Macrobrius'
Commentary on the Dream of Scipio
Paula Budhlall
Macrobius is a Latin writer and philosopher who flourished
at the end of the fourth century and the beginning of
the fifth century. He belongs to a small but important
group of polymaths and encyclopedists who attempted
to epitomize and present in accessible form the classical
liberal arts and classical philosophy (Stahl, 9). He
was considered an authority on the interpretation of
dreams and cosmology, and is best know for his Saturnalia,
a dialogue in seven books, which include the Commentary
on Cicero’s Dream of Scipio. Macrobius appended
to his Commentary the text of Scipio’s Dream and
is generally credited for keeping alive this dream in
its entirety. At the end of this presentation we will
learn of Macrobius’ contribution to dream theory,
some important aspects of Scipio’s dream and the
relevance of Macrobius’ work to our discussion
on Chaucer’s House of Fame.<to
top>
Macrobius’ Commentary was indeed considered
one of the leading dream books of the middle ages, and
was popular for its extensive interrogation of philosophy
and other moral and doctrinal issues found in medieval
literature such as the classification of dreams, the
steps by which the soul descends from its celestial
origin to human bodies, and the motion and order of
the celestial and planetary spheres (Stahl, 40). In
book three of his Commentary Macrobius distinguishes
five different types of dreams: the enigmatic dream
(somnium), the prophetic vision (visio), the oracular
dream (oraculum), the nightmare (insomnium), and the
apparition (visum) (Stahl, 88). The first three (somnium,
visio and oraculum) were of prophetic significance,
while the nightmares and the apparitions were fragmented,
disconnected and formed as a result of indigestion or
the anxieties of the day. Macrobius believes that the
apparition comes upon one in the moment between wakefulness
and slumber, in what he calls the "first cloud
of sleep," while the nightmare is deceitful and
false and sent by "departed spirits of the sky"
(Stahl, 89).
Macrobius’s Commentary on the Dream of Scipio
is based on his interpretation of the closing portion
of the sixth book of Cicero’s De republica
(Stahl, 69). In Scipio’s dream, his grandfather
Scipio Africanus is his guide through the celestial
spheres. He shows Macrobius the earth that "appeared
to be a small fixed point at the bottom of universe
around which a series of nine concentric circle or spheres
revolve, with the outermost, the celestial sphere, …
confining and containing all the other spheres"
(Stahl, 73). In Macrobius’ Commentary
we find statements about a spherical earth situated
in the exact center of the universe, encircled by the
seven planetary spheres, which rotate from west to east,
and by the celestial sphere, which rotate from east
to west (Stahl, 17).<to top>
Some critics may understandably question Chaucer’s
referencing in his poetry, since in the House of
Fame Macrobius is the author of The Dream of
Scipio, but in the Parliament of Fowls,
Cicero is the acknowledged author of the Dream.
However, the many images and references to Macrobius
in The House of Fame, The Parliament of Fowls,
and The Book of the Duchess is undeniable.
Chaucer’s House of Fame begins as Cicero’s
Dream – after a long journey –
and like Macrobius, the dreamer begins his dream with
a classification of dreams. Scipio’s grandfather
encourages him to fix his "attention on the heavens
and contemn what is mortal," also he cautions him
not to "expect any fame from men," for he
is small compared to the portion allotted to him"
(Stahl, 74). Likewise, Macrobius argues in the Commentary
that the "purpose of the dream is to teach us that
the souls of those who serve well are returned to the
heavens after death and there enjoy everlasting blessedness"
(Stahl, 92).
Macrobius therefore uses The Dream of Scipio
as the touchstone, to expand on his belief that the
"most effective way of instilling in man a desire
to lead an upright, law-abiding life is by revealing
to him the habitation and rewards of departed souls"
(Stahl,13). While Macrobius should be given credit for
his classification of dreams in chapter 3 of his book,
V. H. Hopper argues that he is only using Cicero’s
work as an excuse for introducing lengthy discussions
in various fields of learning and science (Stahl, 95).
<to top>
Even if this is so, we cannot deny that the underlying
purpose of Macrobius’ Commentary was
to reinforce the belief of Plato and Cicero that there
is life beyond the grave. In Scipio’s dream, Scipio
with the help of his grandfather was able to see the
insignificance of Rome in relation to the universe,
and the smallness of a name in relation to the globe.
Likewise, Chaucer builds on the basic concepts of Macrobius’
work by including in his dream poetry social/moral allegory
and references to contemporary political events unfolding
at that time. Thus at a realistic level, The House
of Fame is a revisiting of the struggles between
English parliamentarians and royalist forces. In this
way, the rewards from men seem arbitrary, and the House
of Fame is inconsequential since regardless of their
accomplishments and nobility men are rewarded not according
to their deeds, but in an arbitrary haphazard manner.
Works cited:
Benson, D. Larry (editor). Riverside Chaucer.
Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1987.
Stahl, William, Macrobius' Commentary on the Dream
of Scipio. London: Columbia University Press, 1952.
Alan of
Lille: The Plaint of Nature
by Aaron Kimberley
Alain of Lille, or Alanus de Insulus, was a twelfth
century French poet and Catholic monk. Lille’s
success and impact on history, sadly, can be considered
largely an accident and should not be understood to
reflect his talents as writer or theologian. Importantly,
he was writing at a time in history when Scholasticism
flourished, and appeared as an increasing threat to
more traditional Catholic belief. And so, Lille’s
significance is partially as a not particularly insightful
Aristotelian, on the backdrop of the Aristotelian revolution
fomenting and about to occur around him.
The purpose, however, of Alain’s De planctu
Naturae, is not particularly relevant to its impact.
Its significance is certainly not merely as poetry,
as poetical criticism has not, in general, been at all
kind to Alain. Douglas M. Moffat, in his definitive
translation and commentary on the Planctu, describes
the poem as "a multitude of words, fluttering over
an embarrassing paucity of ideas" (Moffat 2). The
intent of the poem is, essentially, to impress the rational
basis for the medieval Catholic ideal of love. Alain
accomplishes this by illustrating the state of love
in grammatical terms. He seems to view grammatical law
as akin to natural law and somehow basic to natural
understanding of the world. And so he admonishes his
reader to look down scornfully on the fact of "subject
becoming predicate" and, by implication, man becoming,
sexually, woman.
<to top>
But this premise, once again, is simply not relevant
to Alain’s and the Planctu’s major
historical impact. Rather, Lille gains his notoriety
from a mere two lines of text, in the authoring of which
he had no part. Those lines were authored, rather, two
centuries later by Geoffrey Chaucer. In Chaucer’s
Parliament of Fowls. Lines 316 and 317 read
And right as Alain, in his Plaint of Kind
Deviseth Nature of such array and face
De planctu Naturae becomes "Plaint of
Kind" in Chaucer’s translation. What Chaucer
is referring to in "Nature" is the goddess
figure around whom Alain’s poem is formed. Alain,
like Chaucer, was familiar with the work of Boethius.
And so, the Nature goddess who serves to provide the
titular plaint/complaint in the work is very much an
imitation of the Boethian figure. Beyond Chaucer’s
direct reference to the Planctu and the two authors’
sharing of interest in Boethius’ work, the most
obvious correlation is in the title of Chaucer’s
work itself.
A "Parliament of Foules" is
the phenomenon which occupies much of Alain’s
writing in the Planctu. When the narrator comes
upon the person of "Dame Nature," he is struck
by the appearance of her robes:"A garment, woven
from silky wool and covered with many colors, was as
the virgin's robe of state. Its appearance perpetually
changed with many a different color and manifold hue"
(11). Most importantly, however he finds "a parliament
of of the living creation" and "there, the
eagle, first assuming youth, then age, and finally returning
to the first, changed from Nestor to Adonis" (11).
What follows is the description of a vast array of birds,
both real and mythical. The hawk, kite, falcon, heron,
ostrich, swan, phoenix" and many others make an
appearance, going about their natural business, generally
somewhat less metaphorically than did the eagle, but
often with hints of anthropomorphism.
<to top>
Dante is also known to have read the Planctu,
though what degree of influence it might have had on
him is not as clear as it is in the case of Chaucer.
Chaucer’s poem derives both its title and them
from Alain’s work, but Chaucer’s poetry
is all his own and Alain’s "embarrassing
paucity of ideas" is turned to comic wit.
Sources:
http://mb-soft.com/believe/txc/scholast.htm
http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/01244e.htm
http://www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alain_De_Lille
Alain of Lille. The Complaint of Nature. Trans. Douglas
M. Moffat. Hamden: The Shoe String Press, Inc., 1972.
<to top>
Dr. Sutherland responds (with Aaron's permission):
Aaron has given a very strong, forthright account of
a strange work that has no has ever really known what
to make of. Certainly I'd rather read Chaucer's Parliament
with its "comic wit." There are, however,
some points I would like to address. In itself, I think
Aaron is quite right to find Alan of Lille's Plaint
of Nature rather unimportant, especially since
the translator of the edition he consulted seems not
to have put Alan in any meaningful context. He's generally
considered a neoplatonist of the school of Chartres,
for example, not an Aristotelian (beware websites spouting
disinformation!). The Plaint is influenced
by Plato's Timeus.
As for Alan’s bizarre grammatical argument against
homosexuality (or more specifically, sodomy), no wonder
Aaron found this stuff weird--it certainly is. I'm not
sure that you can say this represents a rationalization
of the Catholic ideal of love, or even sex, though.
It's just peculiar. Language, and specifically Latin,
is, however, solidly linked to God's order in the Middle
Ages. We will take a look at this connection in the
Romance of the Rose next week. We will also
have occasion to consider the way the Chaucer saw the
relationship between sex, gender and language in The
Canterbury Tales next term.
<to top>
Personally, I find contrast not similarity in Alan’s
Nature and Boethius’s Philosophy. Look at their
gowns—they’re entirely different. Philosophy's
is torn and smokey, with the symbols for theory and
practice on it. Philosophy's is shimmering and lovely
and presents all of the creatures of creation. Philosophy
is a nurse and wise woman who leads the prisoner into
an understanding of providence and a resignation to
death. Nature is the one who is crying in the Plaint!
Moreover, she is described by Alan as being sexual rather
than aloof: "In her body lay hidden a more blissful
aspect to which her face showed the introduction"
(Sheridan, p. 75), to quote a milder bit.
Certainly the work is pedantic, most would agree about
that. And maybe it does have few ideas. Still, the ideas
it contains are part of an influential movement in the
history of Western thought. The figure of Nature is
extremely important in the twelfth century and beyond.
As I said in lecture, it provides an alternative to
the contemptus mundi tradition which rejects
the physical world and its functions as repulsive and
at odds with God’s divinity. Alan’s Nature
is a figure of plenitude and order that works with God.
The long echphrasis on her gown—in my translation
by James J. Sheridan it takes up pp. 85-105—portrays
all the animal life of air, earth, and water, naming
the creatures and their characteristics as part of the
natural order. God sets Nature up to take care of the
lower world and lets her have a free hand. This is an
important shift in Christian thinking.
<to top>
The main problem in the Menippean Satire De Planctu
is that Nature gives up her post! Literary critics have
been most annoyed by this. In the very influential study
by M.D. Chenu, Nature, Man, and Society in the Twelfth
Century, Chenu’s index entry for Alain is
a column long. He’s an important conduit of Neoplatonic
thought in the Middle Ages, as well.
Of the revolution in the history of ideas of which
Alain of Lille was part, Chenu writes:
the concept of nature acquired an unprecedented sophistication,
and the direction even of men’s religious curiosity
shifted. It was no longer the extravagant occurences
that interested them, those marvels which entranced
their forebears and rapt them into a world all the
more real in their eyes for its very capriciousness.
On the contrary, they were interested in regular and
determinate sequences, especially in the area of vital
activity. Nature existed—and one must take care
to spell the word with a capital letter, for Nature
became personified and as such, by a fashionable literary
fiction of the time, became a goddess. But the fiction
in this case had real philosopical worth. . . Alan
developed this alegory in the pedantic imagery of
his De planctu Naturae (The Complaint of Nature),
the reputation of which would survive the flood tide
of Aristotelianism as it would the advance of poetry
in the centuries ahead. Its reputation would survive
because his literary conceits did not date or render
obsolete the genuine comprehension for which they
served as vehicle—that wonderment experienced
by minds which, as they raised their eyes from the
marvels of their bestiaries and lapidaries and moved
out of the social and intellectual immaturity of serfdom,
discovered life’s ordered energies, its instincts,
its laws and freedom, the rhythmic movement of the
seasons and the recurrent life-cycles of loving beings:
O Child of God and Mother of things,
Bond of the world, its firm-tied knot,
Jewel set among things of eath, and
mirror to all that passes away,
Morning star of our sphere;
Peace, love, power, regimen and strength,
Order, law, end, pathway, captain and source,
Life, light, glory, beauty and shape,
O Rule of our world.
from Chenu, M.-D. Nature, Man and Society in the
Twelfth Century. Toronto: University of Toronto,
1997, pp 18-19
Alan of Lille: The Plaint of Nature. Mediaeval
Sources in Translation. James J. Sheridan ed. Vol. 26.
Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies,
1980. <to top>
The
Parliament of Fowls and the Marriage of Richard
II
by Cher Li
The Parliament of Fowls is an occasional poem
whose subject is the marriage negotiations that took
place between Richard II of England and Anne of Bohemia.
Chaucer’s poem was written to coincide with the
beginning of the discussions in 1380, and several figures
and incidents in The Parliament of Fowls have
direct analogues to the political drama then unfolding.
It is therefore useful to possess a brief history of
these events in order to arrive at a fuller appreciation
of Chaucer’s charming verse narrative.
Richard II was born in 1367 to Edward the Black Prince,
then the heir to the English throne. Upon Edward’s
death in 1376, the young Richard was named the Prince
of Wales. Richard’s quick rise in status continued
in 1377 with the death of his grandfather Edward III,
an event that transformed the young boy into the King
of England. Almost immediately after his ascension to
the throne, efforts were made to find Richard a suitably
illustrious bride. Chaucer himself was a member of the
diplomatic party that attempted to unite Richard and
the Princess Marie of France in matrimony. Unfortunately,
Marie died in 1378 and Chaucer’s efforts came
to naught. <to top>
The next candidate to be advanced was a young noblewoman
named Caterina, daughter of the extremely wealthy Lord
Bernabo Visconti of Milan. Caterina’s allure lay
mainly in her reputed intelligence and wit, as well
as the enormous dowry that her father dangled before
her various suitors. With the aim of securing that glittering
prize, an English embassy (of whom Chaucer was a member)
was dispatched to Milan in 1378. Yet, before negotiations
could be seriously undertaken, the political climate
in Europe suffered a drastic change. In a dispute which
has come to be known as the Great Schism, the various
nations of Europe were divided over the issue of the
papal succession. Not surprisingly, the French lords
were convinced that the ideal candidate for the role
was Pope Clement in Avignon. The English nobility and
the Holy Roman Emperor Wenzel, however, believed that
Pope Urban in Rome was the proper man for the position.
In light of the developing political tensions, the English
were soon of the opinion that a marriage between Richard
and Wenzel’s relation Anne of Bohemia would far
outweigh in diplomatic value the merely financial benefits
of a match with Caterina. <to top>
Upon this realization, the formerly Milan-bound embassy
quickly switched courses to Germany. There were, however,
certain obstacles to the finalization of a marriage
contract between Richard II and Anne of Bohemia. First
and foremost, Anne was already engaged to a minor German
prince, Friedrich of Meissen. As well, there was significant
additional competition for Anne in the form of the future
Charles VI of France. In desperation to secure this
politically advantageous match (Anne was related to
virtually all European nobility of note), the English
made the unprecedented offer of a dowry to Wenzel for
the woman’s hand in marriage. The 20,000 florins
as well as an extra loan of 60,000 florins had the expected
effect, and Richard II and Anne of Bohemia were joined
in holy matrimony in January 1382. The marriage seems
to have been genuinely happy, and all available evidence
suggests that both partners were sexually faithful to
one another for the duration of their union. Sadly,
their wedded bliss came to an end in 1394 when Anne
succumbed to the plague. Richard himself came to a grisly
end in 1400 when he was first deposed as king, and then
starved to death as the first casualty of the attractively
named dynastic squabble the War of the Roses.
As a conclusion to this brief summary of the immediate
historical context of The Parliament of Fowls,
it will perhaps be useful to list clearly the various
connections between figures and events of the poem and
their real-life counterparts. The much-desired formel
eagle of the piece is obviously Anne of Bohemia. The
royal tercel eagle who is held to be the formel’s
most gallant and desirable suitor is Chaucer’s
employer and King, Richard II. The humblest tercel eagle
(whose main distinction in the marriage sweepstakes
is the length of his attachment) is the minor prince
Friedrich of Meissen, Anne’s unfortunate discarded
fiancée. The third tercel (the newest fowl to
make a bid for the formel’s talon in marriage)
is Charles VI, who was in fact the last to join the
negotiations concerning Anne.
Bibliography
1) Benson, Larry D. "The Occasion of the Parliament
of Fowls." In The Wisdom of Poetry: Essays
in Early English Literature in honor of Morton Bloomfield.
Edited by Larry D. Benson and Siegfried Wenzel.
Kalmazoo, Michigan: Medieval Institute Publications,
1982, pp. 123-44.
2) Eckfort, Teresa. "Romantic Couples in History:
Richard II and Anne of Bohemia." 8 October 2002.
< http://www.likesbooks.com/richardandanne.html>
3) Bartholme, Ed. "Richard II." The Encyclopaedia
of Chivalry. 8 October 2002. <http://faculty.smu.edu/bwheeler/Ency/Richard.html>
<to top>
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