Seas and Seasons

This week, as I mentioned to some extent in class, I really enjoyed Boethius' imagery in his metron dealing with the order of the seasons and the natural world and how these strict laws remain in stark contrast to the apparent lax behavior of Fortuna, who whirls individuals around by chance.  In particular, the image of a stormy ocean (I really liked the phrase salo fortunae) relates well to the capricious nature of fate and this depiction is picked up again by the rapidos fluctus that are supposed to be repressed by the creator.  Naturally, the image of a city or even the world as a ship at sea is fairly common throughout Latin literature, so there is little surprise here that this analogy continues throughout the work.  Although Prof. Malamud mentioned that the stormy seas eventually die down allowing for more navigable waters, I would be interested to know if, later on in the poem, the water itself provides a clear and direct course in the form of currents (i.e. rather than acting as a opposition or a passive medium)
My second observation of this week stems from the language in Boethius' depiction of the natural world, and in particular through his description of a unfortunate farmer who turns to nuts and berries after he is deceived in his trust of the goddess of agriculture.  What struck me about this passage is even though the order and nature of the seasons is fixed, there is still some semblance of uncertainty within this established framework.  This is echoed in the language as the farmer who entrusts his seeds (and presumably his livelihood) to the soil is duped and let down in his trust of Ceres.  This concept of chaos (or at least, ignorance) within order may relate to the concept that some things still remain largely unknown to humans in the cosmic order of the world (although it could of course just be an untrained farmer!)

Nubibus atris

Stars hidden
by black clouds
can shed
no light.

If the violent South Wind
turning over the sea
should stir up the swell,
a wave, glassy
just now like
clear days,
soon, filthy with mud
freed from below*
blocks our sight

and the river
that
often stops still wanders
flowing down
from the high mountains
often is blocked [lit., stands still]
by the barrier of rock
loosened from the cliff.

You, too, if you wish
to see the truth
with clear sight [or by means of a clear light],
to take the track
with a straight path:
push away joys
push away fear
put hope to flight
nor let grief be present.

The mind is clouded
and bound by ties
when these things rule.

*resoluto caeno-- with mud having been loosened/freed, presumably from the bottom of the sea

Metron 7 (from Sam)

Poem 7 was a beautiful conclusion to Book I--I've never actually seen anything written entirely in adonics (as opposed to their ending a Sapphic), and the effect is simultaneously brisk and soothing. "Officinias sceleratorum" also caught my eye--while Boethius' tone is almost uniformly serene and elevated, phrases like this and "scenicas meritriculas" lend a certain credence to the satirical/Menippean reading of the De Consolatione. The closest model for his narrative style, however, seems to be Plato rather than any Roman writer. The gentle comedy of the narrator's repeated confusion about (what Philosophia seems to think are) fairly basic ideas reminded me of Socrates' conversation with Meno, where the latter repeatedly has to backtrack to have something clarified. Whereas an Aristotle, by way of laying out his ideas, would calmly proceed from bullet point to bullet point, Plato and Boethius are just as concerned with the aporic process of coming to know something as with the object of knowledge itself.

Metron VII

The final metron of Book I was very interesting in its composition. The very short and clipped lines gave a confused feeling that went along with the th theme of the metron. The discussion within the metron of the mind being clouded and compared the sea to being stirred up by the winds sets the theme of confusion and obscurity and the discussion about taking the right path both seemed to play into the metrons metrical structure. Because the shortness of each line forces constant enjambment, the reader has to wind their way through the passage taking the “rector trames” in order to understand the meaning. It is a lovely way of illuminating the theme of a passage, using the meter to create a structure that mimics the theme.

Dr. Philosophy: Medicine Goddess

I wanted to hone in on Prose 6 because I really enjoyed the dialogue between Philosophy and Boethius here. We have mentioned before that he uses a lot of medical terminology, but (I suppose for my own lack of paying attention enough :/) I always chalked it up to the same ideas we had seen before in other authors. like Jerome, where they talk about things like "only use wine because of stomach ailments," etc. But the dialogue here finally made me realize that Philosophy has in essence come to cure Boethius of the crazies! He is fully presented as someone inflicted by mental illness, with a disturbed mind and confusion and ignorance. Philosophy makes a lot of sense here, as who better to cure someone of mental illness than philosophical knowledge. It seems to me almost that Boethius, who had been trying to follow in the footsteps of those he admired, (namely Plato, Socrates perhaps, etc) is losing his mind over being equally penalized and Philosophy has decided to make a house call to snap him out of it, since it would certainly have been a privilege for Boethius to do so. Philosophy in essence has come to free Boethius from the prison of his mind, even though she cannot free him from his paralleled physical prison. If you can be happy in your mind than your physical distress does not matter. Thank you Philosophy, I will try to remember that the next time I am freaking out over the end of the semester. :)

Ghastly Goths

I was struck this week by a comment in the Perseus commentary on Boethius' work concerning the author's treatment of Goths.  Naturally, at this point in the Roman Empire, Goths played a major role in the administration as well as holding political positions of power.  However, as the comment mentions, Boethius has no qualms about lambasting the two individuals Conigastus and Trigguillas despite their cultural background and power.  Clearly, Boethius, in his current position, was no longer constrain to curry favor from these individuals and regarded them with nothing but contempt.  Although he does not specifically mention their ethnic origin, I wonder if he does so at all later in the poem and if the inherent Roman vs. Barbarism issue was still a major point of debate this late in the life of the Empire.  Naturally, with Rome both as his birthplace and home, Boethius may have still have felt a strong attachment to the city and the culture and values that it formally held in the earlier 5th century.

Back in my day!

The 5^th Metron provides a very interesting contrast to the preceding Prosa (number 4). The 4^th prosa is based around Boethius describing what has gone wrong, why he is in prison. The main slant of it is that although he was acting in a manner that was to benefit the Senate, he is falsely accused by others out of desire for gain and advancement. The accusations made against Boethius are supposed to seem overwhelmingly false because they conflict with what he has learned from Philosophia; however the charges themselves are based on his philosophy, or so it seems he would have the reader believe. The picture that the 4^th prosa paints is one of over-turned expectation. What Boethius believes ought to be right and what ought to be done are not and instead evil triumphs. The 5^th metron, then, coming right afterwards paints an opposite picture. In this metron Boethius describes the heavans/nature working in proper fashion and directly addresses the great creator as the orchestrator of the heavenly/natural order. The first three quarters or so of this metron is dedicated to the description of the proper workings of the heavens and Boethius directly addresses that no part leaves its work “Nihil antiqua lege solutum/Linquit propriae stationis opus”. The last part of the Metron calls on the great ruler to turn his gaze towards the issues of the world and the broken order there, as well as to bring the laws that govern heaven peacefully to earth. It is a lovely contrast that follows the 4^th Prosa and the calm beginning of the 5^th metron allows for greater emphasis of the call for change at the end.

War of the Mind

I just wanted to pick up on what John was saying concerning the battle allegory of Prudentius vs. corresponding imagery in Boethius.  I was able to draw some interesting parallels between the two especially in the linguistic presentation of the enemy.  The phrase temere ac passim . . . raptatur strongly parallels the ruinous rage that Ira is seized by in her frenzied assault of Patientia.  Likewise, the greedy throng of the enemy seizing at the pointless materials and equipment can be strongly contrasted with the virtue's aversion to any of the remains of the Vices, stomping them into the ground rather than acquiring them as booty.  Likewise, while there did not appear to be a single leader of the Vices in the Psychomachia, although one could argue that Luxuria did possess her own retinue, the Virtues are led by Faith.  Battle imagery does seem to be largely prevalent throughout Christian writing and perhaps became later influenced by the actual conflict between various heresies during Late Antiquity

Scenicas Meretriculas!

 It is interesting to see the resurgence of the personification that we saw in Prudentius’ Psychomachia. There it was the virtues and in Boethius we see the personification of philosophy. Although the absence of bloody killings of vices is unfortunate, Philosophy still maintains a hostile attitude. Philosophy talks about the need to deal with the pessimi and much of that discussion is filled with battlefield vocabulary. Philosophy talks about being defended (muniti) and contests (certamen) as well as attacks (grassandi). The beginning of this work is structured as both a defense of philosophy, but also the need for philosophy to defend itself from those who would doubt it or attack it. It will be interesting if this sort of dialogue continues on for a greater period. I also just have to bring up the line because it is the best line thus far, “Quis, inquit, has scenicas meretriculas ad hunc aegrum promisit accedere”. Philosophy wants no itty bitty stage prositiutes from messing with her neophyte. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. 

The Perseverance of Plato

When I first started reading this work, I was surprised at how classically philosophical it is.  For a author writing at the end of 5th and into the 6th century AD, I am surprised that Boethius is so clearly attempting to preserve Greek philosophy. Naturally I can see how Plato's maxims could certainly be appropriately incorporated into Christian literature, I am just always surprised when an late author, particularly one this late, decides to so blatantly include connections to the classical world. The overall tone of the poem reflects Boethius' current predicament when he wrote it, that is he was imprisoned for treason against Theodoric the Great, for which he would eventually be executed. He describes how evil can exist even in a world which is ruled over by God, and that through these sufferings, happiness will be obtained after death. The clear Platonic undertones makes this work less Christian to me, more simply a work written by a man who is a Christian but who is not writing a strictly Christian work. Perhaps this is why I was so surprised that this work was so prolific following its publication, at a time when Christianity was so much at the forefront in Rome. I also feel a very clear connection once again to Cicero and it is interesting that this certainly seems to be an almost theme for us throughout the semester for pretty much all of the authors we have read. Perhaps that is why I had such a difficult time with this author, particularly in relation to the metered portions.

This certainly the first time I have ever come into contact with a work that combines both meter and prose, and I find that it makes for a very choppy translation process.  I felt as though just as I was falling into a rhythm for one style, he switches and I have to reconfigure by process in my mind. I can't say I particularly like this style and I am still a little unsure to what end Boethius decided to alternate in such a way. I just hope that I can eventually get into a groove as I translate more, but I am not sure that I could get used to this style.

Cloak without seams:

John 19. 23-24

The soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took up his garments, which they divided into four shares, one share for each soldier. They took up his cloak, too, which was without seam, woven from the top throughout; 24 so they said to one another, Better not to tear it; let us cast lots to decide whose it shall be. This was in fulfilment of the passage in scripture which says, They divide my spoils among them; cast lots for my clothing.[4]

A seperate sense of self

For the reading for this week, I'd like to focus on a specific phrase that we have seen a couple times now in Jerome's letters; namely exteriorem hominem or as I've seen it mostly translated as 'the outer man' or 'outer self'.  First and foremost, it is worth noting that despite addressing the young Eustochium, Jerome's choice of phrase makes her outer self masculine, rather than something like exteriora ipsa or exteriora se.  Because of this, I wonder if Jerome is attempting to depict this outer self as something baser or diminished from the pure spirit contained inside.  He certain acknowledges that one of the aspects of the human spirit is the extreme ease with which it loves (difficile est humanam animam non amare), even if it attaches onto objects or desires of a blasphemous nature. Thus, I wonder if this 'outer being' is also represented in the same light, as Jerome acknowledges that this is the part that can be most subject to physical desire.  I also wonder if this particular phrase is acting on a preexisting tradition in earlier Christian thought, as I was able to track down the phrase later in St. Aquinas' writings on St. Paul Principale enim in homine est mens taionalis scundarium autem est natura sentitiva et corpoarlis quorum primum apostolus nominat interiorem hominem secundum exeriorem. Also, in Augustine, quia ut haec terra visibilis exteriorem hominem nutrit et continet, ita illa terra invisibilis interiorem hominem. Therefore, this distinction seems to have been widely known

A One Trick Pony?

The more I read Jerome, the more I feel as though he is obsessive to a fault over a few very specific topics.  He have only read two (bits of two) letters from Jerome and I feel like he is almost a one trick pony.  He discusses virginity, he discusses wine, he discusses gluttony and fasting, but rarely do we run into anything in his writing that he generally does not connect to one of these topics in some way.  The more read of him the more I find myself thinking "OK we get it, sex bad, wine bad.....".  I get that he is likely trying to really impress upon his readers just how bad these things are, but I feel as though once you have beaten a dead horse perhaps it almost comes full circle and simply makes people all the more curious about them.  He even focuses on specific body parts in his writings, speaking of knees, bellies, and faces specifically more than others, and generally attributing the same descriptive adjectives with them each time, in "paling faces", "weak or broken knees", etc.  He also seems to tend to hone in on specific stories and examples for each of his pet peeves, to the point where he repeats himself, likely in an effort to add weight to his doctrine but instead he seems to me to almost provide scanty proof.  I just find myself getting the end of each reading chunk and thinking "well I've heard all this before, is this really all you've got?" I wonder perhaps if Eustochium had a similar reaction.

Virtuous and unvirtuous business

I was struck in this reading by the establishment of virginal virtue versus those who pretend to be virgins.  The very concept of virginity and its antithesis, carnal pleasure, is often viewed in the context of a commodity, but one on a purely spiritual level.  Jerome's language seems to delve occasionally into that of a merchant or businessman as he relates how the agapetae (interesting connection back to the Greek rather than the Latin) delve into carnal transaction (habeat carnale commercium) and how he describes Blesilla, on account of her husband's death, only possessing a minor reward or pay (minorem continentiae habere mercedem).  Naturally, this concept of business is equally echoed in Jerome's explicit comparison of these women with prostitutes.  As Jerome received a large amount of backlash for his own enterprises relating to the wealthy and aristocratic Roman women with whom he associated, to the extent that he was driven out of Rome, I wonder if this was the same sort of argument that his detractors used against the Saint himself.

Double standard chastity

Jerome, as always, is very tactful in his approach to women who are no longer virgins. The discussion of men committing fornication and women are very different. The men are portrayed almost as being led astray and the women are portrayed as very fully being aware of the extent of their mistake. It also placed basically all blames of pregnancy on women and essentially freed the man from all blame. The example of men that Jerome presents are all men who had sex in unmoral ways and it is not the loss of virginity that , but for the discussion of women it is a blanket statement about their behavior. Also the discussion of widows being fortunate because they can reassert chastity was rather cruel and weird. Jerome also provides no male discussion that is equivalent to this discussion of women.  

Whining about wine.

The discussion of wine drinking by Jerome provides a closer view at the thought process concerning alcohol. Jerome starts with the discussion that wine is used by the devil to cause the young to fall into the sin of sensuality. He goes so far as to assert the wickedness of wine over several other sins. But what is puzzling is that Jerome goes from talking about wine’s lust-inducing nature to examples of male inebriation. It would seem more profitable to discuss perhaps the effect on women. But perhaps he does not want to give examples of bad women to Eustochium and the main figure of the anecdotes being male might also make the discussion less scandalous. Inebriation is touched upon with regards to Noah, but the discussion primarily seems to conclude that if you drink wine, you will commit fornication. It is interesting how much time Jerome devotes to discussing wine, both good and bad qualities of it. Jerome mentions that even Paul recommended wine for stomach problems, but again limits the quantity to prevent others from giving into a weakness for alcohol. Jerome seems to presume an inherent desire for alcohol and drunkenness. From his discussion of Paul and Timothy it seems that Jerome concludes that Paul’s mention of a short amount is to keep Timothy from falling into error. He also seems to presume an inherent desire for it in Eustochium. It might be more telling of Jerome’s own psychology regarding inebriants than of human nature.

Jerome's abstract of letter 22:

desiderium desiderio restinguitur.

Anorexia as a virtue

Ad orationem tibi nocte surgenti non indigestio ructum faciat, sed inanitas.

Jerome having it both ways

After this week's reading, I'm even more intrigued by the use of rhetorical toys for the sake of argument. That is, one can pick up a topic, situation, or verse and spin it to make the point at hand. This is such a classical thing to do - squeamishness over internal consistency is more characteristic of our time. Perhaps some of it has to do with version control, but overall I'm accustomed to classical texts going for the "both/and" rather than the "either/or." Myths have various endings geared towards various morals, origin stories have various beginnings to emphasize various values, etc. Even in the works of one author, the "both/and" prevails. Tibullus gets his urban amor in the country, Seneca uses travel to illustrate iam the benefits of leisure reading iam the lack of leisure for reading, we could go on and on. In Jerome's letters, the very specific issue of a 7-month marriage is handled very differently at different times.

In letter 127, Jerome points out that Marcella was widowed after being married less than 7 months. She goes on to earn the highest honors of Christian widowhood, dedicating herself to chastity, hanging out with all the right kinds of virgins, even meriting an elaborate comparison with Anna. Blaesilla, on the other hand, was also widowed after being married approximately 7 months. She, however, must always play second fiddle to Eustochium, bearing cruces every day, yet reaping 60 instead of 100-fold. Jerome paints a woeful picture of Blaesilla, having missed out on virginity-for-life, and yet missing the pleasures of marriage for the rest of her dedicated virginity. These are two very different pictures of widowhood - one an example for all to follow, the other a cautionary tale for all to learn from. And they're not just any two widows - they had been widowed for the exact same amount of time, a very specific detail that Jerome needn't have included.

So, why the 7-month period? When I was reading letter 127, I thought Jerome picked out that particular detail so he could make his comparison with Anna all the more convincing. (He is careful to say less than 7 months, and then compare it to Anna's 7 years... could it have been 4 or 5 months?) But the appearance of the same 7-month marriage situation in another letter suggests something different. Could this be Jerome picking up a rhetorical toy, and bending it to his present argument? I thought in letter 127 he was doing the same thing with his quotes from Romans. Given the memorability of the strangely specific (and unusual, one would think) 7-month marriage turned widow, this seems even more like a pointed example of demonstration of rhetorical skill.

Now let me back-peddle a little bit. I'm not entirely convinced we can't chalk this up to coincidence. It is possible that Jerome didn't notice this 7-month situation appearing in such disparate contexts in his letters. Certainly he would have had a lot of time between the composition of each epistle, and I'm not sure how important consistency over such issues would have been to Jerome. Even if consistency was important to him, Miller's article, suggesting that Jerome's textualization of Eustochium's body was a failure, gives me a little bit of license to suggest that maybe this is simply an instance where all of Jerome's ideas simply aren't holding together. Ultimately I'm inclined to give Jerome the benefit of the doubt and treat this like a complex problem, rather than a lazy slip (lest I fall into that dreadful category of scholars who lament about how poor certain works are before they understand them).

But here's the kicker - the significance section to my unprecedentedly long blog post. Why is it that I'm intrigued by, amused by, impressed by, Seneca's both/and technique, but I'm disturbed by Jerome's? (Whether or not it's actually there in this case, the reaction itself still warrants discussion.) I think the issue has to do with the category of "necessary trustworthiness" Jerome falls into after translating the Vulgate. As with translating any sacred text, the transmission of "the original" becomes of utmost importance, and the role of the translator is usually minimized to the faithful conveyance of the source text. Whatever we think of Jerome's Vulgate translation (another issue entirely), I find it so interesting that I seem to have carried over my expectations for Jerome-the-Biblical-translator to Jerome-in-every-other-piece-of-writing. Jerome playing the game of rhetoric for his present agenda suggests that there were agenda that could have snuck into his translation, intentionally or not. Obviously the epistles and the Vulgate are categorically different, and we can expect Jerome to have treated them differently. But somehow I seem to have been influenced by this notion that since Jerome translated a sacred text, the stakes are higher for his general trustworthiness. Hence the squeamish feelings when Jerome misapplies a scriptural quote or turns on a dime from one argument to another about 7-month marriages. I don't think it's an appropriate reaction, but a culturally interesting one nonetheless - I think we've all seen Jerome and other church fathers idealized or censored in interesting ways. So the ultimate question for reception studies is, how can one work change the reception of and interpretation of later works? That is, how does a work allude to another work simply sharing an author?

Quality control

We've seen this line a couple of times now, using wine for the sake of the stomach and frequent infirmities. Jerome interprets this (1 Tim 5:23) as an exhortation to moderation, using wine only when medically needed. I have to ask - what was water quality like in Jerome's lifetime? Were people still getting these "frequent infirmities" because they weren't adding alcohol to their water as a purifier? Was water quality an issue when Paul was writing?

This all seems unlikely to me. But I'm looking for a solution to understand the way Jerome goes on to quote Romans, when Paul says it's not good to drink wine or eat meat. The whole context of the passage is Paul arguing that it IS ok to drink wine and eat meat (sacrificed to idols, specifically) if the Christian has a clear conscience, since "the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating or drinking this or that." It's only not ok to drink wine and eat meat in the company of Christians who still feel conflicted about it, lest they sin by going against their conscience.

Obviously we can understand why Jerome is against drunkenness. But it seems like he pulls this quote way out of context to make a point. Is it simply to serve his rhetorical argument? It reminds me of the way Seneca can pick up little toys of speech, as it were, to illustrate whatever point he is currently making (traveling, for example, is at one point good for the scholar to get reading done, and at another point bad for the scholar because its bumpiness and dirtiness doesn't allow reading). It is effective, though. In his series of examples of wine being bad I almost forgot about that little story (sarcasm) of Jesus turning water into wine...

Intertextuality of Biblical Proportions!

(Yes, pun intended.) In reading the rest of Ep.22, I stumbled upon a translation from New Advent. The editors took on the monumental task of citing every Biblical reference - not just direct quotes, but even phrases that recalled key passages. As you might imagine, I initially found it very distracting and nearly moved on to another translation. But then I got really interested:

Jerome's level of intertextual density in this letter (if all these references are good) is off the charts. But what I find interesting, aside from the sheer quantity of allusion, is how tangential some of the connections are from one quote to another. Even if his logic connecting passages wasn't always clear to me, I really got the sense of a thematic meditation, as if Jerome were letting his thoughts flow from one bit of scripture to the next in a real-time performance. He's so well-versed in scripture, so to speak, that his thoughts and his quotations become a patchwork that is nearly impossible to sort out one from the other. I think it's similar to the style of preaching that Augustine sets out - an extemporaneous performance that is a mix of exegesis and quoting Christian truth directly (or sometimes not so directly), from scripture.

What I would like to see is a text of Ep.22 marked up with all of Jerome's allusions to classical texts. (New Advent ignores them. For shame.) I'd like to compare the way Jerome weaves classical and distinctly Biblical language together with the way he weaves his own language and distinctly Biblical language together. Sounds like a job for someone who works on Tesserae... Do they also blend together? Can we see the process of naturalization happening on the syntactic level? What a boon for Jerome to bring a text-based religion to bear on a culture already soaked in the tradition of intertextuality!

Jerome's "Blazing Body"

OK, where do I start....the Miller article was quite eye opening into just how sexual Jerome's Letter 22 really is.  I find the entire premise of trying to transform the body of Eustochium through writing very interesting and I particularly enjoyed the little bit about Jerome's failed attempt to do this same for himself.  I like that he instead moves onto speaking of dreams and memory, which we all know was so prevalent in late Latin literature. I found it most interesting (and amusing) that in trying to remove and advise against base human sexual desire, Jerome actually makes it all the more desirous both to himself and likely to others. But he was doomed from the very beginning, because, although he mentions that once something is obtained or possessed, the desire is gone, but I must disagree with that conclusion.  In fact, I submit that once you have experienced something really amazing, you want more and more of it, kind of a "you don't know what you are missing until you try it," which naturally would then make you want more.  So you are a bit damned if you do and damned if you don't, because apparently simply thinking about something sinful is a sin itself, which just takes the fun out of everything!  I think Jerome should have considered the idea of moderation, it may have things easier for him (but probably not less sinful ;) ).

I also want to make a quick note about something that actually strikes me every time I read anything Christian in nature.  Jerome makes mention a number of times about the fact that Eustochium is the bride of God.  Bride naturally implies marriage and the natural occurrences after which, things that are not in association with virginity.  But Eustochium lives in a paradise of virginity, thus never being able to enjoy the perks of marriage with her would-be husband, God, thus making the entire premise something that when dwelt upon (as I am sure happened with the spare time they had) further added to the frustration of desire that Jerome attempts to get to the bottom to.  I just find the word choices and metaphors that were employed to be something that maybe should have been thought through a bit more, maybe making the whole desire things less desirable........maybe!

The Song of Songs

Here is a link to the Song of Songs, a text that permeates the Letter to Eustochium.

Trouble near and abroad

I was struck by the metaphorical and, perhaps in some cases, literal representation of the heresy spreading abroad.  First of all, although these disturbances are grouped under a single event (turbo, tempestas), I wonder if all of the events fall under a single heresy or whether there are individual and different unorthodox beliefs emerging in different provinces (as Jerome does mention in his provinciis).  Although he gives examples of those that he presumably observed in Rome (the blasphemous translation of peri archon, the teachings of the Pharisaeians), presumably other heresies abounded abroad.  Likewise, I was intrigued by the turbo mentioned in section 11 which caused a number of great shipwrecks should be taken purely at a metaphorical level or literal.  Apart from the bloody persecutions occurring on land, could the opposing factions of the heresies could have engaged in open naval warfare?

In Pomorum Custodiam

This is a curious phrase, indeed.  Jerome here seems to be quoting the Vetus Latina version of the Bible; he himself in one of his three translations of the Psalms (from the Hebrew)  translates it thus:

Deus, venerunt gentes in hereditatem tuam 
polluerunt templum sanctum tuum 
posuerunt Hierusalem in acervis lapidum
  According to Jerome, the Hebrew word lichim means a pile of stones; the Greek translation, opōrophulakion, "indicates a lookout such as warders of the fields and orchards were accustomed to have, so that of the extensive city, only a cottage was left."  (Jerome, Epist. 106)

an old bitch gone in the teeth

The thing that most stood out in today's reading was the sincerity of Jerome's grief over the fall of Rome. In Peter Brown's biography of Augustine, he contrasts the former's attitude with the latter's ambivalent see-sawing between dismay at the decline of classical culture and satisfaction at the deserved end of paganism. But Jerome is simply heartbroken, the best measure of which is his interweaving of biblical texts with Virgil. There was something almost modernist about the seamless combination of Christianity and classical literature to produce a lament for a dying civilization--one thinks of The Waste Land or Pound's "Who gave their lives for a botched civilization, an old bitch gone in the teeth." Deep feeling was the keynote of today's passage in general; the description of Principia's actions at Marcella's death was particularly moving. For all his bile, Jerome remains very much both a man of culture and simply a man.
(From Sam)

in pomorum custodiam

                I was rather confused by the phrase “Posuerunt Hierusalem in pomorum custodiam”. I was not entirely sure what it means that Jerusalem was set under the guard of apple trees. The surrounding context obviously shows that this is a list of evil events, but it caught me off guard seeing the phrase about apple trees. I thought that perhaps this was reference to the tree of knowledge and original sin and that by placing the holy city under guard of this symbol of sin would indicate the harm being done to the city. It also seems weird with the aggression of the surrounding statements such as “polluerunt templum sanctum tuum” or “posuerunt…carnes sanctorum tuorum bestiis terrae.” Or perhaps it is an oblique reference to Hesperides and the garden that is guarded by the dragon. I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t really find much in the way of information. But the oddity of the line struck me.  

The Last Act of a Mother

Although a brief mention is made in Section 13 about the sack of Rome by Alaric and Marcella's subsequent death, I particularly enjoyed the way Jerome described the scene.  At the arrival of the Goths to her home, Marcella pleads for the life of Principia, although not truly her daughter but in the true form of a mother pleading for the life of her daughter.  It seems to have worked because they arrive at the basilica of St. Paul, Marcella badly beaten but no mention is made of any harm to Principia (naturally with the help of God).  The tender scene of Marcella's death is, although sad, quite beautiful and serene, essentially passing on her duty to Principia. What I enjoy most about this scene is that I feel as though I get the first (although at the end) glimpse of Jerome's true sadness at the death of Marcella and how he grieves for Principia.  Up until now, I have felt curiosity and amusement at the descriptions Jerome has provided, making the situation seem almost as an episode of the "Real Housewives of Rome" who were sugar mommas for a bunch of poor little men.  Here I feel his sadness and I feel the type of woman Marcella was, willing to offer her own life to save that of another.  It changed my thoughts at that moment and I am in fact happy about that.

The Student and the Master

I wanted to continue John's discussion on the ambiguous idea of Marcella as a teacher.  In my personal opinion, at least with regards to the didactic aspect, I believe that Jerome believes that he himself is the teacher while Marcella is simply a student who adopts and cherishes his ideals, although I do agree with John that the framing of this concept is ambiguous, perhaps deliberately.  While Jerome praises the aspects of Marcella that would make her a good student of the Christian faith (persistence (industria), virtue (virtus), character (ingenium), and purity (puritas), I personally could not find anything in particular in the Latin that depicted her as a teacher in passages 6 and 7 (although I could have missed it).  Certainly, she exemplifies the ideas of Jerome's faith and does seem to express her own opinions at times (7.10-11 sic interrogata respondebat ut etiam sua) which may be indicative of teaching, but I think, either for the emphasis on Christian doctrine that he cites as well as the current state of the Church, there is a stronger emphasis on her devoted following of Jerome's ideals.
And I can definitely see how Jerome would have been seen as a cult leader at this point!

Marcella the teacher?

                In section 7 it becomes doubtful whether Marcella is teaching her own opinion or not and if Jerome is praising her for teaching. Jerome acknowledges that she knew the precept, women shouldn’t teach, but claims that she gave her own opinion not by saying it was hers, but rather by claiming it was Jerome’s or another male instructor.  It seems ambiguous whether or not Jerome is praising her for breaking that precept against female teachers. Jerome later talks about how she claimed that he was a student of the things which she taught, thus seeming to imply that she can get around not teaching by claiming she is simply passing on the teachings of others. I don’t have a completely clear idea of the situation I feel. But I just was struck by the praise-like tone that seemed to be coming from Jerome over a violation of an apostolictic  saying.

Ladies and their Sensitivites

Naturally, Jerome's discussion on the possessions and material wealth (as well as to some rather questionable personal traits) reminded me (in addition to several songs from Sweeney Todd) of the stark contrast of the Christian ideal of asceticism and particularly that surrounding the author's personal teachings.   At this point in the Western Roman Empire, while Christianity has emerged as the dominant religion, the frequent barbarian attacks and loss of territory must have caused a severe impact on the economy.  Thus, imported pearls and clothes must have been only accessible to the highest of families and these seem to be the target of Jerome's scorn.  Indeed, I was amazed to discover that Marcellae's case was not the only Roman aristocrat that Jerome converted to his ascetic ways, and while most of his followers, along with the teacher himself attained sainthood, there is at least one example, a senatorial woman of Rome named Blaesilla, who perished because of her asceticism.  I wonder how Jerome was viewed in Rome during his time period in Rome prior to all of the later blessings and whether his conversion of several prominent members of Roman society would have been seen as a noble pursuit in light of the contemporary religious situation or as a devious act.

Virgines Stultae

       It is interesting how Jerome includes in his argument the part of the sermon on the mound in which thought and action are construed as one and the same. The tint of the letter seems to rest more on the virginity of the spirit rather than virginity of the flesh. It reduces the condescending nature of his tone and give the letter more of a precautionary slant. Jerome seems to be less worried that she will literally lose her virginity and more that she will allow her mind to deviate from the precepts of God and the ideals of Jesus. However, he does not include or discuss the aspect of that same part of the sermon on the mound where Jesus says that it is better to remove the offending member of the body than to lose ones soul. Imaginably the intended would know the following part, but it is interesting that Jerome doesn’t make that explicit. I think that because Jerome is linking the ill-fated lust to the mind, rather than Jesus’ attribution to the eye or other more immediate member of the body, that such type of self-mutilating talk would be inappropriate for the context. It would seem that Jerome is rather sermonizing that one should avoid such thoughts or ideas because there isn’t a way to make up for such thoughts. His quote that “there is insufficient supply of good virgins” would further imply that there is not a way to come back from these thoughts. Jerome does say, after all, that there is no way for God to recoup women who have lost their virginity, and since looking with lust at someone is the equivalent to losing virginity, there is no way for a woman who has looked with lust on a man to regain that lost spiritual virginity. Jerome, at the end of section 5, makes it clear that there is no difference as far as virginity is concerned between spiritual (i.e. lustful thoughts) and physical defloration. 

Steeped in the Bible (from Sam)

The thing that most struck me about Jerome's letter was its effortless interweaving of biblical texts, more as a kind of mental vocabulary than a system of citation. The closest classical analogues I can think of, Plato and Plutarch, while possessed of a similar command of poetry, usually use it for explicitly argumentative purposes. While Jerome does plenty of this, the texts are more striking as an organic outgrowth of his thought process. There's a great passage in one of Garry Wills' books on Augustine about similar verbal echoes in the Confessions, which makes me wonder to what extent this is a common intellectual heritage of Patristic/early Christian authors--one already sees something similar happening in Paul, who often thinks in Psalm quotes even when it doesn't have any bearing on his point. Another point Wills makes about Augustine is that the text he would have had at his mental fingertips was the Vetus Latina rather than Jerome's Vulgate, which he remained mildly ambivalent about precisely because he was so steeped in the earlier translation. Which prompts the question of whether Jerome's citations in his letters are of the earlier Latin translation or his own.

Saints Writing about Saints

I instantly felt a different feeling when I started reading Jerome's work.  As I continued, although there are clear similarities which Katie has pointed out between the other works we have read and this one, I could sense a significant difference that I feel may be necessarily attributed to the fact that unlike Sulpicious for example, this is an example of a saint writing about another saint.  I sense a familiarity in Jerome's writing, which naturally could be attributed to the fact that Jerome was well acquainted with Marcella, clearly noted in the line "...ut melius iudicarem tacere inpraesentiarum quam nihil dignum illius laudibus dicer."  However, I wonder if the familiarity can also be attributed to the fact that Marcella belonged to the same walk of life as Jerome.  This is not simply a work being written about an illustrious person by a third party author, but instead by a person who shares the same values and teachings as the individual about whom he is writing.  In fact, Principia need demand so often the work about Marcella, since it would seem too sad an undertaking for Jerome if he were to write about her due to this familiarity.  This being said, I was struck by the thought that perhaps Jerome extolled Marcella's praises to such a degree because he was fond of her and knew her as a friend.  Is his praise unbiased?  Then I remembered that this is a letter, a different medium than we have encountered thus far in this class, which is specifically directed to a person, Principia, who personally knew the good deeds of Marcella.  I wonder if the same familiarity would be present in a work that was not so personal, i.e not a letter to a specific individual, and how much faith a reader would place in the doings (miracles?) of this individual in a work written by a saint about a saint who is likely biased towards the extolling of such an individual's good deeds.  

A Modern Day Saint?

A Toledo, Ohio mayoral candidate:  http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/news/a39201/opal-covey-toledo-mayor-candidate-prophet-exorcist/

The Devil is in the Details

I just wanted to respond to the previous post on the Devil appearing as the old gods to Martin.  In addition to what we have already seen by Prudentius in the battle between Christianity and the Roman religion, perhaps the appearance and choice of each individual old god for the Devil was Sulpicius' way of showing how Martin could not be swayed by any form (i.e. the Power of Jupiter, the Seduction of Aphrodite, the (false) wisdom of Minerva).  It would be interesting, though perhaps a bit far-fetched to connect each of these gods with the sort of vices mentioned in Prudentius.  In my opinion, though, the purpose of Devil in including these old gods is the same as what he does later with his depiction of the false Christ: namely, to tempt Martin into following a false religion.  At this point, as Sulpicius had already mentioned, Christianity was being challenged by a number of heresies, most notably the Arrians.   Both Sulpicius and Martin must have viewed these false beliefs perhaps with even more hatred than the Roman religion of old as they functioned as a perversion and distortion of the true Christian belief they held so dear.  Therefore, after exhausting all of his earlier machinations (artibus), the devil plays his trump care, depicting a false (but ideally pleasing) manifestation of Jesus.  Naturally, Martin is undaunted by this and previous appearances and wins out in the end, signifying Orthodox Christianity's victory over first the pagan religions of old and finally, and perhaps more importantly, the blasphemous heretical sects

The Devil in the Form of the "Old Gods"

I found it interesting that Sulpicious decided to have the devil show himself to Martin the guise of the "old gods" at the beginning of Section 22.  Now certainly I can see why a Christian author would choose pagan gods as disguises for the devil as they are obviously profane and diabolical by this point in time.  I can also understand why perhaps donning the image of a pagan god may work for the devil when presenting himself to the numerous heathens mentioned throughout the work, as they still believe in the the "old gods" and would be open to accepting the devil in these forms.  However, Sulpicious has the devil presenting himself in these images to "the holy man," i.e Martin.  Certainly Martin being a Christian and not believing pagan gods would have seen through such a disguise and realized immediately that the individual was not who they said they were since the pagan gods are false.  Perhaps Sulpicious decided upon such an explanation to give the devil extra devilness or perhaps even to show that he is not a very crafty devil.  We have already seen and will see again that he is hardly a persistent devil, as Martin simply brushes him off a number of times and he simply vanishes in a puff of smoke.  This is just speculation but I did find this interesting.

The Emotions of Martin

I thought Sulpicius’ description of Martin’s emotions was interesting. It is interesting that Martin seems to have the same laudable qualities as the stoics. No one sees him angry, upset, sad or laughing. Martin keeps himself at a stoic middle in the handling of all matters. But while it is impossible for the stoics to achieve the perfection of stoicism associate with the “sage”, Martin does have an emotion the “happiness from heaven” that he bear on his face. It is a sort of interesting divergence. The stoic wants complete control of his emotions, as does the monk, but the monk also is blessed by divine bliss (for a lack of a better term). I assume then that this divine bliss is not of the more secular emotions that could lead one astray, but rather it is the bearing that one achieves after reaching a certain level of enlightenment through Christ, a Nirvana of sorts. Actually, I rather like Nirvana as a description of Martin’s state; Martin is outside of secular cares, has reached enlightenment of Christ, and now he goes through the murk of the worldly matters to help and enlighten others. Martin is a yogi; after all Sulpicius says that Martin seems outside the nature of humans. Would this divine bliss separate Martin from the stoics? Or is there an idea that once a stoic has achieved complete dominion of his emotions and state of mind, he would be blessed with a certain happiness(?), contentment, that he is outside of the normal struggles of man? Of course, slightly counter to what Sulpicius says of Martin emotional control, Martin is described as weeping over the sins of other. I guess since the source of the weeping is pure and pious it makes the weeping itself of the same nature as his “caelestam laetitiam”; perhaps even that happiness is why he weeps, sort of a direct cause, because he sees from a place of bliss how fallen a certain sinner might be.  I would also imagine that the difference lies primarily in the use of “rideo” for what no one sees and the “laetitiam” that Martin has; rideo referring to laughter/smiling without the understanding of the cause for it, or as another way in which one might be to luxurious with his/her emotions, whereas the laetitia is a state of grace made clear by the corresponding adjective “caeles”.  

Violent Religious Repression and the Problem with Sulpicius/Martin

I normally say I found something interesting, but this time I found it rather disturbing how much Sulpicius glorifies violent religious oppression. It starts with the authoritarian manner in which Martin stops the procession of a non-Christian funeral. Martin mistakes the funeral as a certain rite of the non-Christian religion and decides that stopping it is the right thing to do. Sulpicius describes the rites as deriving from “misera dementia”, whereas performing symbolic cannibalism is the better way to worship. He also describes the objects of worship as devils, so that way no bias seeps in. It is really sickening to read the last line of section 12 where it is glorified that Martin controlled these people during a time of mourning (of course with the power of God, because Martin as person is useless except for doing some fasting and praying) and besides, even if it had been a ritual, it is not his business how others worship, but of course Christianity loves to tell others why their lives are wrong and sinful. The description of Martin as “permitting” them to leave is atrocious and again just piles up the justification for religious oppression. This sort of literary praise acts as a justification for even greater atrocities.

The destruction of temples that Martin performs is another example of the glorification of religious violence and Sulpicius’ description of the non-Christians as raving and frenzied in now ways seems to understand the reason for that anger. I am sure Martin would have some issue, if one of his many monasteries was suddenly being destroyed by a person that says that he is justified by the power of his god and that Martin was a sinner and a terrible person. I think it is no way surprising that the non-Christians react violently. There is no reasoning with someone life Martin, a religious fanatic. Just because Sulpicius uses pretty Latin to describe the vents in no way changes the fact that Martin is clearly an extremist. The Ku Klux Klan also thought they were being aided by God. Of course Martin also responds in like kind by using armed angels to allow his further destruction of other peoples’ way of life. Martin brings violence and should not be surprised if he is answered with violence. It is a terrible cycle and Christianity is very good at getting the ball rolling. I mean, in the Muslim faith “people of the book” (i.e. Christians) are considered good people. However, that in no way stops Christianity as a religion from committing itself to waging holy war on the Muslims. I feel astonished that Christians of the modern era are surprised at the level of hatred with which they are received by many other faiths. The many waves of aggressive missionaries are just another example of disgusting religious oppression.

Recently the Pope sainted a 16^th century missionary to the Baja California, which was received with great enmity by the native people of the land. And no wonder, good ol’ father Serra helped to destroy the native culture and helped cause the death of 1000’s of natives. Truly he was a man who deserves to be venerated and copied. Centuries of violent repression and the continued glorification of the violence is not something any religion should be proud of. We see it here in in Sulpicius with Martin’s destruction of temples, we see it in the Song of Roland with the depiction of Muslims and their religion (most of which portrayal is just wrong). These writings help convince the Spanish during the 1400’s to begin the Inquisition and to expel from the country all of its native Moor population. Sulpicius is just an early step down this road of violence and it is disgusting the way he glorifies it. It honestly makes alot of it hard to read. I personally wanted to hit Martin by the time I finished with section regarding his persecution of others and I am very sympathetic to the non-Christians that wanted to drive Martin off.  

What's in a name?

I've crossed a threshold with today's reading - these names need explaining. I had been content to simply raise an eyebrow at the suitability of the proper names recorded in Vita Martini, but now I definitely have questions!

We begin with Martin - the Fighter. After serving in the army, he dedicates himself (in Sulpicius' words) to be a miles of God. For the rest of his career, Martin fights spiritual battle with demons and sickness, conquering (mostly) for God.

Next is Hilarius - the Good-Natured. He is loved by his followers, respected by his peers, successful in his service. He is the example of the ideal bishop - all-together good and persevering.

Lupicinus - the Wolf. He is honored according to the this age of men - honorati secundum saeculum viri. This isn't the nest example of the name game in Vita Martini, but it is at least a somewhat derogatory implication for a man who doesn't seem to be a believer (rather a man of secular reputation), and doesn't seem to become a believer after the miracle at his house (or one would think Sulpicius would note it).

Rusticus - Country-Bumpkin. He appears in the middle of the road, far outside the city. He also foolishly feigns his wife's illness to get Martin to proceed to Tours, even though Martin was already headed there.

Defensor - the Defender. I think someone on Tuesday even mistook this name for an adjective. And rightly so! Defensor steps out to defend his case against Martin's appointment. The situation is the occasion of the vote, in which we expect legal language.

Taetradius - the Foul. His slave, possessed by a demon, exhibits foul behavior, gnashing his teeth. Taetradius himself is stubborn in his heathen ways, implicatus errore gentilitatis unless Martin could expel the demon.

Arborius - the Tree. He is a man of faith and sacred spirit, as indeed his name recalls images of the Tree of Life, the parable of the mustard seed, etc. It is immensely positive compared to Lupicinus and Taetradius. He even acts in faith to restore his daughter to heath without instruction from Martin.

Paulinus - Paul/Saul of Tarsus. Paulinus' eye is covered with a crassior nubes superducta - just like Saul's eyes were covered with scales after his encounter on the road to Damascus. And just like Saul, his eyes were healed by a holy man. This example I am especially loathe to chalk up to coincidence!

There are many other characters who go un-named. Did Sulpicius only record names which exemplified their story? Are these names supposed to help convince the reader? Or are they only meant only to characterize? Given Sulpicius' frequent claims to the veracity of his report, it seems unlikely that he expected his reader to take these stories as parables. But perhaps we can understand some very careful naming (of characters real or not), to underscore the moral of each story.

Evil Falling Trees

When reading the section (13) where Martin deflects a falling tree, it brought me back to a humorous anecdote from Horace where he describes his escape from a falling tree.  We have mentioned before how there are undertones of Horace throughout this work, in keeping with the looking back to classical Latin that tends to occur during late latin literature.  For Horace his "narrow" escape from the falling tree was incredibly traumatic and he mentions it a number of times, not just in the portion dedicated to his apparent hatred of the tree, which was planted "for the destruction of posterity and the disgrace of the countryside (Ode 2.13)" but also again in Ode 2.17 and Ode 3.4.  This struck me as curious, wondering whether Martin himself mentioned this anecdote about the tree or whether Sulpicius inserted this into his work to include another nod to antiquity and to add to the amazing feats of Martin (even though he states several times that he has related what has been told to him either by Martin or things that were a well known fact, I hesitate to fully believe him, naturally).  If you haven't read this part from Horace, I definitely suggest it.  It is funny and he clearly really hates this tree! :)  

Quoting from the Source

I was intrigued this week to discover, with a little research, that St. Martin's response to the devil "The Lord is my helper, I shall not fear, what can man do to me?  is straight out of the Bible from the letter to the Hebrews (Hebrews 13.6) Κύριος ἐμοὶ βοηθός, [καὶ] οὐ φοβηθήσομαι: τί ποιήσει μοι ἄνθρωπος; and the exact same phrase is also used in Psalm 118.  I wonder whether quoting biblical passages is as commonplace in hagiographers such as Supulcius as I would expect it to be and whether at this point in the late 4th early 5th century these passages and letters would have been widely available to the public.  Obviously, in this particular incident, perhaps Martin, in addition to drawing strength from the words themselves, also gains an aspect of authority from where the words come from and who used them before (as it has been suggested that Paul wrote Hebrews).

Monasteries and Asceticism

The depiction of monastic life in section ten paints an interesting picture. Perhaps Sulpicius leaves it out because it would be assumed, but there is no discussion of how the monks provide for themselves. Sulpicius specifically mentions that the Monks practiced no ars and that the Monks are in the practice of not selling or buying anything. I understand that ascetics try to limit the amount of food they eat, but one still needs some level of sustenance to survive. Sulpicius mentions fasting, but he also mentions that brothers coming together after fasting to dine together and also wine for medical use. Maybe I am picking up on something that isn’t really there; but if the Monks are not providing for themselves, then wouldn’t they have to rely on the outside world for food? Since they are trying to cut themselves off from the world, wouldn’t relying on outside goods be hypocritical? They also wear camel skin clothing, which our commentary mentioned would have been imported to copy the ascetics of Egypt. But that would imply buying and selling, which Sulpicius explicitly states they do not do. Perhaps that means simply at the level of individual neophyte and not the order as a whole, which would make sense and give meaning to the medium that everything is put into. The monastery, by removing any activity except for holy study, allows for the individual monk to be less concerned with the menial toils of life. The passage also mentions that there are only 8 disciples and I would imagine that would also make it easier for a monastery to support itself. However, why only partially emulate the ascetics of Egypt? Why not keep completely to themselves, if that is the monks’ purpose in going to the monastery?  Also, the ascetics of Egypt would have had to provide for themselves completely and been completely cut off from the outside world. However, the camel skin does also call to mind John the Baptist and he comes out of the wilderness prepared to spread the word of Jesus’ coming. I guess the other thing that I noticed was the focus on remaining separated both from each other and the world. It would seem incongruent with the ideas that Jesus represented in his ministry of approaching all levels of society. One would think that the monks would seek to understand the world in order that they might be better equipped to tend their flock as bishops. The insular approach would seem to make sense only if that is the purpose of a monk’s life. Otherwise that same insulation would make it more difficult to understand, sympathize, and help those whom these monks tend. However, referencing John the Baptist again, perhaps the period of isolation for a short period of time(atleast not a lifetime) is a way for someone to prepare themselves more full to spread the word. I am not very familiar with monastic life and I found the passage an interesting opportunity to reason monastic life using the opinion of someone who is clearly favorable towards it. 

Outrageous modesty

My favorite part of the first reading of the Vita Martini was the preface--for the elegance of its prose, for its outrageous modesty, but above all for the light its sheds on the extreme ambivalence of early Christian writers towards literary eloquence. This discomfort with rhetoric as somehow contrary to the spirit of a gospel "proclaimed by fishermen" is everywhere in Augustine, for example, from the eloquent anti-eloquence of the Confessions to the conflicted endorsement of beautiful expression in book 4 of the De Doctrina Christiana. (Did he and S correspond? I know that Augustine and S both corresponded with Paulinus of Nola, so there's only one degree of separation, regardless.) It's interesting to wonder to what extent this distrust of "flashy" language in Augustine and Sulpicius is specifically Christian, as opposed to Roman--one thinks of Cato's "verba sequentur". As far as Sulpicius' own style, its rolling periods are unabashedly pleasing, yet without sacrificing clarity or veering into obfuscation--"integer", as he might say, "ab iis vitiis" which Latin Christian writers most feared in rhetoric.

From Sam

The Gift of Loyalty

Apologies for the delayed post.  My interest in the Late Latin military was especially fostered this week with St. Martin's foray into the Roman army.  As was custom for Roman emperors of the 3rd and 4th centuries, loyalty of the troops was ensured by the so called 'donative,' a significant sum of money paid to each individual soldier on the emperor's accession and on significant days and anniversaries.  In fact, during the crisis of the third century, there are several short ruling emperors, Aemilian and Florian to name a few, who despite the gifts lavished upon their troops, soon found themselves betrayed and in most cases killed by the very troops who they themselves had just rewarded.  Of course, the new emperor, now supported by the troops, would give them a new donative and the cycle began anew.  In this particular case, Martin's refusal to fight because of his religion, in addition to being surprising to the emperor because of the large sum of money that awaited the future saint, but his anger (infremuit) may also stem from the fact that Julian was one of the last pagan emperors and most likely was none too happy about this man trying to get out of military service on account of his Christian faith.

St Martin and the Beggar

A very popular subject for artists through the ages.  Here are a few examples.

Höchst Castle, Frankfurt, Germany.  18th Century

Perhaps the creepiest:

El Greco, ca 1597.

From the National Gallery of Art:  The Chapel of Saint Joseph in Toledo, where this painting hung above the north altar, was established by Martín Ramírez, whose patron saint, Martin of Tours, is the subject here. As a soldier in Roman France, Martin cut his cloak in half to share it with a beggar he encountered. Christ later appeared to Martin in a dream wearing the makeshift cape and saying, "What thou hast done for the poor man, thou hast done for me." Martin was then baptized, and dedicated his life to Christianity. Venerated for his charity, he was zealous in making converts to the church.

The figures positioned in the extreme foreground loom as if perched on a high ledge, while the background recedes quickly to a distant vista—not of Amiens where the story took place, but Toledo. Time is likewise transformed as the fourth-century saint wears contemporary armor. These deliberate shifts of time and place hint at Toledo's role in the Counter-Reformation, suggesting that all Toledans should emulate the saint's charitable behavior.

A small replica of this subject, one of five known, may have been painted by El Greco's son, Jorge Manuel Theotokopoulos. It provides an instructive comparison with El Greco's own works. Here the brushstrokes are shorter and more hesitant; the elongated figures of the original are further distorted; and the saint's serene expression is transformed by the twisting curl of his lip.

Most like the story in Sulpicius in its simplicity:

St. Martin and the Beggar, detail from an altar frontal from Sant Marti de Puigbo, Gombren.  
Spain, 15th Century

Repetition and Consistency Can be Awfully Nice!

As we transition into Sulpicius, especially after having at times such a difficulty with Prudentius, I am relieved to find the same repetition that we saw in Prudentius but with much more consistency.  As in the Psychomachia, I find Sulpicius repeating the same words or similar words/phrases quite often.  The difference is that I am finding that we attempts to use every possible definition for these words, even when they are in close proximity to one another as Prudentius did.  I sighed a bit when I realized that once I look up a word for Sulpicius it seems, for the most part (obviously we just started to I don't want to blanket statement too much) that I will be able to use the same definition the next time I see that word.  He is fond of certain phrases too, and I mean really fond!  I have lost count of the number of times he begins a sentence with "tum vero" or a range of other conjunctions that seem to show up at the beginning of just about every sentence I have translated so far.  He is also incredibly fond of "mirum in modum," "in vice quodam," and to an extent "sub idem fere tempus."

I also found it interesting that he seems to use "civitatis" for city here as opposed to "urbs."  I am not sure if this is common in later literature, but I am fairly positive that I have not come across a work in my own studies yet where "civitatis" is chosen so frequently over "urbs," which shows up for the first and only time so far in Section 6, well into the work.  Perhaps I am making a bigger deal out of this than it is, but it certainly struck me as something different about this work.

Old Testament style

I find Prudentius' constant referral to the "old" testament and very minimal use of the "new" testament interesting. Almost every biblical allusion that has been used has come from the old testament, with the new testament being refereed to obliquely through the mention of Christ. However, Prudentius' tweaking of the stories from the old testament to better suit his purposes is also rather intriguing. He uses Biblical figures in ways that don't necessarily make sense (i.e. the weird us of David and  Jonathan) but perhaps in doing this he adds a shading to how we as the readers are supposed to see the vices. Jonathan as an example, he only gives into vice in as much as he doesn't obey Saul, but in other ways his "vice" is seen as a good thing by the rest of the army. However, the reference to Achar is actually a fitting reference. It seems that Prudentius is just trying to keep the reader off gaurd about vice and virtue and what they mean.

Allegory

Today was an interesting exercise in attempting to read the Psychomachia allegorically. The idea of one-to-one correspondences between properties of the soul and characters in the poem was already disrupted by the intrusion of Job, who seems like the odd one out in the midst of the poem's catalogue of virtues and vices. But today's reading was more subtly ambiguous, in that I ultimately remain undecided as to whether the actions of Avarice's minions (470-479) are intended as a minute description of the human psyche, or simply as a vivid set piece that serves no direct allegorical function. The former interpretation could be sustained by means of, in the case of the vices' treachery towards one another, Plato's opinion in the republic that the wicked or self-interested are unable to coordinate with one another, even to do evil. But on another level, this feels like the sort of inane eisegesis inflicted on poems by later interpreters, rather than their creators. Finally, I'd be interested to compare this scene with similar ones in Lucan, given both Prudentius' general fondness for him and the explicit invocation of Civilis Discordia.

From Sam

Manuscript illustrations

This will take you to a site with illustrations from an l1th century French MS  of the Psychomachia.

And this will take you to a twelfth century English MS of the Psychomachia.

A lasting memory?

I find the dichotomy that Supulcius Severus in his first section sets up between memory and life intriguing.  Since the human life is so relatively short, focusing on the here and now does seem to be an effective way to live rather than how you are going to be remembered.  As a Christian writer though, the importance of a pious life and one that follows the doctrine of Christianity is essential as well.  Perhaps I'm misreading, but I wonder if the focus on eternal life rather than eternal memory also touches on the Christian concept of heaven, in that your life (vita) will continue, just not on the earthly sphere.  I do not think though the living a good life and leaving behind a good memory of yourself are not mutually exclusive, but rather seeking the former is far more important than the latter.

Virtue and Vice: Cut form the Same Cloth?

As we near the end of our Psychomachia readings, I am finding it interesting that perhaps the image I now have of "Virtue" is not the image I previously had.  As someone who has never read the Bible and really only has minor experience with the more famous Biblical stories, to my mind "Virtue" was a concept of goodness and for some reason even peacefulness (I am not sure why I associate that with it, it actually may have something to do, embarassingly enough, with a character from a show i used to watch growing up, Charmed.  It was about "good" witches but there was "Whitelighter" character who by nature was a pacifist and for some reason when I think of "Virtue" that is the image that comes to mind).  Perhaps this is why I was a little surprised when I reached roughly lines 670-725 and found the Virtues to be vindictive and vengeful.  Naturally the entire poem is about the war between Virtue and Vice so it has been grisly and gruesome.  I found it interesting however, that when Discord enters into the ranks of the Virtues and attempts murder, Faith and the other Virtues essentially beat Discord down and "being unable to bear Discord's monsterous blasphemy, Faith 'shoves a javelin down Discord's throat.'"  The entire poem has been grizzly but this stood out to me as an almost "(eye roll) just shut up already, you are ruining our party and you tried to stab me so now I am angry, grrrr!" scene.  I suppose I just except Virtue, from the image I previously had, to be a little more excepting than that.  OK obviously Discord had to die because she tried to kill a Virtue but they literally rip her apart!  I guess this goes to show that everyone has a dark side, mwahahaha! (Just in time for Halloween)

Manuscript Discrepancy

Lines 727-729 appear in a 6th c. manuscript as: 

conpositis igitur rerum morumque secundis

in commune bonis, postquam intra tuta morari

contigit ac statione frui valloque foveri

pacificos Sensus, et in otia solvere curas,

exstruitur media castrorum sede tribunal

editiore loco, tumulus quem vertice acuto

excitat in speculam, subiecta unde omnia late

liber inoffenso circum inspicit aëre visus.

So now that a fair and happy state of circumstance and life has been established over all, now that the peaceable Sentiments can dwell in security under the protection of guard-post and rampart, and find relief in relaxation of their cares, a platform is set up at the midmost point of the camp on an elevated ground, a peak-topped hillock rising to make a look-out whence the eye can freely range afar on every side without obstruction.

I find it favorable. 

This is the rehearsal of the Psychomachia, complete with sex and drink and lute girls

Once the established bond was overthrown,

the elements themselves transgressed the bounds

laid down for them, plundering and destroying

all, shaking the world with lawless might.

Battling winds shatter the shady groves;

forests, uprooted by the wild blasts,                                                           240                            

come crashing down, while over here the raging

river’s swollen waters leap across

the banks placed opposite to check its path,

and wandering far and wide, the river rules

the devastated fields. But the Creator

did not plant such rage in His new world:

rather, the world's freedom, without check                                   245

or moderation, disturbed the peaceful laws.

And is it any wonder if the world’s

parts are shaken and spun about, or if

the machinery of the universe, shaken

by its own faults, is struggling, or if rot

wears out the earth? Human life provides

the pattern for other creature’s sin—human life![1]                       250

Madness and Error attend man’s every action,[2]

causing wars to rage, and fleeting Pleasure

to spread, Lust to burn with filthy fire,

and voracious Greed to suck down heaps of coins

with gaping jaws. No limit of acquiring                              255

slows Greed from adding hope for more

to the money she’s amassed. To bring forth gold

makes hunger for gold grow greater. Hence a harvest

of evils and the sole root of woes, while Ornament,

a pimp for dissipated Modesty, pans                                                          260

for gold in rushing streams and digs for hidden

ores, and foolish Self-Interest scratches in

the veins of the dirty earth, clawing up

nature’s hidden secrets. Who knows? Poking

around in the cracks, she might find sparkling stones.[3]

NOW WOMAN, not content with her natural beauty,                   265

puts on a false appearance; she even binds

pearly stones from sea-shells in her gleaming

hair, plaiting her braids with golden chains,

as if the hand of God, the master craftsman,

had left her face unfinished, forcing her

to decorate her brow with woven sapphires,

wind blazing gems around her unstained neck,

and weight her ears with dangling emerald stones.

It would be dull to run in detail through

the sacrilegious efforts made by married

women, who stain with dye the gifts with which

God endowed their forms. Their skin, all smeared

with make-up, has lost the beauty it once had,

impossible to know beneath its coat of false                                 275

color. Typical of the weaker sex!

Within the confines of a woman’s breast a seething

tide of sins batters the fragile mind.

And what about the fact that Man--the head

of a woman’s body, the king who rules the small

and fragile segment cut from his own flesh,                                  280

he who governs the delicate vessel with his

authority--Man too dissipates himself

in luxury? Look at the aging muscle-men

softened by refinement, men to whom

the Maker gave tough bodies and strong limbs

reinforced by bones. But they are ashamed

of being men and chase whatever vanities                                   285

will make them beautiful, and foolishly 

dissolve their native strength. Flowing robes

delight them—robes made not of sheep’s wool but of

silk, culled from the spoils of Oriental trees--

and embroidered patterns ripple over

their muscles. They have learnt the art by which                                     290

threads steeped in distilled herbs trick out

shapes with different colored threads. Fleeces

from exotic beasts, the softest to the touch,

are spun for yarn. This man, on the hunt,

chases after sexy tunics, weaving

feathery boas (a new fabric made from                              295

many-colored birds), while that gay fellow

wafts clouds of womanly scent and aromatic

lotions and imported powder. The Creator

placed our vital powers in our five senses:

Self-indulgence now controls them all![4]

The use we make of ears and eyes, of nose                                               300

and palate, is ruined by vice: even touch,

which rules our whole body, goes about

looking for the sweet caress of dainty

ointments.

O shame! Nature’s laws lie low,

her dowry dragged captive behind the tyrant                              305

Lust. Perverted justice flourishes; all

that the Almighty gave to men to own

they twist to different ends. I ask you,

was it to pollute its vision with gross

pleasure, to watch eunuchs’ shameless bodies

twirling in the cesspool of the theatre,                               310

that the watchful pupil was set below

the eye’s smooth lid?[5] Does our breath pass

through the conjoined tunnels, leading down

from the center of the brain’s high citadel

to our twin nostrils just so Pleasure, basely

bought, can revel in the sweet enticement

of a sexy whore shaking her perfumed hair?                    315

Did God open our ears and make a passage

for sound to penetrate their vaulted maze

so we could hear the lute girls’ useless strumming,

the sound of strings, and wild drinking songs?

Does taste exist within the mouth’s moist palate              320

so over-spiced exotic entrees can snare

the gourmand’s jaded appetite and greedy

palate, and make him spend entire nights

eating meals composed of many courses

and every kind of flavor, until his belly,

stuffed with food and wine, can take no more?

God wanted us to learn what’s hard or soft,

what’s smooth, and what is rough, what’s hot or cold                              325

by using an interpreter: our sense of touch.

But we heap downy pillows (what delight)

and linen fabrics that soothe and smooth our skin

upon our couches when we dine or sleep.

---

[1] Contrast this passage, in which the exemplum of man’s sin corrupts the universe, with the analogy of the sun earlier, in which the universe provides an exemplum to help man understand God. 

[2] In another example of enargeia, or writing that brings a visual image to the mind, Prudentius introduces a host of personified Vices, several of which appear later in the Psychomachia, a poem that is the first sustained personification allegory in Latin literature.

[3] After the troop of personified Vices, Prudentius turns to a stock theme from moral diatribes and satire:  the vices of women and homosexuals.  Women are attacked for their love of artifice, exemplified by make-up and ornament; effeminate men are accused of improperly abandoning their masculine qualities (self-control, strength) in their lust for luxury goods and feminine display.

[4] It was thought that the senses were gateways through which the soul could be attacked (cf. John Chrysostom On Vainglory and the Education of the Young 27; Prudentius here enumerates the assaults to which each sense is vulnerable.  Sight is by far the most dangerous of the senses, as it leaves the strongest impression on the mind.

[5] Prudentius describes the performance of a pantomime dancer.  The pantomime  (nothing like the comic modern pantomime tradition) was a wildly popular type of theatrical performance, from its beginning in the reign of Augustus through late antiquity.  The dancers were solo performers who acted out stories from mythology and tragedy, such as Orestes, Hippolytus, Herakles, and Medea, through gesture and dance, accompanied by a chorus of singers and musicians.  Christian writers perceived these performances as a particularly dangerous threat to the integrity of the Christian soul because of the pagan content, the gender slippage (males took on both male and female roles), and the strong emotions generated by the performances (see Webb 2007, a fascinating recreation and analysis of pantomime in late antiquity).