CHAPTER XXXI

EVOLUTION OF MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE

Classical antiquity lay far back of the mediaeval period, while in the nearer background pressed the centuries of transition, the time of the Church Fathers. The patristic material and a crude knowledge of the antique passed over to the early Middle Ages. Mediaeval progress was to consist, very largely, in the mastery and appropriation of the one and the other.

The varied illustration of these propositions has filled a large portion of this work. In this and the next chapter we are concerned with literature, properly speaking; and with the effect of the Classics, the pure literary antique, upon mediaeval literary productions. The latter are to be viewed as literature; not considering their substance, but their form, their composition, style, and temperamental shading, qualities which show the faculties and temper of their authors. We are to discover, if we can, wherein the qualities of mediaeval literature reflect the Latin Classics, or in any way betray their influence.

It is an affair of dull diligence to learn what Classics were read by the various mediaeval writers; and likewise is it a dull affair to note in mediaeval writings the direct borrowing from the Classics of fact, opinion, sentiment, or phrase. Such borrowing was incessant, resorted to as of course wherever opportunity offered and the knowledge was at hand. It would not commonly occur to a mediaeval writer to state in his own way what he could take from an ancient author, save in so far as change of medium--from prose to verse, or from Latin to the vernacular--compelled him. So the church builders in Rome never thought of hewing new blocks of stone, or making new columns, when some ancient palace or temple afforded a quarry. The details of such spoliations offer little interest in comparison with the effect of antique architecture upon later styles. So we should like to discover the effect of the ancient compositions upon the mediaeval, and observe how far the faculties and mental processes of classic authors, incorporate in their writings, were transmitted to mediaeval men, to become incorporate in theirs.

Unless you are Virgil or Cicero, you cannot write like Virgil or Cicero. Writing, real writing, that is to say, creative self-expressive composition, is the personal product and closely mirrored reflex of the writer’s temperament and mentality. It gives forth indirectly the influences which have blended in him, education and environment, his past and present. His personality makes his style, his untransmittable style. Yet a group of men affected by the same past, and living at the same time and place, or under like spiritual influences, may show a like faculty and taste. Having more in common with one another than with men of other time, their mental processes, and therefore their ways of writing, will present more common qualities. Around and above them, as well as through their natal and acquired faculties, sweeps the genius of the language, itself the age-long product of a like-minded race. In harmony with it, not in opposition and repugnancy, each writer must, if he will write that language, shape his more personal diction.

Obviously the personal elements in classic writings were no more capable of transmission than the personal qualities of the writers. Likewise, the genius of the Latin language, though one might think it fixed in approved compositions, changed with the spiritual fortune of the Roman people, and constantly transmitted an altered self and novel tenets of construction to control the linguistic usages of succeeding men. None but himself could have written Cicero’s letters. No man of Juvenal’s time could have written the _Aeneid_, nor any man of the time of Diocletian the histories of Tacitus. There were, however, common elements in these compositions, all of them possessing certain qualities which are associated with classical writing. These may be difficult to formulate, but they become clear enough in contrast with the qualities of mediaeval Latin literature. The mediaeval man did not feel and reason like a contemporary of Virgil or Cicero; he had not the same training in _Greek_ literature; he did not have the same definitude of conception, did not care so much that a composition should have limit and the unity springing from adherence to a single topic; he did not, in fine, stand on the same level of attainment and faculty and taste with men of the Augustan time. He had his own heights and depths, his own temperament and predilections, his own capacities. Reading the Classics had not transformed him into Cicero or Seneca, or set his feet in the Roman Forum. His feet wandered in the ways of the Middle Ages, and whatever he wrote in prose or verse, in Latin or in his own vernacular, was himself and of himself, and but indirectly due to the antecedent influences which had been transmuted even in entering his nature and becoming part of his temper and faculty.

Any consideration of the knowledge and appreciation of the Classics in the Middle Ages would be followed naturally by a consideration of their effect upon mediaeval composition; which in turn forms part of any discussion of the literary qualities of mediaeval Latin literature. But inasmuch as mediaeval form and diction tend to remove further and further from classical standards, the whole discussion may seem a _lucus a non lucendo_ for all the light it throws upon the effect of the Classics on mediaeval literature. Our best plan will be to note the beginnings of mediaeval Latinity in that post-Augustan and largely patristic diction which had been enriched and reinvigorated with many phrases from daily speech; and then to follow the living if sluggish river as it moves on, receiving increment along its course, its currents mottled with the silt of mediaeval Italy, France, Germany. We shall suppose this flood to divide in rivers of Latin prose and verse; and we may follow them, and see where they overflow their channels, carrying antique flotsam into the ample marshes of vernacular poetry.

There has always been a difference in diction between speech and literature. At Rome, Cicero and Caesar, and of course the poets, did not, in writing, use quite the language of the people. All the words of daily speech were not taken into the literary or classical vocabulary, which had often quite other words of its own. Moreover the writers, in forming their prose and verse and constructing their compositions, were affected deeply by their study of Greek literature.[227] If Caesar, Cicero, Virgil, and their friends spoke differently from the Roman shopkeepers, there was a still greater difference between their writings and the parlance of the town.

No one need be told that it was the spoken, and not the classical Latin, which in Italy, Spain, Provence, and Northern France developed into Italian, Spanish, Provençal, and French. On the other hand, the descent of written mediaeval Latin from the classical diction or the popular speech, or both, is not so clear, or at least not so simple. It cannot be said that mediaeval Latin came straight from the classical; and manifestly it cannot have sprung from the popular spoken Latin, like the Romance tongues, without other influence or admixture; because then, instead of remaining Latin, it would have become Romance; which it did not. Evidently mediaeval Latin, the literary and to some extent the spoken medium of educated men in the Middle Ages, must have carried classic strains, or have kept itself Latin by the study of Latin grammar and a conscious adherence to a veritable, if not classical, Latin diction. The mediaeval reading of the Classics, and the earnest and constant study of Latin grammar spoken of in the previous chapter, were the chief means by which mediaeval Latin maintained its Latinity. Nevertheless, while it kept the word forms and inflections of classical Latin, with most of the classical vocabulary, it also took up an indefinite supplement of words from the spoken Latin of the late imperial or patristic period.

In order to understand the genesis and qualities of mediaeval Latin, one must bear in mind (as with most things mediaeval) that its immediate antecedents lie in the transitional fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries, and not in the classical period.[228] Those centuries went far toward declassicizing Latin prose, by departing from the balanced structure of the classic sentences and introducing words from the spoken tongue. The style became less correct, freer, and better suited to the expression of the novel thoughts and interests coming with Christianity. The change is seen in the works of the men to whom it was largely due, Tertullian, Jerome, and other great patristic writers.[229] Such men knew the Classics well, and regarded them as literary models, and yet wrote differently. For a new spirit was upon them and new necessities of expression, and they lived when, even outside of Christian circles, the classic forms of style were loosening with the falling away of the strenuous intellectual temper, the poise, the self-reliance and the self-control distinguishing the classical epoch.

The stylistic genius of Augustine and Jerome was not the genius of the formative beginnings of the Romance tongues, with, for instance, its inability to rely on the close logic of the case ending, and its need to help the meaning by the more explicit preposition. Yet the spirit of these two great men was turning that way. They were not classic writers, but students of the Classics, who assisted their own genius by the study of what no longer was themselves. So in the following centuries the most careful Latin writers are students of the Classics, and do not study Jerome and Augustine for style. Yet their writings carry out the tendencies beginning (or rather not beginning) with these two.

It was not in diction alone that the Fathers were the forerunners of mediaeval writers. _Classic_ Latin authors, both from themselves and through their study of Greek literature, had the sense and faculty of form. Their works maintain a clear sequence of thought, along with strict pertinency to the main topic, or adherence to the central current of the narrative, avoiding digression and refraining from excessive amplification. The classic writer did not lose himself in his subject, or wander with it wherever it might lead him. But in patristic writings the subject is apt to dominate the man, draw him after its own necessities, or by its casual suggestions cause him to digress. The Fathers in their polemic or expository works became prolix and circumstantial, intent, like a lawyer with a brief, on proving every point and leaving no loophole to the adversary. In their works literary unity and strict sequence of argument may be cast to the winds. Above all, as it seems to us, and as it would have seemed to Caesar or Cicero or Tacitus, allegorical interpretation carries them at its own errant and fantastic will into footless mazes.

Yet whoever will understand and appreciate the writings of the Fathers and of the mediaeval generations after them, should beware of inelastic notions. The question of unity hangs on what the writer deems the veritable topic of his work, and that may be the universal course of the providence of God, which was the subject of Augustine’s _Civitas Dei_. Indeed, the infinite relationship of any Christian topic was like enough to break through academic limits of literary unity. Likewise, the proper sequence of thought depends on what constitutes the true connection between one matter and another; it must follow what with the writer are the veritable relationships of his topics. If the visible facts of a man’s environment and the narratives of history are to him primarily neither actual facts nor literal narratives, but symbols and allegories of spiritual things, then the true sequence of thought for him is from symbol to symbol and from allegory to allegory. He is justified in ignoring the apparent connection of visible facts and the logic of the literal story, and in surrendering himself to that sequence of thought which follows what is for him the veritable significance of the matter.

Yet here we must apply another standard besides that of the writer’s conception of his subject’s significance. He should be wise, and not foolish. Other men and later ages will judge him according to their own best wisdom. And with respect to the writings of the Fathers viewed as literature, the modern critic cannot fail to see them entering upon that course of prolixity which in mediaeval writings will develop into the endless; looking forward, he will see their errant habits resolving into the mediaeval lack of determined topic, and their symbolically driven sequences of thought turning into the most ridiculous topical transitions, as the less cogent faculties of later men permit themselves to be _suggested_ anywhither.

The Fathers developed their distinguishing qualities of style and language under the demands of the topics absorbing them, and the influence of modes of feeling coming with Christianity. They were compelling an established language to express novel matter. In the centuries after them, further changes were to come through the linguistic tendencies moulding the evolution of the Romance tongues, through the counter influence of the study of grammar and rhetoric, and also through the ignorance and intellectual limitations of the writers. But as with the Latin of the Fathers, so with the Latin of the Middle Ages, the change of style and language was intimately and spiritually dependent upon the minds and temperaments of the writers and the qualities of the subjects for which they were seeking an expression. A profound influence in the evolution of mediaeval Latin was the continual endeavour of the mediaeval genius to express the thoughts and feelings through which it was becoming itself. With impressive adequacy and power the Christian writers of the Middle Ages moulded their inherited and acquired Latin tongue to utter the varied matters which moved their minds and lifted up their hearts. We marvel to see a language which once had told the stately tale of Rome here lowered to fantastic incident and dull stupidity, then with almost gospel simplicity telling the moving story of some saintly life; again sonorously uttering thoughts to lift men from the earth and denunciations crushing them to hell; quivering with hope and fear and love, and chanting the last verities of the human soul.

As to the evolution of various styles of written Latin from the close of the patristic period on through the following centuries, one may premise the remark that there would commonly be two opposite influences upon the writer; that of the genius of his native tongue, and that of his education in Latinity. If he lived in a land where Teutonic speech had never given way to the spoken Latin of the Empire, his native tongue would be so different from the Latin which he learned at school, that while it might impede, it could hardly draw to its own genius the learned language. But in Romance countries there was no such absolute difference between the vernacular and the Latin, and the analytic genius of the growing Romance dialects did not fail to affect the latter. Accordingly in France, for example, the spoken Latin dialect, or one may say the genius that was forming the old French dialects to what they were to be, tends to break up the ancient periods, to introduce the auxiliary verb in the place of elaborate inflections, and rely on prepositions instead of case endings, which were disappearing and whose force was ceasing to be felt. One result was to simplify the order of words in a sentence; for it was not possible to move a noun with its accompanying preposition wherever it had been feasible to place a noun whose relation to the rest of the sentence was felt from its case ending. Gregory of Tours is the famous example of these tendencies, with his _Historia francorum_, an ideal forerunner of Froissart. He became Bishop of Tours in the year 573. In his writings he followed the instincts of the inchoate Romance tongues. He acknowledges and perhaps overstates his ignorance of Latin grammar and the rules of composition. Such ignorance was destined to become still blanker; and ignorance in itself was a disintegrating influence upon written Latin, and also gave freer play to the gathering tendencies of Romance speech.

Evidently, had all these influences worked unchecked, they would have obliterated Latinity from mediaeval Latin. Grammatical and rhetorical education countered them effectively, and the mighty genius of the ancient language endured in the extant masterpieces. Nevertheless the spirit of classical Latinity was never again to be a spontaneous creative power. The most that men thenceforth could do was to study, and endeavour to imitate, the forms in which it had embodied its living self.

In brief, some of the chief influences upon the writing of Latin in the Middle Ages were: the classical genius dead, leaving only its works for imitation; the school education in Latin grammar and rhetoric; endeavour to follow classic models and write correctly; inability to do so from lack of capacity and knowledge; conscious disregard of classicism; the spirit of the Teutonic tongues clogging Latinity, and that of the Romance tongues deflecting it from classical constructions; and finally, the plastic faculties of advancing Christian mediaeval civilization educing power from confusion, and creating modes of language suited to express the thoughts and feelings of mediaeval men.

The life, that is to say the living development, of mediaeval Latin prose, was to lie in the capacity of successive generations of educated men to maintain a sufficient grammatical correctness, while at the same time writing Latin, not classically, but in accordance with the necessities and spirit of their times. There resulted an enormous literature which was not dead, nor altogether living, and lacked throughout the spontaneity of writings in a mother tongue; for Latin was not the speech of hearth and home, nor everywhere the tongue of the market-place and camp. But it was the language of mediaeval education and acquired culture; it was the language also of the universal church, and, above all other tongues, expressed the thoughts by which men were saved or damned. More profoundly than any vernacular mediaeval literature, the Latin literature of the Middle Ages expresses the mediaeval mind. It thundered with the authority that held the keys of heaven; it was resonant with feeling, and through long centuries gave voice to emotions, shattering, terror-stricken, convulsively loving. When, say with the close of the eleventh century, the mediaeval peoples had absorbed with power the teachings of patristic Christianity, and had undergone some centuries of Latin schooling, and when under these two chief influences certain distinctive and homogeneous ways of thinking, feeling, and looking upon life, had been reached; when, in fine, the Middle Ages had become themselves and had evolved a genius that could create,--then and from that time appears the adaptability and power of mediaeval Latin to serve the ends of intellectual effort and the expression of emotion.

To estimate the literary qualities of classical Latin is a simpler task than to judge the Latinity and style of the Latin literature of the Middle Ages. Classic Latin prose has a common likeness. In general one feels that what Cicero and Caesar would have rejected, Tacitus and Quintilian would not have admitted. The syntax of these writers shows still greater uniformity. No such common likeness, or avoidance of stylistic aberration and grammatical solecism, obtains in mediaeval prose or verse. The one and the other include many kinds of Latin, and vary from century to century, diversified in idiom and deflected from linguistic uniformity by influences of race and native speech, of ignorance and knowledge. He who would appreciate mediaeval Latin will be diffident of academic standards, and mistrust his classical predilections lest he see aberration and barbarism where he might discover the evolution of new constructions and novel styles; lest he bestow encomium upon clever imitations of classical models, and withhold it from more living creations of the mediaeval spirit. He will realize that to appreciate mediaeval Latin literature, he must shelve his Virgil and his Cicero.[230]

The following pages do not offer themselves even as a slight sketch of mediaeval Latin literature. Their purpose is to indicate the stages of development of the prose and the phases of evolution of the verse; and to illustrate the way in which antique themes and antique knowledge passed into vernacular poetry. Classical standards will supply us less with a point of view than with a point of departure. Nothing more need be said of the Latin of the Church Fathers and Gregory of Tours. But one must refer to the Carolingian period, in order to appreciate the Latin styles of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

The revival of education and classical scholarship under the strong rule and fostering care of the greatest of mediaeval monarchs has not always been rightly judged. The vision of that prodigious personality ruling, christianizing, striving to civilize masses of barbarians and barbarized descendants of Romans and provincials; at the same time with eager interest endeavouring to revive the culture of the past, and press it into the service of the Christian faith; the striking success of his endeavours, men of learning coming from Ireland, England, Spain, and Italy, creating a peripatetic centre of knowledge at the imperial court, and establishing schools in many a monastery and episcopal residence--all this has never failed to arouse enthusiasm for the great achievement, and has veiled the creative deadness of it all, a deadness which in some provinces of intellectual endeavour was quite veritably moribund, while in others it betokened the necessary preparation for creative epochs to come.[231]

Carolingian scholarship was directed to the mastery of Latin. Grammar was taught, and the rules of composition. Then the scholars were bidden, or bade themselves, do likewise. So they wrote verse or prose according to their school lessons. They might write correctly; but they had no style of their own. This was hopelessly true as to their metrical verses;[232] it was only somewhat less tangibly true of their prose. The “classic” of the period, in the eyes of modern classical scholars and also in the opinion of the mediaeval centuries, is Einhard’s _Life of Charlemagne_. Numberless encomiums have been passed on it, and justly too. It was an excellent imitation of Suetonius’s _Life of Augustus_; and the writer had made a careful study of Caesar and Livy.[233] There is no need to quote from a writing so accessible and well known. Yet one remark may be added to what others have said: if Einhard’s composition was an excellent copy of classical Latin it was nothing else; it has no stylistic individuality.[234]

Turning from this famous biography, we will illustrate our point by quoting from the letters of him who stands as the type of the Carolingian revival, the Anglo-Saxon Alcuin. All praise to this noble educational coadjutor of Charlemagne; his learning was conscientious; his work was important, his character was lovable. His affectionate nature speaks in a letter to his former brethren at York, where his home had been before he entered Charlemagne’s service. Here is a sentence:

“O omnium dilectissimi patres et fratres, memores mei estote; ego vester ero, sive in vita, sive in morte. Et forte miserebitur mei Deus, ut cujus infantiam aluistis, ejus senectutem sepeliatis.”[235]

It were invidious to find fault with this Latin, in which the homesick man expresses his hope of sepulture in his old home. Note also the balance of the following, written to a sick friend:

“Gratias agamus Deo Jesu, vulneranti et medenti, flagellanti et consolanti. Dolor corporis salus est animae, et infirmitas temporalis, sanitas perpetua. Libenter accipiamus, patienter feramus voluntatem Salvatoris nostri.”[236]

This too is excellent, in language as in sentiment. So is another, and last, sentence from our author, in a letter congratulating Charlemagne on his final subjugation of the Huns, through which the survivors were brought to a knowledge of the truth:

“Qualis erit tibi gloria, O beatissime rex, in die aeternae retributionis, quando hi omnes qui per tuam sollicitudinem ab adolatriae cultura ad cognoscendum verum Deum conversi sunt, te ante tribunal Domini nostri Jesu Christi in beata sorte stantem sequentur!”[237]

Again, the only trouble is stylelessness. In fine, an absence of quality characterizes Carolingian prose, of which a last example may be taken from the Spaniard Theodulphus, Bishop of Orleans, “an accomplished Latin poet,” and an educator yielding in importance to Alcuin alone. The sentence is from an official admonition to the clergy, warning them to attach more value to salvation than to lucre:

“Admonendi sunt qui negotiis ac mercationibus rerum invigilant, ut non plus terrenam quam viam cupiant sempiternam. Nam qui plus de rebus terrenis quam de animae suae salute cogitat, valde a via veritatis aberrat.”[238]

Evidently there was a good knowledge of Latin among these Carolingians, who laboured for the revival of education and the preservation of the Classics. The nadir of classical learning falls in the succeeding period of break-up, confusion, and dawning re-adjustment. In the century or two following the year 850, the writers were too unskilled in Latin and often too cumbered by it, to manifest in their writings that unhampered and distinctive reflex of a personality which we term style. A rare exception would appear in such a potent scholar as Gerbert, who mastered whatever he learned, and made it part of his own faculties and temperament. His letters, consequently, have an individual style, however good or bad we may be disposed to deem it.[239]

Accordingly, until after the millennial year Latin prose shows little beyond a clumsy heaviness resulting from the writer’s insufficient mastery of his medium; and there are many instances of barbarism and corruption of the tongue without any compensating positive qualities. A dreadful example is afforded by the _Chronicon_ of Benedictus, a monk of St. Andrews in Monte Soracte, who lived in the latter part of the tenth century. He relates, as history, the fable of Charlemagne’s journey to the Holy Land; and his own eyes may have witnessed the atrocious times of John XII., of whom he speaks as follows:

“Inter haec non multum tempus Agapitus papa decessit (an. 956). Octabianus in sede sanctissima susceptus est, et vocatus est Johannes duodecimi pape. Factus est tam lubricus sui corporis, et tam audaces, quantum nunc in gentilis populo solebat fieri. Habebat consuetudinem sepius venandi non quasi apostolicus sed quasi homo ferus. Erat enim cogitio ejus vanum; diligebat collectio feminarum, odibiles aecclesiarum, amabilis juvenis ferocitantes. Tanta denique libidine sui corporis exarsit, quanta nunc (non?) possumus enarrare.”[240]

No need to draw further from this writing, which is characterized throughout by crass ignorance of grammar and all else pertaining to Latin. It has no individual qualities; it has no style. Leaving this example of illiteracy, let us turn to a man of more knowledge, Odo, one of the greatest of the abbots of Cluny, who died in the year 943. He left lengthy writings, one of them a bulky epitome of the famous _Moralia_ of Gregory the Great.[241] More original were his three dull books of _Collationes_, or moral comments upon the Scriptures. They open with a heavy note which their author might have drawn from the dark temperament of that great pope whom he so deeply admired; but the language has a leaden quality which is not Gregory’s, but Odo’s.

“Auctor igitur et judex hominum Deus, licet ab illa felicitate paradisi genus nostrum juste repulerit, suae tamen bonitatis memor, ne totus reus homo quod meretur incurrat, hujus peregrinationis molestias multis beneficiis demulcet.”

And, again, a little further on:

“Omnis vero ejusdem Scripturae intentio est, ut nos ab hujus vitae pravitatibus compescat. Nam idcirco terribilibus suis sententiis cor nostrum, quasi quibusdam stimulis pungit, ut homo terrore pulsatus expavescat, et divina judicia quae aut voluptate carnis aut terrena sollicitudine discissus oblivisci facile solet, ad memoriam reducat.”[242]

One feels the dull heaviness of this. Odo, like many of his contemporaries, knew enough of Latin grammar, and had read some of the Classics. But he had not mastered what he knew, and his knowledge was not converted into power. The tenth century was still painfully learning the lessons of its Christian and classical heritage. A similar lack of personal facility may be observed in Ruotger’s biography of Bruno, the worthy brother of the great emperor Otto I., and Archbishop of Cologne. Bruno died in 965, and Ruotger, who had been his companion, wrote his Life without delay. It has not the didactic ponderousness of Odo’s writing, but its language is clumsy. The following passage is of interest as showing Bruno’s education and the kind of learned man it made him.

“Deinde ubi prima grammaticae artis rudimenta percepit, sicut ab ipso in Dei omnipotentis gloriam hoc saepius ruminante didicimus, Prudentium poetam tradente magistro legere coepit. Qui sicut est et fide intentioneque catholicus, et eloquentia veritateque praecipuus, et metrorum librorumque varietate elegantissimus, tanta mox dulcedine palato cordis ejus complacuit, ut jam non tantum exteriorum verborum scientiam, verum intimi medullam sensus, et nectar ut ita dicam liquidissimum, majori quam dici possit aviditate hauriret. Postea nullum penitus erat studiorum liberalium genus in omni Graeca vel Latina eloquentia, quod ingenii sui vivacitatem aufugeret. Nec vero, ut solet, aut divitiarum affluentia, aut turbarum circumstrepentium assiduitas, aut ullum aliunde subrepens fastidium ab hoc nobili otio animum ejus unquam avertit.... Saepe inter Graecorum et Latinorum doctissimos de philosophiae sublimitate aut de cujuslibet in illa florentis disciplinae subtilitate disputantes doctus interpres medius ipse consedit, et disputantibus ad plausum omnium, quo nihil minus amaverat, satisfecit.”[243]

The gradual improvement in the writing of Latin in the Middle Ages, and the evolution of distinctive mediaeval styles, did not result from a larger acquaintance with the Classics, or a better knowledge of grammar and school rhetoric. The range of classical reading might extend, or from time to time contract, and Donatus and Priscian were used in the ninth century as well as in the twelfth. It is true that the study of grammar became more intelligent in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and its teachers deferred less absolutely to the old rules and illustrations. They recognized Christian standards of diction: first of all the Vulgate; next, early Christian poets like Prudentius; and then gradually the mediaeval versifiers who wrote and won approval in the twelfth century. Thus grammar sought to follow current usage.[244] This endeavour culminated at the close of the twelfth century in the _Doctrinale_ of Alexander of Villa Dei.[245] Before this, much of the best mediaeval Latin prose and verse had been written, and the period most devoted to the Classics had come and was already waning. That period was this same twelfth century. During its earlier half, Latinity gained doubtless from such improvement in the courses of the Trivium as took place at Chartres, for example, an improvement connected with the intellectual growth of the time. But the increase in the knowledge of Latin was mainly such as a mature man may realize within himself, if he has kept up his Latin reading, however little he seem to have added to his knowledge since leaving his Alma Mater.

So the development of mediaeval Latin prose (and also verse) advanced with the maturing of mediaeval civilization. That which was at the same time a living factor in this growth and a result of it, was the more organic appropriation of the classical and Christian heritages of culture and religion. As intellectual faculties strengthened, and men drew power from the past, they gained facility in moulding their Latin to their purposes. Writings begin to reflect the personalities of the writers; the diction ceases to be that of clumsy or clever school compositions, and presents an evolution of tangible mediaeval styles. Henceforth, although a man be an eager student of the Classics, like John of Salisbury for example, and try to imitate their excellences, he will still write mediaeval Latin, and with a personal style if he be a strong personality. The classical models no longer trammel, but assist him to be more effectively himself on a higher plane.

If mediaeval civilization is to be regarded as that which the peoples of western Europe attained under the two universal influences of Christianity and antique culture, then nothing more mediaeval will be seen than mediaeval Latin. To make it, the antique Latin had been modified and reinspired and loosed by the Christian energies of the Fathers; and had then passed on to peoples who never had been, or no longer were, antique. They barbarized the language down to the rudeness of their faculties. As they themselves advanced, they brought up Latin with them, as it were, from the depths of the ninth and tenth centuries, but a Latin which in the crude natures of these men had been stripped of classical quality; a Latin barbarous and naked, and ready to be clothed upon with novel qualities which should make it a new creature. Throughout all this process, while Latin was sinking and re-emerging, it was worked upon and inspired by the spirit of the uses to which it was predominantly applied, which were those of the Roman Catholic Church and of the intimacies of the Christian soul, pressing to expression in the learned tongue which they were transforming.

In considering the Latin writings of the Middle Ages one should bear in mind the differences between Italy and the North with respect to the ancient language. These were important through the earlier Middle Ages, when modes of diction sufficiently characteristic to be called styles, were forming. The men of Latin-sodden Italy might have a fluent Latin when those of the North still had theirs to learn. Thus there were Italians in the eleventh century who wrote quite a distinctive Latin prose.[246] Among them were St. Peter Damiani, and St. Anselm of Aosta, Bec, and Canterbury.

The former died full of virtue in the year 1072. We have elsewhere observed his character and followed his career.[247] He was, to his great anxiety, a classical scholar, who had earned large sums as a teacher of rhetoric before natural inclination and fears for his soul drove him to an ascetic life. He was a master of the Latin which he used. His style is intense, eloquent, personal to himself as well as suited to his matter, and reflects his ardent character and keen perceptions. The following is a rhetorical yet beautiful description of a “last leaf,” taken from one of his compositions in praise of the hermit way of salvation.

“Videamus in arbore folium sub ipsis pruinis hiemalibus lapsabundum, et consumpto autumnalis clementiae virore, jamjam pene casurum, ita ut vix ramusculo, cui dependet, inhaereat, sed apertissima levis ruinae signa praetendat: inhorrescunt flabra, venti furentes hic inde concutiunt, brumalis horror crassi aeris rigore densatur: atque, ut magis stupeas, defluentibus reliquis undique foliis terra sternitur, et depositis comis arbor suo decore nudatur; cum illud solum nullo manente permaneat, et velut cohaeredum superstes in fraternae possessionis jura succedat. Quid autem intelligendum in hujus rei consideratione relinquitur, nisi quia nec arboris folium potest cadere, nisi divinum praesumat imperium?”[248]

Anselm’s diction, in spite of its frequent cloister rhetoric, has a simple and modern word-order. An account has already been given of his life and of his thoughts, so beautifully sky-blue, unpurpled with the crimson of human passion, which made the words of Augustine more veritably incandescent.[249] The great African was the strongest individual influence upon Anselm’s thought and language. But the latter’s style has departed further from the classical sentence, and of itself indicates that the writer belongs neither to the patristic period nor to the Carolingian time, busied with its rearrangement of patristic thought. The following is from his _Proslogion_ upon the existence of God. Through this discourse, Deity and the Soul are addressed in the second person after the manner of Augustine’s _Confessions_.

“Excita nunc, anima mea, et erige totum intellectum tuum, et cogita quantum potes quale et quantum sit illud bonum (_i.e._ Deus). Si enim singula bona delectabilia sunt, cogita intente quam delectabile sit illud bonum quod continet jucunditatem omnium bonorum; et non qualem in rebus creatis sumus experti, sed tanto differentem quanto differt Creator a creatura. Si enim bona est vita creata, quam bona est vita creatrix! Si jucunda est salus facta, quam jucunda est salus quae fecit omnem salutem! Si amabilis est sapientia in cognitione rerum conditarum, quam amabilis est sapientia quae omnia condidit ex nihilo! Denique, si multae et magnae delectationes sunt in rebus delectabilibus, qualis et quanta delectatio est in illo qui fecit ipsa delectabilia!”[250]

In a more emotional passage Anselm arouses in his soul the terror of the Judgment. It is from a “Meditatio”:

“Taedet animam meam vitae meae; vivere erubesco, mori pertimesco. Quid ergo restat tibi, o peccator, nisi ut in tota vita tua plores totam vitam tuam, ut ipsa tota se ploret totam? Sed est in hoc quoque anima mea miserabiliter mirabilis et mirabiliter miserabilis, quia non tantum dolet quantum se noscit; sed sic secura torpet, velut quid patiatur ignoret. O anima sterilis, quid agis? quid torpes, anima peccatrix? Dies judicii venit, juxta est dies Domini magnus, juxta et velox nimis, _dies irae dies illa_, dies tribulationis et angustiae, dies calamitatis et miseriae, dies tenebrarum et caliginis, dies nebulae et turbinis, dies tubae et clangoris. O vox diei Domini amara! Quid dormitas, anima tepida et digna evomi?”[251]

Damiani wrote in the middle of the eleventh century, Anselm in the latter part. The northern lands could as yet show no such characteristic styles,[252] although the classically educated German, Lambert of Hersfeld, wrote as correctly and perspicuously as either. His _Annals_ have won admiration for their clear and correct Latinity, modelled upon the styles of Sallust and Livy. He died in 1077, the year of Canossa, his _Annals_ covering the conflict between Henry IV. and Hildebrand up to that event. The narrative moves with spirit, as one may see by reading his description of King Henry and his consort struggling through Alpine ice and snow to reach that castle never to be forgotten, and gain absolution from the Pope before the ban should have completed Henry’s ruin.[253]

For the North, the best period of mediaeval Latin, prose as well as verse, opens with the twelfth century. It was indeed the great literary period of the Middle Ages. For the vernacular literatures flourished as well as the Latin. Provençal literature began as the eleventh century closed, and was stifled in the thirteenth by the Albigensian Crusade. So the twelfth was its great period. Likewise with the Old French literature: except the _Roland_ which is earlier, the chief _chansons de geste_ belong to the twelfth century; also the romances of antiquity, to be spoken of hereafter; also the romances of the Round Table, and a great mass of _chansons_ and _fabliaux_. The Old German--or rather, _Mittel Hochdeutsch_--literature touches its height as the century closes and the next begins, in the works of Heinrich von Veldeke, Gottfried von Strassburg, Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Walther von der Vogelweide.

The best Latin writers of the century lived, or sojourned, or were educated, for the most part in the France north of the Loire. Not that all of them were natives of that territory; for some were German born, some saw the light in England, and the birthplace of many is unknown. Yet they seem to belong to France. Nearly all were ecclesiastics, secular or regular. Many of them were notables in theology, like Hugo of St. Victor, Abaelard, Alanus de Insulis (Lille); many were poets as well, like Alanus and Hildebert and John of Salisbury too; one was a thunderer on the earth, and a most deft politician, Bernard of Clairvaux. Some again are known only as poets, sacred or profane, like Adam of St. Victor, and Walter of Chatillon--but of these hereafter. The best Latin prose writing of this, or any other, mediaeval period, had its definite purpose, metaphysical, theological, or pietistic; and the writers have been or will be spoken of in connection with their specific fields of intellectual achievement or religious fervour. Here, without discussing the men or their works, some favourable examples of their writing will be given.

In the last passage quoted from Anselm, the reader must have felt the working of cloister rhetoric, and have noticed the antitheses and rhymes, to which mediaeval Latin lent itself so readily. Yet it is a slight affair compared with the confounding sonorousness, the flaring pictures, and terrifying climaxes of St. Bernard when preaching upon the same topic--the Judgment Day. In one of his famous sermons on Canticles, the saint has been suggesting to his audience, the monks of Clara Vallis, that although the _Father_ might ignore faults, not so the _Dominus_ and _Creator_: “et qui parcit filio, non parcet figmento, non parcet servo nequam.” Listen to the carrying out and pointing of this thought:

“Pensa cujus sit formidinis et horroris tuum atque omnium contempsisse factorem, offendisse Dominum majestatis. Majestatis est timeri, Domini est timeri, et maxime hujus majestatis, hujusque Domini. Nam si reum regiae majestatis, quamvis humanae, humanis legibus plecti capite sancitum sit, quis finis contemnentium divinam omnipotentiam erit? Tangit montes, et fumigant; et tam tremendam majestatem audet irritare vilis pulvisculus, uno levi flatu mox dispergendus, et minime recolligendus? Ille, ille timendus est, qui postquam acciderit corpus, potestatem habet mittere et in gehennam. Paveo gehennam, paveo judicis vultum, ipsis quoque tremendum angelicis potestatibus. Contremisco ab ira potentis, a facie furoris ejus, a fragore ruentis mundi, a conflagratione elementorum, a tempestate valida, a voce archangeli, et a verbo aspero. [Feel the climax of this sentence, which tells the end of the sinner.] Contremisco a dentibus bestiae infernalis, a ventre inferi, a rugientibus praeparatis ad escam. Horreo vermem rodentem, et ignem torrentem, fumum, et vaporem, et sulphur, et spiritum procellarum; horreo tenebras exteriores. Quis dabit capiti meo aquam, et oculis meis fontem lacrymarum ut praeveniam fletibus fletum, et stridorem dentium, et manuum pedumque dura vincula, et pondus catenarum prementium, stringentium, urentium, nec consumentium? Heu me, mater mea! utquid me genuisti filium doloris, filium amaritudinis, indignationis et plorationis aeternae? Cur exceptus genibus, cur lactatus uberibus, natus in combustionem, et cibus ignis?”[254]

As one recovers from the sound and power of this high-wrought passage, he notices how readily it might be turned into the form of a Latin hymn; and also how very modern is its sequence of words. Bernard’s Latin could whisper intimate love, as well as thunder terror. He says, preaching on the _medicina_, the healing power, of Jesu’s name:

“Hoc tibi electuarium habes, o anima mea, reconditum in vasculo vocabuli hujus quod est Jesus, salutiferum, certe, quodque nulli unquam pesti tuae inveniatur inefficax.”[255]

With the music of this prose one may compare the sweet personal plaint of the following:

“Felices quos abscondit in tabernaculo suo in umbra alarum suarum sperantes, donec transeat iniquitas. Caeterum ego infelix, pauper et nudus, homo natus ad laborem, implumis avicula pene omni tempore nidulo exsulans, vento exposita et turbini, turbatus sum et motus sum sicut ebrius, et omnis conscientia mea devorata est.”[256]

Extracts can give no idea of Bernard’s literary powers, any more than a small volume could tell the story of that life which, so to speak, was _magna pars_ of all contemporary history. But since he was one of the best of Latin letter-writers, one should not omit an example of his varied epistolary style, which can be known in its compass only from a large reading of his letters. The following is a short letter, written to win back to the cloister a delicately nurtured youth whose parents had lured him out into the world.

“Doleo super te, fili mi Gaufride, doleo super te. Et merito. Quis enim non doleat florem juventutis tuae, quem laetantibus angelis Deo illibatum obtuleras in odorem suavitatis, nunc a daemonibus conculcari, vitiorum spurcitiis, et saeculi sordibus inquinari? Quomodo qui vocatus eras a Deo, revocantem diabolum sequeris, et quem Christus trahere coeperat post se, repente pedem ab ipso introitu gloriae retraxisti? In te experior nunc veritatem sermonis Domini, quem dixit: Inimici hominis, domestici ejus (Matt. x. 36). Amici tui et proximi tui adversum te appropinquaverunt, et steterunt. Revocaverunt te in fauces leonis, et in portis mortis iterum collocaverunt te. Collocaverunt te in obscuris, sicut mortuos saeculi: et jam parum est ut descendas in ventrem inferi; jam te deglutire festinat, ac rugientibus praeparatis ad escam tradere devorandum.

“Revertere, quaeso, revertere, priusquam te absorbeat profundum, et urgeat super te puteus os suum; priusquam demergaris, unde ulterius non emergas; priusquam ligatis manibus et pedibus projiciaris in tenebras exteriores, ubi est fletus et stridor dentium; priusquam detrudaris in locum tenebrosum, et opertum mortis caligine. Erubescis forte redire, quia ad horam cessisti. Erubesce fugam, et non post fugam reverti in proelium, et rursum pugnare. Necdum finis pugnae, necdum ab invicem dimicantes acies discesserunt: adhuc victoria prae manibus est. Si vis, nolumus vincere sine te, nec tuam tibi invidemus gloriae portionem. Laeti occuremus tibi, laetis te recipiemus amplexibus, dicemusque: Epulari et gaudere oportet, quia hic filius noster mortuus fuerat, et revixit; perierat, et inventus est” (Luc. xv. 32).[257]

The argument of this letter is, from the standpoint of Bernard’s time, as resistless as the style. Did it win back the little monk? Many wonderful examples of loving expression could be drawn from Bernard’s letters;[258] but instead an instance may be given of his none too subtle way of uttering his hate: “Arnaldus de Brixia, cujus conversatio mel et doctrina venenum, cui caput columbae, cauda scorpionis est, quem Brixia evomuit, Roma exhorruit, Francia repulit, Germania abominatur, Italia non vult recipere, fertur esse vobiscum.”[259] And then he proceeds to warn his correspondent of the danger of intercourse with this arch-enemy of the Church.

Considering that Latin was a tongue which youths learned at school rather than at their mothers’ knees, such writing as Bernard’s is a triumphant recasting of an ancient language. One notices in him, as generally with mediaeval religious writers, the influence of the Vulgate, which was mainly in the language of St. Jerome--of Jerome when not writing as a literary virtuoso, but as a scholar occupied with rendering the meaning, and willing to accept such linguistic innovations as served his purpose.[260] But beyond this influence, one sees how masterful is Bernard’s diction, quite freed from observance of classical principles, quite of the writer and his time, adapting itself with ease and power to the topic and character of the composition, and always expressive of the personality of the mighty saint.

Hildebert of Le Mans was a few years older than St. Bernard. As an example of his prose a letter may be cited, of which the translation has been given. It was written in 1128, when he was Archbishop of Tours, in protest against the encroachments of the royal power of the French king, Louis the Fat, upon the rights of the Archiepiscopacy of Tours in the matter of ecclesiastical appointments within that diocese:

“In adversis nonnullum solatium est, tempora sperare laetiora. Diutius spes haec mihi blandita est, et velut agricolam messis in herba, sic animum meum prosperitatis expectatio confortavit. Caeterum jam nihil est quo serenitatem nimbosi temporis exspectem, nihil est quo navis, in cujus puppi sedeo, crebris agitata turbinibus, portum quietis attingat.

“Silent amici, silent sacerdotes Jesu Christi. Denique silent et illi quorum suffragio credidi regem mecum in gratiam rediturum. Credidi quidem, sed super dolorem vulnerum meorum rex, illis silentibus, adjecit. Eorum tamen erat gravamini ecclesiae canonicis obviare institutis. Eorum erat, si res postulasset, opponere murum pro domo Israel. Verum apud serenissimum regem opus est exhortatione potius quam increpatione, consilio quam praecepto, doctrina quam virga. His ille conveniendus fuit, his reverenter instruendus, ne sagittas suas in sene compleret sacerdote, ne sanctiones canonicas evacuaret, ne persequeretur cineres Ecclesiae jam sepultae, cineres in quibus ego panem doloris manduco, in quibus bibo calicem luctus, de quibus eripi et evadere, de morte ad vitam transire est.

“Inter has tamen angustias, nunquam de me sic ira triumphavit, ut aliquem super Christo Domini clamorem deponere vellem, seu pacem ipsius in manu forti et brachio Ecclesiae adipisci. Suspecta est pax ad quam, non amore sed vi, sublimes veniunt potestates. Ea facile rescindetur, et fiunt aliquando novissima pejora prioribus. Alia est via qua compendiosius ad eam Christo perducente pertingam. Jactabo cogitatum meum in Domino, et ipse dabit mihi petitionem cordis mei. Recordatus est Dominus Joseph, cujus pincerna Pharaonis oblitus, dum prospera succederent, interveniendi pro eo curam abjecit.... Fortassis recordabitur et mei, atque in desiderato littore navem sistet fluctuantem. Ipse enim est qui respicit in orationem humilium, et non spernit preces eorum. Ipse est in cujus manu corda regum cerea sunt. Si invenero gratiam in oculis ejus, gratiam regis vel facile consequar, vel utiliter amittam. Siquidem offendere hominem proper Deum lucrari est gratiam Dei.”[261]

John of Salisbury (1110-1180), much younger than Hildebert and a little younger than Bernard, seems to have been the best scholar of his time. With the Classics he is as one in the company of friends; he cites them as readily as Scripture; their _sententiae_ have become part of his views of life. John was an eager humanist, who followed his studies to whatever town and to the feet of whatsoever teacher they might lead him. So he listened to Abaelard and many others. His writing is always lively and often forcible, especially when vituperating the set who despised classic reading. His most vivacious work, the _Metalogicus_, was directed against their unnamed prophet, whom he dubs “Cornificus.”[262] Its opening passage is of interest as John’s exordium, and because a somewhat consciously intending stylist like our John is likely to exhibit his utmost virtuosity in the opening sentences of an important work:

“Adversus insigne donum naturae parentis et gratiae, calumniam veterem et majorum nostrorum judicio condemnatam excitat improbus litigator, et conquirens undique imperitiae suae solatia, sibi proficere sperat ad gloriam, si multos similes sui, id est si eos viderit imperitos; habet enim hoc proprium arrogantiae tumor, ut se commetiatur aliis, bona sua, si qua sunt, efferens, deprimens aliena; defectumque proximi, suum putet esse profectum. Omnibus autem recte sapientibus indubium est quod natura, clementissima parens omnium, et dispositissima moderatrix, inter caetera quae genuit animantia, hominem privilegio rationis extulit, et usu eloquii insignivit: id agens sedulitate officiosa, et lege dispositissima, ut homo qui gravedine faeculentioris naturae et molis corporeae tarditate premebatur et trahebatur ad ima, his quasi subvectus alis, ad alta ascendat, et ad obtinendum verae beatitudinis bravium, omnia alia felici compendio antecebat. Dum itaque naturam fecundat gratia, ratio rebus perspiciendis et examinandis invigilat; naturae sinus excutit, metitur fructus et efficaciam singulorum: et innatus omnibus amor boni, naturali urgente se appetitu, hoc, aut solum, aut prae caeteris sequitur, quod percipiendae beatitudini maxime videtur esse accommodum.”[263]

One perceives the effect of classical studies; yet the passage is good twelfth-century Latin, quite different from the compositions of the Carolingian epoch, those, for example, from the pen of Alcuin, who had studied the Classics like John, but unlike him had no personal style. One gains similar impressions from the diction of the _Polycraticus_, a lengthy, discursive work in which John surprises us with his classical equipment. Although containing many quoted passages, it is not made of extracts strung together; but reflects the sentiments or tells the opinions of ancient philosophers in the writer’s own way. The following shows John’s knowledge of early Greek philosophers, and is a fair example of his ordinary style:

“Alterum vero philosophorum genus est, quod Ionicum dicitur et a Graecis ulterioribus traxit originem. Horum princeps fuit Thales Milesius, unus illorum septem, qui dicti sunt sapientes. Iste cum rerum naturam scrutatus, inter caeteros emicuisset, maxime admirabilis exstitit, quod astrologiae numeris comprehensis, solis et lunae defectus praedicebat. Huic successit Anaximander ejus auditor, qui Anaximenem discipulum reliquit et successorem. Diogenes quoque ejusdem auditor exstitit, et Anaxagoras, qui omnium rerum quas videmus, effectorem divinum animum docuit. Ei successit auditor ejus Archelaüs, cujus discipulus Socrates fuisse perhibetur, magister Platonis, qui, teste Apuleio, prius Aristoteles dictus est, sed deinde a latitudine pectoris Plato, et in tantam eminentiam philosophiae, et vigore ingenii, et studii exercitio, et omnium morum venustate, eloquii quoque suavitate et copia subvectus est, ut quasi in throno sapientiae residens, praecepta quadam auctoritate visus est, tam antecessoribus quam successoribus philosophis, imperare. Et primus quidem Socrates universam philosophiam ad corrigendos componendosque mores flexisse memoratur, cum ante illum omnes physicis, id est rebus naturalibus perscrutandis, maximam operam dederint.”[264]

These extracts from the writings of saints and scholars may be supplemented by two extracts from compositions of another class. The mediaeval chronicle has not a good reputation. Its credulity and uncritical spirit varied with the time and man. Little can be said in favour of its general form, which usually is stupidly chronological, or annalistic. The example of classical historical composition was lost on mediaeval annalists. Yet their work is not always dull; and, by the twelfth century, their diction had become as mediaeval as that of the theologian rhetoricians, although it rarely crystallizes to personal style by reason of the insignificance of the writers. A well-known work of this kind is the _Gesta Dei per Francos_, by Guibert of Nogent, who wrote his account of the First Crusade a few years after its turmoil had passed by. The following passage tells of proceedings upon the conclusion of Urban’s great crusading oration at the Council of Clermont in 1099:

“Peroraverat vir excellentissimus, et omnes qui se ituros voverant, beati Petri potestate absolvit, eadem, ipsa apostolica auctoritate firmavit, et signum satis conveniens hujus tam honestae professionis instituit, et veluti cingulum militiae, vel potius militaturis Deo passionis Dominicae stigma tradens, crucis figuram, ex cujuslibet materiae panni, tunicis, byrris et palliis iturorum, assui mandavit. Quod si quis, post hujus signi acceptionem, aut post evidentis voti pollicitationem ab ista benevolentia, prava poenitudine, aut aliquorum suorum affectione resileret, ut exlex perpetuo haberetur omnino praecepit, nisi resipisceret; idemque quod omiserat foede repeteret. Praeterea omnes illos atroci damnavit anathemate, qui eorum uxoribus, filiis, aut possessionibus, qui hoc Dei iter aggrederentur, per integrum triennii tempus, molestiam auderent inferre. Ad extremum, cuidam viro omnimodis laudibus efferendo, Podiensis urbis episcopo, cujus nomen doleo quia neque usquam reperi, nec audivi, curam super eadem expeditione regenda contulit, et vices suas ipsi, super Christiani populi quocunque venirent institutione, commisit. Unde et manus ei, more apostolorum, data pariter benedictione, imposuit. Quod ille quam sagaciter sit exsecutus, docet mirabilis operis tanti exitus.”[265]

This Frenchman Guibert is almost vivacious. A certain younger contemporary of his, of English birth, could construct his narrative quite as well. Ordericus Vitalis (d. 1142) is said to have been born at Wroxeter, though he spent most of his life as monk of St. Evroult in Normandy. There he wrote his _Historia Ecclesiastica_ of Normandy and England. His account of the loss of the _White Ship_ in 1120 tells the story:

“Thomas, filius Stephani, regem adiit, eique marcum auri offerens, ait: ‘Stephanus, Airardi filius, genitor meus fuit, et ipse in omni vita sua patri tuo in mari servivit. Nam illum, in sua puppe vectum, in Angliam conduxit, quando contra Haraldum pugnaturus, in Angliam perrexit. Hujusmodi autem officio usque ad mortem famulando ei placuit, et ab eo multis honoratus exeniis, inter contribules suos magnifice floruit. Hoc feudum, domine rex, a te requiro, et vas quod Candida-Navis appellatur, merito ad regalem famulatum optime instructum habeo.’ Cui rex ait: ‘Gratum habeo quod petis. Mihi quidem aptam navim elegi, quam non mutabo; sed filios meos, Guillelmum et Richardum, quos sicut me diligo, cum multa regni mei nobilitate, nunc tibi commendo.’

“His auditis, nautae gavisi sunt, filioque regis adulantes, vinum ab eo ad bibendum postulaverunt. At ille tres vini modios ipsis dari praecepit. Quibus acceptis, biberunt, sociisque abundanter propinaverunt, nimiumque potantes inebriati sunt. Jussu regis multi barones cum filiis suis puppim ascenderunt, et fere trecenti, ut opinor, in infausta nave fuerunt. Duo siquidem monachi Tironis, et Stephanus comes cum duobus militibus, Guillelmus quoque de Rolmara, et Rabellus Camerarius, Eduardus de Salesburia, et alii plures inde exierunt, quia nimiam multitudinem lascivae et pompaticae juventutis inesse conspicati sunt. Periti enim remiges quinquaginta ibi erant, et feroces epibatae, qui jam in navi sedes nacti turgebant, et suimet prae ebrietate immemores, vix aliquem reverenter agnoscebant. Heu! quamplures illorum mentes pia devotione erga Deum habebant vacuas

‘Qui maris immodicas moderatur et aeris iras.’

Unde sacerdotes, qui ad benedicendos illos illuc accesserant, aliosque ministros qui aquam benedictam deferebant, cum dedecore et cachinnis subsannantes abigerunt; sed paulo post derisionis suae ultionem receperunt.

“Soli homines, cum thesauro regis et vasis merum ferentibus, Thomae carinam implebant, ipsumque ut regiam classem, quae jam aequora sulcabat, summopere prosequeretur, commonebant. Ipse vero, quia ebrietate desipiebat, in virtute sua, satellitumque suorum confidebat, et audacter, quia omnes qui jam praecesserant praeiret, spondebat. Tandem navigandi signum dedit. Porro schippae remos haud segniter arripuerunt, et alia laeti, quia quid eis ante oculos penderet nesciebant, armamenta coaptaverunt, navemque cum impetu magno per pontum currere fecerunt. Cumque remiges ebrii totis navigarent conatibus, et infelix gubernio male intenderet cursui dirigendo per pelagus, ingenti saxo quod quotidie fluctu recedente detegitur et rursus accessu maris cooperitur, sinistrum latus Candidae-Navis vehementer illisum est, confractisque duabus tabulis, ex insperato, navis, proh dolor! subversa est. Omnes igitur in tanto discrimine simul exclamaverunt; sed aqua mox implente ora, pariter perierunt. Duo soli virgae qua velum pendebat manus injecerunt, et magna noctis parte pendentes, auxilium quodlibet praestolati sunt. Unus erat Rothomagensis carnifex, nomine Beroldus, et alter generosus puer, nomine Goisfredus, Gisleberti de Aquila filius.

“Tunc luna in signo Tauri nona decima fuit, et fere ix horis radiis suis mundum illustravit, et navigantibus mare lucidum reddidit. Thomas nauclerus post primam submersionem vires resumpsit, suique memor, super undas caput extulit, et videns capita eorum qui ligno utcunque inhaerebant, interrogavit: ‘Filius regis quid devenit?’ Cumque naufragi respondissent illum cum omnibus collegis suis deperisse: ‘Miserum,’ inquit, ‘est amodo meum vivere.’ Hoc dicto, male desperans, maluit illic occumbere, quam furore irati regis pro pernicie prolis oppetere, seu longas in vinculis poenas luere.”[266]

Our examples thus far belong to the twelfth century. As touching its successor, it will be interesting to observe the qualities of two opposite kinds of writing, the one springing from the intellectual activities, and the other from the religious awakening, of the time. In the thirteenth century, scientific and scholastic writing was of representative importance, and deeply affected the development of Latin prose. Very different in style were the Latin stories and _vitae_ of the blessed Francis of Assisi and other saints, composed in Italy.

Roger Bacon, of whom there will be much to say, composed most of his extant works about the year 1267.[267] His language is often rough and involved, from his impetuosity and eagerness to utter what was in him. But it is always vigorous. He took pains to say just what he meant, and what was worth saying; and frequently rewrote his sentences. His writings show little rhetoric; yet they are stamped with a Baconian style, which has a cumulative force. The word-order is modern with scarcely a trace of the antique. Perhaps we may say that he wrote Latin like an Englishman of vehement temper and great intellect. He is powerful in continuous exposition; yet instances of his general, and very striking statements, will illustrate his diction at its best. In the following sentence he recognizes the progressiveness of knowledge, a rare idea in the Middle Ages:

“Nam semper posteriores addiderunt ad opera priorum, et multa correxerunt, et plura mutaverunt, sicut maxime per Aristotelem patet, qui omnes sententias praecedentium discussit.”[268]

Again, he animadverts upon the duty of thirteenth-century Christians to supply the defects of the old philosophers:

“Quapropter antiquorum defectus deberemus nos posteriores supplere, quia introivimus in labores eorum, per quos, nisi simus asini, possumus ad meliora excitari; quia miserrimum est semper uti inventis et nunquam inveniendis.”[269]

Speaking of language, he says:

“Impossibile est quod proprietas unius linguae servetur in alia.”[270] (“The idioms of one language cannot be preserved in a translation.”) And again: “Omnes philosophi fuerunt post patriarchas et prophetas ... et legerunt libros prophetarum et patriarcharum qui sunt in sacro textu.”[271] (“The philosophers of Greece came after the prophets of the Old Testament and read their works contained in the sacred text.”)

In the first of these sentences Bacon shows his linguistic insight; in the second he reflects an uncritical view entertained since the time of the Church Fathers; in both, he writes with an order of words requiring no change in an English translation.

In his time, Bacon had but a sorry fame, and his works no influence. The writings of his younger contemporary Thomas Aquinas exerted greater influence than those of any man after Augustine. They represent the culmination of scholasticism. He was Italian born, and his language, however difficult the matter, is lucidity itself. It is never rhetorical; but measured, temperate, and balanced; properly proceeding from the mind which weighed every proposition in the scales of universal consideration. Sometimes it gains a certain fervour from the clarity and import of the statement which it so lucidly conveys. In article eighth, of the first Questio, of Pars Prima of the _Summa theologiae_, Thomas thus decides that Theology is a rational (_argumentativa_) science:

“Respondeo dicendum quod, sicut aliae scientiae non argumentantur ad sua principia probanda, sed ex principiis argumentantur ad ostendendum alia in ipsis scientiis; ita haec doctrina non argumentatur ad sua principia probanda, quae sunt articuli fidei; sed ex eis procedit ad aliquid aliud ostendendum; sicut Apostolus I ad Cor. xv., ex resurrectione Christi argumentatur ad resurrectionem communem probandam.

“Sed tamen considerandum est in scientiis philosophicis, quod inferiores scientiae nec probant sua principia, nec contra negantem principia disputant, sed hoc relinquunt superiori scientiae: suprema vero inter eas, scilicet metaphysica, disputat contra negantem sua principia, si adversarius aliquid concedit: si autem nihil concedit, non potest cum eo disputare, potest tamen solvere rationes ipsius. Unde sacra scriptura (_i.e._ Theology), cum non habeat superiorem, disputat cum negante sua principia: argumentando quidem, si adversarius aliquid concedat eorum quae per divinam revelationem habentur; sicut per auctoritates sacrae doctrinae disputamus contra hereticos, et per unum articulum contra negantes alium. Si vero adversarius nihil credat eorum quae divinitus revelantur, non remanet amplius via ad probandum articulos fidei per rationes, sed ad solvendum rationes, si quas inducit, contra fidem. Cum enim fides infallibili veritati innitatur, impossibile autem sit de vero demonstrari contrarium, manifestum est probationes quae contra fidem inducuntur, non esse demonstrationes, sed solubilia argumenta.”[272]

Of a different intellectual temperament was John of Fidanza, known as St. Bonaventura.[273] He also was born and passed his youth in Italy. This sainted General of the Franciscan Order was a few years older than the great Dominican, who was his friend. Both doctors died in the year 1274. Bonaventura’s powers of constructive reasoning were excellent. His diction is clear and beautiful, and eloquent with a spiritual fervour whenever the matter is such as to evoke it. His account of how he came to write his famous little _Itinerarium mentis in Deum_ is full of temperament.

“Cum igitur exemplo beatissimi patris Francisci hanc pacem anhelo spiritu quaererem, ego peccator, qui loco ipsius patris beatissimi post eius transitum septimus in generali fratrum ministerio per omnia indignus succedo; contigit, ut nutu divino circa Beati ipsius transitum, anno trigesimo tertio ad montem Alvernae tanquam ad locum quietum amore quaerendi pacem spiritus declinarem, ibique existens, dum mente tractarem aliquas mentales ascensiones in Deum, inter alia occurrit illud miraculum, quod in praedicto loco contigit ipsi beato Francisco, de visione scilicet Seraph alati ad instar Crucifixi. In cuius consideratione statim visum est mihi, quod visio illa praetenderet ipsius patris suspensionem in contemplando et viam, per quam pervenitur ad eam.”[274]

And Bonaventura at the end of his _Itinerarium_ speaks of the perfect passing of Francis into God through the very mystic climax of contemplation, concluding thus:

“Si autem quaeras, quomodo haec fiant, interroga gratiam, non doctrinam; desiderium, non intellectum; gemitum orationis, non studium lectionis; sponsum, non magistrum; Deum, non hominem; caliginem, non claritatem; non lucem, sed ignem totaliter inflammantem et in Deum excessivis unctionibus et ardentissimis affectionibus transferentem.”[275]

Bonaventura’s fervent diction will serve to carry us over from the more unmitigated intellectuality of Bacon and Thomas to the simpler matter of those personal and pious narratives from which may be drawn concluding illustrations of mediaeval Latin prose. Some of the authors will show the skill which comes from training; others are quite innocent of grammar, and their Latin has made a happy surrender to the genius of their vernacular speech, which was the _lingua vulgaris_ of northern Italy.

One of the earliest biographers of St. Francis of Assisi was Thomas of Celano, a skilled Latinist, who was enraptured with the loveliness of Francis’s life. His diction is limpid and rhythmical. A well-known passage in his _Vita prima_ (for he wrote two Lives) tells of Francis’s joyous assurance of the great work which God would accomplish through the simple band who formed the beginnings of the Order. This assurance crystallized in a vision of multitudes hurrying to join. Francis speaks to the brethren:

“Confortamini, charissimi, et gaudete in Domino, nec, quia pauci videmini, efficiamini tristes. Ne vos deterreat mea, vel vestra simplicitas, quoniam sicut mihi a Domino in veritate ostensum est, in maximam multitudinem faciet vos crescere Deus, et usque ad fines orbis multipliciter dilatabit. Vidi multitudinem magnam hominum ad nos venientium, et in habitu sanctae conversationis beataeque religionis regula nobiscum volentium conversari; et ecce adhuc sonitus eorum est in auribus meis, euntium, et redeuntium secundum obedientiae sanctae mandatum: vidique vias ipsorum multitudine plenas ex omni fere natione in his partibus convenire. Veniunt Francigenae, festinant Hispani, Teuthonici, et Anglici currunt, et aliarum diversarum linguarum accelerat maxima multitudo.

“Quod cum audissent fratres, repleti sunt gaudio Salvatoris sive propter gratiam, quam dominus Deus contulerat sancto suo, sive quia proximorum lucrum sitiebant ardenter, quos desiderabant ut salvi essent, in idipsum quotidie augmentari.”[276]

We feel the flow and rhythm, and note the agreeable balancing of clauses. Francis died in 1226. The _Vita prima_ by Celano was approved by Gregory IX. in 1229. Already other matter touching the saint was gathering in anecdote and narrative. Much of it was brought together in the so-called _Speculum perfectionis_, which has been confidently but very questionably ascribed to Francis’s personal disciple, Brother Leo. Brother Leo, or whoever may have been the narrator or compiler, was no scholar; his Latin is naively incorrect, and has also the simplicity of Gospel narrative. Indeed this Latin is as effectively “vulgarized” as the Greek of Matthew’s Gospel. An interesting passage tells with what loving wisdom Francis interpreted a text of Scripture:

“Manente ipso apud Senas venit ad eum quidam doctor sacrae theologiae de ordine Praedicatorum, vir utique humilis et spiritualis valde. Quum ipse cum beato Francisco de verbis Domini simul aliquamdiu contulissent interrogavit eum magister de illo verbo Ezechielis: _Si non annuntiaveris impio impietatem suam animam ejus de manu tua requiram_. Dixit enim: ‘Multos, bone pater, ego cognosco in peccato mortali quibus non annuntio impietatem eorum, numquid de manu mea ipsorum animae requirentur?’

“Cui beatus Franciscus humiliter dixit se esse idiotam et ideo magis expedire sibi doceri ab eo quam super scripturae sententiam respondere. Tunc ille humilis magister adjecit: ‘Frater, licet ab aliquibus sapientibus hujus verbi expositionem audiverim, tamen libenter super hoc vestrum perciperem intellectum.’ Dixit ergo beatus Franciscus: ‘Si verbum debeat generaliter intelligi, ego taliter accipio ipsum quod servus Dei sic debet vita et sanctitate in seipso ardere vel fulgere ut luce exempli et lingua sanctae conversationis omnes impios reprehendat. Sic, inquam, splendor ejus et odor famae ipsius annuntiabit omnibus iniquitates eorum.’

“Plurimum itaque doctor ille aedificatus recedens dixit sociis beati Francisci: ‘Fratres mei, theologia hujus viri puritate et contemplatione subnixa est aquila volans, nostra vero scientia ventre graditur super terram.’”[277]

Another passage has Francis breaking out in song from the joy of his love of Christ:

“Ebrius amore et compassione Christi beatus Franciscus quandoque talia faciebat, nam dulcissima melodia spiritus intra se ipsum ebulliens frequenter exterius gallice dabat sonum et vena divini susurrii quam auris ejus suscipiebat furtive gallicum erumpebat in jubilum.

“Lignum quandoque colligebat de terra ipsumque sinistro brachio superponens aliud lignum per modum arcus in manu dextera trahebat super illud, quasi super viellam vel aliud instrumentum atque gestus ad hoc idoneos faciens gallice cantabat de Domino Jesu Christo. Terminabatur denique tota haec tripudiatio in lacrymas et in compassionem passionis Christi hic jubilus solvebatur.

“In his trahebat continue suspiria et ingeminatis gemitibus eorum quae tenebat in manibus oblitus suspendebatur ad caelum.”[278]

This Latin is as childlike as the Old Italian of the _Fioretti_ of St. Francis; it has a like word-order, and one might almost add, a like vocabulary. The simple, ignorant writer seems as if held by a direct and personal inspiration from the familiar life of the sweet saint. His language reflects that inspiration, and mirrors his own childlike character. Hence he has a style, direct, effective, moving to tears and joy, like his impression of the blessed Francis.

A not dissimilar kind of childlike Latin could attain to a remarkable symmetry and balance. The _Legenda aurea_ is before us, written by the Dominican Jacobus à Voragine, by race a Genoese, and living toward the close of the thirteenth century. This book was the most popular compend of saints’ lives in use in the later Middle Ages. Its stories are told with fascinating _naïveté_. We cite the opening sentences from its chapter on the Annunciation, just to show the harmony and balance of its periods. The passage is exceptional and almost formal in these qualities:

“Annunciatio dominica dicitur, quia in tali die ab angelo adventus filii Dei in carnem fuit annuntiatus, congruum enim fuit, ut incarnationem praecederet angelica annuntiatio, triplici ratione. Primo ratione ordinis connotandi, ut scilicet ordo reparationis responderet ordini praevaricationis. Unde sicut dyabolus tentavit mulierem, ut eam pertraheret ad dubitationem et per dubitationem ad consensum et per consensum ad lapsum, sic angelus nuntiavit virgini, ut nuntiando excitaret ad fidem et per fidem ad consensum et per consensum ad concipiendum Dei filium. Secundo ratione ministerii angelici, quia enim angelus est Dei minister et servus et beata virgo electa erat, ut esset Dei mater, et congruum est ministrum dominae famulari, conveniens fuit, ut beatae virgini annuntiatio per angelum fieret. Tertio ratione lapsus angelici reparandi. Quia enim incarnatio non tantum faciebat ad reparationem humani lapsus, sed etiam ad reparationem ruinae angelicae, ideo angeli non debuerunt excludi. Unde sicut sexus mulieris non excluditur a cognitione mysterii incarnationis et resurrectionis, sic etiam nec angelicus nuntius. Imo Deus utrumque angelo mediante nuntiat mulieri, scilicet incarnationem virgini Mariae et resurrectionem Magdelenae.”[279]

These extracts bring us far into the thirteenth century. Two hundred years later, mediaeval Latin prose, if one may say so, sang its swan song in that little book which is a last, sweet, and composite echo of all mellifluous mediaeval piety. Yet perhaps this _De imitatione Christi_ of Thomas à Kempis can scarcely be classed as prose, so full is it of assonances and rhythms fit for chanting.