IN RECENT YEARS, in discussions of late-medieval literature, it has become fashionable to employ a number of critical terms which derive their meaning from modern, not medieval, literary theory.1 This practice can to some extent be interpreted as a tacit admission of defeat. There are many major aspects of medieval texts which cannot be discussed adequately in the terminology and framework of those sources of medieval rhetoric and poetic which have to date enjoyed full scholarly attention. For example, the arts of preaching are very specialised, while the arts of poetry offer practical instruction in the use of tropes, figures and other poetic devices. Neither type of source has much to say about the usual preoccupations of literary theory, namely ‘the principles of literature, its categories, criteria, and the like’.2 Faced with such apparent limitations, naturally the scholar is inclined to adopt concepts from modern literary theory, concepts which have no historical validity as far as medieval literature is concerned. Is it not better to search again, in a different range of medieval writings, for a conceptual equipment which is at once historically valid and theoretically illuminating?3
I suggest that such a range of writings is provided by the glosses and commentaries on the authoritative Latin writers, or auctores, studied in the schools and universities of the later Middle Ages (by which I mean the period extending roughly from 1100 to 1400). In particular, the prologues to these commentaries are valuable repositories of medieval theory of authorship, i.e. the literary theory centered on the concepts of auctor and auctoritas.
A medieval lecture-course on an auctor usually began with an introductory discourse in which the text would be considered as a whole, and an outline provided of those literary and doctrinal principles and criteria supposed to be appropriate to it. When the series of lectures was written down by pupils, or prepared for publication by the teacher himself, the opening lecture became the prologue to the commentary on the text. Thanks to the extensive research on the educational contexts of this textual explication carried out by such scholars as H. Marrou and P. Riché (for the late classical and early medieval periods) and P. Glorieux and M.-D. Chenu (for the later medieval period) I am able to concentrate on the way in which its terminology was developed by successive generations of medieval teachers into a precise and comprehensive ‘critical idiom’. Thereby the academic prologue became an important vehicle for the advancement of literary theory relating to auctores and auctoritas.
It is possible to speak of ‘theory’ of authorship rather than ‘theories’ because of the high degree of consistency with which medieval scholars treated the subject and employed its characteristic vocabulary. This is hardly surprising in an age which was obsessed with classification, valuing the universal over the particular and the typical over the individual. Yet medieval theory of authorship was not homogeneous in the sense of being uncomplicated and narrowly monolithic: there was a rich abundance of kinds, degrees, properties and aspects of authorship to describe and relate to not one but several systems of classification. Neither was the theory static: it is best defined in terms of basic literary assumptions, approaches and methods of analysis which altered, sometimes considerably, over the centuries and were applied to many types of writing for many different purposes.
This book is not offered as a comprehensive ‘history’ of medieval theory of authorship. To attempt such a book would be premature in the present state of our knowledge. My aim has been to illuminate one area of the subject which has largely been ignored, namely the contribution made by several generations of schoolmen who, in the main, were connected with the schools and universities of late-medieval France and England. The Italian contribution is so singular and complex that it merits a study all of its own, and therefore I have confined myself to a brief mention of Petrarch and Boccaccio. Neither has an attempt been made to assess the extent to which the theory of authorship discussed below meets the demands of modern literary critics and theorists. Full historical description of the literary theory produced in the later Middle Ages naturally precedes the comparative analysis of medieval and modern literary theory.
The study of late medieval literary theory is still in its infancy. It is most unfortunate that research on it has been hindered by what I regard as an anachronistic and highly misleading notion, namely the distinction between twelfth-century ‘humanism’ and thirteenth-century ‘scholasticism’. According to a common exposé, by the end of the twelfth century grammar had lost the battle of the seven liberal arts and Dame Logic held the field.4 Rhetoric and poetic gave way to logic and dialectic; humanism retreated before scholasticism. Orléans, where the songs of the muses had been guarded zealously, became a law school. The pagan Fasti (by Ovid) was replaced by a blatantly Christian one, the Ecclesiale of Alexander of Villa Dei;5 the study of grammar—and therefore of ‘literature’—was generally impoverished. In such unfavourable conditions, literary theory died or at least went underground.
This view is untenable, as the evidence presented below will attest. It is impossible to square with, for example, the sophisticated literary analyses of texts—particularly Scriptural texts—produced by commentators of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. At a time when the study of grammar had moved a long way from explication of classical auctores to speculative analysis of the theoretical structures of language, theologians and Bible-scholars were elaborating a comprehensive and flexible interpretative model for the diverse literary styles and structures supposed to be present in sacred Scripture, and for the diverse roles or functions—both literary and moral—believed to be performed by the human auctores of the Bible.
Some recent writers have countered the facile distinction between twelfth-century humanism and thirteenth-century scholasticism with the suggestion that, in many major respects, thirteenth-century scholasticism was a natural growth out of twelfth-century scholasticism. Hence, Sir Richard Southern can speak of ‘a process of accumulation and increasingly refined analysis of the deposit of the past’ from the twelfth century into the thirteenth century.6 The scholastic literary theory formulated in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries is quite clearly a product of this process of accumulation and refinement. In the twelfth century, certain scholars—notably Peter Abelard and Gilbert of Poitiers—had in their Bible-commentaries applied the conventions and categories of secular literary theory to sacred literature. Later scholars built on this by, for example, producing an intricate framework for discussion of each and every ‘form of literary treatment’ (forma tractandi) found in Scripture.
Another consequence of the emphasis on accumulation and refinement is that the so-called ‘School of Chartres’ is not afforded undue prominence on the twelfth-century intellectual landscape. The typical rather than the supposedly unique qualities of this ‘school’ are emphasised in my chapter on ‘Academic Prologues to Auctores’. Hence, the standard techniques of Latin literary scholarship current in the twelfth century can emerge clearly, as can, in subsequent chapters, the ways in which these techniques were developed, adapted, and altered in later centuries.
Chapters 2–4 are chronological, tracing the development of this scholarship from the twelfth century to the fourteenth century, with special reference to commentaries on the Bible. As the authoritative text par excellence, the ‘Book of Life’ and the book of books, the Bible was for medieval scholars the most difficult text to describe accurately and adequately. Medieval theologians were eminently aware of both the comparisons and the contrasts which could be made between the Bible and secular texts. On the one hand, they stressed the unique status of the Bible; on the other, they believed that the budding exegete had to be trained in the liberal arts before he could begin to understand the infinitely more complex ‘sacred page’. Consequently, in theologians’ prologues academic literary theory is at its most elaborate and sophisticated.
The literary analysis in academic prologues was conducted in an orderly fashion, each and every text being discussed under a series of headings. The most popular series of headings employed in twelfth-century commentaries on auctores was as follows: the title of the work, the name of the author, the intention of the author, the material or subject-matter of the work, its mode of literary procedure, its order or arrangement, its usefulness, and the branch of learning to which it belonged. This system of textual explication is discussed in Chapter 2 with illustrations from commentaries on classical auctores, especially Ovid, and on the various books of the Bible, especially the Song of Solomon and the Psalter.
In the early thirteenth century a different series of prologue-headings came into use as a result of the new methods of thinking and techniques of study which scholars derived from Aristotle. The ‘Aristotelian prologue’ was based on the four major causes which, according to Aristotle, governed all activity and change in the universe. Hence, the auctor would be discussed as the ‘efficient cause’ or motivating agent of the text, his materials would be discussed as the ‘material cause’, his literary style and structure would be considered as twin aspects of the ‘formal cause’, while his ultimate end or objective in writing would be considered as the ‘final cause’. In Chapters 3 and 4 this system of textual explication is illustrated with examples from major schoolmen of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, including Hugh of St Cher, Albert the Great, Alexander of Hales, Robert Kilwardby, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, Giles of Rome, Henry of Ghent, Nicholas of Lyre, Nicholas Trevet, and Robert Holcot.
As applied in literary analysis, the ‘four causes’ may seem to us a contrived and highly artificial framework, but in the later Middle Ages they brought commentators considerably closer to their auctores. The auctor remained an authority, someone to be believed and imitated, but his human qualities began to receive more attention. This crucial development is writ large in the prologues to commentaries on the Bible. In twelfth-century exegesis, the primacy of allegorical interpretation had hindered the emergence of viable literary theory: God was believed to have inspired the human writers of Scripture in a way which defied literary description. Twelfth-century exegetes were interested in the auctor mainly as a source of authority. But in the thirteenth century, a new type of exegesis emerged, in which the focus had shifted from the divine auctor to the human auctor of Scripture. It became fashionable to emphasise the literal sense of the Bible, and the intention of the human auctor was believed to be expressed by the literal sense. As a result, the exegetes’ interest in their texts became more literary.
Two of the most important concerns which this new interest produced are considered in detail, namely the commentators’ preoccupation with authorial role and literary form. The concern with authorial role or function—sometimes termed the author’s ‘office’ (officium)—is manifest by two facets of the author’s individuality which the exegete sought to describe, his individual literary activity and his individual moral activity. For example, in the prologue to his commentary on Lamentations, the Franciscan John Lathbury (whose Oxford regency must have occurred soon after 1350) pieced together a life-story of the sacred poet in which all his authorial roles are considered: Jeremiah was a prophet, writer, priest, virgin, and martyr. I have paid special attention to medieval depictions of King David in his many, and apparently contradictory, roles—auctor and adulterer, saint and sinner. On the other hand, the preoccupation with literary form is manifest by the two facets of a text’s formal cause which the commentators were describing, namely form considered as style and form considered as structure.
The medieval theory of authorship presented in these chapters calls for a qualification of the commonly-held notion that scholasticism was not interested in art in general or poetry in particular. In fact, the influence of Aristotle, far from destroying academic literary theory, enabled it to acquire a new prestige. Such theory was not dead or even decadent, merely different, and this essential difference is the proper object of scholarly inquiry. Thirteenth-century schoolmen produced a critical vocabulary which enabled the literary features of Scriptural texts to be analysed thoroughly, and which encouraged the emergence in the fourteenth century of a more liberal attitude to classical poetry. Something of the new status which had been afforded to Scriptural poetry in particular and to the poetic and rhetorical modes employed throughout Scripture in general, seems to have ‘rubbed off’ on secular poetry. Scriptural auctores were being read literally, with close attention being paid to those poetic methods believed to be part of the literal sense; pagan poets were being read allegorically or ‘moralised’—and thus the twain could meet.
Scholastic idioms of literary theory, which received their fullest development at the hands of theologians, became widely disseminated, appearing in works written both in Latin and in the European vernaculars. They influenced the attitudes which many major writers—including Petrarch, Boccaccio, Chaucer and Gower—had towards the moral and aesthetic value of their creativity, the literary roles and forms they had adopted, and the ultimate functions which they envisaged their works as performing.
This is illustrated in the final chapter, entitled ‘Literary Theory and Literary Practice’, which concentrates on the ways in which two practising poets of fourteenth-century England, Chaucer and Gower, exploited a few aspects of the vast corpus of literary theory indicated in the previous chapters. Then, in a short Epilogue, by way of contrast we turn to attitudes concerning authorship which are associated with the Italian Renaissance. Certain aspects of the literary theory advocated by Petrarch and Boccaccio can be regarded as imaginative extensions of ideas which had developed in scholastic literary theory. Yet along with these continuities there are new beginnings. The auctor is becoming the reader’s respected friend.
The tacit assumption behind all these chapters is that medieval theory of authorship provides us moderns with a window on the medieval world of books. To our gaze this window may seem small and its glass unclear and distorting, but these, after all, are characteristic features of a medieval window, indications that it is genuine and historically right. Our standards must change if we are to appreciate what it has to offer. To make the same point in a different way, while we cannot re-experience the past, we can recognise the integrity of past experience and apply the resultant information in evaluating our present experience of the past. In this process of recognition and application, knowledge of late medieval literary theory must play a crucial part: it will help us to understand how major writings of the same period entered into the culture of their time, and it will provide criteria for the acceptance or rejection of those modern concepts and terms which seem to have some bearing on medieval literature.
Of course, I am not suggesting that knowledge of late medieval literary theory is the unique key to definitive understanding of late medieval literature. Literature is not rigidly determined by the literary theory contemporaneous with it. To take the case of one extraordinary writer, Chaucer often reacted against the literary theory of his day, or exploited it in a very unusual way; sometimes his narrators talk like the schoolmaster Holofernes in Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost, trotting out learned literary cliché which has little apparent relevance to the matter in hand. My point is rather that the strangeness (what some would call the ‘alterity’) of late medieval literary theory will to some extent free us from that ‘blind modernism’ which obscures our view of the past.8 We cannot understand how Chaucer exploited or reacted against the literary theory of his day until we understand what that literary theory was; his extensive ‘defamiliarization’ (notably of literary convention and of genre) cannot be appreciated until we know what was normal to him and what was not9. How valuable would be Holofernes’ reading of Shakespeare? At the very least, it would provide a register with which to measure Shakespeare’s originality. More optimistically, it would focus attention on those areas of literary discourse important to him as a man of his age, and illuminate the categories and concepts which informed his thinking about literature in general and his own works in particular. If used with discretion, with what Matthew Arnold called ‘tact’, late medieval literary theory can serve as a stimulus and a corrective in modern speculation about authorial intention and audience expectancy in the late Middle Ages.