorie Chibnall, The World o f Orderic Vitalis (Oxford
1984), her monumental edition with translation in the O xford Medieval Texts
series, The Ecclesiastical History o f Orderic Vitalis, (Oxford, 1969-80).
64 De Gestis Mirabilibus Regis Edwardi Tertii, ed. E. M. Thom pson (London, i 899)
r. s., p. 4*4-
65 F o rE ad n c, William o f Malmesbury, Gesta Regum 11.181 (R. s.), and Freeman, The
History of the Norman Conquest (Oxford, 1867-79) 1, appendix n. For William of
Newburgh's criticism o f Hugh de Puiset see G. V. Scammell, Hugh de Puiset
(Cambridge, 1956).
66 The History of Richard III, ed. Richard Sylvester in The Complete Works of St
Thomas More (New Haven, 1963) vol. 2., discussed by L. F. Dean, ‘Literary
Problems in M ore’s Richard III', in Essential Articlesfor the Study of Thomas More,
ed. R. S. Sylvester and G. P. M arch’hadour (Ham den, C o n n ., 1977), pp. 315-25.
See also Judith Anderson, Biographical Truth, Part n, esp. ch. 6.
67 This is not to suggest that ‘anxiety o f influence’ exhausts the categories, since the
idea o f precedent could have such an encouraging effect in a culture that was
supposed to be dedicated to individual salvation.
68 Perhaps, if more records survived o f the relations betw een penitents and skilled
confessors, there m ight be similar, sim ilarly conversational and interactive texts,
but it would be hard to im agine anythin g as mutual as these exchanges. In the
Inquisition records, where w e do have som eth in g like a record o f conversation (if
we can call it that), there is no parity, only an In q u isito r and a witness whose
actual words were almost undoubtedly spoken in a n o th e r language than that of
the Latin transcript. Some o f the issues w ill be raised in the next chapter.
Discussed by £. Le R oy Ladune, M ontaillou: village occitan de 1294 a 1324 (rev. e
Paris, 1982), e.g. p. 190, 201, 314-15.
69 The sense o f Heloise as a rhetorician o f skill co -ex isted w ith m ore roma
interpretations, and in the eighteenth ce n tu ry , w h en the view o f the p a ira ^
lovers’ reached new heights, A lexander P o p e co u ld see h er as a sclf' tor^ jj" ng_
and self-deceived figure unable to accept h e r v o ca tio n because o f her
 N otes to pages 170-80
27 7

« . gi« f « " > « for “ ” ; bih, r ^

* 1th lo v in g th e s in n e r, b u t h a tin g th e sins.

rT an sT ated a’s Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs 0f Abbot Cuiber, of
70
J o e n t b y J o h n F. B e n to n ( n y , 1970).

71 CMedieval
C Willard, ‘The Franco-ltal.an Professional Writer: Christine de Plzan' in
Women Writers, ed. K. M. Wilson (Manchester and Athens, Georg,,,
1984), PP- 333 ^ 4
--
la Male Regie in Selections from Hoccleve, ed. M. Seymour (Oxford, 1981); and
72 intro, pp- xvi-xviii. The Regiment of Princes, ed. F. J. Fumivall (London, 1897).
For Hawes, The Pastime o f Pleasure, ed. W. E. Mead (London, 1928); A. S. G.
Edwards, Stephen Hawes (Boston, 1983).

73 Ed. P- Demats (Paris, 1968).

' For Opicinus see Ernst Kris, Psychoanalytic Explorations in Art (London, 1953), pp.
74 18-27 and the edition o f R . Salomon (London, 1936). Otloh has been the
subject o f many discussions, e.g. Misch, Autobiographic, m.1.7. See also A. Sachs,
‘Religious Despair in Medieval Literature and Art’, Medieval Studies 26 (1964),
2 )i-$ 6 . Depression is also the subject of M. M. McLaughlin, ‘Abelard as
Autobiographer: The Motives and Meaning ofhis Story of Calamities’, Speculum
42 (1967), 463-88. Eric Auerbach discusses Rather’s style as a kind of tenth-
century egotistical self-expression in Literary Language and Its Public, PP. 136-52
75 Analysed by, for example, Peter Burke, Montaigne (Oxford, 1981).
76 S ee J B Bam borough, The Little World of Man (London, 1952).
77 Studies o f these ptoblem , include Colin M om,. Tie D u t.m y •/*<
97
I W -U « (N Y , . *); R . w . Hanning. The M M M » Tutelfti-Cottur/Rm..,
7
(New Haven and London. W >, esp. e h . s e e .1,0 W. C. Clin. Tin O U R -*
ic0/
p
E Revolt:Raoul de C a m M . de &— U"
(Paris and Geneva, 1962).
78 See Gransden, vol. 1, pp- I 89- I 91-

4 traitor translator

w ith the *Ch° larSh,p ° n the theory and practice o f translation probably begins
inc|ude a F e to the King James Bible. Early considerations of the problem!
_ • , T ytlcr, Essay on the Principles o f Translation (London, 1907) which
g j. C ac^ resses the author, Lord Woodhouselee, gave the Royal Society of
y Ur^ 1,1 1 ^ 0 ' p R- Amos, Early Theories of Translation (ny, 1920);Justin
anger, Histone de la Traduction en France (auteursgrec et latin) (Paris, 1903): P-
Larwill, La Theorie de la Traduction au debut de la Renaissance: (d’apris les
traductions imprimee en France entre 1477 et 1527) (Munich, 1934); S. K. Workman,
Fjieenth-Century Translation as an Influence on English Prose (Princeton. 194°)-
Theodore Savory s essay for the general reader, The Art o j Translation c
 Notes to pages I So —3
2 78

L ondon, ,968). contains tnuch cotntnon sense for m o d em tr a n s itio n . T . R .

Steiner English Translation T h e o r y , 6 5 0 - 1 t o o (A m sterdam . i 9 7 5 ) has useful
m aterial but ts m ainly eoneem ed w ith p o etry. M o re recent - and m o re
sophisticated - scholarsh.p includes G eorge Sterner, A f t e r B a h c l : A s p e c t s o f
Lanouaee and Translation (London. 1975
); E ugene N .d a, T o w a r d a S c i e n c e o f
Translating ( L e i d e n . 1964) used the advances o flin g u .st.e s to fu rth e r th e cause o f
Bible translation; J. C. C atford, A L in g u is tic T h e o r y o f T r a n s la tio n (O x lo rd , I9 6 j)
also takes accuracy as its starting poin t, sharing the v iew th a t the in te n tio n o f
translators is to produce a fluent n e w text. L. G. K elly, T h e T r u e I n t e r p r e t e r : A
T h e o r y a n d P r a c t i c e i n t h e W e s t (O x fo rd . 1979) beg in s from
H is t o r y o f T r a n s la tio n

the w ord -fo r-w o rd sense-for-sense- d ic h o to m y . F o r a stu d y o f C h a u c e r w ith

some reflection on translation, T im M achin, T e c h n iq u e s of T r a n s la tio n : Chaucer's
B oece (N orm an, O klahom a, 1985)- Susan B a ssn e t-M c G u ire , Translation S tu d ie s

(London, 1980) surveys the linguistic and p h ilosophical lite ra tu re . B ib lio g ra p h ie s

can be found in these w orks and in T h e S c ie n c e o f Translation: A n Analytic
B ib lio g r a p h y , ed. K .-R ic h a rd B au sch .J. K legraf, W . W ilss ( T u b in g e n , i 970) and
T r a n s la tio n T h eo ry : A C o m p r e h e n s iv e B ib lio g r a p h y (A ru st, 1978).
2 E g. Pseudo-Albertus Magnus, Quaestiones Alberti de Modis Significandi, ed. L. G.
Kelly (Amsterdam. 1977)- The literature on the M odistic Logicians considers
their language th eo ries, which attempted to understand the processes by which
interior thought became ideas and then words w hich could be spoken, but the
students of the history o f linguistics who have w orked on these figures sometimes
treat their work anachronistically. R . H . R obins, Ancient and Medieval
Grammatical Theory in Europe: With Particular Reference to Modern Linguistic
Doctrine (London, 1951) initiated the discussion. History o f Linguistic Thought and
Contemporary Linguistics, ed. H. Parret ( n y , 1976) contains a b ro ad selection of
essays with excellent bibliographies; see esp. pp. 85-101, 164-88, 254-78. G. L.
Bursill-Hall’s introduction to Thom as o f Erfurt, Grammatica Speculativa (Lon­
don, J972), pp. 1-127 is a useful study as are his Speculative Grammars o f the Middle
Ages: The Doctrine o f the Modistae (T he H ague, 1971) and ‘T h e M iddle Ages’ in
Current Trends in Linguistics, ed. T . A . Sebeok (T he H ag u e, 1975), vol. r, pp-
179-230.
3 Quoted as the epigraph to this chapter from the translation by A. W. H a d d a n ,
rev. W. G. T. Shedd, in Select Library o f the N icene and Post-Nicene Fathers o f the
Christian Church (Grand Rapids, M ich., 1956), p. 209. D e Trinitate, in Sancti
Aurelti Augustint, De Trinitate Libri X V , ed . W . J. M o u n ta in and Fr. Clone
(Turnholt, 1968), xv.10.19. The fam ous q u o d lib e ta l discussion o f Duns Scot^
376
(l -S ~ i) linked ‘w o rd ’ to ‘m e m o ry ’ in th e A u g u stin ian sense. See
translation by F. Alluntis and A. B. W olter, G o d and Creatures (Princeton, -
a n d their glossary, pp. 521-2.

*
 Notes to pages 183-92
279
4 Jo h n o f Salisbury, Metalogicon 1.19 (p . 56)> Itl ,_ 3 Disc
M o c r b c k c ; see Dictionary o f Scientific Biography rx.436 Chau * ^ Wllllartl of
o f English v o c a b u la ry several tim es, though he makes ' hc lack
characters w h o arc in p a rt lam en tin g their ow n lack o f skiH ^ " h,s
im possible fo r th em to say w h a t they w ant to say in U g u a Wh'Ch maktS "
w o u ld be a p p ro p ria te , e.g. the Squire, disclaiming the a b iliT ” Jd'8nif,ed Js
beauty o f C anacee: 0 escr>be the

B u t fo r to telle y o w al h ir beautee,
It ly th n a t in m y to n g e , n ’yn m y konnyng;
I d a r n a t u n d e rta k e so h e ig h a thy n g .
M y n E nglissh eek is insufficient.
It m o ste been a re th o r excellent
T h a t k o u d e his c o lo u rs lo n g y n g e fo r that art,
If he sh o u ld e h ire d isc ry v en e v ery part. (v.34-40)

In The Book o f the Duchess 896ff th e M an in Black complains that he lacks both
the requisite E ng lish a n d th e w it to describe W hite.
5 T h ere is a sensitive discussion o f so m e o f these issues in the postscript to Pope’s
Odyssey. See The Prose Works o f Alexander Pope, ed. R . Cowler (Oxford, 1986)
n .5 8 -9 and n o te s 74—5.
6 e.g. W a lte r H a m ilto n , ‘C lassical P ro se at its E xtrem es’, in T h e T r a n s la t o r 's A r t :

Essays in Honour o f Betty Radice, ed. W . R adice and Barbara Reynolds

(H a rm o n d s w o rth , 1987).
7 Cambridge History o f the Bible: The West from the F a t h e r s to th e R e fo r m a tio n , ed. G
W . H . L am p e (C a m b rid g e , 1969), sect. vi.5. (H ereafter cued as C H B .)

8 The Orations o f Marcus Tullius Cicero, trans. C . D. Yonge (London, 1876),

tv .530-1. D iscussed, b riefly , b y R . L. E nos, in The Present State o f Scholarship in
Historical and Contemporary Rhetoric, ed. W . B. H orner (Columbia and London,
1983), ch. 1.
9 The Romans o f Partenay or o f Lusignan, ed. W . W . Skeat (London, 1899), 1*.
6 553 - 7 3 -
10 S ° m e a c k n o w le d g e m e n t o f p a rtic u la r difficulties, especially those posed by
rhym e, m etre, a n d p a u c ity o f v o c a b u la ry o r style registers regularly appears in
translated texts, o fte n as a d e fen c e fo r choices taken to m ake the translation more
hke the o rig in a l th a n its la n g u a g e c u rre n tly appears to allow.
( F a ll o f Princes, ed. H . B e rg e n , (L o n d o n , 1924-7), 1.8-42.
‘2 Own Prose, ed. N . F. B lak e (L o n d o n , 1 9 7 3 ). P I0 5 -
a x lo n ’ s

3 ugustine, De Trinitate xv. S m a lle y , The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (3r
O xford , , 983).

4 m u ' ? 5 ° f B ' blc t r ^ s l a t i o n o fte n assum e th a t the am bition o f all s“ch wor
c a sequential and independent text. See, for example, Werner c wa
 N o te s to p a g e s I 9 2 ~ 9
280
‘T h e M e a n in g o f in M e d ie v a l T ra n s la tio n ’ , T h e J o u r n a l o f
F id u s In te rp r e s
T h eo lo g ica l S tu d ie s 45 (iy+ 4). 73-8 and his P r in c ip le s a n d P r o b le m s o f B ib lic a l
T ra n s la tio n : S o m e R e fo r m a tio n C o n tr o v e r s ie s a n d th e ir B a c k g r o u n d (C a m b rid g e ,

,5 Discussed at length in Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (3rd
ed. O xford, .983), e.g. 103*. Sec also G .lbert D ahan, ‘Les In terp re ta tio n s juives
dans les com m entaires du pentatcuque de Pierre le C h a n tre , in The Bible in the
Medieval World: Essays in Memory of Beryl Smalley, ed. K a th erin e W alsh and
Diana W ood (London, 1985). PP- *31 —5 5 - For R a sh l’ sce the m o n u m e n ta l
edition, ed. W . R osenbaum and A. M. S ilbcrm ann, 5 vols. (L o n d o n , 1929-34)
16 S e e th e c h a p te r o n J e r o m e in CH B an d P e te r B r o w n , Augustine, pp. 265-6; Select
Letters, e d . a n d tran s. F. A . W r i g h t ( L o n d o n a n d NY, 1 9 3 3 ) , P- 124.
17 Smalley, Bible, n.2, v .i; Bible in the Medieval World, x i-x iii; C H B , p p . 14 7 -3
18 Smalley, Bible; Gillian Evans, The Language and Logic o f the Bible (2 vols.
C am bridge, 1984, 1986).
19 T here are exceptions to this generalization; the Saturnalia o f Macrobius disguises
its function as a com m entary by appearing to be a D ia lo g u e in w hich a n u m b e r o f
speakers discuss the Aeneid, calling each other s attentions to its beauties.
20 Beryl Smalley, ‘Two Biblical Commentaries o f Simon o f H esdin’, Rech. Thiol,
anc. med. 13 (1946) and her Bible, pp. 32iff. See C axton on glossing Cicero’s De
Senectute in Caxton’s Own Prose, pp. 120-3 on im proving the original while
preserving it. See also Rene Sturel, Jacques Amyot (Paris, 1908), pp. 221-2 on
Laurent de Premierfait and, on the whole question, pp. 187-267.
21 Sce Smalley, Bible, p. 321. M odem interpretation has n o t resolved the issue. The
Douai Bible called the weed ‘cockles’, the N ew English Bible ‘darnel’. For a
homely example which would compel instant recognition in the pastoral
audience, this has generated self-defeating quantities o f scholarship.
22 Discussed, for example, by George Cam pbell in A Translation of the Four Gospels
with Notes (London, 1789), p. 346.
23 That this is a remarkably tendentious defence o f pagan literature w hich merely
asserts the identity o f the ‘Israelites’ as well as their failings should not escape
notice, but it may be taken as evidence o f the e x tre m ity o f the need to legitimate
the reading of pagan literature. R o g e r R a y , ‘Bede and C ice ro ’, Anglo-Saxon
England 16 (1987). 2—3. ‘The smiths are those w h o p ro d u ce secular literature.
Israel possesses only divine literature . . .’, CHB, p. 183.
24 Rivkah Zim, English Metrical Psalms (C am bridge, 1987) discusses translation as
imitation, chs. 1 and 2. This is also the case w ith D o u g la s’s translation o f the
Aeneid, as Priscilla Baw cutt show s in her Gavin Douglas: A Critical Study
(Edinburgh, 1976), chs. 4 and 5.
5 Sed voces significant res intellectus, id enim voce significam u s q u o d intellig>inU5’
Q 8j.art.2.obj,3.
 N o te s to p a g e s 1 9 9 -2 0 1 281

M Nims, 'Translation “ D iffic u lt Statem en t” in M edieval Poetic

26 Di5CliSSCd v l iv eTSity o f T o ro n to Q u a r t e r ly 43 ( » 9 7 4 ) , 2 1 5 - 3 0 .
T h e ° ry ’ ta n tu m d e b e m u s in h a e re rc im p r o p r i e ta ti v e r b o ru m v e rita te m tegenti,
27 •Sed n o n ^ p r o p r ie ta ti v e rita tis su b m u lt i m o d o g e n e re lo c u tio n e m laten ti’,
^ " 7 the L atin uses te c h n ic a l la n g u a g e o f in te r p r e ta tio n w h ic h the English
the same m etaphor). D e Casu Diaboli, in S. Anselm i Cantuarens
disguises (to use
A rchiepiscopi O p e r a O m n i a 1 e d . F. S. S c h m itt (E d in b u rg h , N e lso n , i 946), p .
235' trans. Ja sp e r H o p k in s a n d H e r b e r t R i c h a r d s o n , Truth, Freedom, and Evil:
Three Philosophical Dialogues by Anselm o f Canterbury (ny , H a rp e r T o rchbooks,
1967), P- H 9 - W h e n A n s e lm q u o te s th e B ib le in his p ra y ers an d m editations,
a p p are n tly fro m m e m o r y , h e se e m s u n c o n c e r n e d to q u o te exactly, and the
q u o ta tio n s b e c o m e a tissu e o f a llu sio n , as i f in so m e instances, like p raying from
the h e a rt, th e a c tu a l w o r d s d id n o t m a tte r . See The Prayers and Meditations of St
Anselm, ed. a n d tra n s . B . W a r d ( H a r m o n d s w o r t h , 1973), in tro .
28 ‘E t p a r m o n c o n se il, ta n t q u e tu p o u r r a s tu liras les livres en latin, car tu es
a u c u n e m e n t fo n d e e n c le rg ie . E t soies c e rta in s q u e se tu te delicteras a lire le latin
une h y sto ire o u e n s e ig n e m e n s te p la ir o n t m ie u lx au cu er que dim ie dozeim e
d ’y sto ires e n fra n c o y s. C a r la sa in c te e s c rip tu re , e sc rip te e t dictee par les sains en
latin e t d e p u is tra n s la te e e n fra n c o is, n e r e n t pas telle substance aux lisans es
ruisseaux c o m m e elle fa it e n sa p r o p r e fo n ta y n e . Q u e l M erveille! car il y a en la
sainte e s c rip tu re c e rta in s e t p lu sie u rs m o tz en latin q u i d u lisant percent le cuer en
g ra n t d e v o c io n , le s q u e l tra n s la te z e n fra n c o is se tre u v e n t en vulgal sans saveur et
sans d e le c ta c io n . P h ilip p e d e M e z ie res, Le Songe du Vieil Pelenn, ed. G. W.
C o o p la n d ( C a m b r id g e , 1969), n .2 2 2 —3. T h e tran slatio n into English hides the
casually se n su a l m e ta p h o rs fo r p lea su re th a t th e F rench uses.
29 O n n e x tirp e p a s ces q u a lite z o rig in e lle s, o n les c o u v re, on les cache. Le langage
latin m est c o m m e n a tu re l, j e l’e n te n s m ie u x q u e le Francis; mais il y a quarante
ans q u e j e n e m ’e n suis d u t o u t p o in c t se rv y a parler, n y a escrire; si est-ce que a des
e x tre m e s e t so u d a in e s e s m o tio n s o u j e suis to m b e d eu x ou trois fois en m a vie, et
1 u n e , v o y e n t m o n p e re t o u t sain se re n v erse r sur m oy, pasme, j ’ay tousjours
eslance d u fo n d des e n tra ille s les p re m ie rs paroles Latines; nature se surdant et
s e x p r im a n t a fo rc e , a l’e n c o n tre d ’u n lo n g usage.' M ichel de M ontaigne, Essais,
m .ii (D u re p e n tir) (P aris, G a m ie r F la m m a rio n , 1969), p 26. The following
q u o ta tio n a p p e a rs o n p. 21. M o n ta ig n e presents h im self in his private state, as an
e x a m p le o f th e w h o le h u m a n c o n d itio n . H e contrasts himselt to au th e u rs, that
*s, a u th o ritie s , w h o p re m ise w h a t th ey have to say upon marks o f something
e x c e p tio n a l o r stra n g e ; o n ly his articulateness about himselt singles him outj ^
sense o f h im s e lf as an e x am p le w h ich can be interpreted, j

of - »U » ; 7 * .
testimony is rare, as Montaigne knew perfectly^ ^ Repenting ('Du
O n R e p e n tin g
his re a d e rs, as w h e n , at the beg in n in g o f this essay,
 N o tes to p a g e s 2 0 1 -7
282
repentir') h e d e s c r ib e s h.s intention to present him self as h.m self rather than as a
grammarian, poet, or le g a l philosopher ( ‘ p a r w o n estre un.versel, com m c M ichel
d e Montaigne, non comme grammarien, ou poete, ou ju n co n su lte ’).
jo ‘Langagis, whos rcuiis ben not writen, as ben E n glisch , Frensch , and m anye
othere, ben chaungid withynne 3cris and cuntrees, that oon m an o f o on cuntre
and o f o o n c y m e . my3t not. or schuldc not ktm ne undirstonde a m an o f the othere
kuntre, and o f t h e othere tyme; and al for this, that the seid langagis ben n o t stabilj
and foundamentali w riten’, R eginald Peacock, T h e B o o k o f F a i t h , qu o ted J. p
Patrouch, J r , R e g in a ld P e a c o c k (NY, 1970), PP- 47~ 8-
j, D e fn ih u s i.ii; n.iv; w .ii, tv, x ii and
D is p u t a t i o n s iv .v -v i. Cicero o ften
refers to G reek literature and assum es that the interlocutors o f h is Dialogues (ancj
by i m p l i c a t i o n h is readers) k n o w th e references in the originals; he frequently
discusses p a rt ic u la r G r e e k w o rd s.
,2 S e e 'M a i s t r e N i c o l e O r e s m e , L e L i i ’ r e d e Y c o n o m iq u e d ’ A r i s t o t e ’ , c d . A . D . M en
5 « ....... - y f'h e NA m
, C eCr lic a n P h i lo s o p h i c a l S o c i e t y , n . s . 47 (1957),
p h i l o 781-924 jntf
s o p h ic a lSo ,,,,,, r. 47 ( '9
„ * , D c c t , r f . E V. H itc h c o c k , o. 164
Reginald Peco , ^ ^ ^ fam iliarity w ith the so u rce lan g u a g e is i
(London, 1924). P- ’ forcc and d ecline fro m d e lib e ra te ‘referring’
these
thZ :
references
: ? Z
3 ‘ 5 ° n ‘^
t norm^al expressions
e x p r e s s io n s w ith
w ith nn oo vv aalu
lu ee as
as signals
signals toto anot
another
oddities o f style to n o r ^ a d d u ce as a p a ra n ei th e a b so rp tio n o f loan

h n 7 Z h Z ™ J s l f i < l inno v atio n , w h e th e r a t th e w o r d o r p h ra se level, rapidly

c ® « - o e l l attention to itse lf Success is p e rh a p s n e v e , so su b je c tiv e a tneasute as
it is in aesthetic m atters.
n T h i s is probably an audien ce-cen tred h u m ility to p o s w h ic h ta c itly defends both

the existence and style o f the translation. T h a t is, b y p o s in g as in te n d e d fo r readers

as s i m p le a n d ign o ran t as w o m e n , m u c h o f its o w n s im p lic ity b e c o m e s defensible.
B y the same to k e n , th is m ad e it an im p o r ta n t ta r g e t f o r m a n ip u la tio n o fits glosses
for Lollards w ho had ten d e n tio u s v iew s o f w h a t th e te x t re a lly m ea n t.
34 ThePsalteror Psalms ofDavid and Certain Canticles with a Translation and Exposition
inEnglish, ed. H. R. Bramley, (Oxford, 1884), pp. 4 -5 . 1have lightly modernized
and punctuated. Note the rhetorical stress on profitability. For a medieval
German dual language text o f The Song of Songs see CHB, 424. For an Occitan
example, Albert Henry, ‘Traduction en oil du troisieme sermon sur le Cantique
des Cantiques', in Medieval French Textual Studies in Memory of T. B. W. Reid, ed.
Ian Short (London, 1984), pp. 54-64. Art in Plantagenet England, ed. Jonathan
Alexander and Paul Binski (London, 1987), p. 236 for a bilingual mass book. See
also A. Grafton and L.Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities (London, 1986),
chs. 1and 3. in what follows 1am grateful to m y colleague, Dr David Pearl, fo
interpreting and translating the original H ebrew texts.
; Wyatt s Psalm translations also imbed the psalm in a narrative voice w
explains h o w to read them. See Zim, ch. 2.
 N otes to pages 209-1 5 283

however, that ignorance o f Latin did not mean stupidity,

36 Orcsme e" ’^ a^ Blblc translating for intelligent secular readers. See Monfrin,
and ju stify ^ ° Traduction ^ Moyen A g e’ j ounlai des Savants I4g I?J
‘Humanisrne e^ 56
£(hi(.S) quoted pp. 17 - - For another approach, using
and s i m i l a r ^ translation, see Peter F. Dembowski, ‘Learned Latin
the ,dCa °n Frcnch; inspiration, Plagiarism, and Translation’, Viator 17 (1986),
Treatises ^ ^ <T w o o l d French Recasting/Translations of Andreas
255_66 an
Capellanus s u e in Medieval Translators and their Craft, ed. Jeanette Beer
(Kalamazoo, M ic h ig a n , 1 9 8 9 ). P P - i 8 5 212.
See Aurora: A Twelfth-century Latin Poem by Petrus Riga, Canon of Reims (Notre
37 D am e U n iv e rsity Press, 1965). A v erse ad aptatio n b y Mace de la Charite has been
blished by a team o f editors under the direction of J. R. Smeets, La Bible de
Mace de la Charitk (Leiden, 1982-). N o doubt authors were moved by more than
one ambition, and a motive to outdo secular vernacular poetry on its home
ground was one o f them. See Smalley, Bible, pp. 179-80 for Peter’s translation of
earlier Bible glosses as part o f his ow n text.
38 La Bible dejehan Malkaraume, ed.J. R . Smeets, 2 vols. (Amsterdam, 1978). This is
a late thirteenth- or early fourteenth-century verse adaptation of the Bible stories
organized on the model o f the universal chronicle, that is, it treats the Bible as a
historical narrative. Jehan adapts speeches just as any historian might, including
putting a version o f O vid’s monologue for Medea (Metamorphoses Vix.9—89) into
the m outh o f Potiphar’s wife (vv.2705-2898), pp. 32ff and notes pp. 265-71; he
uses the fountain o f Narcissus for the well at which Rebecca met Abraham s
messenger (pp. 45—6). Jehan is also one of the adapters of Benoit’s Roman de Troie,
which suggests that he was a vernacular popularizer of history.
39 C H B , 425-6. Vernacular saints’ lives which translate Latin originals show similar
patterns. R obert W ace’s twelfth-century La Vie de Sainte Marguerite, ed. E. A.
Francis (CFMA.) (Paris, 1932) prints the French and Latin texts in parallel and
offers a convenient comparison. Wace's La Conception de Notre Dame is a more
ambitious redaction-translation; see Francis, pp. xiv-xvi. There is a survey of
some late German translations in Patricia A. McAllister, Apocryphal Na
elements in the Genesis o f the Middle Low German Historienbibel Helmstedt
611.1 , in Medieval Translators and their Craft, ed. Jeanette Beer (Kalamazoo,
Michigan, 1989), pp. 81-92.
40 C otton N ero a . x, the manuscript in which the four poems appear, contains
num erous pointing hands to alert readers to important moments, The addition ot
‘n ota’ or ‘nota bene’ signals is common. See, for example, Jill Mann, Vsetigrimus
(Leiden, Brill, 1987), p. 53 for manuscripts which call attention to extractable

proverbial wisdom
41 For an extreme case see the discussion of the cento of Lipsius in Graft
Jardine, H u m a n is m to H u m a n itie s , pp. 196-9-
 N o te s to p a g cs 2 1 5 - 1 9
284
Traduction', 161-90. This article was followed
42 Jacques Monfnn. Humamsmc ^ Francc au Moyen Age’, 149 (1964), S-20.
by 'Les Traductcurs e t lcurs P 0f the translations made and some o f the
Together they form an excc Thcrc js a chaptcr on the law and literacy in R .
problems wh,c^ a r o ^ o m ^ ^ (Cambridge, .989) wh.ch
McK.tter.ck, T C ]aw had first to find its way in to L atin,
provides a rem. Ita|ian in the mid-sixteenth century by P ietro
43 many times and in many editions, as, indeed, was the case w ith

44 n 'e " C a m b r id g e H i * * , o f R enaissance P h ilo s o p h y , ed. C . B. S c h m itt et al.

(C a m b rid g e . . 9 8 8 ). ' + FP 8 9 4 - 4 0 2 . 7 7 7 8.
4j pp 8 8 ^ 0 io 8_
Cam bridge H isto ry o f R enaissance P h .lo so p h y
j
4 ‘Prisnan says in a httle book that he made about the poetry o f T erence, that o f all
the languages in the world Latm is the most skilful to express h.s thoughts best
and most nobly . . . and as it happens that at the present tim e Latm is a more
perfect and more copious language than French, by the strongest reason one
cannot correctly translate all Latm into French, as m ay appear fro m a m ong many
examples this proposition: hom o est animal . . . therefore I m ust be excused if I
do not speak o f this m atter as well, as clearly, o r as orn ately as was his craft.’
Quoted by G. W. Coopland, N ic o le O r e s m e a n d th e A s tr o lo g e r s (L iverpool, 1952),
p. 182 n. 14. B er t Hansen, N ic o le O resm e and th e M a r v e ls o f N a tu r e (T oronto,
1985). Oresme was by no means alone as a translator o f the Ethics; th ere is a partial
translation inserted in B runetto Latini's T reso r a b o u t 1268 w h ic h adapts
Hermannus Alemannus’ T r a n s la tio A l e x a n d r i a . A nd see M o n frin , ‘T rad u c tio n ’.
47 See Monfrin, ‘Traduction , p. 1 73 -
48 This manner of treating vernacular translations spread. Douglas’s translation of
Virgil’s Aenetd mimics this presentation as a commented text divided into
distinctiortes. So Laurent de Premierfait divides Cicero into distinctiones. It
amounts to a claim that difficulty is appropriate. Similar claims have been made
for Chaucer, as byJ udson Boyce Allen and T. A. M oritz in their A Distinction of
Stories: The Medieval Unity o f Chaucer’ s Fair Chain o f Narratives for Canterbury
(Columbus, Ohio, 1981), where the main model cited is O v id ’s Metamorphoses.
Jacques Bauchant, translator o f Seneca, complained, ‘Ja soit ce que ce livre soit
petit cn escripture, toutefois il m ’a este assez duret en translation, tant pour ce que
je n’ay peu trouber vrais exemplaires ne du tout semblables mais les uns plus
contenans et autrement que les autres, tant pour ce que le stile est grief et estrange
quant a moy . . quoted by Monfrin, ‘T rad u ctio n ’, pp. 18-19.
To your royal majesty, very noble prince, by the grace o f God king of the
French, Philippe the fourth, I Jean de M eung, w ho once in the Rom ance of the
Rose where Jealousy put Good W elcome in prison, taught ho w to take the castle
2nd pluck the Rose and translated from Latin into French Vegetius's book of
 N otes to pages 2 1 9 - 2 6 285

Gf the Marvels of Ireland and the Life and Letters of Peter

Chivalry and the B oo and A lfred’s Book of Spiritual Friendship, now
A belard and his 1
of Bocthius which have translated from Latin into French,
send the ^ “ ^ j ^ r s t a n d Latin well, nevertheless it is much easier to understand
1
AUh°h dtan°Latin. And since you have said to me - which take as an order - to
FrCnC‘ nine of the author without following the words of the Latin too
losel I have done it according to my small skill just as your grace commanded
1
C^ to So beg all those who will see this book, if it should seem to them that in
some places I have gone too far from the words of the author, that they will
forgive me. For if I had fitted the French word for word to the Latin, the book
would have been too obscure to lay men and clerks, even the least learned, would
not easily have been able to understand the Latin by the French.’ V. L. Dedeck-
Hery, ed., Boethius’ De Consolatione by Jean de Meun, in Mediaeval Studies 14
(1952), 168. And see A. J. Minnis, Medieval Theory of Authorship for analysis of
this kind of preface and its relation to the problem of authority.
50 See Fabrizio Beggiato, ed., Le Lettere di Abelardo ed Eloisa nella traduzione dijean de
Meun (Modena, STEM-Mucchi, 1977). 2 vols. The Introduction (vol. 11) gives
numerous examples o f Jean’s amplifications.
51 As analysed by Richard A. Dwyer, Boethian Fictions: Narratives in the Medieval
French Versions of the Consolatio Philosophiae (Cambridge, Mass., Medieval
Academy of America, 1976). See also The Medieval Boethius: Studies in the
Vernacular Translations of De Consolatione Philosophiae, ed. A. J. Minnis
(Cambridge, 1987).
52 From the Epilogue to The Boke of the Consolation of Philosophic, quoted from
Caxton’ s Own Prose, ed. N. F. Blake (London, 1973), pp. 59-60. On the difficulty
of Livy see Jean Rychner, ‘Observations sur la traduction de Tite-Live par Pierre
Bersuire (13 54-56)’,Journal des Savants 148 (1963), 257. Rychner accuses Bersuire
of incompetence.
3
5 Blake, Caxton’s Own Prose, p. 121.
54Modem editions have until recently suppressed the accompanying glosses in
medieval and early modem books. The Ellesmere Manuscript of Chaucer s
Canterbury Tales contains detailed glosses which comment on the text while
appearing often simply to supply the sources of quotations and references. For a
detailed survey of the arguments, see Susan SchibanofF, ’The New Reader and
Female Textuality in Tw o Early Commentaries on Chaucer’ in Studies in the Age
of Chaucer 10 (1988) 71-108.
55 Discussed by George Steiner, After Babel.
56 Francis Kynaston translated Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde into Latin
produced an accompanying commentary for it. See Richard Beadle s c A
Chaucer Traditions, ed. R. Morse and B. A. Windeatt (Cambridge ^
57 Jacques Monfrin quotes a number of these prefaces. And see C
19
Literature as Recreation in the Later Middle Ages (Ithaca, s-2)-
 N o te s to p a g « 2 2 6 -3 5
286
, 1 7 3 -5 F o r a m o r e d e ta ile d
58 J. M o n fr in , ■ H um an,m e et ^ ^ ^ o n t m e n t a t o r s , see C . C . W illa r d ,
e x a m in a tio n o f R a o u l's w o r k an ine-s D e Civitate De, m M e d i a l
‘R a o u l de Presles’s tran slation o f Sain
T r a n s la t o r s ’ , PP 3 ^ 6 - r/lf M a r t y r 0J t h e R e n a i s s a n c e 1 5 0 8 - , 5 4 6
50 R ic h a rd C o p le y C h n s tie . E t t e n ^ ^ ^ TradMire T u n e lo n g u e e n a u tr e

(L o n d o n , .899) E tien n " D o lC t' irc n lc n ts w e r e th a t th e tra n s la to r m u s t first

(Paris, .540). V o l e t ’ s fiv e req' , w e ll. n e x t th a t h e m u s t h a v e p e rfe c t
un derstand the o rig in a l te x t ( a ,th o u g h h e m u s t n o t tra n s la te w o r d - f o r -
command o f both languages. ^ >rd and idea order in so far as possible,
word he must preserve his au cxisting in the target language and adapt
fourth that he must find w or absolutely necessary, fifth that he must
from the source lanS“ ag' (his contains good sense about accuracy, it begms
imitate the original style. .accuracy ’ entails close adherence to w ords and
from the modern perspective^ a ^ probjems o f text-and-gloss. N o r does it
sense, without thinking a ou (he old texts as one o f constant
consider the relation between the

reference. Gf Troy contains many things w hich are no t to be

6o ‘Because the rhymed r o m a n c e ^ made it could not otherw ise beautifully have
found in the Latin (because w ithout rh y m e the history of
made his rhymes), <J ean 0 ^ jntQ rom ance w ord for w o rd just as I have
the Trojans and o f o f the llbrary o f m y lord St P eter o f C o rb ie’, Li
found it in one 0 , , „ de Flixcourt, 1262 ed. G. H all (University
^ I» 0 . P - hue-chi xteenj-
o f London unpu ]earned D om inican G eoffrey o f W aterfo rd with
T h Z o^ServaisCopale survives, like jean's, in only one m anuscript, and seems

- h, vt
4I study see C. Davsd Benson. The of Toy in Middle
English Literature (W oodbr.dge, Suffolk, 1980).

5 TEXTS A N D P R E - T E X T S

, For a detailed survey of the legends o f Aeneas in the Middle Ages, see Jerome E
Singerman, Unde, Cloud, of Poe,,: Poe,,, end Trull, in French and Engirt*
Reworkings of the Acneid, 1160-1513 im ' l 9 %56)-
2 Eneas: Roman du Xlle Stick, ed. J.-J. Salverda de Grave, CFM A, 2 vols (Pans,
repr. .964); see now the essays collected in Relire le ’Roman d’Eneas, ed. Jean
Dufoumet (Paris, 1985). .
j Virgil's Aeneid Translated into Scottish Verse, ed. D . F. C. C oldw ell, STS, * ^
(Edinburgh, 1957-64). I have discussed Douglas in greater detail in
 N o te s to p a g « 23 5 45 287

, „ flo w a n dj v,a|m
D am .y
v strand’ in Chaucer Traditions ed.
D ouglas: O f f E lo q u e n c e * * 95
(C a m b rid g e , I K». PP- 107-21.
p .u th M orse an d B A ^ Eniertainments (C h ic a g o , )-1977
4 crc Nancy Partner,\ \ 'oSerious
T T i C t l t trails, v. A G uarino (London, 1964), p. xxxviii.

5 Concerning Famous ' ^ ,ihri ,wvem (Vienna, 1 544

) U 'ld many later editions],
6 De Casibus Virorum " s u ? 3 ^ (Girt m any later editions], Laurent de
p c Claris M u h e" us ^ oble!: yqommes el Femmes, B ook 1, ed. P. M. Gathercolc
premierfait’s De ^ * ‘Lydgale-s Fall o f Princes, ed. H. Bergen, E E T S e. s. 121-4
(Chapel Hill. N C , 1 extracts from b o th the Latin and French sources.
(London, ^ ^ ^ “ volnmcs w ill be in brackets in the text.)
(R efe re n ces^ ^ ^ ^ impulse, like Bcrsuire’s extravagant multiplication of
7 Extreme e moralized Ovid, have tended to be seen as part of a purely

- *■ * - * * * •
The Testament o f Cresse id, in The Poems o f Robert Henry son, ed. Denton Fox
(Oxford, 1981). 11.64—70.
' texts are slightly adapted from Hans Tischler, The Manuscript
9 Montpellier H 196. A New Transcription, I- III (Madison, Wise., 1978), p. 85 owe .1
this reference - and the careful explication d’ intertextualite which accompanied it -
to Professor W u lf Arlt.
 I N D E X

Abelard, P eter, 116, 168, 17° influence of, 15s, 157

Abingdon C h ro n ic le r, 89 Lives o f C uthbert, 152, 153
A d H e r r e n i u m , 24
Beethoven, 81—2
Aesop, 18, 40 Benoit de Ste. M aure, 52, 103, 227,
A ilred o f R ie v a u lx , 89 235
A lcuin, 154 Bernard o f Chartres, 38
allegory, 4, 3 I _ 2 > 3 <>, 4 2 Bernardus Silvestris, 31
anecdotes, 163 Bible, 16, 22, 36, 99-100, 165, 184-5,
A n g lo -S a x o n C h ro n ic le , 99 233
A nselm , De Casu Diaboli, 200 Apocryphal Gospels, 185, 209
A p h th o n iu s, 20, 129 as referring text, 185
A p o c ry p h al R o m a n c e s , 148 Chronicles, 107
A quinas, T h o m a s , 199, 217 Exodus, 198
A ristotle Rhetoric, 15 tra n s la tio n s of, Genesis, 28
2x7 Glossed, 28, 195, 196, 223
A rth u r, K in g , 6, 71 Jeremiah, 153
Asser, 162 M atthew, 197
audience, 65, 1 0 3 -4 , 148, 182, 188, Psalms, 68, 198
190, 202, 209, 238, 255 Psalter, 8, 37, 204-6
Augustine, 8, 86, 193, 196 Samuel, 198
De Civitate D ei, 226 Septuagint, 194, 203
Confessions, 29 Song o f Songs, 33
De Doctrina Christiana, 27 Talmud, 26
De Trinitate, 179 translations of, 12, 191, 193, 202,
Augustine, influence of, 170 209-10, 216
Austen, Jane, 85 biography, 6, 92, 125 ( s e e e n c o m i u m )
authority, 3, 15, 40, 42, 102, 105, 139, biography (defined), 128
144. 156, 207, 212, 216, 231, 233, Blake, William, M a r r i a g e o f H e a v e n
238, 242, 243 and H e ll, 21
attitudes to, 1, 7, 281 Boccaccio, Giovanni, 55, 102, 132,
deferral, 108 159, 180, 189, 191, 227
invented, 197, 239 Boethius, translations of, 218, 219
autobiography, 43, 149, 170 Borges, 247
Bromyard, John, 243, 254
Bacon, Francis, 23, 6 s, 71
Becket, Thomas, 36, 109, x 5 5 . X7d, Caique, 204
Capgrave, John, 1
275 C a rm en de H a s tin g a e P r o e lio , 120
B e d e, 10, 47, 76, 90. 9 4 . u 3 . IX4 . ' 3 7 .
139, I J I , 161, 180, 203, 238, 262 C a r m in a B ura n a, 39

289
 Index
290
C l o u d o f U n k n o w i n g , 1 16
C a ssio d o ru s, 24 commentary, 24, 26, 27, 31-34, 36,
C a to , D is tic h s , 38 -40 . 179 7 6 , 180, 193. 2 2 5. 234
C a tu llu s, 18 C o m m y n e s , P h ilip p e d e , 118
C a x to n , W illia m , 1 9 1 c o m p le x io n , s e e c h a r a c te r, 17 5
P reface to C h a u c e r, B oece. 2 2 0 C r o y l a n d C h r o n ic l e , 11 8
P reface to m o ra lize d O v id , 32 C u lp e p e r , T h o m a s , 2 1 6
character, 5 1, 6 1. 1 51 ■ 155
ages o f m an . 176 D a n ie l, W a lte r , 155
as a rgu m en t, 37. 74 D a n te , 24, 133. 22 1
depression, 277 D a res, 9 7 , 9 «
passions, 15. 19. 33. 34. 73. 93. 99.
d e p ressio n , 17 2
100, 112 , 163, 174- ' 74- r77
d e s c r ip tio , 7 2
rep orted speech, 1 2 1
d esire, as m e ta p h o r , 173
rh etorical e th o s, 2 1, 57. 62. I00, I0 ^'
d ia lo g u e , 1 1 3 , 1 53» I 72, 1 7 4 , 2 0 3 , 2 2 9 ,
123, 14 1, 160, 174. *77 232 s a y in g s , 140
vices, 163, 176
d ig lo s s ia , 204
virtues, 140, 143
d is p o s itio , 15 4
w o rk s, 160, 162
ch aracter (d efin ed ), 174 disposition, (see character), 175
ch aracter o f a g re a t m an , 12 7, 128, distinctiones, 184
133, 136, 144, 16 1, 1 7 1 , 174. *76. Dolet, Etienne, 226, 230
269, 176 p h y sica l d e sc rip tio n , 113 , Donatus, 20, 24, 27
114, 133 Douglas, Gavin, 27, 224, 235
6
Charlemagne, , 145, 1 . 160, I®1 59 dreams, 26, 55, 172, 211
Charles I, King o f England, 138
Chastellain, Georges, 88 Eadmer, 157
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 131. 171, 241. 253, eephrasis (see descriptio), 71
258 Edward I, K ing o f England, 119
Boece, 220 Einhard, 145 Life o f Charlemagne, 158,
Book of the Duchess, 26 160-2 preface 159
Knight's Tale, 33 Eliot, T. S., 18, 207
Sun’s Priest's Tale, 39, 41-2 Elizabeth I, Q ueen o f England, 123, 130
Parlement of Fowles, 35 em bellishm ent (see rhetorical
Troilus and Criseyde, 36, 63, 67, 197, invention)
236, 238, 239 encomium, 159, 160 (see genre,
Wife of Bath, 74 rhetorical genres) w orks, 133
Chretien de Troyes, 73, 177 Encomium Emmae Reginae, 139
Christina of Markyate, 136, 149-31, funeral oratio n , 128
171 schema for, 129-31
Christine de Pizan, 171 Erasmus, 20, 38, 53, 63, 69, 96
chronicle (see history), 33
Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 7, 23, 26, 38, Fantosm e, Jo rd a n , 89
53, 63, 183, 186, 188
Felix o f C ro y la n d , 1s 5
Ad Atticam, 58
fiction, 5
De finihus, 204
dangers of, 10, 27, 92, 93, 18°
De legihus, 86
Of o p t im a g e n e r e o r a io r u m , 187
Froissart, Jean , 88, 112, 11 . I2 - I24’ 3 3
177, 180 trans. L o rd Berners, m
D e senectute, trans. of, 221
Fourth Tusculan, 187 204
FVo Milone, 36, 129 ” 4 Gainsford, Thomas, 68
genre, 1 1 ,1 5 ,3 0 ,4 5 ,7 5 .8 1 .10*. 24° ’ 24
 291
In d e x

H e ro d o tu s, 86, 91, . 93 94. 97. 98

biography, 12 H ig d en , R a n u lp h , 262
com plaint, 71 Historia Ecclesiae Dunhelm ensis, 117
c o n s o la t io , 169 h isto ry , 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 11
D e Casibus, 167, 236 closeness to p o etry , 96
debate literature, 5 6 , ° 7 m odel texts, 89, 90
demande d’ amour, 54
sources co m m o n report, 95, 96, n o
dialogue, 26, 200
154 (see rhetorical exercises)
e n c o m iu m , 82
h istory, m odel texts, 164, 165
epic, 22, 46. 9r > 98- 1 1 6 , 14 8 , 2 3 4
H occleve, T hom as, 171, 172
essays, 116
fable, 33. 4°, 4L 44. 80
H olinshed, 121
fabliau, 5 H olinshed, R alp h , Chronicles, 121
history, 23, 33 chronicle, 100 H o m er, 17, 22, 98
history (defined), 6 H orace, 31, n o
letters, 78, 96, 113—16, 168, 170, 254 H u g o , V ictor, Quatrevingtreize, 54
Lives, 12, 92
lyric poetry, 78 Interpretatio n , 9, 10, 27, 36, 44, 170,
pastoral, 29, 45, 46 180, 181, 194. 198, misreading,
Planctus, 58, 119, 242 211, 243
rom ance, 5, 15, 88, 92, 148 Isidore o f Seville, 97
saint’s life, 5, 128, 138, 141, 147
sermon, 82 Jean de Flixecourt, 228
tragedy, 91, 98 Jean de M eung, 116, 218
Geoffrey o f M o n m o u th , 47, 48, 63, Jerom e, 8, 27, 86, 135, 147, 193, 196,
89, 100, 103, n o , 226, 267 270
Gervase o f C anterbury, 89, 101 John o f Garland, 29
Gesta Stephani, 117 John o f London, Commendatio
Gibbon, E dw ard, 144 Lamentabilis, 119
Gildas, 261, 267 John o f Salisbury, 36, 38, 90, 107, 275
gloss, 192, 197 authorial, 221, 224 (see Johnson, Samuel Lives o f the English
com m entary) Poets, 126 Rambler, 125, 126
Glossa Ordinaria, 28, 195 Rasselas, 134
Greene, R o b ert, 55, 56 Joinville, Life o f St Louis, 164
Guerre, M artin, and com m entary, 24 Jonson, Ben, 54
G uibert o f N ogent, 170, 261 Julian o f Norwich, 211
Guido delle C olonne, Historia Juvenal, 18
Destructionis Troiae, 52, 103, 105,
227, 228, 235 K e m p e , M a r g e ry , 1 7 1 , 176
K ip lin g , R u d y a r d , J u s t S o S to r ie s. 6 4
h a g io g ra p h ie s , 164
H e lio d o ru s , A e t h i o p i c a , 15 L a F o n ta in e , J ea n , 40
H e lise n n e d e C re n n e , 172 L a jm a n , so
H e lo ise, 116, 168, 170 L a n g la n d , W ill, 2 1 1
H e n ry I, K in g o f E n g la n d , 162 anti-
L a u r e n t d e P re m ie rfa it. 167, 189, 236
L e te v r e , R a o u l, 191
encomium of, 1
le x is , 183, 1 9 4 . 206, 213
H e n ry IV , K in g o f E n g la n d , 118
L 'H i s t o i r e a n a e n n e ju s q u 'A C esa r, 227
H e n ry o f H u n tin g d o n , 1
H e n ry V, K in g o f E n g la n d 120 121
L i F ee J e s R e m a i n s . 97. 9*
L ib e r Eliensis, 117
H e n ry VII. K ing o f E n g la n d , 68. 100
lite ra tu re, 80
H e n r y s o n , R o b e r t , 14 0 , 1 4 1 Fables. 4 1 . 44
 Index
292

‘Nennius’, 110
Livy, 9 1, 93, 94. 106 translations of,
Notker, 162
261
Louis XI, King o f France, 106. 118 Opicinus de Canistris, 172
Lucan, 98, 165, 261, 265, 267 oration, 54- 4. *32, 133
Pharsalia, n o, 116 demonstrative, 57
Lucan, influence of, 117 epideictic, 59
Lydgate, John. 167, 189, 19°. 236, 237
judicial, 55
parts o f an, 59-62
Macaulay, Thomas Babbington, 7
oratory, 9, 18-9. 34. 42. 47. 65, 129,
Machiavelli, 106 130, 156, 186, 187
Macrobius, 34 Orderic Vitalis, 1, n o , 165
Saturnalia, 26, 33
Oresme, Nicole, 215, 217, 226
Malkaraume, Jchan, 209
Ormulum, 209
Malory, Thomas, 58, 70, 71
Orwell, George, Animal Farm, 41
Map, Walter, 261
Otloh, 172
Marche, Olivier de la, 88
Marie de France, 211, 220 Fables, 41, Ovid, 7, 18, 19. 29 Heroides, 34
Metamorphoses, 31
43 Ovide Moralise, 32
Martianus Cappella, 24
Matthew o f Vendome, 72
Matthew'of Westminster, 100, 101, panegyric (see rhetorical exercises,
encomium)
103
Melusine, translation of, 188 Persius, 18
metaphor, 173, 223 spatial, 3, 5, 33, Peter Comestor, 209
73, 192, 193, 199, 201, 210 Peter Lombard, Sentences, 27, 205
Mezieres, Philippe de, 200 Peter of Langtoft, 89
Milton, John Areopagitica, 56 Peter o f Riga, 209
‘L Allegro’, 70 Paradise Lost, 21, Peterborough Chronicle, 117
57 Petrarch, 86, 102, 262
mimesis (see representation) Phillipe de Commynes, 106, 130
Mirror for Magistrates, 167 Piccolomini, Aeneas Silvius, 172
model texts, 16, 17, 19, 29, 43, 84, Plato, 16, 136 Apology, 41 Republic, 93
116, 144, 180 Plutarch, 59
modistic logicians, 278 Polybius, 130
Monstrelet, Enguerrand de, 119, 123, Priscian, 20, 24, 27, 43
124 Progymnasmata see rhetorical exercises,
Montaigne, Michel de, 172, 173, 201
More, Thomas, 163, 166, 167, 176,
96 97
,

215 Quintilian, Institutio Oratorio, 7, 18, 53,

mores (see character), 128 60-1, 91
motive (see character, rhetorical ethos)
Ralph Diceto, 89 109
narrative, verisimilar, 149, 150, IS1. Raoul des Presles, 226
152
realism, 152
narrative indeterminacy, 53, 80, 98,
realism (see style, representation), 12
102, 149,
ethos, 139
171232
. - 233, 245, 275
reality, prelinguistic, 3, 83, 179. 181,
183, 232
narrative voice, 87, 95, 139, 143, 149,
154, 156, 168, 187, 206 reference, 5, 17, 18, 20, 83, 99, °.17
180, 187, 190, 198, 231, 232- 282
 293
Index

rhetorical term s
audience, 181 in tertex tu a , 3- amplificatio, 63
anaphora, 50
I I , 16, 39. 95. io 8 ’ r5 1 ’
R eginald o f C a n te rb u ry , i47 com m onplace, 68, 104
Reginald o f D urham . J J 4 I34> a 3 , descriptio, 271
digressio, 61, 70, 162
repreS S S mi s ^ e n u a o n , 234
dispositio, 132, 160, 169
divisio, 131, 143, 149
enthym em e, 61, 139
267 ethos, 63
rhetorical ethos, , , - H 15 84 87 8 exclam atio, 34, 132
rhetorical ethos (see also character) 10 ,
I72 (see o/so rhetorical genre), 5 hyperbole, 34
rhetorical exercises, 16, 97 irony, 34
atttplificatio, $> 7 ^43 m etaphor, 8
c/irid, 65-7, 69, 132
, HO, 153
, 276 occupatio, 101, 132, 160, 272
paronom asia, 13, 59
com m onplace, 170
70, 74, 202, 257, 272
c o m p a r a tio , parts o f a spech, 56, 59, 62, 63
69
c o n fir m a tio , pathos, 62, 91, 126
controversiae, 47, n o , 250, 265 peroratio, 133
declamation, 19, 47, 250, 254, 255 schemes, 7, 20, 76
descriptio, 145, 158, 176 o f a person, sententiae, 62, 67, 100
145 tropes, 7, 20, 76
destructio, 69 rhetorical topoi, n , 69
digressio, 154, 257 cannibalism, 117
disputation, 265 catalogues, 116
encomium, 127, 160, 190, 272 claim to be eye-witness, 105
description o f a city, 158 cross-dressing, 267 hair, 73, 118, 162
fable, 18, 40, 41 crossing a river, 52, 108
legislatio, 74 death, 106, 116, 160
narratio, 60, 64
holy, 118 kings, 118
progymnasmata, 64
descriptio, 72 description of a city, 8,
sententiae, 140
71, 109, 265 description of a
suasoriae, 22, 47, 52, n o , i n , 250 person, 72, 73 description of a
rhetorical genre place, 109, 110 acquisition of
controversiae, 54 name, n o
declamatio, 275
dreams, 271
encomium, 1, 8, 57, 59, 69, 106, 125, eve o f battle, 119, 124, 268
32
130 * , 144, 146, 147, 153, 162, good death, 8
263, 26s group dialogue, 271
epideictic speeches (see encomium), hagiographical, married celibacy,
129 150 mortification by cold water,
ethopoeia, 73 155 torture, 118
judicial oration, 56 humility, 43, 105, 106, 282
prosopopeia, 73 incest, 1 1 7
suasoriae, 54 inexpressibility, I 5 6
rhetorical invention, 1, 2, 4, 7, 9, 11, infant hero, 137
8S, 86, 87, 88, 92, 96, 98, 99, 101, m arriage, 32
103, 108, 139, 140, 238 m em o ry o f ancestors, 105. 106. ' 4 -
rhetorical style, 8 low (pastoral), 4 mutilated corpse, 118
 294 In d e x

rhetorical topoi (coni.) speeches, 5, 8, 9, 33, 47, $2, 55, 57, 73

m utilation o f pregn an t w o m e n . 1 17 Spenser, Edmund, 223 Shepheardcs
parents o f h ero. 136, 137 Calender, 24, 42, 76—7 The Faerie
praise o f ancestors, 272 Qucene, 57
prefaces, 94, 107. 142, 188, 203, 2 15 , Statius, 7 Thebaid, 3s
218, 219 . 225 need to e sc h e w Stephen, King o f England, 117
idleness, 105 w r it in g at style, 2, 15, 17, 29, 30, 43, 44, 45, 46>
co m m a n d , ros 70, 71, 80, 95, 106, 107, i 37> , 7o_
p r o p h e c y , 1 18 p ro p h e tic d re am , 244, 279
132. 136 archaizing, 22, 76, 84, 213, 217
rape, 1 17, 267 aureation, 78
royal invitation to scholar. 275 caiques. 214
speech before a battle, 119, 120, 123 crucial vocabulary, 183, J96, 214
storm at sea, 8, 116 epic similes, 35
superiority o f prose to verse, 98, 99 fabulous, 42
works, 153, 171 high, 100
Richard II, King o f England, 1 10, 1 13 historical, 91—2, 259
Richard II, Traison el Mort de, 177 low , 150
Richard III, King o f England, 104, referring register (see also reference),
118, 166 226, 230
Richard o f Devizes, 109 register, 171, 183, 204 social status, 75
Richer, 164, 165, 261, 266 verisimilar, 12, 35
Robert Manning o f Bourne, 89 Suetonius, 118, 135, 274
R obert o f Gloucester, 89 Suetonius, influence o f 159, 160
R olle, Richard, 205, 206, 208 Sulpicius Severus, 135, 140, 142, 143
Roman de Renart, 240 14 4 , 14 6 , 153, 270, 275 influence
Roman d'Eneas, 235 o f 145 Vita Martini, 141
Ruotger, 146 Susenbrotus, Johannes, 79

Sallust, 91, 98, 103, 107, 135, 141, 165, Tacitus, 165, 261, 262 Agricola, 129
267, 269 translations of, 227 annals, 52 Germania, 123
Satan, as rhetorician, 21. 62 Thebes, history of, 6
Scaliger, Julius Caesar, 72 Thegan, 162
Scott, Sir Walter, 7 Theodulus, 29 Eclogue, 45, 46
Seneca, 19, 116, 250 translations o f Theophrastan characters, 174
218 Thucydides, 92
Servius, 24 translation, 5, 20, 76, 158, 283
Shakespeare, 54 accom panim ent, 36, 205, 207
2 Henry IV , 119 as interpretation, 30
Coriolanus, 42 fluent-text, 186
Hamlet, 68, 73, 174 narrative paraphrase, 209
Henry V, 121-4 redaction, 210
Julius Caesar, 59, 60 replacem ent, 215
Sonnets, 52, 53 substitute, 36, 205
Troilus and Cressida, 236 unit of, 206, 242
Sidney, Philip, 56 72 w o rd -fo r-w o rd debate, 186-7, 197.
Sidonius Apollinaris, 145, 160, 260 199, 218-9, 228, 230, 244
Skelton, John, 166 translation (schema for medieval),
Song o f Roland 52 182
 Index
295
Webster, John 57
translation see also interpretation, 10 2 WiU, 176
translation, inertia in , 183, 193
. 216 ‘W illiam FitzStcphen’, 109
Irivet, Nicholas, 10 7 , 2 6 1
W illiam o f Malmesbury, 1, 90, 107,
Trojan War, 98
Troy, history of, 6 39
117. > , 163, 165, 180, 267
Life o f Dunstan, 157 Life of
tyranny, i<5<5 Wulfstan, 1s6
W illiam o f Moerbeke, 217
Villehardouin, 266
Virgil, 7, 8, 16, 26, 29, 38, 43, 45, 46, W illiam o f Poitiers, 164, 165
80, 98, 165, 223, 233 A e n e i d , W illiam R ufus, King o f England, 118,
2 4 S , 3i, 33
, 3 6 , 234 A e n e i d , 162, 163
trans. of, 224, 234 G e o r g i e s , 196 W illiam the Conqueror, 1, 164
W ilson, Thomas, Art o f Rheloric, 52
W ace, R o b e r t , 4 9 R o m a n d e Brw r, 4 8 , W yatt, Thom as, 41, 43, 198
31 R o m a n d e R o u , 8 9 , 9 9
W a k e f i e l d M a s te r , 2 1 0 X enephon, 136 Anabasis, 123